3.
Gilbert came back from the room across the hall and tossed a pair of cotton slippers down by my bed.
"Julia, get up and change your shoes."
For a second I thought he'd finally remembered I was the one who was his wife. Before I could say anything, he went on.
"Selma's slippers have thin soles. Trade with her. Wear hers."
I stared at him. "She can't catch a chill, but I can?"
His face darkened. "Why are you making a thing out of something this small? It's just shoes. You're not even leaving the room."
My sister heard that and put her hands on her hips.
"Did a door slam on your head? Her feet are two sizes smaller than my sister's. How's she supposed to walk in them, all cramped? And couldn't Selma have brought her own thick socks?"
"My sister didn't bring extra shoes either. The slippers she's wearing now she had to borrow from the nurses' station. You want her standing on shoes that don't fit for three hours?"
Gilbert pinched the bridge of his nose, irritated, and there was a threat in his voice.
"Julia, I'll add a couple layers of insoles for you later. Don't make me come change them myself. If it comes to that, this becomes a very different situation."
My eyes went to Selma, smiling in the doorway.
The thick wool socks pulled up on her feet were the ones I'd gotten last month, specially, for Gilbert's night shifts, so his feet wouldn't be cold on his rounds.
When it was my turn, all that was left were two thin insoles.
I braced myself against the edge of the bed and pushed upright, sitting straight.
"Gilbert, I'm not changing these shoes, and I don't need you for the delivery either."
He blinked, then let out a cold laugh.
"Julia, are you done? We're husband and wife. If I'm not the one looking after you, who is? Besides, you've got no money, no job, no connections. Apart from me, your free labor, who else can you afford?"
I saw the mockery in his eyes, and all that was left in my chest was the drop of disappointment.
But in the beginning it was him who'd said his woman shouldn't have to go out and slave for money, that people would laugh at him for being useless, that he would provide for me.
"I mean it."
Beside us, Selma suddenly cut in.
"Gilbert, I don't want to force Julia either. I'll just make do in socks, it's fine."
Then she pretended to bend down and take off the shoes.
Gilbert panicked at once. "Selma, don't, I'll come put them on for you!"
Then he pulled a long face and glared at me.
"If you have to throw a fit, at least look at the timing. You're about to give birth and you pick now to make trouble. You don't need me? Fine, then sort yourself out."
"Whatever happens during the delivery, don't call for me. But these shoes, you're changing them, no question."
He hurried over to Selma and crouched in front of her, carefully loosening her laces, his voice going soft.
"No patience at all. Such a willful little baby."
"Having a child is like a woman being reborn. She has to be comfortable. It means everything goes smoothly after, a whole life of good fortune."
I watched it, and it hurt.
Same act, putting on shoes, and for me there was nothing but cold words.
For Selma, he was all tenderness.
And he had no idea he was doing it.
As Selma and I passed each other in the corridor, she suddenly pulled her foot back and cried out loud.
"Julia, just because you're upset about the shoes doesn't mean you get to step on me. That really hurt."
Gilbert rushed to help her sit down, then slapped me across the face.
"Julia, what is wrong with you? I'm the one who asked for the swap. If you've got a problem, take it up with me. Was it really necessary to start something at a moment this important for Selma?"
My sister rushed over to catch me, and my back slammed into the bedside cabinet, the edge digging in sharp even through the hospital gown.
