The Dark Arena - Mario Puzo [84]
“It's a beautiful baby, so much hair,” she whispered, “like yours.” He didn't know what to say and stood there wondering how all this could make her so happy and leave him so untouched.
A nurse came in and said, “That's all, please, you can come back tomorrow, in the regular visiting hours.” Mosca leaned down to Hella and said, “I'll see you tomorrow, okay?” She nodded and tilted her head for him to kiss her again.
Outside the nurse asked if he would like to see the baby and he followed her down a long corridor to where it ended in a glass wall. There were some men looking through this wall at babies held up in turn by a small, pert-looking nurse who obviously enjoyed her work and the antics of the visiting, newly made fathers. She opened a small pane in the glass wall and the nurse with Mosca said, “The Broda child.” The nurse disappeared into a room behind the glass wall and came out with a small bundle. She took the cloth away from its face, holding up the baby proudly.
Mosca was shocked by the baby's ugliness. It was the first time he had ever seen a new-born infant. The face was wrinkled, puckered up sourly, the small black eyes almost closed but still emitting malignant gleams toward the new and hostile world, and over its head like an untidy shawl, a great shock of black hair gave it an animal-like appearance.
Beside Mosca a small, bald-headed German man was going into ecstasies over another baby held by another nurse behind the glass wall. Mosca saw with relief that this baby looked almost exactly like his own. The German was exclaiming and cooing, “Oh, what a sweet child, what a lovely child,” making sucking noises with his mouth and twisting his face into extraordinary grimaces to get a reaction from the infant. Mosca watched curiously and then stared at his own child, trying to feel some emotion, then signaled to the nurse to take it away. The nurse gave him a long, angry look; she had been waiting impatiently for his performance. Mosca thought, Screw you, sister.
He ran down the steps and walked through the hospital grounds toward the gate. He saw Leo driving slowly against the waves of Germans going out. He stopped in front of the jeep and climbed up over the hood, stepped over the windshield and into the jeep. He saw the great bouquet of flowers in Leo's lap, and as their sweet, cool fragrance hit his face, he was suddenly free of tension and felt extraordinarily happy.
When, finally, they met Eddie at the Rathskellar, Eddie was already drunk. He said, “You son of a bitch, why didn't you call? I had Inge phone the hospital and they gave me the dope. Then your landlady called and I told her the news.”
“Christ, I forgot,” Mosca said with a foolish smile.
Eddie threw an arm around his shoulders. “Congratulations. Now, tonight we celebrate.”
They ate and then went to one of the tables in the bar.
“Do we buy the drinks or does Walter?” Leo asked as if this were a very serious point.
Eddie gave them both an amused, paternal look. “Tonight I'll buy everything. If I know Walter he won't even jpve out cigars. Look at that sad face.”
“Jesus,” Mosca said, “how the hell can I act like a big-wheel fattier. We're not even married. They kept calling the kid by Hella's last name. That made me feel funny. I was thinking I'll put in the marriage papers.”
“Let's see,” Eddie said. “You can figure three months. But then thirty days after you're married, back to the States. You going to leave all this jpravy?”
Mosca thought it over. “I figure I can get the papers and hold off the marriage for a while. But I'd like to have everything