Waiting for Jake or Esther to answer their doorbell the next afternoon, Allen admitted to himself that he probably shouldn’t have come. He could have telephoned with the news, or even asked Rosa’s lawyer to tell them. But that didn’t seem right after all the years of friendship. Didn’t seem right even now, when their friendship was dead, had to be dead.
He and Jake had been through rocky times before, like that last summer at camp when they were both counselors, when Allen really noticed Rosa for the first time. She was two years younger, and any romantic involvement between counselors and campers was strictly forbidden. For a while, Allen suspected that his best buddy also had a crush on the skinny redhead, who stood up in the middle of a campfire program and asked why everyone was singing a silly song about a purple people-eater when their country was testing nuclear bombs over Bikini Atoll. Even back then, Rosa was ablaze, and most of the guys were attracted to her.
Over the last few years, he and Jake hadn’t made much time for each other. They were both so busy, with the pull of their professions and then Jake’s fatherhood. Rosa proclaimed that Jake had sold out his activism for a white coat and stethoscope, but Allen couldn’t think of any guy he admired more. That made this visit even harder, knowing his news would likely end their friendship.
Jake answered the door. He hesitated, then stood back, a wordless invitation to enter. Esther was sitting on the sofa nursing Molly. Allen wished this were a social visit, so he could ask to hold the baby. He had wanted to ask so many times but never did, and now he probably never would. He felt Esther’s eyes on his face, searching for the reason he was there. Maybe worrying that she had goofed in court the day before, said something bad enough to make the DA change his mind about the plea agreement.
“Have a seat,” Jake said.
Allen sat on the arm of the easy chair, still in his coat. He buried his face in his hands.
“What’s wrong?” Esther asked.
Jake sat next to her, put his arm around her shoulders. Jake was protecting his family and Allen admired that. But it made him feel so alone.
“You look serious,” Jake said. “Did something happen in court today? ”
“Rosa no-showed.” Allen worked to keep his voice steady. “She’s gone.”
“Gone?” Esther looked at Jake for help.
“Underground,” Allen said. “She knew how badly the trial was going. I wanted to tell you in person. That means the trial is over, at least for the time being.” He hesitated. “This has been awful for all of us, but especially you, Esther. I’m profoundly sorry.”
Esther opened her mouth—to speak, to scream?—then sat silent, mouth agape.
“There’s more.” Allen felt his eyes begin to burn. He blinked several times, but it didn’t help. “Rosa is pregnant.”
“I should have guessed,” Esther whispered. “She was nauseous a lot. And so pale. When did she tell you?”
“She didn’t. I found the phone number of the clinic on the pad next to the telephone, with three exclamation points gouged into the yellow paper. I called the clinic, said I was Rosa’s husband. I told them Rosa couldn’t remember the brand of prenatal vitamins they recommended.” Allen heard how small his own voice sounded. He hated lying, even when it was necessary. “She didn’t tell me she was leaving either. I didn’t know until I woke up this morning. Her side of the bed was empty.”
He rubbed his eyes, his beard, but couldn’t wipe away the hopeless torrent of loss. He had to get out of there. He stood, glad he had never taken off his coat.
Jake moved awkwardly toward him. “I’m really sorry, Allen.”
Allen held up both hands, palms out. He couldn’t bear Jake’s sympathy. “Got to go.”
“Let me know if you hear from her. Please?” Esther called after him.
“Or if we can do anything,” Jake added. “For you.”
Allen pulled the apartment door closed behind him and crumpled against the wall in the unheated hallway. Closing his eyes, he relived his argument with Rosa after court the day before. Her leaving was partly his fault. He should have known better than to try to offer advice when she was so distraught.
“Maybe you could tone it down a little,” he had said on the way home. “You know, show some sympathy for the cop?” He had looked out of the bus window, as if it was just an offhand comment. He wanted to take her in his arms and banish her anger and hurt. Sometimes he wished she were the kind of woman who would let him do that. The kind of woman who would admit that she felt sorry about the cop’s injuries, that she felt wretched and hurt and betrayed that her sister would testify against her.
“I can’t.” Rosa’s voice, when she finally answered, was tiny. “I thought you, of all people, would understand what’s at stake here.”
“Your freedom is at stake. I understand that.”
Rosa compressed her lips into a tight white line. “How can I live with myself if I don’t fight every inch? Who would I be?”
“You’d be yourself, Rosa Levin, free and ready to fight another day.”
“No,” Rosa said. “You’re thinking like an arrogant lawyer. Not like an activist.”
“Why arrogant?”
“Because you act like you know everything. You think it’s all about manipulating the judge and jury, maneuvering the case law. The Olympics of Head Games, won by the team that comes up with the best bullshit. But you’re wrong. This trial is about taking a stand. Like slave revolts or Selma.” She paused. “What’s at stake is who I am.”
Later, in bed, Rosa had been more tender than usual, and she cried after they made love. At first he wondered if maybe she was sorry about their fight, but then he understood that something very bad was going to happen. He pushed the premonition away by licking the tears off her flushed cheeks and ears and neck and holding her until her breathing slowed into sleep.
The chill woke him up the next morning. Whenever Rosa got up first, she flung the covers off and never remembered to pull them back over him. That morning, he woke up cold, and Rosa was gone.