Looking for Jane (84)
Nancy realized she was pregnant right before their first Christmas as a married couple. She had missed her period, her boobs were sore, and the dreaded morning sickness was back. She’d welcomed the symptoms, knowing what they meant, though she didn’t tell Michael she knew the signs from past experience. It had been difficult to pretend, but once she got past the first month, the experience became new again, unfamiliar, and it belonged to both of them.
They went to the doctor and got the results confirmed, and Michael picked her up and swung her around in celebration on the sidewalk outside the clinic. It was a moment of true happiness. Possibly the first of Nancy’s adult life. And she couldn’t believe how stark the difference was between learning about this pregnancy versus her first one. She hadn’t been too concerned about her fertility, but discovered, with no small measure of surprise, that there was a razor’s edge in her life where she went from being terrified of getting pregnant to terrified of not getting pregnant. You could hardly fit a toothpick in the space between.
She’s at six months now, with a beautiful rounded belly and breasts firmer and bigger than she’d ever dreamed possible. Aside from the usual tiredness, swelling, and difficulty bending over, her pregnancy is going smoothly, and her relationship with Michael is strong—except for the fact that she continues to lie to him about where she disappears to on evenings and weekends when she goes to work for the Janes.
She isn’t sure how much longer she can keep finding excuses. When Michael asked her this afternoon where she was heading off to, she told him she would be out shopping for baby things for the next few hours and would be home in time for dinner. But that didn’t seem to cut it this time. As her pregnancy has progressed, Michael has become more and more protective of her, and less inclined to let her run errands or overtax herself.
“Whatever it is, I can do it, just give me a list,” he’d said, tossing a dishcloth into the sink and frowning at her. “You don’t have to do all of this yourself, Nancy. Let me help.”
Nancy muttered something noncommittal and left for the streetcar without looking back. She knows she’s running from something dangerous here. It’s been weighing on her mind at three in the morning when her pinched bladder drives her from her bed and the pregnancy insomnia takes hold. She lies awake for hours at a time, considering whether it’s still even going to be viable for her to volunteer her time with the Janes once the baby arrives. She hasn’t told Evelyn or Alice about the possibility of quitting yet, and she would hate to have to give it up. But there’s a part of her that might welcome it. The risk of arrest has stressed her out more since she became pregnant, and it would be a relief to stop lying to Michael about this particular secret. The baby will bring them closer together, she figures, and if she bows out of the Janes at the same time, well, maybe this is the fresh start she needs. She’s wondered before how the other Janes manage to navigate this with their husbands. Does the secrecy weigh on them like it does on her?
Shaking off the discomfort that’s settled on her shoulders, Nancy walks the final few steps to the path up to Dr. Taylor’s home. They’re meeting a patient here today for the procedure. In an effort to reduce the number of abortions they perform at the medical clinics of the Jane doctors, they’ve moved as many as they can to their private homes, many of which are unlisted anyway, for security reasons. And this patient has opted for the D and C. They give their patients the option now, but a lot of them still don’t want to miscarry at home. A few of them have told Nancy during their intake counselling that they didn’t want their homes to be haunted by memories of the abortion. They prefer unfamiliar territory they won’t have to return to. Physically, anyway. As Nancy knows, it’s hard to escape it in your mind, even when you know it was the right choice. It’s always there. Every day. Every time a friend gets pregnant. Every time you pass a baby on the street. Through all your subsequent pregnancies. You wonder what might have been. You’re always returning to it.
Nancy knocks, and a few moments later a tall, attractive man with a greying beard and temples answers the door.
“Hello, love. You must be Nancy, then. I’m Tom, Evelyn’s better half. Come on in.”
He steps aside and ushers her over the threshold, and Nancy registers her relief at the coolness of the air. She doesn’t mind making the trek out to Dr. Taylor’s house, but she’s worked up a sweat in the spring warmth, and needs to rest her puffy feet.
She extends her hand and introduces herself. Dr. Taylor’s husband is a warm and cheery fellow. His voice sounds familiar; his English accent is similar to her mother’s.
Dr. Taylor and Alice emerge from a door to the right off the foyer.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Tom floats back down the hall toward the kitchen.
“You have a beautiful home,” Nancy tells Dr. Taylor, looking around at the gleaming wooden staircase and ornate chandelier. Two doctors’ incomes, I guess.
“Thank you, Nancy,” Dr. Taylor says. “Come on in. You could probably do with a chair and a cold drink, I imagine?”
“Yes, please, thanks, Dr. Taylor.”
They settle Nancy down in a squishy armchair in the sitting room at the front of the house, facing the street, and she fishes her intake forms, clipboard, and a pen out of her bag.
“How are you doing, Nancy?” Alice asks, smiling. “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Everything still going well?”