Forty-Eight
Forty-Eight
I need to complete a science project for Herr Metzger,” I tell the librarian during lesson break. She nods and leads me through the deserted library to the science section.
“On what subject, precisely?” she asks.
“Hereditary disease, and abortion,” I say casually.
She pulls a few books from the shelves and carries them to the big table in the center of the room.
“That should be sufficient. If not, there are a couple more that may help you.”
“Thank you.” I smile at her, holding my belly in as tightly as I can.
She returns to her desk, facing me, and continues cataloging a big pile of books.
I flick through the science manuals. There is not much of any help.
It’s easy to get an abortion, it seems, if the mother is a carrier of a hereditary disease, or if she is racially of poor stock.
If not, it is almost impossible. I stare at the gruesome pictures of the procedures.
Metal wires, catheters, poison. Bleeding to death is a common complication.
I find my hand on my belly as I look in horror at the illustrations.
I glance up and see the librarian is watching me.
“Found what you are looking for?”
“Yes,” I reply. “Thank you so much. Very helpful.” I snap the books shut.
Back in class, Frau Schmidt’s voice drones, but I don’t hear a single word. I’m nauseated after looking at those pictures; and from the sudden realization that far from wanting to end this life growing inside me, my instinct is to protect it.
“C OME ON, H ETTY, faster!” Erna yells, holding her hand out for the baton, and jogging on the spot.
I will myself to speed up. Normally I have no problem passing Gerda or Eva, but today my legs are like lead and I can’t outpace them.
We round the bend of the athletics track and I’m last, mouth open gasping for breath.
I can’t seem to take in enough air. I stumble forward and thrust the baton at Erna.
She snatches it and is away, sprinting on her long legs toward the finish line, closing the gap with the leaders.
My head becomes thick and dizzy. A buzz fills my ears and my vision dims, swirls, and then blackness folds in...
“Herta? Herta? Get the nurse, will you?”
Someone is holding my head, rolling me onto my side.
Instinctively I curl into a ball. My head bangs with pain and I groan.
Someone touches my shoulder, pulls at it.
“Get off,” I say weakly. “Leave me alone,” and I bat the hand away. Roll up tighter. Hide my midriff.
“Hett, are you okay? Hetty, can you hear me?” Erna’s voice, far away.
“She’s fainted!”
“Is she all right?”
“She’s never done that before!”
Voices, clamoring and loud.
“Move aside, give her space,” says a loud commanding voice. “Herta Heinrich? Can you hear me?”
I flicker my eyes open. The school nurse’s face looms in front of me. I close them again. Please no. She’s going to find out.
“Yes,” I hear myself say. “I’m quite all right.”
I summon all my strength and sit up. My head pounds and I’m trembling uncontrollably.
“Please don’t fuss,” I tell the crowd around me. “I don’t know what happened, I just felt a bit...”
“Head between your knees,” the nurse commands me.
I do as she says, clutching my knees and hiding my stomach from the gawping onlookers. I can feel the nurse’s eyes boring into me.
“Time of the month, is it?” The nurse’s voice is brisk and businesslike.
“Yes, yes that must be it.” I nod, my heart thumping. The dizziness recedes and slowly I raise my head.
Someone hands me some water and a sweet biscuit. I didn’t realize my mouth was so dry.
“I feel much better,” I say after a drink, which is almost true.
“Common affliction in young girls,” says the nurse with authority. “Go home and rest. Don’t come back until you are well.”
“I’ll make sure she gets home,” Erna says, helping me to stand. “I’m sorry I yelled at you to run faster, I had no idea...”
“Don’t be silly, of course you didn’t.”
She’s looking at my stomach. I realize I’m clasping my hand over it. I drop it guiltily to my side.
“Do you have cramps?” she whispers.
I nod. Press my lips together. Resist the urge to cry.
“It’s a sign of good fertility, you know. Cramps,” says the nurse.
“Come on, let’s go home.” Erna takes my arm.
The other girls begin to lose interest and drift away.
I lean against Erna as we walk slowly back toward the school building.
A narrow escape. But how much longer before someone makes a correct diagnosis? The weight of impending disaster presses down on me. Like being buried alive, however hard I scrabble, whichever way I turn, I can’t see a way out.