It was early on a Sunday morning, two months later.

I had walked from the subway stop four blocks away with my single suitcase. It contained all I had in the world and it wasn’t heavy. The street wasn’t fashionable—a mix of row houses, beauty shops, retail shops and funeral parlors—but it was cheerful and vital, and the bakeries gave off a warm, pleasant smell as I passed by It was a cold day, not too far from Christmas, and the wind cut through where my coat didn’t quite close across my chest.

I had to stop once on the way to rest. After two months I could walk without any trouble, but the drugs Doctor Spector were giving me made me a little nauseous and my breasts were very tender. I had never been on Gino’s street, but there was no mistaking his house. It was the biggest on the block, and the best maintained. I recognized his car in the driveway.

I had first called him a few days after I was released from the hospital. After that, Gino had taken to calling me every day or so; sometimes from work, but more often from his home. I told him nothing about Marilyn and he didn’t ask. I was sure he had to deal with her enough at work. And I said nothing what had happened to me. We had plenty of other things to talk about. His niece’s baby, a girl, had been born healthy and the adoption was in progress. He was taking more time off from work to spent time with the baby. The natural mother was not a help. As soon as she was recovered from the birth she started frequenting the clubs in South Philly, coming home later and later. Two days ago she had disappeared without a word, taking only her clothes and the money from the kitchen cookie jar. Gino was frantic. His mother was too frail to help and the baby was fussy.

It took awhile after I knocked before he came to the door. His hair was mussed and he was wearing a T-shirt and warm up pants. He looked good enough to eat. “Suzee! It’s great you could come.”

“It’s good to see you again, Gino.”

“Come on,” he said. “Let me show you little Theresa.” He was so excited, whether at seeing me or at fatherhood, that he didn’t seem to notice my suitcase. I put it down and went upstairs to the nursery.

Theresa was crying in her crib, a full bottle by her side. She was well fed, but her cheeks were red from crying. I picked her up and I saw her eyes trying to focus on me.

“I just changed her,” Gino said. “She’s still getting used to the bottle.”

I held her to my chest and she began to quiet. “There, there, little one. When was she fed last?”

“I tried a few minutes ago.”

“Help me off with my coat, Gino.” We set down in chairs across from each other. “God, it’s good to see you again.”

“I’ve missed you. Thanks for coming. Does Marilyn know you’re here?”

“She won’t be up till noon.”

“It’s getting worse?”

“Let’s not talk about her. Are we alone?”

“Well, yeah. Mom goes to early Mass. She won’t be home for an hour.”

“Good.” I unbuttoned the top buttons on my blouse and my bra spilled out. Then I opened the snaps on my nursing bra and offered Theresa the nipple. She took it immediately and began to suck.

Gino stared at me with his mouth open. “Suzee—what are you doing?”

“It’s a good thing Theresa’s a natural. This is my first time.”

“Are you—how can you—“

“My milk only started coming in yesterday morning.” I leaned back in the chair and just smiled at him.

“You can’t have been pregnant,’ he said after a moment. “But being able to nurse, it’s from hormones . . . So you took hormone shots.”

“You’re not a trial lawyer for nothing.”

“This has nothing to do with Marilyn,” he said slowly. “You did this for me.”

“I didn’t expect your niece to run off so soon, but the way you’ve been talking about her, I wasn’t surprised.”

“You did this . . . Suzee, you are full of surprises. I don’t know what to say.”

That wasn’t true. We both had a lot to say, and it took from the time Theresa was done nursing until his mom returned home to even begin to cover it all. And it went on through noon, when Gino realized I wasn’t going back to Marilyn’s, and into the early afternoon when Theresa had another feeding and a bath.

Night comes early in Philadelphia in December, and by the time the shadows were lengthening it had all been said, at least on my side, except for two things. One, that this had all started with Marilyn’s trickery; that part would never be mentioned. It was time for the other one.

We were standing over Theresa’s crib, watching her sleep.

“Gino?”

“Yes?”

“Are you ready for another surprise?”

He shook his head slowly, “I don’t know if I can take any more today.”

“I have something to show you.”

“What’s that?”

“A tattoo.”

THE END