“A few, yeah.” I pull a notebook from Liv’s satchel and open it to the list of questions I’ve written out.
Liv rolls her eyes at the doctor, who cracks a smile.
It’s been fifteen years since I last knew anything about prenatal care, so I have a lot to learn. I won’t let any stone go unturned.
I review my list and ask questions Dr. Nolan hasn’t yet answered—do we need a prescription for prenatal vitamins, what kind of exercise is off limits, what should we do if Liv gets sick, how often should we come in for prenatal visits, if it’s okay for Liv to travel, how much folic acid she should take.
Dr. Nolan patiently and thoroughly answers everything. I take notes.
“What about sex?” Liv asks when I’m done.
“What about it?” the doctor replies.
“Well, we’ve been having it.”
“Good.” Dr. Nolan grins. “Sex is entirely safe during pregnancy, Liv. You’re healthy, very low-risk. As long as you’re both up to it, it’s fine. In fact, many people find sex during pregnancy even more enjoyable.”
I glance at Liv. She winks at me. If sex with her were any more enjoyable, I’d lose my mind.
“Why is that?” she asks the doctor.
“Women have increased blood flow to the pelvic region, more vaginal lubrication,” Dr. Nolan explains. “Hormonal changes influence their libido. There are no worries about birth control. A lot of women have an intense sex drive during pregnancy, especially during the second trimester.”
“That sounds promising,” Liv remarks as she gets off the examination table and disappears behind a curtain to get dressed.
After she’s done, the nurse comes in with a large packet of prenatal information. Dr. Nolan goes over it all and instructs us to make a twelve-week appointment and stop at the lab for samples. As we’re leaving, the doctor pats my arm.
“Don’t hesitate to call me if you have any other questions,” she says. “Everything looks great, so don’t worry unless there’s something to worry about.”
I thank her again and push the door open for Liv. Unless. That means there could one day be something to worry about.
It’s a dark fear, blacker than any I’ve known. I shove it down deep, not wanting to think about it, not wanting Liv to sense it.
She checks in at the first-floor desk and follows the attendant back to the lab. I sit in the waiting area and pull a loop of string out of my pocket. I cross it over my palms, then loop it around my thumbs and middle fingers. Thumbs tucked under. Lower index loop. Pull. Release. Twist. Loop.
I glance up to find a small boy across the aisle watching me. I pull my palms apart and hold up the web of string laced between them.
“It’s a rabbit,” I tell him. “See the two ears?”
He studies the pattern for a moment, then nods and gives me a gap-toothed grin. The woman beside him smiles.
I unravel the string and push it back into my pocket when Liv approaches.
“All done,” she says, slipping her hand into mine as we walk back out to the car. “Can you drop me off at the bookstore?”
“Sure. I have a few meetings on campus, but I’ll pick you up when your shift ends.”
I drive to Emerald Street where the Happy Booker bookstore is located. After walking Liv to the front of the store, I start toward campus and detour through a residential neighborhood close to the lake. Older homes and bungalows sit close to the mountain, then give way to larger houses as the streets wind toward the town.
I stop in front of a newer, Colonial-style house with a columned front porch and painted white shutters. It has a large yard bordered by trees and sits above a hill overlooking Mirror Lake. Well-maintained, expensive homes line the entire street.
A woman is waiting on the front porch. She waves at me as I approach.
“Dean? I’m Nancy Walker. Thanks for contacting me.”
“Sure.”
We shake hands. She gestures me to follow her into the house. It’s a huge, four-bedroom place with gleaming hardwood floors, cherrywood cabinets, and stainless-steel appliances. There’s a redwood deck overlooking the backyard with a view of the lake, a three-car garage, and a great room with a picture window. A study lined with built-in bookshelves sits just off the living room, which is dominated by a marble fireplace.
Nancy gives me a complete tour and discusses all the amenities of the house. The school district is excellent, she says, with the highest test scores in the county, and the owners recently landscaped the front yard.
“If you’d like to make an offer, I can write it up this afternoon,” Nancy tells me as she opens a door to show me the laundry room with a state-of-the-art washer and dryer.
“My wife needs to see it first,” I reply. “But it looks great.”
She beams. “It’s really a perfect family home.”
Yes, it is. Reminds me of my parents’ perfect family home.
I shake off that thought. My family will have nothing but the best.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I tell Nancy as we walk back to our cars.