blow.
“Sit down.” Hamlisch laughed. “I didn’t know you’d be so surprised. Women are usually very certain about these things.”
“Are you sure?” Maggie asked in a shaky voice.
“Yes,” Hamlisch answered, somewhat puzzled by her tone.
Maggie slowly sat in a chair, feeling so many con-
28
flicting emotions that they all blurred into numbness.
“You all right?”
She nodded, trying to force a smile, but was unable to sustain it.
Hamlisch’s intercom buzzed, and he hit one of the buttons. “Hold the calls,” he said. Then he turned his eyes to Maggie.
“I take it this isn’t good news.”
Maggie shook her head, not knowing how to respond.
“I assumed it was a planned pregnancy,” Hamlisch said. “I wouldn’t have been so casual about it.”
Maggie’s fingers touched her parched lips. She didn’t trust her voice.
“It’s not the end of the world, you know,” Hamlisch said. “You’re very early in your pregnancy. Women deal with this every day of the week.”
She shook her head quickly, pressing her hand to her eyes in an attempt to halt the tears that she feared would slip past them.
Hamlisch put his hand on hers, and the moment of touch released her emotions. She wept quietly, the sounds soft, childlike.
“I want you to sit in this office for the next fifteen minutes,” Hamlisch said. “I have one patient to see. Then I want to take you to lunch.”
They didn’t go to lunch; Maggie had no appetite. Instead, they walked the hot streets of Washington, Maggie wiping her eyes as she talked, until she was finally talked out. She described, in every way she could think of, how and why her marriage was wrong; how and why she so desperately needed Rob and didn’t know how to reach him. She felt disloyal to be divulging her unhappiness, but somehow relieved to hear herself expressing it.
Hamlisch had listened, mostly in silence, occasionally asking a question, encouraging her to continue until he was sure she had said everything there was to say. He was compassionate and understanding. And he cared for both of them.
29
They stood now by the long reflecting pool in front of the Washington Monument, a place Maggie had once journeyed to by bus to join twenty thousand black people in their demand for freedom. The grass had grown back now where it had once been trampled down; a group of small children floated toy boats in the water as Maggie and Hamlisch looked on.
“You know,” Hamlisch said with a sigh, “I once heard a description of Albert Einstein. Someone said he was a ‘visionary’ not so much because of what he saw, but because of what he refused to see.”
“That wasn’t Einstein, it was B. F. Skinner,” Maggie replied softly.
“Was it?”
“Scientific Monthly. Rob gets it.”
Hamlisch sat down at the edge of the reflecting pool. Maggie sat beside him, using a wadded-up handkerchief to wipe her eyes.
“I was thinking of Rob when I said that,” Hamlisch added.
“I know.”
“He has blind spots, but men who accomplish things always do.”
“So you think I’m selfish?” She did not ask it defensively; more as confirmation of what she herself believed.
“I think you’re in a bind.”
She dipped her handkerchief into the water and wrung it out, pressing it to her forehead and eyes. “God, I’ve cried so much lately, I think I’m going to get dehydrated.”
“Do you love him, Maggie?”
“Yes.” Her answer was without emotion or hesitation. It was a simple fact of life.
“What if you have to make a choice?”
“I’m unable to make that choice.”
“Is it possible that if you waited … ? To have a child, I mean? Maybe in a few years he’d feel mellower about it.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
30
Her eyes went blank. “I’m unable to kill anything. I couldn’t do it.” She turned to Hamlisch, trying to make him understand. “I already love it. And I feel like it loves me.” She shook her head, feeling
“Sit down.” Hamlisch laughed. “I didn’t know you’d be so surprised. Women are usually very certain about these things.”
“Are you sure?” Maggie asked in a shaky voice.
“Yes,” Hamlisch answered, somewhat puzzled by her tone.
Maggie slowly sat in a chair, feeling so many con-
28
flicting emotions that they all blurred into numbness.
“You all right?”
She nodded, trying to force a smile, but was unable to sustain it.
Hamlisch’s intercom buzzed, and he hit one of the buttons. “Hold the calls,” he said. Then he turned his eyes to Maggie.
“I take it this isn’t good news.”
Maggie shook her head, not knowing how to respond.
“I assumed it was a planned pregnancy,” Hamlisch said. “I wouldn’t have been so casual about it.”
Maggie’s fingers touched her parched lips. She didn’t trust her voice.
“It’s not the end of the world, you know,” Hamlisch said. “You’re very early in your pregnancy. Women deal with this every day of the week.”
She shook her head quickly, pressing her hand to her eyes in an attempt to halt the tears that she feared would slip past them.
Hamlisch put his hand on hers, and the moment of touch released her emotions. She wept quietly, the sounds soft, childlike.
“I want you to sit in this office for the next fifteen minutes,” Hamlisch said. “I have one patient to see. Then I want to take you to lunch.”
They didn’t go to lunch; Maggie had no appetite. Instead, they walked the hot streets of Washington, Maggie wiping her eyes as she talked, until she was finally talked out. She described, in every way she could think of, how and why her marriage was wrong; how and why she so desperately needed Rob and didn’t know how to reach him. She felt disloyal to be divulging her unhappiness, but somehow relieved to hear herself expressing it.
Hamlisch had listened, mostly in silence, occasionally asking a question, encouraging her to continue until he was sure she had said everything there was to say. He was compassionate and understanding. And he cared for both of them.
29
They stood now by the long reflecting pool in front of the Washington Monument, a place Maggie had once journeyed to by bus to join twenty thousand black people in their demand for freedom. The grass had grown back now where it had once been trampled down; a group of small children floated toy boats in the water as Maggie and Hamlisch looked on.
“You know,” Hamlisch said with a sigh, “I once heard a description of Albert Einstein. Someone said he was a ‘visionary’ not so much because of what he saw, but because of what he refused to see.”
“That wasn’t Einstein, it was B. F. Skinner,” Maggie replied softly.
“Was it?”
“Scientific Monthly. Rob gets it.”
Hamlisch sat down at the edge of the reflecting pool. Maggie sat beside him, using a wadded-up handkerchief to wipe her eyes.
“I was thinking of Rob when I said that,” Hamlisch added.
“I know.”
“He has blind spots, but men who accomplish things always do.”
“So you think I’m selfish?” She did not ask it defensively; more as confirmation of what she herself believed.
“I think you’re in a bind.”
She dipped her handkerchief into the water and wrung it out, pressing it to her forehead and eyes. “God, I’ve cried so much lately, I think I’m going to get dehydrated.”
“Do you love him, Maggie?”
“Yes.” Her answer was without emotion or hesitation. It was a simple fact of life.
“What if you have to make a choice?”
“I’m unable to make that choice.”
“Is it possible that if you waited … ? To have a child, I mean? Maybe in a few years he’d feel mellower about it.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
30
Her eyes went blank. “I’m unable to kill anything. I couldn’t do it.” She turned to Hamlisch, trying to make him understand. “I already love it. And I feel like it loves me.” She shook her head, feeling
Similar Books
A Family Christmas
Glenice Crossland
Lovers of Legend
Mac Flynn
Dead Right
Brenda Novak
An Antic Disposition
Alan Gordon
The Slaves of Solitude
Patrick Hamilton
Rain and Revelation
Therese Pautz
Now and Again
Charlotte Rogan
An Unexpected Christmas
Lori Jennings
Darkwater
Catherine Fisher
Now You See Her
Joy Fielding