“So you’re not pregnant,” Douglas said calmly.
“Oh no,” Leah said, dismissing the impossible.
Joseph walked in carrying a large bundle of ice. Douglas removed all but three pieces of ice in the towel. He showed Leah how to hold it against her face.
“So you’re not a father again.” Douglas smiled at Joseph, thinking that the man was far too serious for his own good.
“I had a vasectomy after Tina was born. The doctors said Leah shouldn’t get pregnant again. I didn’t want her to take drugs.”
Douglas nodded vigorously, having lost his wife in childbirth. “It is one of the most effective methods of birth control. Probably ninety-nine percent.” That a man of his generation and background had cared enough about his wife to have such a surgery was quite remarkable. But he felt a shot of envy toward Joseph for having an attractive wife. It made Douglas wonder where his desire for sex had gone—it was as if that part of him had gone to sleep.
“I want you to see an internist. For some simple tests. And you should see an ENT for your nose. He won’t do anything, probably not even X-ray unless you’re going to sue your husband for cooking for you. Do you have health insurance?”
Leah shook her head no.
“We can pay. We have money to pay doctors,” Joseph said.
Douglas nodded. “Yes, of course.” He would make the calls tomorrow.
Leah looked at the men helplessly, not knowing how to fight this.
Douglas had to leave. He promised to call her the next day.
The following week, Leah went to the ENT because his office was three blocks from the store. The nose was broken, the doctor said. There was minimal swelling on the bridge. A bright blue spot was her only bruise. There was nothing to do, he said. The internist couldn’t see her till the following week, but Leah thought she might cancel the appointment because she had been feeling much better. She tried to eat more regularly, preferring to eat more bagels and rice rather than the expensive roast beef sandwiches Joseph bought for her lunch from the corner deli. On Sunday, the blue spot was smaller, and she decided to go to church. It had been too long since she had been in God’s house. Leah had been praying unceasingly for forgiveness. No matter what she did, she had come to believe that He would be merciful to her. For God was good.
Leah walked into the choir practice room quietly and sat in her assigned chair. The choir director had not yet arrived. At her arrival, the choir members gasped and greeted her warmly. Kyung-ah shrieked with happiness. She hugged her.
“I tried to visit. But your bear of a husband said you needed to sleep,” Kyung-ah whined, stroking Leah’s hair. “Uh-muh, what happened? What’s that?” She pointed to the blue shadow on the bridge of Leah’s nose.
“I fainted and fell on the table. It’s broken.”
Looks of worry flashed across the choir members’ faces.
“No, just a little line break, the doctor said. I’m fine. Not serious. I can still sing.” Leah smiled to reassure them. Then she thanked them for the ficus tree they had sent her while she was away.
The members looked at the doorway. Charles had come in. Leah’s stomach clenched. He saw her, the crowd gathering round her chair. Kyung-ah smiled at him, then turned away, catching herself. Charles, his mouth slightly agape as if he meant to say something, went to the front of the room. He put down his bag on his desk and removed his jacket.
He tried to compose himself. She was here. Despite everything, a part of him was pulling at him, wanting to take her by the hand, walk out, and never return. They could be happy. But she’d said it was a mistake. She hadn’t tried to reach him. Even after the call, he had waited for her to change her mind, but no. She had not come back even to church. Never called him at home. He checked now to see her again. Several people were talking to her still. There was a pale bruise on her nose. Had he hit her? Maybe she couldn’t leave the old man. Charles grimaced. He had been thinking about quitting this job, just taking on more voice work. His father would’ve happily sent him more money if he’d explain that he wanted to work on his song cycle commission. That choir directing was a waste of his time. After all, the world premiere was less than two months away. But there was a new reason to stay. For a little while longer, anyway. Kyung-ah had come to him last week after practice. And yesterday she had come by the house. There was something delicious about her abandon. And it had been too long since he had been with a woman in a real way. Making love was much better when meetings were frequent. And she wanted something regular, too. But interestingly, she didn’t want to be his mother, wife, or girlfriend. “We’re not friends,” she’d said, laughing. Kyung-ah was not interested in romance. She was in heat, no different from a bitch, she’d said herself. Yesterday, she hadn’t even wanted to have a cup of coffee with him. She’d left his house at five o’clock to finish up her bookkeeping and to lock up the store. He’d meet her again tonight after rehearsal if she could get away.