The Laments Read Online Free Page B

in the spray—adopted a pose and spat water from her mouth, held up her sodden tresses and pranced across the pool like a duchess, a ridiculous figure, drenched, her wet belly glistening.
    Walter stood by the pond, as rigid as the Boer statue.
    “Come here, Walter. Forget yourself and jump in!” Mary shouted.
    He watched her, torn between his composure and the naughty glee of his pregnant wife. Then he kicked off his shoes, deciding she was his antidote, the cure to his torpid nature; he tossed his hat and jacket into the air and clambered into the pool. Mary was his liberator, and he thanked fate and embraced her.
    The elderly bench sitters winced at this shocking abuse of a public garden. Even the bronze Boer had to suffer this foolishness, with Walter’s straw hat perched rakishly on his head. Tears of laughter rolled down Walter’s cheeks as Mary blew raspberries at a frowning matron. He was freed from himself and in love with Mary. God bless her silliness and her vulgar language.
    “Walter!” cried Mary suddenly.
    Walter turned and saw Mary’s dress turn red between her legs.
    Her scream was deafening. He opened his eyes.
    A marabou was screeching at him through the windshield. Walter jerked in his seat and started the Volvo’s engine. The bird, unimpressed, raised its enormous wings in a languid shrug and hopped lazily to the ground. Walter had hunted many times for impala and zebra, and he knew that the minute an animal was down, the marabous and vultures would be first on the scene.
    As the Volvo shuddered forward he wondered if the marabou had sensed the blood in his dream.
    MARY BOYD TOSSED IN HER SLEEP . She regretted calling Walter; Walter didn’t care about her anymore. She’d offered him all her love and he had rejected her. The last time they’d made love she’d suspected that he was really just saying good-bye.
    “Well, I don’t need you now!” she said out loud. “I’ve got little Jackie!”
    Meanwhile, Walter was driving around the grounds of the hospital in the early morning light, wondering how to find his wife and baby. A sign read, VISITORS ADMITTED 9:00 TO 3:00. He counted the minutes, converted them to seconds, and decided to take a stroll around the rhododendrons to make the time pass.
    JULIA WAS IN A LIGHT SLEEP at six A.M. She was used to the sound of the nurses squeaking in their plimsolls past her room; it was a surprise to see a nurse enter the room silently.
    “What is it?” she asked.
    “Just changing the nappy, dear,” whispered the nurse as she picked up the bundle beside her.
    Julia listened to the nurse’s footsteps and thought about her rather loopy smile. Where had she seen it before?
    MARY’S BREASTS ACHED . It had been over twelve hours since she had nursed; the white uniform she had taken from a linen closet grew damp around her nipples the very moment she thought about nursing. As she approached the reception desk, she lowered the large canvas bag casually to her side, praying that little Jackie would be quiet.
    The night attendant rose to unlock the door for her. He noticed the two large wet spots on her chest, and averted his eyes as she walked out.
    THE FRAGRANT ARCH OF PINK ROSES that greeted visitors to Mercy Hospital was glorious; Julia loved roses, and had paused to breathe them in whenever she came for her appointments with Dr. Underberg. Mary, however, appreciated them only for the concealment they offered. She walked quickly along the length of the whitewashed building with its terra-cotta shingles. An enormous purple rhododendron bush gave her cover as she paused to catch her breath. Her heart was beating furiously. Oh God, what had she done? She checked the baby: his gaze was confident; he beamed at her. Such a happy fellow; she was obviously doing the right thing. But which way to go? How could she hitch a ride with little Jackie in a bag?
    “Mary?” called a familiar voice from among the rhododendron blossoms.
    “Walter!” she gasped.
    He