Sara (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} azbukivedi_engl) wrote,@ 2009-05-03 22:05:00 |
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The Souvenir
While Jerry was at the conference, Nadia strolled the streets of Beijing. She liked the fresh and nippy air of the early spring, but the wind was too harsh and the omnipresent smog made it hard to breathe. After a couple of hours, chilled to the bone and annoyed by her scratchy throat, Nadia escaped into one of those dumpling shops featuring at least thirty kinds of hot dumplings that, for foreigners, all seem about the same. The fare was as bland as the décor, but the dumplings and the weak tea had at least a warming effect on her. Nadia found a seat near the window and engaged in one of her favorite pastimes: people watching. Slim, elegant Chinese girls attracted most of her attention. She caught herself thinking of them as nothing but the owners of healthy, young eggs. Here is an egg in a mini-skirt; there’s another one in Capri pants; this egg with a ponytail has amazing porcelain skin.
Stop it already. Take your mind off it. I have to relax and not think about it. It, it, IT. If I could just relax, everything would be all right. I have to look at something else.
Nadia peeled her eyes off an elegant egg in stilettos and focused on a little cart across the street. A tiny, bald Chinese man with a face crisscrossed by deep wrinkles was selling souvenirs. He looked like one himself—a pocket-sized toy you’d want to put in your luggage, bring home, and set on a windowsill. The man glanced at Nadia, and for a second, she thought he winked at her. Nadia smiled and pulled out her camera. He’s adorable.
She finished her tea, left the shop, and crossed the street. This was as good a place to buy souvenirs for the friends and family as any, and she would rather leave her money in this nice man's pocket than in some official store. Nadia chose a miniature copy of the Great Wall, a few hieroglyph-covered, decorative plates, and a couple of bright, silk robes for the nephews. She was about to pay and leave when she saw a little toy bunny—a rather plain, cloth-covered rabbit with unusually large, bright eyes, like nothing she had ever seen in the West. It wasn’t exactly cute and sat on a small, side shelf all alone, almost hidden from view. Nadia stared. The bunny looked like the odd guy out; it didn’t fit in and seemed forgotten by some passing child.
“How much?” she asked, pointing at the toy. This ugly little rabbit will be nothing but an eyesore in her beautiful bunny collection. Still, she wanted him, desperately.
“Nice bahny. Luk bahny.” The old man smiled. Every wrinkle on his deeply creased face changed its angle, making his mouth the centerpiece of the face. His teeth were uneven and deeply stained.
“Luck bunny?” She didn’t get it.
“Luk, luk.” He nodded.
“Oh, you mean, the bunny brings luck?”
The man nodded again, vigorously. “Flee bahny. No chahdge. Buy hundled yan, gif you bahny. Yan foh me, luk foh you.”
***
Jerry chuckled when he saw the toy.
“Jeez, what a scarecrow. Baby, you have such a cute bunny collection. What do you need this crumpled thing for?”
“It was free with purchase anyway.” She shrugged, surprised at her own defensiveness. “While the vendor was wrapping it, he repeated something about luck—three times. Buny luk, buny luk, buny luk. Yeah, I know. Silly. But for some reason… You know, I feel like I am drowning sometimes, and this is my lifeline. I want to believe it. Don’t try to discourage me, please.”
“Nadia… okay, never mind.”
Jerry put his arms around her shoulders. More than anything, Nadia appreciated his willingness to accept without understanding, always. That and the warm hands.
“Let’s come up with a name for your bunny. Something original, like Bulging Eyes.”
“Oh stop it.” She laughed and buried her nose in his shoulder. “His eyes are not half bad.”
“He looks like he has some serious hormonal imbalance.”
“Jerry! You know what? I'll call him Bulgy.”
***
Cherry blossom time. It’s sunny, and the cherries are in bloom. The sun is shining. Those cherry flowers are beautiful. After a while, it became a chant. A prayer. She loved the white, pink, and purple mohair trees, the spring, the sun, and everything bright and fluffy. She was always happy during this season. The perturbations, mishaps, and tragedies of Nadia’s 40 years on Earth fell on all seasons except spring. The spring had to bring her luck. It had to. She had Bulgy now.
“Cherries are blossoming. The sun is shining. Something good is going to happen.” She thought it out loud.
“Oh, please, you sound like a Sesame Street character.”
“The green guy who lives in a trash can?”
“I am serious. The more you work yourself up, the worse it will be later.”
“Damn pessimist.”
“Baby, we’ve been over this 125 times. I am not a pessimist; I am a realist. You heard what the doctor said. You have practically no healthy eggs left. This is the fourth—and last—attempt. And we both know the chances are slim.”
“But this is our first spring attempt. And spring is my time of the year. And I bought the lucky bunny.”
“Nadia, I want this child as much as you do. But I am not working myself up over this. You, on the other hand, wind yourself up every time, and then break off like…. I mean, it’s impossible to be in the same house with you for a month afterwards. You have me, and I have you. We’ll manage.”
He has me. The right corner of her lip shot up and quickly came down. Dozens of pretty eggs sauntered past them, light dresses blowing in the breeze, tiny shorts and tank tops exposing firm hips and taut stomachs. They were everywhere, young and free, with smooth skin and unhindered psyche. Sex was a source of pleasure for them, not a stress-filled baby-making process. Jerry was only thirty three, attractive, educated, successful. And he wanted a baby. What right did she have...
The cherries are in bloom, she interrupted herself. The cherries are in bloom. Bulgy was waiting for her at home.
***
Nadia bought her first bunny when they decided to have a baby, six years ago. She loved plush bunnies ever since she was little and knew she would call her baby “my bunny girl” or “my bunny boy.” She saw this long-eared cutie in a store window and decided to buy a playmate for the future offspring. It seemed an ideal toy for an older baby or a toddler. A month later she found another one on sale at a store. She went there to buy new sheets and a couple of CDs and had no intention to even look around the toy section, but this bunny was so cute, and at 40% off the original price practically a steal. A girlfriend noticed the trend and gave her another one, with huge eyes and extra-long ears, for her birthday. The future nursery was filling up with bunnies.
“Methinks the quantity of bunnies in this house is adversely proportionate to the quality of sex,” joked Jerry.
Nadia could not think of a snappy comeback. For over half a year now she diligently measured her temperature “down there” every morning. “I am ovulating,” she screamed, excited, into the phone, and Jerry dropped everything and rushed home. They had to have sex in certain positions; Nadia liked to be on top, but it wasn’t recommended. Afterwards, she lifted her lower body up and propped the legs against the wall. Come on, fertilize already, please. Once, Jerry couldn’t do it. For the first time since they started “trying for a baby” he completely lost his cool.
“I can’t do it like this, on schedule. I have God-knows-what problems at work; all hell broke loose in the office. I am a nervous wreck, having to think about fertilizing your eggs every time. It’s been two years now of making not love but conception. We need a break. You have to relax, at least for the time being. We must return to us, to what we used to be. Otherwise, it’s all…”
Nadia was hysterical. Everyone around her kept repeating she had to relax and “not think about it.” Idiots. Morons. How could she not think about it? Have they tried to relax in a situation like this? Her eggs were dying, getting old, drying out, shriveling. What break? She was thirty six!
She screamed and screamed, having completely lost any resemblance of self-control, her voice jumping up and down at least an octave. Jerry walked out of the house and slammed the door behind him. Nadia hugged her very first plush bunny, curled up on the bed and wailed. When Jerry did not come back by midnight, she got up, walked to the closet, and took a peach shoe box from the top shelf. Nadia slowly untied the green ribbon and took the top off, burying her hands in the pile of letters. How long had it been since she read them?
Nadia. My love. I haven’t been able to rest all day, walking around the city and thinking of our conversation. I am not afraid of our age difference. Seven years are nothing. Who cares, baby? Do you know why I love calling you “baby”? I feel big and strong next to you. I want to embrace your vulnerable self, to shield your slender frame from all the calamities of this world, to be your pillar of strength, your happiness mascot. You are the most beautiful woman I know, the only one for me. I feel like a fish thrown out of the water without you. Oh, now I am using really silly metaphors. I know you hate those. But how else can I express this? You are my Goddess.
Baby, I will be worthy of you. I will provide for you; I will spend my life making sure you are happy. Think about it: men always age faster than women, and die younger. You’ll still be gorgeous at 50 while I’ll be an aging, balding 43-year-old with a belly. Did you smile? Smile, my sunshine.
I daydream of the smell of your hair and the touch of your hands. Nadia, I love you. Give me a chance. Marry me. Please. You will never regret it—I promise.
Yours always,
Jerry
Nadia’s tear dropped on the page. She quickly shook it off, blew on the paper, and wiped her eyes. Get a grip, Nadia! A key turned in the door. She didn’t have time to hide the box. Jerry walked in and sat right next to her, taking the letter out of Nadia’s hands. He started to read, but quickly put the paper back on his lap.
“I remember it by heart.”
For a minute, they were silent.
“I am sorry,” he whispered. “My nerves got the best of me. I am here, baby; I am here for you. I understand. As long as we hold on to each other, we’ll make it, with a baby or without one.”
“I don’t want to manage without. I don’t want to.” Nadia hit his shoulder with a fist, then again. “I can’t!”
She was now beating him with both fists. He grabbed her wrists and didn’t let go until she quieted down, whimpering and sniffling in his arms.
They made love surrounded by candlelight, and Jerry put her on top, begging to forget about the “right” positions. Nadia strained to enjoy it, but the little hammers in her head kept pounding. My ovulation is almost over; my eggs don’t live long, and in this position it will all flow out anyway. The more she tried to silence this annoying inner voice, the louder it grew, echoing from every corner of her brain.
***
“Darling, the age of your eggs has very little in common with how you look.” The doctor was in his 60s and had an old-fashioned, almost too-sweet-for-comfort bedside manner. He was patience personified. “I am sure there is a correlation, but it’s not high. You are one of those women who become pre-menopausal around 40-45. However old people think you are doesn’t matter one bit. Yes, you can head straight to Hollywood with this figure and run half-marathons, but your eggs are weak. We’ll try of course, but…”
After another set of painful injections and long surgical procedures, she would buy a new bunny and sit by the phone, hugging the toy and whispering, “Look, baby, look what a cute bunny I got for you. He needs an owner. He’s lonely.”
When the phone rang, she jumped, grabbed the receiver, almost dropping it in the process, and shouted, “Hello?”
“Unfortunately,” started the nurse in her officially-compassionate voice, “at this time….” Nadia dropped the bunny.
Before the last IVF cycle Jerry insisted on a break and they went to China. The first four days were consumed by his conference, but after that they spent a week traveling the country. Slant-eyed eggs, she kept thinking, slant-eyed eggs.
***
The answering machine blinked.
“Nadia, this is Dr. Gorodetsky. I tried calling several times because I wanted to talk to you personally, but have so far been unable to reach you, so I am leaving this message. The news is not very encouraging. We looked at all the extracted eggs and we are not sure it’s going to work. We’ll try, but they are weak. It’s not very good material. Please don’t get upset. Call me when you can, so we can discuss further options.”
She expected tears but none came. Almost on autopilot, Nadia took the Chinese bunny, opened the closet door, and threw it as far as she could. She hesitated a moment, then walked into the nursery and repeated the process for all the other bunnies. Then she went to the kitchen and started cooking dinner.
The tears came later, at night, tired rather than bitter. All dreams, hopes, and urges flew out of Nadia’s eyes, saturating the pillow and turning the world around her into a puddle of wobbly indifference. For the first time in five or six years she no longer cared. The taut spring that coiled around her insides for so long suddenly loosened and released her. She won’t have a baby. She won’t have Jerry either—he doesn’t need an infertile, neurotic, forty-year-old hag. There is nothing after this. Nothing. She finally fell asleep early in the morning.
***
“Nadia, baby, you woke up!”
“What?” She could barely open one eye.
“Do you know how long you’ve slept? All morning, all day, and the whole night. More than 24 hours. I almost got scared, but your breathing was so even, I decided you needed some rest.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. Hey, listen, the doctor called.”
“And?”
“He said they managed to fertilize one egg. It looks so-so; it’s weak. But it’s alive. They’ll try to implant it, so you have to be ready.”
Nadia sat up.
“But, they said.”
“Well, either they made a mistake, or we got lucky. But please, don’t get your hopes up; it’s just one egg. You’ve had these procedures before, and…”
“When’s the procedure?” She threw off the blanket and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
Bulgy sat on her bedside table, surrounded by several bouquets of blossoming cherry branches in every conceivable color. The room was filled with heavy, intoxicating smell.
“Jerry, what the…. I mean, how did you…”
“Don’t worry about it. Call the doctor first—he asked to call him as soon as you woke up.”
“Okay, sure.” She picked up the phone.
“Nadia, just one second.” He put his hand on top of hers. “I’ve been thinking here, for a day and a half, and reading our letters. I mean, I’m just trying to say, I love you. If we don’t make any babies, we’ll live with the bunnies. And we’ll be fine. Okay?”
Again, she waited for tears; she was so used to crying about everything, good or bad, lately. Instead, Nadia smiled.
“And how will we define ‘fine’?”
“I have no idea. But I do know we’ll be happy, no matter what happens. Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
The mirror showed Nadia a swollen, creased ghost with messed-up hair.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the scariest of them all?” She almost sang it. “No, really, where is my Prada bag—it’s the only thing missing here.”
“No kidding. Why did I marry you in the first place?” Jerry chuckled. “You’re walking around here looking like a scarecrow in these sweats. Get dressed, and let’s go eat something. I want to go to a really nice place.”
“Let’s go eat, let’s go eat,” she sang again. “You know something? I dreamt of that Chinese guy.”
“The bunny?”
“Not the bunny, silly! The guy who sold it to me. He was sitting on my bedside table and winking. Luk, luk, goot luk.”
She couldn’t quite place it, but the world around her wasn’t the same. What changed?
“Baby, I can barely recognize you this morning.” He walked around and hugged her from behind.
“How so?”
She did not know the answer to her own question, but very much wanted to find out.
“You… you're relaxed. For the first time in six years.”
“Then let’s go back to bed. We can eat later.”
***
“I haven’t seen anything like this in twenty years of practice. First of all, we only had one egg. We often implant three-four or even more, and none survives. Secondly, the egg looked really weak. After three unsuccessful cycles I did this one more out of mercy, to make sure we exhausted all the possibilities. I had very little hope for this little guy. Frankly, not much hope at all. You are beyond lucky.”
“Doctor, are you sure?”
“I am positive, Nadia. You are pregnant, and everything looks pretty good so far. This is pure luck.”
“Luk, luk.”
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind, sorry. Just something I remembered."
***
The old Chinese peddler sat in front of his cart and looked at the window tables of the café across the street. Two British women were slowly sipping their tea—a mother and a daughter. The girl was about 15; the mother no older than 40. She lifted her head and saw the vendor.
He quickly searched her eyes. This woman had been looking for love for many years. She was tired and scared of growing old and dying alone.
The old man smiled and winked at the woman. Then, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small, hand-made Panda bear with very bright eyes.
While Jerry was at the conference, Nadia strolled the streets of Beijing. She liked the fresh and nippy air of the early spring, but the wind was too harsh and the omnipresent smog made it hard to breathe. After a couple of hours, chilled to the bone and annoyed by her scratchy throat, Nadia escaped into one of those dumpling shops featuring at least thirty kinds of hot dumplings that, for foreigners, all seem about the same. The fare was as bland as the décor, but the dumplings and the weak tea had at least a warming effect on her. Nadia found a seat near the window and engaged in one of her favorite pastimes: people watching. Slim, elegant Chinese girls attracted most of her attention. She caught herself thinking of them as nothing but the owners of healthy, young eggs. Here is an egg in a mini-skirt; there’s another one in Capri pants; this egg with a ponytail has amazing porcelain skin.
Stop it already. Take your mind off it. I have to relax and not think about it. It, it, IT. If I could just relax, everything would be all right. I have to look at something else.
Nadia peeled her eyes off an elegant egg in stilettos and focused on a little cart across the street. A tiny, bald Chinese man with a face crisscrossed by deep wrinkles was selling souvenirs. He looked like one himself—a pocket-sized toy you’d want to put in your luggage, bring home, and set on a windowsill. The man glanced at Nadia, and for a second, she thought he winked at her. Nadia smiled and pulled out her camera. He’s adorable.
She finished her tea, left the shop, and crossed the street. This was as good a place to buy souvenirs for the friends and family as any, and she would rather leave her money in this nice man's pocket than in some official store. Nadia chose a miniature copy of the Great Wall, a few hieroglyph-covered, decorative plates, and a couple of bright, silk robes for the nephews. She was about to pay and leave when she saw a little toy bunny—a rather plain, cloth-covered rabbit with unusually large, bright eyes, like nothing she had ever seen in the West. It wasn’t exactly cute and sat on a small, side shelf all alone, almost hidden from view. Nadia stared. The bunny looked like the odd guy out; it didn’t fit in and seemed forgotten by some passing child.
“How much?” she asked, pointing at the toy. This ugly little rabbit will be nothing but an eyesore in her beautiful bunny collection. Still, she wanted him, desperately.
“Nice bahny. Luk bahny.” The old man smiled. Every wrinkle on his deeply creased face changed its angle, making his mouth the centerpiece of the face. His teeth were uneven and deeply stained.
“Luck bunny?” She didn’t get it.
“Luk, luk.” He nodded.
“Oh, you mean, the bunny brings luck?”
The man nodded again, vigorously. “Flee bahny. No chahdge. Buy hundled yan, gif you bahny. Yan foh me, luk foh you.”
***
Jerry chuckled when he saw the toy.
“Jeez, what a scarecrow. Baby, you have such a cute bunny collection. What do you need this crumpled thing for?”
“It was free with purchase anyway.” She shrugged, surprised at her own defensiveness. “While the vendor was wrapping it, he repeated something about luck—three times. Buny luk, buny luk, buny luk. Yeah, I know. Silly. But for some reason… You know, I feel like I am drowning sometimes, and this is my lifeline. I want to believe it. Don’t try to discourage me, please.”
“Nadia… okay, never mind.”
Jerry put his arms around her shoulders. More than anything, Nadia appreciated his willingness to accept without understanding, always. That and the warm hands.
“Let’s come up with a name for your bunny. Something original, like Bulging Eyes.”
“Oh stop it.” She laughed and buried her nose in his shoulder. “His eyes are not half bad.”
“He looks like he has some serious hormonal imbalance.”
“Jerry! You know what? I'll call him Bulgy.”
***
Cherry blossom time. It’s sunny, and the cherries are in bloom. The sun is shining. Those cherry flowers are beautiful. After a while, it became a chant. A prayer. She loved the white, pink, and purple mohair trees, the spring, the sun, and everything bright and fluffy. She was always happy during this season. The perturbations, mishaps, and tragedies of Nadia’s 40 years on Earth fell on all seasons except spring. The spring had to bring her luck. It had to. She had Bulgy now.
“Cherries are blossoming. The sun is shining. Something good is going to happen.” She thought it out loud.
“Oh, please, you sound like a Sesame Street character.”
“The green guy who lives in a trash can?”
“I am serious. The more you work yourself up, the worse it will be later.”
“Damn pessimist.”
“Baby, we’ve been over this 125 times. I am not a pessimist; I am a realist. You heard what the doctor said. You have practically no healthy eggs left. This is the fourth—and last—attempt. And we both know the chances are slim.”
“But this is our first spring attempt. And spring is my time of the year. And I bought the lucky bunny.”
“Nadia, I want this child as much as you do. But I am not working myself up over this. You, on the other hand, wind yourself up every time, and then break off like…. I mean, it’s impossible to be in the same house with you for a month afterwards. You have me, and I have you. We’ll manage.”
He has me. The right corner of her lip shot up and quickly came down. Dozens of pretty eggs sauntered past them, light dresses blowing in the breeze, tiny shorts and tank tops exposing firm hips and taut stomachs. They were everywhere, young and free, with smooth skin and unhindered psyche. Sex was a source of pleasure for them, not a stress-filled baby-making process. Jerry was only thirty three, attractive, educated, successful. And he wanted a baby. What right did she have...
The cherries are in bloom, she interrupted herself. The cherries are in bloom. Bulgy was waiting for her at home.
***
Nadia bought her first bunny when they decided to have a baby, six years ago. She loved plush bunnies ever since she was little and knew she would call her baby “my bunny girl” or “my bunny boy.” She saw this long-eared cutie in a store window and decided to buy a playmate for the future offspring. It seemed an ideal toy for an older baby or a toddler. A month later she found another one on sale at a store. She went there to buy new sheets and a couple of CDs and had no intention to even look around the toy section, but this bunny was so cute, and at 40% off the original price practically a steal. A girlfriend noticed the trend and gave her another one, with huge eyes and extra-long ears, for her birthday. The future nursery was filling up with bunnies.
“Methinks the quantity of bunnies in this house is adversely proportionate to the quality of sex,” joked Jerry.
Nadia could not think of a snappy comeback. For over half a year now she diligently measured her temperature “down there” every morning. “I am ovulating,” she screamed, excited, into the phone, and Jerry dropped everything and rushed home. They had to have sex in certain positions; Nadia liked to be on top, but it wasn’t recommended. Afterwards, she lifted her lower body up and propped the legs against the wall. Come on, fertilize already, please. Once, Jerry couldn’t do it. For the first time since they started “trying for a baby” he completely lost his cool.
“I can’t do it like this, on schedule. I have God-knows-what problems at work; all hell broke loose in the office. I am a nervous wreck, having to think about fertilizing your eggs every time. It’s been two years now of making not love but conception. We need a break. You have to relax, at least for the time being. We must return to us, to what we used to be. Otherwise, it’s all…”
Nadia was hysterical. Everyone around her kept repeating she had to relax and “not think about it.” Idiots. Morons. How could she not think about it? Have they tried to relax in a situation like this? Her eggs were dying, getting old, drying out, shriveling. What break? She was thirty six!
She screamed and screamed, having completely lost any resemblance of self-control, her voice jumping up and down at least an octave. Jerry walked out of the house and slammed the door behind him. Nadia hugged her very first plush bunny, curled up on the bed and wailed. When Jerry did not come back by midnight, she got up, walked to the closet, and took a peach shoe box from the top shelf. Nadia slowly untied the green ribbon and took the top off, burying her hands in the pile of letters. How long had it been since she read them?
Nadia. My love. I haven’t been able to rest all day, walking around the city and thinking of our conversation. I am not afraid of our age difference. Seven years are nothing. Who cares, baby? Do you know why I love calling you “baby”? I feel big and strong next to you. I want to embrace your vulnerable self, to shield your slender frame from all the calamities of this world, to be your pillar of strength, your happiness mascot. You are the most beautiful woman I know, the only one for me. I feel like a fish thrown out of the water without you. Oh, now I am using really silly metaphors. I know you hate those. But how else can I express this? You are my Goddess.
Baby, I will be worthy of you. I will provide for you; I will spend my life making sure you are happy. Think about it: men always age faster than women, and die younger. You’ll still be gorgeous at 50 while I’ll be an aging, balding 43-year-old with a belly. Did you smile? Smile, my sunshine.
I daydream of the smell of your hair and the touch of your hands. Nadia, I love you. Give me a chance. Marry me. Please. You will never regret it—I promise.
Yours always,
Jerry
Nadia’s tear dropped on the page. She quickly shook it off, blew on the paper, and wiped her eyes. Get a grip, Nadia! A key turned in the door. She didn’t have time to hide the box. Jerry walked in and sat right next to her, taking the letter out of Nadia’s hands. He started to read, but quickly put the paper back on his lap.
“I remember it by heart.”
For a minute, they were silent.
“I am sorry,” he whispered. “My nerves got the best of me. I am here, baby; I am here for you. I understand. As long as we hold on to each other, we’ll make it, with a baby or without one.”
“I don’t want to manage without. I don’t want to.” Nadia hit his shoulder with a fist, then again. “I can’t!”
She was now beating him with both fists. He grabbed her wrists and didn’t let go until she quieted down, whimpering and sniffling in his arms.
They made love surrounded by candlelight, and Jerry put her on top, begging to forget about the “right” positions. Nadia strained to enjoy it, but the little hammers in her head kept pounding. My ovulation is almost over; my eggs don’t live long, and in this position it will all flow out anyway. The more she tried to silence this annoying inner voice, the louder it grew, echoing from every corner of her brain.
***
“Darling, the age of your eggs has very little in common with how you look.” The doctor was in his 60s and had an old-fashioned, almost too-sweet-for-comfort bedside manner. He was patience personified. “I am sure there is a correlation, but it’s not high. You are one of those women who become pre-menopausal around 40-45. However old people think you are doesn’t matter one bit. Yes, you can head straight to Hollywood with this figure and run half-marathons, but your eggs are weak. We’ll try of course, but…”
After another set of painful injections and long surgical procedures, she would buy a new bunny and sit by the phone, hugging the toy and whispering, “Look, baby, look what a cute bunny I got for you. He needs an owner. He’s lonely.”
When the phone rang, she jumped, grabbed the receiver, almost dropping it in the process, and shouted, “Hello?”
“Unfortunately,” started the nurse in her officially-compassionate voice, “at this time….” Nadia dropped the bunny.
Before the last IVF cycle Jerry insisted on a break and they went to China. The first four days were consumed by his conference, but after that they spent a week traveling the country. Slant-eyed eggs, she kept thinking, slant-eyed eggs.
***
The answering machine blinked.
“Nadia, this is Dr. Gorodetsky. I tried calling several times because I wanted to talk to you personally, but have so far been unable to reach you, so I am leaving this message. The news is not very encouraging. We looked at all the extracted eggs and we are not sure it’s going to work. We’ll try, but they are weak. It’s not very good material. Please don’t get upset. Call me when you can, so we can discuss further options.”
She expected tears but none came. Almost on autopilot, Nadia took the Chinese bunny, opened the closet door, and threw it as far as she could. She hesitated a moment, then walked into the nursery and repeated the process for all the other bunnies. Then she went to the kitchen and started cooking dinner.
The tears came later, at night, tired rather than bitter. All dreams, hopes, and urges flew out of Nadia’s eyes, saturating the pillow and turning the world around her into a puddle of wobbly indifference. For the first time in five or six years she no longer cared. The taut spring that coiled around her insides for so long suddenly loosened and released her. She won’t have a baby. She won’t have Jerry either—he doesn’t need an infertile, neurotic, forty-year-old hag. There is nothing after this. Nothing. She finally fell asleep early in the morning.
***
“Nadia, baby, you woke up!”
“What?” She could barely open one eye.
“Do you know how long you’ve slept? All morning, all day, and the whole night. More than 24 hours. I almost got scared, but your breathing was so even, I decided you needed some rest.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. Hey, listen, the doctor called.”
“And?”
“He said they managed to fertilize one egg. It looks so-so; it’s weak. But it’s alive. They’ll try to implant it, so you have to be ready.”
Nadia sat up.
“But, they said.”
“Well, either they made a mistake, or we got lucky. But please, don’t get your hopes up; it’s just one egg. You’ve had these procedures before, and…”
“When’s the procedure?” She threw off the blanket and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
Bulgy sat on her bedside table, surrounded by several bouquets of blossoming cherry branches in every conceivable color. The room was filled with heavy, intoxicating smell.
“Jerry, what the…. I mean, how did you…”
“Don’t worry about it. Call the doctor first—he asked to call him as soon as you woke up.”
“Okay, sure.” She picked up the phone.
“Nadia, just one second.” He put his hand on top of hers. “I’ve been thinking here, for a day and a half, and reading our letters. I mean, I’m just trying to say, I love you. If we don’t make any babies, we’ll live with the bunnies. And we’ll be fine. Okay?”
Again, she waited for tears; she was so used to crying about everything, good or bad, lately. Instead, Nadia smiled.
“And how will we define ‘fine’?”
“I have no idea. But I do know we’ll be happy, no matter what happens. Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
The mirror showed Nadia a swollen, creased ghost with messed-up hair.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the scariest of them all?” She almost sang it. “No, really, where is my Prada bag—it’s the only thing missing here.”
“No kidding. Why did I marry you in the first place?” Jerry chuckled. “You’re walking around here looking like a scarecrow in these sweats. Get dressed, and let’s go eat something. I want to go to a really nice place.”
“Let’s go eat, let’s go eat,” she sang again. “You know something? I dreamt of that Chinese guy.”
“The bunny?”
“Not the bunny, silly! The guy who sold it to me. He was sitting on my bedside table and winking. Luk, luk, goot luk.”
She couldn’t quite place it, but the world around her wasn’t the same. What changed?
“Baby, I can barely recognize you this morning.” He walked around and hugged her from behind.
“How so?”
She did not know the answer to her own question, but very much wanted to find out.
“You… you're relaxed. For the first time in six years.”
“Then let’s go back to bed. We can eat later.”
***
“I haven’t seen anything like this in twenty years of practice. First of all, we only had one egg. We often implant three-four or even more, and none survives. Secondly, the egg looked really weak. After three unsuccessful cycles I did this one more out of mercy, to make sure we exhausted all the possibilities. I had very little hope for this little guy. Frankly, not much hope at all. You are beyond lucky.”
“Doctor, are you sure?”
“I am positive, Nadia. You are pregnant, and everything looks pretty good so far. This is pure luck.”
“Luk, luk.”
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind, sorry. Just something I remembered."
***
The old Chinese peddler sat in front of his cart and looked at the window tables of the café across the street. Two British women were slowly sipping their tea—a mother and a daughter. The girl was about 15; the mother no older than 40. She lifted her head and saw the vendor.
He quickly searched her eyes. This woman had been looking for love for many years. She was tired and scared of growing old and dying alone.
The old man smiled and winked at the woman. Then, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small, hand-made Panda bear with very bright eyes.
