How to Save a Life by Sara Zarr Read Free Book Online Page B

“Thirty-seven weeks?”
    “Yes.”
    “If you’re sure about the approximate date of conception, I’m concerned about IUGR.” The last part she says to Robin.
    “Oh.” Robin sounds worried. “It means the baby isn’t growing at the rate he should,” she says to me. “Are you absolutely sure about the timing?”
    “I could be off a little.” I picture my room at Robin’s house. Taking my unpacked bags downstairs. Getting on a train to go back. Never getting a “Mandy, Dear” e-mail from Robin again.
    Dr. Yee puts the tape measure around her neck again. “Since Mandy doesn’t have any records, I’d like us to start with a clean, or at least informed, slate and run all tests. Including an ultrasound. Okay?”
    Robin nods, her lips mashed together. Not angry. Scared. I didn’t mean for her to be worried. “I probably figured wrong,” I say. “I’m never good at math.” She tries to smile, but still I can see there are thoughts running through her head like maybe I lied on purpose and the baby isn’t healthy like I said it was, or I slept with more possible fathers than I said I did. Or that I lied about all my doctor’s appointments. Which I did.
    “Cola, orange, or lime?” Dr. Yee asks. “You get your pick for the glucose tolerance test.”
    “Orange.”
    She goes out and a nurse comes back, and over the next ten minutes I pee in a cup, have my blood pressure taken, and drink the sweet drink, and then the nurse takes Robin and me down the hall to the ultrasound room, where I get undressed enough to give them access to my belly. Robin gets up to leave with the nurse. “No,” I say. “You can stay.” She looks at a chart on the wall while I strip off my dress, leaving on my underwear but taking off the long camisole I’ve been wearing because my bras are too small now. I stand in front of her and hug myself. “It’s cold.”
    She stares at me, not moving. “Your body is so…” She laughs, embarrassed. “Your skin. You don’t even have any stretch marks. It makes me feel old.” She gets up and takes a folded-up sheet off the table, and drapes it around my shoulders.
    She is old. A little bit old. Older than I pictured, even though she told me her age and I don’t mind it. Standing as close to her as I am now, I can see every line on her face. “I have good genes is all. So will the baby.”
    There are three short knocks on the door, and then Dr. Yee comes in with a man following behind. “This is Nils. Our ultrasound pro.”
    Nils, short and blond and wearing a pink top and bottom, winks at me. “I’m sure you’re a pro by now, too, Mandy. Presuming you’ve done this at least once?”
    I don’t say anything, letting them think that’s a yes. I get on the table and Nils arranges the sheet so I’m mostly covered except for my belly. He slathers it with cold goo. To stay relaxed, I think about train rides and the Missouri River and fields of corn, turning myself into a person who knows nothing other than what she’s been told, not a liar. The sensor glides over my belly while I stare at the speckled ceiling tiles until Robin sucks in a breath and says, “There he is.” She holds my hand.
    On the monitor, a form in black and white and gray undulates and throbs.
    I think of summer. The warm night, the stars.
    “He?” Nils asks. “Are we sure about that?” He moves the sensor around.
    Dr. Yee studies the monitor. “Nope.” She turns to me. “When did they tell you it was a boy?”
    “I don’t remember. Last time.”
    “Well, they got it wrong. It happens.”
    “It’s a girl?” Robin asks quietly. I can’t tell from her voice if she’s happy or disappointed. When I look, there are tears in her eyes, and I think, I hope, they’re the happy kind of tears. The shape on the screen—the baby—makes something in my heart move, too. The truth is that it’s the first time I’ve seen it. Her. A part of me but not. Connected but also an alien. Alive. Real. Evidence of