I blinked. “Pardon?”
“How does it happen? Exactly. I know it’s partly from the man and partly from the woman, but nobody ever explains exactlyhow.”
“You’re fourteen. Has your mother not explained this to you?” How hadIlearned? From Frau Heffinger, partially, and a bit from my very embarrassed mother, but mostly from seeing the animals at the zoo. Baboons, you know, aremostimmodest.
“You haven’t happened to notice,” Sophie said, “that the woman is a fossil?”
“I really think it would be best for you to ask your mother,” I said. “Or perhaps your sister.”
She sighed. “And I thought you had some guts.”
“What did your mother say,” I asked, “when you began your … your bleeding time? I believe this is called ‘menstruation.’ It’s a very difficult word to say, is it not?”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “She said I was becoming a woman.What?I was thirteen! Sure, I’ve had my Bat Mitzvah, but if I’m a woman, why do I still have to dress like this? Anyway, I was the last one of my friends to get my period. Now I wish it had taken longer.Whata mess. Barbara uses Tampax. I know, because I’ve seen the box at her house. Mom, naturally, won’t hear of it. She says it isn’t proper for unmarried women. Why on earth not? The pads are so disgusting, aren’t they?”
“I’m very grateful for these pads,” I said. “In Germany, I used rags, for there was nothing else. Until I met Joe, and he bought the pads for me at the PX. I was terribly embarrassed the first time, but Joe is very considerate.”
“Yes, we get it, Joe’s perfect,” Sophie said. “As everybody keeps telling me. Really? Rags?”
“Refugees,” I said, “have little choice.”
“Oh.” She ate another bite of bagel. It had something called “cream cheese” on it, which was a bit like Quark,but richer and not sour.Rather delicious, in a bland sort of way.
“When this happens,” I decided I should say, “the bleeding, it’s because no baby is started. This is the reason for the blood to collect in one’s womb. It’s intended to make a sort of nest for the baby, if it comes. Of course, the body can’t know whether the baby will come or not, so it must make the nest each month, and when there’s no baby, it disposes of the nest.”
“A nest of blood,” Sophie said. “Disgusting.”
“Well, no,” I said. “Rather miraculous, really.”
“So if it happens every month,” she said, “why haven’t you had a baby yet? And why did it take Barbara and David so long?”
I said, “Really, this is a matter for your mother.”
“OK,” she said. “Suppose we ask Joe.”
I blinked at her. “Joe? One doesn’t ask a man to explain such things.”
“Fine,” she said, “if you want me to stay dangerously ignorant. But I think I’ll go ask him anyway.”
31
JOE TACKLES THE QUESTION
I went upstairs with her, of course. What else could I do? Joe was sitting up in bed reading Agatha Christie; sinning as much as me, then. I went to him, smoothed his hair, and asked, “How do you feel?”
“Better,” he said.
“You’re lying,” I said.
He smiled tiredly. “Probably.”
“Do you need more tea?”
“No.” He boosted himself up a bit on the pillows. “Hi, Soph.”
“Hi.” She plopped herself down at the foot of the bed. “I need to ask you a question. Marguerite won’t tell me. I didn’tthinkshe was chicken, but …”
“Marguerite? Chicken? Nah.”
