Chapter 23 The Almost-Godless #2
Finally, dinner was over. Once again, Joe and I weren’t allowed to help with the dishes.
Sophie said, holding an armful of plates while the kitchen door swung shut behind her mother and sister, “I can’t decide whether they’re going to be talking more about you in there again, Marguerite, or just the baby.
Either way, it’s going to be torture.” She sighed dramatically, but Mrs. Stark emerged from the kitchen at that moment, and Sophie said, “I’m coming, I’m coming.
Geez. Can’t a person get a moment of rest around here? ”
The rest of us rose, and Mr. Stark said, “Time to raise a glass, I think. Come sit in the living room, David, and we’ll break out the good Scotch and tobacco. Joe, you’ll join us?”
“No, thanks,” Joe said. “I think Marguerite and I will take a walk before bed. Settle all that dinner.”
The minute we were outside, he took my hand. “OK?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said. “It’s exciting news about the baby. Your mother is so happy.”
Joe didn’t answer, and we walked a minute in silence before I said, “I know you regret this thing that came with marrying me. You don’t have to fear saying it. I regret it very much also.”
Joe’s hand tightened on mine. “You’re nineteen years old. We’re just getting started. And we’re going to have a baby.”
“But, Joe—”
“No,” he said. “Maybe we’ll decide to adopt one; who knows? But we’re going to do it. Besides, they’re making more strides in medicine every year. How many lives did penicillin save during the war? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? If they can do that, they can figure out hemophilia, too.”
I said, “Yes. Possibly.”
Joe turned on me. “If you don’t agree,” he said, his voice low, fierce, “tell me so. You’ve never held back yet.”
“All right.” I did my best to marshal my thoughts. “I think it may be too soon to know how we’ll feel about the risks. We have so much still to do, and I … perhaps I don’t have so much courage after all, for this frightens me. To have a son …” I had to stop.
“Fifty percent,” Joe said. “That’s all it is. Fifty percent chance that he—that she—is just fine. And fifty percent chance, if it’s a boy, that he’ll be born with hemophilia and need some help. You know what we should do?”
“No.” I felt very tired, suddenly.
“We should go talk to somebody in the medical school. I’ll ask Professor Jacobson. He teaches Heredity, after all. He’ll know who’s best, and he’ll smooth the way, too. Do you mind me telling him?”
“No,” I said. “I didn’t cause this thing to happen, so this shame I feel … it’s foolish. I told you, too, most clearly. I didn’t try to trick you.”
“You sure didn’t,” he said. “And so you know? The only reason I haven’t told Mom and Dad is because I don’t want them to take it out on you. I’m not afraid to tell them. I’ll tell them tonight if you’d rather.”
“Oh,” I said drily, “I think your mother has enough to occupy her tonight. And Joe—we must continue with the methods. With the diaphragm and special jelly for me, and the other for you. Your education is too important, and the risk is too great. I know it’s not as …
as pleasant for you—you wonder how I know this, but women do talk—but—”
“You’re right,” he said. “Oh, not right that it isn’t pleasant.
I have no complaints, and of course we can’t manage a baby right now, even a perfectly healthy one.
We’re reading from the same hymnbook on that one.
And on eating leavened bread at home this week, too, I’m afraid.
I’m Jewish; of course I am. If I hadn’t known it, the war sure showed me, just like it did Dr. Becker.
But since then … I don’t know. I can’t seem to care as much about some of the rules.
It’s more about the ethics for me now, I guess.
I’m just not as devout as my folks.” How he tossed that off, as if it were no strain at all to change one’s beliefs!
“But I too have struggled in this way!” I said, barely able to believe that we could share this, too.
“I still avoid meat on Fridays, and of course I attend Mass, but I find myself questioning more now as well. I’m glad you’ve said this, for I’ve felt very guilty about it.
But then, we’ve also married each other, haven’t we?
I believe we must be rationalists at heart, like Aristotle and Descartes.
Not secularists, because I find I must have a …
a foundation, and my religion is part of that, and part of me.
It’s also a very great comfort to pray to Mary, who always seems so compassionate, for courage and strength to go on when life is most difficult. And yet—can I say this?”
“You can say it to me,” Joe said. “I just said it to you, after all.”
“I’m not sure,” I said, after taking a strengthening breath, “that I truly believe anymore that the wafer and wine are actually the body and blood of Christ. And yet I believe in his teachings, most definitely, and his love. It’s of these I now think when I receive the Eucharist.”
“Well, this is new,” Joe said. “Really?”
“Miracles, you know …” I began, then had to think.
“Miracles, I find difficult to believe in. Confession is good, and penance, too, for one must face one’s failings honestly, but do I believe God forgives because I’ve said the prayers, or because the priest says so?
Again, no. I believe He forgives because I’ve repented and am trying to make amends and do better.
We’re a bit like Spinoza, perhaps, you and I. But not so godless as Spinoza.”
“If Mom could hear this conversation,” Joe said, “there’d be some rending of garments.
Two almost-godless Rationalists.” I laughed, and after a minute, he did too, but added, “And don’t think I didn’t notice Mom going on about maternity clothes and a shower and a new house for Barbara.
I know that must hurt. I wish I knew what to do about it. If you have a thought, speak up.”
I waved a hand. “This I can’t care about, for if I do, you’re right, it will only hurt. There’s no way to make your mother happy you’ve married me, so how can I dwell on it? And I think you much prefer your independence.”
“You bet I do. If the folks gave me money, they’d have suggestions.”
“Yes,” I said. “We’d feel differently on these matters, perhaps, if the world had—had stayed the same. If I were still in the palace with my parents. If you hadn’t gone to war and taken on so much responsibility. If we both hadn’t seen too much evil.”
“Yes,” Joe said. “You can’t shake things up like that and expect everything to settle back into the same place.”
“And in the spirit of rationalism,” I said, “I think—I really do think—that I must sell the necklace.”