Read Online The GI Bride by Iris Jones Simantel - Free Book Online

panties off,
so that this stranger could insert his rubber-gloved fingers inside me. I couldn’t
stop shaking: with my feet in stirrups and legs apart, my knees flapped up and down,
like a bird’s broken wings. I couldn’t control them.
    ‘Just take deep breaths and try to
relax,’ the doctor kept telling me. I wondered how he’d feel if he’d
had to get himself into this weird position. I felt like a turkey orchicken, waiting to be stuffed. How could I ever look him in the eye again after
he’d had a good prod at my naughty bits, as Mum used to call them? Anyway, I
survived the ordeal and the soft-spoken man did his best to put me at ease and to make
the examination tolerable.
    His name was Edward Crown, and he was the
brother of the famous Chicago industrialist Colonel Henry Crown. The Crown family, who
were among the city’s most prominent citizens, at that time owned the Empire State
Building, the Material Service Corporation and General Dynamics to name but a few. Dr
Crown, who certainly didn’t need to continue as a doctor, was still involved in
the family business but took care of the obstetric needs of a few select society women
and only because he loved his work. He agreed to be my doctor as a favour to Joan
Morris, and perhaps because he felt a bit sorry for the skinny little sixteen-year-old
immigrant girl.
    My in-laws were pleased to hear that their
son was to be a father, but they took little interest in my well-being. They had no
sympathy for my debilitating morning sickness, which turned out to be
twenty-four-hours-a-day sickness and lasted for more than six months. My own parents
were excited to hear that they were to be grandparents but they were understandably
worried. My mother started knitting baby clothes and repeatedly reminded me that I was
now eating for two. She also sent me some second-hand maternity smocks that were so ugly
they went straight to Goodwill Charities. Besides, I’d had enough of wearing other
people’s cast-offs.
    Shortly after we moved into our apartment,
something miraculous happened. An English woman and herUkrainian
husband moved into the apartment next door. The first time I heard that English accent
in the hallway, I thought I was dreaming but, thank God, I wasn’t. The Hawryluks,
Alice and Bill, had no children and were quite a bit older than we were, but we
immediately became good friends. How wonderful it was to have someone nearby who not
only spoke my language but ate the same food. In the meantime, I had also heard from
Barbara McCarthy, the girl I had met on the ship, and although she lived on the other
side of Chicago we could see one another now that we knew how to use the buses. Barbara
was also pregnant so we always had lots to discuss.
    As soon as Bob had finished with the army,
he’d gone back to his old job as a carpenter for Western Electric Corporation. He
worked all the overtime hours he could get so that we could prepare for the baby and be
able to afford a larger, nicer apartment. Because of his hours, I spent a great deal of
time alone so it was wonderful having an English neighbour, who provided proper cups of
tea, baked beans on toast and regular doses of sympathy.
    By then, summer was upon us and the
temperature was rising. I had never been so miserable in my life. Our apartment had a
flat, tarred roof so our rooms were like an oven. My pregnancy was taking its toll on my
energy, I felt nauseated most of the time and, no matter what I did, I could never get
cool enough to have a good night’s sleep. We borrowed an ancient oscillating fan
from Bob’s parents but it didn’t help much.
    There was no breeze for weeks on end and our
few windows, the ones that were not painted shut, were positioned in such a way that we
couldn’t create a cross-breeze.
    One day at lunchtime, Harry said, ‘Come
on, kid. Let’s take you somewhere cool. You look ready to cave in at any
minute.’ He took me to a small air-conditioned restaurant where, for an hour