By Blood A Novel - By Ellen Ullman Page 0,73

and hunger at the doors. This had to be the perverse work of the crows. They had flown through the very air of the building; dropped at my feet this bit of paper: to tempt me, to mock at my attempts to stay away.

I let the letter fall from my hands. It fell face up, the address staring at me: 732 Alpine Terrace. I stepped over it, into the elevator that had finally arrived, hoping to leave that street and number behind. The cab lowered me down the shaft and finally disgorged me into the bright white of the lobby. The guard turned his handsome face upon me. He must have seen the turmoil in my eyes, in my body. I stumbled stupidly into the street.

732 Alpine Terrace—the address would not leave my mind. The N Judah rocked westward, the numbers and letters as if engraved on the opposite wall, as if written on every billboard and sign. I locked myself in my cottage. I ate delivered pizzas and Chinese food; I drank only water. I feared that, if I left the house, I would, against all my better wishes, find my way to 732 Alpine Terrace.

The weather was indistinct, hazy, neither warm nor cool. So fair and foul a day I have not seen, I thought, as I gazed from my window, feeling as toyed with as Macbeth had been: the Fates dropping their hints to test us, to see if we could resist the deeds that would lead us to damnation. In a kitchen drawer was a map of the city; somewhere on it was the location of Alpine Terrace. The work of the crows in my very house! I was afraid even as I reached for the folded paper. I burned it and watched, still in fear, until there was nothing left but ash.

Five days went by. I could not sleep, fearing my own dreams. Desolation came upon me as the hours ticked away. Then, on Monday, as the world was awakening around me, a plan announced itself in my mind.

How simple!

I would pretend to be one of the agencies the patient had contacted. Any one of them would do; none had replied to her. Given all the time that had passed since her query, I reasoned that I could assume they never would reply. I merely had to choose a suitable agency name.

I hurried to the public library’s reference room and took down the Chicago yellow pages. Between Adjusters and Adult Care came the heading Adoption Services. Approximately thirty agencies were listed; only four advertised themselves as Catholic. And then a name leapt out at me: Greater Chicago Catholic Adoption Services. The patient had written to them!

I knew at once the identity I was to assume: a helpful clerk at this agency on Madison Street in Chicago. It did not matter that I did not know the patient’s name. I would simply address the envelope and letter using the formal and impersonal “enquiree,” claiming some excuse of confidentiality.

I rushed to a stationery store to order a letterhead and envelopes large and small, using the correct address for the agency in case the patient had maintained a list of her attempted contacts. The man who took my order paid no mind to the Chicago location, indeed helped me to pick out a font and a logo from his stock set of symbols. I chose Palatino Linotype and the Virgin Mary cradling the infant Jesus.

I spent the night feverishly gathering the materials to send. I chose the image of the women peeling potatoes; another of children in the Bergen-Belsen nursery, one swaddled baby in the arms of a British nurse. Of course I would have to include a few pictures of the camp as the British found it, but I felt I could minimize the depressing effect by writing a cover letter emphasizing the hope that had grown out of such desolation. And of course I would send a cassette copy of the voices singing “Hatikvah”—this above all would comfort her.

The stationery was ready early the next morning, a Wednesday. Using a typewriter at the library (which had a room reserved for just this purpose), I composed the following:

Dear Enquiree:

I am in receipt of your query concerning the circumstances of your adoption. I hope you will excuse the impersonal address, “enquiree.” It is used to ensure confidentiality among the office staff.

While we cannot at this time provide you the specific details of your own origins, from the information

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