Little Boxes
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Anna Karenina (2012 film)
Copyright: Public domain/Joe Wright & Tom Stoppard
The little boxes sat in the top drawer of the nightstand, neatly stacked, the lids closed so that no stranger could guess what they were. Anna's hand hovered above them as she glanced distractedly up at her reflection. She was running late. The royal-blue dress she wore was the third outfit she'd changed into. If she didn't hurry, she might not be able to return before her husband came home.
Her heart pounded like a steam engine.
Count Vronsky was waiting. He was waiting for her, in his rooms, all alone.
Should she take one of the boxes with her or not?
Alexey would notice. He was methodical even in this. He would ask her where it had gone – or, knowing him (she glared) he wouldn't ask, and leave her simmering in uncertainty for weeks. She wished he would confront her, even scream at her, anything but this suffocating courtesy. If he could admit to being jealous, at least she would know that he cared.
She knew she should take one. It would be irrational to risk her life needlessly, after her physician had been so certain about the risk to her system another pregnancy could cause. Never mind that she had wept for days after finding out that she could never give Seryozha brothers or sisters, never fill this sedate and empty townhouse with all the joyful riot of Dolly and Stiva's. And never mind that she hated those rubbery little tubes, the way they smelled, the awkward ritual of sliding them on and disposing of them afterward.
"It's only to keep you safe, my dear," she remembered Alexey's gentle murmur in the dark. "I must admit, I don't care for them either. I would rather … feel you … with nothing between us."
Moments like that, once upon a time, had led her to believe he truly loved her. But if he did, surely he would not allow something so much worse to come between them now?
Count Vronsky had no idea that her body was anything but perfect. He wouldn't keep her waiting, or talk politics, or worry about her health. He would be as hungry for her as she was for him, and they would make a world of love and dreams together that was as far apart from the routine of daily life as it could possibly be.
She took a deep breath and slammed the drawer shut.
I'm done, she told herself, with playing safe.