In Necessity and Sorrow [antikvár]

Prologue I am sitting on a hospitál bed, barefoot, my legs dangling over the step stool. I am wearing a white regulation gown tied in the back at my neck and at my waist. On my head there is a green paper-like shower cap that encloses all my hair. The room is small. My husband, although he stands leaning against the wall opposite my bed, appears quite near. I can see the íillings in his teeth as his mouth opens and closes. He is yelling at me. As far as I know I am not weeping, although I can feel tears rolling down my face. I smell the scent of Norell, and a moment later my mother comes through the swinging doors. She looks well. She says, her face radiant, "Thank God it is over." In the course of the sentence she realizes her error and ends the statement in a question mark. "No, it is not over," my husband yells. "There is a stretcher waiting for her outside the door, she threw the nurse with the needle out of the room and she is now thinking." My mother says, "I don't know what you mean." My husband ignores her and takes a step toward me. "Of all the goddamn spoiled things you have ever done this beats them all. Twice in two weeks. What the hell are you thinking about-I want to know what has changed since yesterday or this morning." "Stop screaming at her," yells my mother. My husband yells back, "You stay out of it. I don't even know what you are doing here." I have the overwhelming ürge to laugh but the impulse ends in a sob. My mother says, "Don't cry." My husband says, "Cry, cry, but it won't get us anywhere." xiii