“How is she?”
“She is all right. Did you watch?”
He looked tired.
“I saw you sew up. The incision looked very long.”
“You thought so?”
“Yes. Will that scar flatten out?”
After a while they brought out the wheeled stretcher and took it very rapidly down the hallway to the elevator. I went along beside it. Catherine was moaning. Downstairs they put her in the bed in her room. I sat in a chair at the foot of the bed. There was a nurse in the room. I got up and stood by the bed. It was dark in the room. Catherine put out her hand. “Hello, darling,” she said. Her voice was very weak and tired.
“Hello, you sweet.”
“What sort of baby was it?”
“Sh–don’t talk,” the nurse said.
“A boy. He’s long and wide and dark.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yes,” I said. “He’s fine.”
I saw the nurse look at me strangely.
“I’m awfully tired,” Catherine said. “And I hurt like hell. Are you all right, darling?”
“I’m fine. Don’t talk.”
“You were lovely to me. Oh, darling, I hurt dreadfully. What does he look like?”
“He looks like a skinned rabbit with a puckered-up old-man’s face.”
“You must go out,” the nurse said. “Madame Henry must not talk.”
“I’ll be outside.”
“Go and get something to eat.”
“No. I’ll be outside.” I kissed Catherine. She was very gray and weak and tired.
“May I speak to you?” I said to the nurse. She came out in the hall with me. I walked a little way down the hall.
“What’s the matter with the baby?” I asked.
“Didn’t you know?”
“He wasn’t alive.”
“He was dead?”
“They couldn’t start him breathing. The cord was caught around his neck or something.”
“So he’s dead.”
“Yes. It’s such a shame. He was such a fine big boy. I thought you knew.”
“No,” I said. “You better go back in with Madame.”
I sat down on the chair in front of a table where there were nurses’ reports hung on clips at the side and looked out of the window. I could see nothing but the dark and the rain falling across the light from the window. So that was it. The baby was dead. That was why the doctor looked so tired. But why had they acted the way they did in the room with him? They supposed he would come around and start breathing probably. I had no religion but I knew he ought to have been baptized. But what if he never breathed at all. He hadn’t. He had never been alive. Except in Catherine. I’d felt him kick there often enough. But I hadn’t for a week. Maybe he was choked all the time. Poor little kid. I wished the hell I’d been choked like that. No I didn’t. Still there would not be all this dying to go through. Now Catherine would die. That was what you did. You died. You did not know what it was about. You never had time to learn. They threw you in and told you the rules and the first time they caught you off base they killed you. Or they killed you gratuitously like Aymo. Or gave you the syphilis like Rinaldi. But they killed you in the end. You could count on that. Stay around and they would kill you.
Once in camp I put a log on top of the fire and it was full of ants. As it commenced to burn, the ants swarmed out and went first toward the centre where the fire was; then turned back and ran toward the end. When there were enough on the end they fell off into the fire. Some got out, their bodies burnt and flattened, and went off not knowing where they were going. But most of them went toward the fire and then back toward the end and swarmed on the cool end and finally fell off into the fire. I remember thinking at the time that it was the end of the world and a splendid chance to be a messiah and lift the log off the fire and throw it out where the ants could get off onto the ground. But I did not do anything but throw a tin cup of water on the log, so that I would have the cup empty to put whiskey in before I added water to it. I think the cup of water on the burning log only steamed the ants.