Kids These Days by Drew Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

horseback, kids and parents whitewater rafting. We were going to need a better camera. We were going to need to go horseback riding next to whitewater rapids.
    Dr. Varden arrived looking healthy, looking fit, wearing scrubs that were somewhere between pink and purple. He had a picture on his desk of his own family—three boys like nesting-doll versions of Varden, and his calendar-pretty wife, all of them standing in a field wearing tan shirts, tan pants. They were the most deeply content scout troop in history. He sat down, beamed, rifled through a folder. “Well,” he said, “you two are doing absolutely great. You just really are.” His teeth were so white you wanted to tell somebody about it. He pulled a clear ruler from a drawer, measured something on a large printout of one of the ultrasound pictures. He mouthed some numbers to himself. “All clear,” he said. “Sound the bell. Everything’s just right.” He winked at us. On purpose. He held up the ultrasound. “You take a pretty picture,” he said.
    â€œThank you,” said Alice.
    Varden said, “So let’s talk about this bleeding.”
    Alice said, “Is everything OK?”
    â€œIn this?” He put the picture back in the folder, patted the cover. “From what we can see, yes and yes. Mister Computer spit out a nice set of numbers. No real risk factors except for your age. Good heart. Good stomach. Past that we can’t tell much else yet, but those look good. Only real marker is the bleeding.”
    â€œMarker?” Alice said.
    â€œWarning sign. Little tiny. But still. Just the one day, the bleeding?” He went back through the chart, found his page. “This says Friday?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBrown?’ he said. “Not red?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBrown is good,” Varden said. “To be expected, even. Or maybe not, but not
so
surprising.” He talked and moved like he was sped up, like his clock wound differently than ours did. “If it happens again, or if we see anything bright red, that’ll get our attention, but I certainly don’t think we need to do anything right now.”
    â€œWhat would we do?” Alice said.
    â€œRest. Small procedures. But we’re not there, OK?”
    â€œOK.”
    â€œYou’re a champ,” he said. “Blood pressure. Heartbeat. I love it. You and the baby both. Just great.” He leaned over the desk to look at her. “You look fantastic, by the way. I’m not just saying that. You really do. For your age—” He held his hands out, a magician’s apology. “And I don’t mean one thing by that. Not one thing. All I’m saying is that a pregnancy in your thirties is different from one in your twenties. That’s all. And you? You look like you’re in your twenties.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œYou’re more than welcome. How’s the nausea?”
    â€œBetter,” she said. “A little bit.”
    â€œThat ought to keep improving, too. I bet it does, but we’ll get somebody to call you next week to check in. How does that sound?”
    â€œIt sounds good,” she said.
    â€œAnd how about Dad? Questions from Dad? We doing OK?”
    Dad was just trying to stay upright. “We’re doing OK,” I said.
    â€œThe thing here says you’re from Carolina. Anywhere near Myrtle Beach?”
    â€œThat’s South Carolina,” I said.
    â€œRight.” He drank out of a glass of ice water using two hands, like it was a sippy cup. He stood up. It was clear the appointment was over. He was a man with things to do next. “Misty will take care of you up front,” he said, “unless there’s something else you good folks need.” He looked at Alice one more time. “You’ll be getting big before you know it,” he said. “And you’ll look great then, too.”
    â€œThank you,” she