Florence Adler Swims Forever(90)

Dr. Rosenthal arrived and examined Fannie promptly. He turned to Dorothy. “How long since the last contraction?”

She looked at her watch. “Ten minutes.”

“She’s not dilated.”

“What does that mean?” Fannie asked them both.

“It means,” said Dr. Rosenthal, “that this baby might be willing to wait a little longer.”

“Is that something we want?” asked Fannie.

“You’re not due for two more weeks. So, probably. As long as your blood pressure remains in check.”

Fannie didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. She wanted to give the child every advantage but she thought she might go crazy if she spent another hour, let alone another fortnight, in her hospital bed.

Dr. Rosenthal promised he’d be back to check on her in half an hour and instructed Dorothy to stay with Fannie until he returned. Dorothy looked disappointed but didn’t argue. She made a big show of plumping Fannie’s pillows and refreshing her water but after Dr. Rosenthal was gone, she let out a large yawn and sank into the chair beside the window.

“What time is it?” Fannie asked her.

She looked at her watch. “Nearly two.”

“What were you listening to? In the lounge.”

“Oh, just reruns of Palmolive Beauty Box Theater. There’s nothing on at this time of night.”

“Is it dreadful working nights? I don’t know how I’d stay awake.”

“It’s all right. It’s quieter and there’s usually less to do.”

Fannie pulled the bedsheet over her stomach.

“Did you work before you got married?” Dorothy asked.

“If you don’t count helping my parents behind the counter at the bakery, no. I got married at nineteen, so there wasn’t much time for any of that.”

“I want to get married.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” said Dorothy, flatly.

Fannie cocked her head to get a better look at Dorothy. She really was a very peculiar person.

“Well, try not to get too bothered by it. That’s Florence’s strategy. She doesn’t pay any attention to the boys, and the result is that they all love her.”

Dorothy gave her such a funny look that Fannie immediately wondered if she’d said something offensive. Was it wrong to compare Dorothy to Florence? They had been in the same class, after all, and Dorothy was always rattling on about Florence, or at least she had, earlier in the summer.

“What?” said Fannie.

“Nothing.”

“No, what?”

“It’s not my place to say anything.”

“But?”

“Were you two close? Are you close?”

“Florence and me? I suppose. Maybe. I mean, yes,” said Fannie.

“So, think about it for a second. Isn’t it strange that you haven’t heard a word from her?”

Why was Dorothy needling her? Fannie wondered if she was still upset about the phone call. “Well, she’s in France now, you see.”

“Knock, knock,” came a voice from the hallway. Fannie would have recognized the warm timbre of her father’s voice anywhere.

“Pop?” Fannie said.

“I’m told we might soon have reason to celebrate.”

Fannie’s heart felt big in her chest. Her father hadn’t set foot in a hospital in close to twenty years but here he was, standing in front of her. He looked smaller, perhaps a tad frailer than he had in the spring. “Have you been ill?” she asked. God, she sounded just like her mother.

Joseph made a show of looking himself over, inspecting his arms and legs, the backs of his hands and the toes of his shoes. “Fit as a fiddle.”

Had it been so long that she’d forgotten what he looked like? Surely, he hadn’t shrunk. He walked over to the bed and kissed Fannie on the forehead, pressing his lips against her skin for several long seconds, as if he were trying to make up for his absence.

“Where’s Mother?” she asked when he had finally pulled away and taken a seat on the edge of the mattress. She wondered at Dorothy for not moving out of the way, allowing her father the chair. He wasn’t an old man but he wasn’t a young one either.

“She’ll be here shortly.”

Yesterday, Fannie had been surprised when Esther stayed late at the hospital, remaining at Fannie’s bedside until well past the dinner hour. Then, today, she’d barely left her alone. When Bette had brought Fannie her dinner tray this evening, Fannie had practically had to beg her mother to go home.

So, where was she now? Suddenly, it occurred to Fannie. “She’s looking for Isaac, isn’t she?”

Joseph pressed his lips together, as if he were trying to refrain from saying the thing he most wanted to say. “The nurse who called said she tried him first. He must not have heard the phone ring.”

“Must not have,” she said, unable to meet her father’s eyes. The ring of the telephone in their apartment was so shrill that, for years, she had unplugged the receiver whenever Gussie napped. Where could Isaac be?

“I may have woken you for nothing,” she said, glancing at Dorothy, who seemed utterly bored by their reunion. “A quarter hour ago I felt certain I was about to be wheeled off to the labor room but now I’m not so sure.”