Unintended Consequences - By Marti Green

Chapter

15





Sunny Bergman still wasn’t used to the crowded streets of New York City. Really, after living in Manhattan for almost two years, she should have adjusted to the teeming humanity. Yet she felt a jolt each time she left her apartment. The confined walls of the elevator, the perpetually smog-filled air, even the smell of the streets triggered a yearning to be back in Byron, the small town where she’d grown up. An ideal childhood, she thought, with the coziness that came with knowing just about every person in town. A trip to the supermarket always included chats with friends she’d run into or parents of her friends or even just the smiling workers behind the cash register. And a city was only twenty minutes east, with all the stores and restaurants anyone could want.

Manhattan was so different. No one smiled at her, barely even nodded in response to her cheery attempts at chatter. Once in a while someone would smile at Rachel, but even the most coldhearted person couldn’t resist such a beautiful child. Sunny’s own heart fluttered each time she looked at her daughter. She hadn’t planned on having a child so early. They had agreed she would work until Eric finished his medical training and then she would go to nursing school. Taking turns—that’s what marriage was about. One day she’d go back to school but not yet. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Rachel with a stranger.

Stepping onto the sidewalk from the vestibule of her apartment building, the bright sunshine momentarily blinded Sunshine. Sunshine—that was her real name. She’d heard the story of her name numerous times from her parents. How they’d waited so long to have a child and how when they first set eyes on her, the hospital room brightened, as if drenched in sunlight. Holding Rachel’s small hand, she led her toward the park, an oasis of green in this city of concrete and brick.

“Mommy, can we see the aminals today?” Rachel asked in her dainty voice, so melodic in its tones that it sounded like a song.

“It’s animals, not aminals,” Sunny said. “And not today. It’s too far away. After the park, we’re going to meet Daddy for lunch.”

“But I wanna see the aminals.”

“It’ll be fun to see Daddy for lunch.”

Sunny understood Rachel’s silence. Residents worked long hours and Eric rarely got home before Rachel went to sleep. Ironic—it was Eric who loved children so much that he chose pediatrics as his specialty, Eric who’d brought her to Manhattan, so far from the family and friends she loved, Eric who left her alone all day in this city of strangers. He’d left her alone again yesterday with his sudden visit back to his hometown in Pennsylvania. He’d gotten a call the evening before from his sister. Carol was in trouble again, he’d said. Her marriage was shaky, and she wanted to drink. Two years of sobriety were about to go down the drain. He needed to go back and straighten her out. “We’ll go with you,” Sunny had offered, desperate to spend more time with Eric.

“No, Rachel will be a distraction. Besides, I’ll be back home tonight. It’s just for the day.”

He returned late that evening, withdrawn, unwilling to join in her effort at conversation. He went to sleep early and left for the hospital before she and Rachel had awakened that morning. He’d told Sunny many times that he had to work harder than the other residents to prove himself. He was much older than the rest—he’d been almost 32 when he began medical school. “I was the black sheep of the family,” he’d told her when they first met. “The wild one who didn’t want to settle down to any serious work. Now I have to make up for it.”

Sunny took Rachel’s hand in hers. They walked past the few brownstones interspersed between new apartment buildings and stopped to admire the first buds on the forsythia in their carefully tended gardens. Sunny kept her face turned away from the bags of garbage, heaped layers deep, that lined the curb. The trucks had not yet arrived to pick up the trash. Another change from the neat plastic or metal cans that sat at the end of the driveways in her childhood suburban home. The acrid odor couldn’t be good for Rachel. She always worried about disease when the pungent smell entered her nostrils.

Sunny held her daughter’s hand tighter as she crossed the road to escape the offending litter. Brick prewar buildings lined the street. Most were six or seven stories high, with an occasional restaurant or store on the street level. Her own apartment building was one of the highest in the neighborhood, at twelve stories. But neighborhoods in Manhattan were strange. Just one or two blocks away, their character changed completely. So unlike the sameness of Byron, its streets lined with simple ranches and the occasional two-story, the lawns carefully manicured, the backyards fenced because even in the Midwest one had to be careful the toddlers didn’t run out into the streets even though the drivers were always cautious.

“Look, Rachel, Billy’s at the park.” They were just steps from the entrance to the playground. When Rachel saw her friend, she dropped her mother’s hand and ran to him, plopping herself next to him in the sandlot. Sunny strolled over to Billy’s mother, Ellen, and sat next to her on the bench.

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” Ellen said as she smiled at Sunny. “Didn’t you say you were meeting Eric for lunch?”

“We are, but it’s so lovely out that I left a few chores for later so we could get some fresh air first.”

“I know how you feel. I couldn’t wait to get outside today. It almost feels like spring.”

“Well, it is spring.”

“Yeah, the calendar says it’s spring, but in New York, spring is about five days in May. Before then it’s cool and rainy, and after it’s hot and steamy. We don’t get too many gorgeous days like this.”

Her eyes closed, Sunny bent her head back and let the sun stream over her face. On a day like this, sitting among the greenery of the park, it almost felt like being back home. She could hear peals of laughter coming from her daughter, and the sound brought a smile to her face. Yes, having Rachel made everything worthwhile.

“Have you heard about MaryLou?” Ellen asked. “She walked in on Stephen in bed with a young floozy. She was supposed to be at the theater, but she must have eaten something rotten at lunch because she felt so sick she left during intermission.”

Ellen was a notorious gossipmonger, a neighborhood busybody who thrived on scandal and could prattle nonstop. The drone of her voice melded into a sonorous hum as soothing as the white noise of an air conditioner. Sunny knew she didn’t need to respond. A few grunts here and there would suffice.

“Stephen just looked at her and said, ‘You’re home early.’ Can you imagine that? He didn’t even try to hide the girl or make some lame apology. Well, you know the rumor’s always been that MaryLou had her own flings on the side, so maybe she got what she deserved. I heard she bedded the boy who delivers her groceries from Gristedes. He brings me my groceries, too, and he’s adorable, but my God, he can’t be more than 18!”

Sunny opened her eyes and looked for Rachel. Her daughter was still happily ensconced in the sand with her little friend. As she glanced toward the entrance to the park, she saw Ralph approach with his daughter, Brianna. The brief flutter of her heart unnerved her, but she caught herself. In the past, she’d felt foolish around Ralph, stammering her responses to his polite conversation. But she was better now, able to smile and be composed without betraying the nervousness she always felt in his presence.

“Morning, ladies,” he said as he approached their park bench. “Have room for me?” Brianna ran off to join the other children as Ralph squeezed onto the end of the wooden seat. “Hard to stay indoors and paint on a day like this.”

“When’s your show?” Ellen asked.

“Opening is two weeks from tomorrow. But I’m set for the show, I’ve just got to pack up the canvases and get them to the gallery. There’s some new stuff I’m experimenting with now. That’s what’s keeping me busy. Never too busy for an hour in the park, though, when a spring day is beckoning.”

Sunny smiled, but she could feel that flutter in her heart again, the annoying ba-dum, ba-dum that began every time she saw Ralph.

“I hope you’ll both come to the opening. With your husbands, of course.”

“Why spoil it with my husband?” Ellen said with a coy smile.

All the women flirted with Ralph. He was tall and muscled, and his angular face and wavy black hair set off his cerulean eyes. The day’s growth of stubble he usually sported on his chin added to his rakish good looks. With his wife’s income as an investment banker, Ralph could stay home in their loft apartment and pursue his artistic talent. Caring for Brianna when nursery school wasn’t in session was part of their marital bargain. An attractive man in a gaggle of playground moms—it was inevitable that he’d become the object of their fantasies.

“Well, your husband can keep you company while my wife is dragging me around to meet and greet.”

“There you go, bringing up your wife again.”

“Yes, I suppose that is an annoying habit of mine.”

“Well, I’ll overlook it this time, but really, what’s the point of having a man in our midst if he’s just going to talk about his wife?” Ellen said with a fake pout.

“I’ll work on that.” Ralph said with mock seriousness.

Sunny envied the casual joking of her friends. She didn’t consider herself to be shy, yet something in her didn’t allow for playfulness. A piece missing from her, she thought when she bothered to think about herself. She looked at her watch, a digital chronometer she’d bought for timing her runs but wore all the time, preferring it over the gold Rado watch Eric had given her when Rachel was born. The gold watch was beautiful, with its round face surrounded by tiny diamonds, and she wore it on the few occasions when they got dressed up. She’d never owned anything so beautiful. She never really felt comfortable wearing it, though; it didn’t fit her sense of herself. But she’d had that feeling about a lot of things over the course of her life.

She stood up and called over to Rachel. “It’s time to go meet Daddy. Say goodbye to your friends.” She turned to Ralph and Ellen and said goodbye. As she walked away, she wondered if their conversation would change with just the two of them. She wondered whether, if she had been left alone with Ralph, she’d gather up the gumption to flirt with him. It wasn’t as if she didn’t love Eric; certainly she did. But with his long hours at the hospital, leaving her alone with her thoughts, she sometimes let her mind wander.

Silly of me, she thought, as she took Rachel’s hand and headed to the hospital to meet her husband for lunch.


The next evening, Sunny fussed over the floral arrangement. She’d picked out each flower that afternoon at the florist two blocks from her apartment. There were bunches of flowers already made up into bouquets, wrapped in cellophane, and ready to be placed in a glass vase. Sunny liked arranging the flowers herself, though, deciding which ones worked well with each other, how a gardenia looked different when placed next to fern or rubbing up against a daffodil. The flowers were beautiful this time of year. No matter how she arranged them, it would brighten the dark foyer. It had to be exact, though, an elegant display sitting atop their antique foyer table. It seemed as if she’d searched every antique shop in the East Village before venturing north to Gramercy Park, looking for the right table for their entryway. And then, almost magically, she’d stumbled across a slim dark mahogany table,built in the early 1900s by a Chinese artisan at a neighbor’s tag sale. How lucky she was! It was just what she fancied, just the style that Eric’s mother would admire. The flowers had to be positioned just right to complement the luscious wood grain of the table. That’s what she wanted Eric’s parents to see first when they entered her apartment—perfection.

It wasn’t the first time Eric’s parents had visited from the home they’d retired to in Florida. They had visited once before, shortly after she and Eric moved to New York City and Eric had started his residency. They had hardly any furniture then. The painted white walls were peeling at the edges and the wood floors were bare. They weren’t expected to have turned it into a home yet. Now, though, Mrs. Bergman’s practiced eye would certainly take in the results of Sunny’s attempts at decoration.

“It’s fine,” Eric called in from the living room, a note of annoyance in his voice. He’d been short with her ever since he’d returned from his visit to his sister. Whenever she tried to change his mood, he’d brush her off. “Stop fiddling with the flowers. Mom’s not going to care whether the rose is in front or back.”

“You’re wrong. She notices everything.” Phyllis Bergman was a perfectionist. Her home could have been featured in Architectural Digest. Although she furnished it with a decorator, Sunny knew Phyllis could have done it on her own. She had impeccable taste.

“You don’t have anything to prove to Mom. She already adores you.”

“She adores Rachel. She tolerates me.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

That was the problem with Eric. He assumed everyone loved the things he loved. If he loved Manhattan, Sunny must love Manhattan. If he loved sushi, everyone must. And since he loved Sunny, so must his parents. Sunny thought Eric’s father liked her well enough, but his mother was another story. No matter how hard she tried, Sunny could detect the scent of disapproval from her mother-in-law. In her heart, Sunny knew Mrs. Bergman thought she’d trapped Eric, thought this woman from a working-class home had latched on to the handsome medical student from a wealthy family and purposely became pregnant.

The truth was so different. Yes, Sunny had become pregnant unexpectedly. And yes, she and Eric had married sooner than they’d planned. But Eric had implored her to keep the baby. She wanted to end her pregnancy and had gone so far as to make an appointment at the clinic. Over and over Eric begged her to cancel the appointment. They’d argue, she’d cry, they’d argue all over again. For weeks, it felt like an unending cycle of tears and infuriation. Eventually she relented. Eric was too forceful to resist.

It had been so hard to give up nursing school. Since childhood she’d dreamed of becoming a nurse. She loved Rachel—certainly she did—yet she looked forward to the time she could return to school. There had been no question that Eric would continue his studies. After all, medicine was more important than nursing. A husband’s career was more important than a wife’s. She had agreed with him when he laid out their future: finish medical school, then his residency, then settle into a practice. She could return to school later. By then, Rachel would be in kindergarten, maybe even first grade. It made sense to postpone her dream for the family, she often told herself.

“Listen,” Eric called to Sunny, “don’t mention to Mom and Dad that I visited Carol. I don’t want them worrying that she’s relapsing again.”

“Sure.” He hadn’t wanted Sunny to say anything to Carol, either, if she spoke to her. She felt too ashamed of her weakness, he’d said. It would be humiliating if Sunny mentioned it. “Maybe she’d like to know I’m rooting for her, that she can lean on me, too,” Sunny had said.

But Eric was adamant. “No!” he’d barked at her. “Just trust me. I know her better than you.” And so Sunny kept quiet.


“So, are you getting enough sleep?” Robert Bergman asked his son as Sunny cleared the dinner dishes from the table.

“Sure, Dad, it’s not a problem.”

“Because I heard how they make you residents work day and night and then the next day again.”

“It’s not like that anymore. Hospitals changed that a long time ago. I get enough sleep. Don’t worry about it.”

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t pick surgery,” Mrs. Bergman chimed in. “I mean, you waited so long to settle down that you might as well go into the field that pays the most. You don’t have as much time to save your money as those younger residents.”

Sunny could follow the conversation in the dining room as she stacked the dishes in the sink. Their apartment was small—the dining room was a tiny alcove next to the kitchen—so from just a few feet away, she could discern the disapproval in the tone of the question, and she peeked in to see Eric’s reaction. His voice remained even, but Sunny saw that his body carried the same tension he’d displayed since his visit to his sister. “I picked pediatrics because I wanted to work with children. You know that, Mom. We’ve had this discussion before.”

“I know, I know, but surgery’s where the money is. That’s nothing to sneeze at. With money, you could live someplace nice, buy some decent furniture. It’s no shame to make money. Although, I suppose I should be grateful that you’re in medicine. For a while, I thought you’d end up in jail.”

“Phyllis, that’s enough! Eric’s a fine boy. You’re exaggerating his youthful indiscretions.”

Sunny busied herself in the kitchen, making coffee and preparing the dessert. She didn’t want to be part of their conversation, afraid that if she were she’d blurt out something she’d regret.

Eric’s father cleared his throat. “Your mother has a point, son. You remember my friend Dan Edelman, don’t you? His son became a pediatric cardiologist. He’s still working with children but doing something special, not just ordinary, you know what I mean? And he schedules his surgeries. No phone calls waking him in the middle of the night.”

Sunny glanced back into the dining room and could see Eric’s body stiffen, his mouth set in a rigid grin. “Sure, Dad, I know what you mean. A pediatrician doesn’t give you enough bragging rights with your friends.”

“No, no,” came a chorus from both his parents.

Eric’s mother reached over and patted his hand. “Whatever you do, we’re proud of you. You’ve always been too sensitive to our advice. We’re just trying to be helpful.”

“Coffee’s ready,” Sunny chimed in from the kitchen.

All heads turned toward her voice. As Sunny walked into the room with a platter of homemade gingersnap cookies, they smiled at her and then at each other, the picture of a happy family.