Page 114 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

"Do you know how big Cuba is, end to end?" George said.

"What is this, a quiz show?" the driver said resentfully.

George shrugged and said no more. Nowadays he avoided political discussions with outsiders. They usually had easy answers: send all the Mexicans home, put Hells Angels in the army, castrate the queers. The greater their ignorance, the stronger their opinions.

Georgetown was only a few minutes away, but the journey seemed long. George imagined Maria collapsed on the floor, or lying in bed on the edge of death, or in a coma.

The address Nelly had given George turned out to be a gracious old house divided into studio apartments. Maria did not answer her downstairs doorbell, but a black girl who looked like a student let George in and pointed out Maria's room.

Maria came to the door in a bathrobe. She certainly looked sick. Her face was bloodless and her expression dejected. She did not say Come in, but she walked away leaving the door open, and he entered. At least she was ambulatory, he thought with relief: he had feared worse.

It was a tiny place, one room with a kitchenette. He guessed she shared the bathroom down the hall.

He looked hard at her. It pained him to see her this way, not just sick, but miserable. He longed to take her in his arms, but he knew that would be unwelcome. "Maria, what's the matter?" he said. "You look terrible!"

"Just feminine problems, that's all."

That phrase was normally code for a menstrual period, but he was pretty sure this was something else.

"Let me make you a cup of coffee--or maybe tea?" He took off his coat.

"No, thanks," she said.

He decided to make it anyway, just to show her that he cared. But then he glanced at the chair she was about to sit on, and saw that the seat was stained with blood.

She noticed it at the same time, blushed, and said: "Oh, hell."

George knew a little about women's bodies. Several possibilities passed through his mind. He said: "Maria, have you suffered a miscarriage?"

"No," she said tonelessly. She hesitated.

George waited patiently.

At last Maria said: "An abortion."

"You poor thing." He grabbed a towel from the kitchenette, folded it, and placed it on the bloodstain. "Sit on this, for now," he said. "Rest." He looked at the shelf over the refrigerator and saw a packet of jasmine tea. Figuring that must be what she liked, he put water on to heat. He said no more until he had made the tea.

Abortion law varied from state to state. George knew that in DC it was legal for the purpose of protecting the health of the mother. Many doctors interpreted this liberally, to include the woman's health and general well-being. In practice, anyone who had the money could find a doctor willing to perform an abortion.

Although she had said she did not want tea, she took a cup.

He sat opposite her with a cup for himself. "Your secret lover," he said. "I guess he's the father."

She nodded. "Thank you for the tea. I presume World War Three hasn't started yet, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"The Soviets turned their ships back, so the danger of a showdown at sea has receded. But the Cubans still have nukes, aimed at us."

Maria seemed too depressed to care.

George said: "He wouldn't marry you."

"No."

"Because he's already married?"

She did not answer.

"So he found you a doctor and paid the bill."

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