The Other Side of Midnight. Sidney Sheldon
interns not having much money.
He was waiting for her when she arrived. They chatted aimlessly through dinner and it was not until the coffee arrived that Israel discussed what was on his mind.
‘Do you still want to have the abortion?’ he asked.
Noelle looked at him in surprise. ‘Of course.’
‘Then you must have it right away. You’re more than two months pregnant.’
She shook her head. ‘No, not yet, Israel.’
‘Is this your first pregnancy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then let me tell you something, Noelle. Up until three months, an abortion is usually an easy matter. The embryo has not been fully formed and all you need is a simple curettage, but after three months’ – he hesitated – ‘it’s another kind of operation, and it becomes dangerous. The longer you wait, the more dangerous it becomes. I want you to have the operation now.’
Noelle leaned forwards. ‘What’s the baby like?’
‘Now?’ He shrugged. ‘Just a lot of cells. Of course, all the nuclei are there to form a complete human being.’
‘And after three months?’
‘The embryo starts to become a person.’
‘Can it feel things?’
‘It responds to blows and loud noises.’
She sat there, her eyes locked onto his. ‘Can it feel pain?’
‘I suppose so. But it is protected with an amniotic sac.’ He suddenly felt an uneasy stirring. ‘It would be pretty hard for anything to hurt it.’
Noelle lowered her eyes and sat staring at the table, silent and thoughtful.
Israel Katz studied her a moment and then said shyly, ‘Noelle, if you want to keep this baby and are afraid to because it will have no father … well, I would be willing to marry you and give the baby a name.’
She looked up in surprise. ‘I have already told you. I don’t want this baby. I want to have an abortion.’
‘Then, for Christ’s sake, have it!’ Israel shouted. He lowered his voice as he realized that other patrons were staring at him. ‘If you wait much longer, there isn’t a doctor in France who will do it. Don’t you understand? If you wait too long, you could die!’
‘I understand,’ Noelle said quietly. ‘If I were going to have this baby, what kind of diet would you put me on?’
He ran his fingers through his hair, bewildered. ‘Lots of milk and fruit, lean meat.’
That night on her way home Noelle stopped at the corner market near her apartment and bought two quarts of milk and a large box of fresh fruit.
Ten days later Noelle went into Madame Rose’s office and told her that she was pregnant and asked for a leave of absence.
‘For how long?’ Madame Rose asked, eyeing Noelle’s figure.
‘Six or seven weeks.’
Madame Rose sighed. ‘Are you sure what you are doing is the best thing?’
‘I’m sure,’ Noelle replied.
‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Very well. Come back to me as soon as you can. I will ask the cashier to give you an advance on your salary.’
‘Thank you, Madame.’
For the next four weeks Noelle never left her apartment, except to buy groceries. She felt no hunger and ate very little for herself, but she drank enormous quantities of milk for the baby and crammed her body with fruit. She was not alone in the apartment. The baby was with her and she talked to him constantly. She knew it was a boy just as she had known she was pregnant. She had named him Larry.
‘I want you to grow to be big and strong,’ she said as she drank her milk. ‘I want you to be healthy … healthy and strong when you die.’ She lay in bed every day plotting her vengeance against Larry and his son. What was in her body was not a part of her. It belonged to him and she was going to kill it. It was the only thing of his that he had left her, and she was going to destroy it just as he had tried to destroy her.
How little Israel Katz had understood her! She was not interested in a formless embryo that knew nothing. She wanted Larry’s spawn to feel what was going to happen to him, to suffer, as she had suffered. The wedding dress was hanging near her bed now, always in sight, a talisman of evil, a reminder of his betrayal. First, Larry’s son, then Larry.
The phone rang often, but Noelle lay in bed, lost in her dreams until it stopped. She was sure that it was Israel Katz trying to reach her.
One evening there was a pounding on the door. Noelle lay in bed, ignoring it, but finally when the pounding continued, she dragged herself up and opened the door.
Israel Katz was standing there, his face filled with concern. ‘My God, Noelle, I’ve been calling you for days.’
He looked at her bulging stomach. ‘I thought you might have had it done somewhere else.’
She shook her head. ‘No. You’re going to do it.’
Israel stared at her. ‘Haven’t you understood anything I told you? It’s too late! No one’s going to do it.’
He saw the empty bottles of milk and the fresh fruit on the table, then looked back at her. ‘You do want the baby,’ he said. ‘Why won’t you admit it?’
‘Tell me, Israel, what’s he like now?’
‘Who?’
‘The baby. Does he have eyes and ears? Does he have fingers and toes? Can he feel pain?’
‘For Christ’s sake, Noelle, stop it. You talk as if … as if …’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ He shook his head in despair. ‘I don’t understand you.’
She smiled softly. ‘No. You don’t.’
He stood there a moment, making up his mind.
‘All right, I’m putting my ass in a sling for you, but if you’re really determined to have an abortion, let’s get it over with. I have a doctor friend who owes me a favour. He’ll …’
‘No.’
He stared at her.
‘Larry’s not ready yet,’ she said.
Three weeks later at four o’clock in the morning, Israel Katz was awakened by a furious concierge pounding on his door. ‘Telephone, Monsieur Night Owl!’ he yelled. ‘And tell your caller that it is the middle of the night, when respectable people are asleep!’
Israel stumbled out of bed and sleepily made his way down the hall to the telephone, wondering what crisis had arisen. He picked up the receiver.
‘Israel?’
He did not recognize the voice at the other end of the phone.
‘Yes?’
‘Now …’ It was a whisper, disembodied and anonymous.
‘Who is this?’
‘Now. Come now, Israel …’
There was an eeriness to the voice, an unearthly quality that sent a chill down his spine. ‘Noelle?’
‘Now …’
‘For Christ’s sake,’ he exploded. ‘I won’t do it. It’s too late. You’ll die, and I’m not going to be responsible.