Only Children Read Online Free

works.” He winked at Diane. “You’ll never see the scar.” She had complained to Peter about Stein’s tendency to wink. She said it always preceded the mention of anything bad: a good-humored father chuckling and joshing his weeping children over some disappointment.
    “That’s easy for you to say,” Peter answered Dr. Stein with a pleasant smile. Peter had learned, years ago at Harvard, to say the most challenging things with a bright smile. To show the handle of the knife, but not the blade. “Doctors are always doing that, aren’t they?” he went on to Diane, almost as if Dr. Stein weren’t in the room. “Being brave about their patient’s misfortunes.”
    “I was reassuring my patient,” Dr. Stein answered petulantly.
    “It’s fine, Doctor,” Diane said. “I’m not worried about the scar.”
    “Of course not,” Peter said with emphasis, appalled that he might have implied an unseemly vanity on her part.
    Stein said they would be moved into the operating room in a few minutes and then left them alone. “For God sakes, Peter,” Diane said. “He’s about to cut my body open. Don’t piss him off.”
    “He’s an arrogant little shit,” Peter mumbled, but he nodded penitently. “I’ll be good,” he added.
    They rolled Diane into the tiled room; it reminded Peter of the huge common showers in school gymnasiums. He walked beside her horizontal body, watching his feet move in the oversized blue plastic coverings. It was all so tacky and undignified. The only thing modern medicine had left to childbirth was the fear; its spiritual mystery, its grandeur were obscured as thoroughly as if a high-rise apartment had been built on top of a cathedral.
    Diane felt useless and stupid while the technicians worked around her. Dr. Stein explained what they were doing in a mumble. He was repeating information she already knew; the childbirth classes had included a long lecture and film on Caesarean sections. As promised, the spinal block didn’t hurt. They put a tentlike cover above her abdomen and a stool beside her head for Peter to sit on. Peter took his place, his face white, his hand, moist with terror, clenching hers. He stared at Diane, his eyes large and unfocused, unwilling even to glance in the direction of the activity.
    “Do you want to watch?” Stein asked. He nodded at a thick rectangular mirror on top of a long stainless-steel pole. Diane was reminded of the security mirrors placed on elevators and at the rear of stores. She could keep her eyes on the lower region and see if they mugged her uterus or shoplifted the baby.
    “I don’t think so,” she answered in a querulous voice. She rolled her head to the side and gazed into Peter’s eyes. “You agree?”
    Peter closed his eyes and then nodded his head up and down slowly. He opened his eyes. “Oh, yeah, I agree.”
    “We’re going to make the incision,” Stein said. “You might have a vague … very vague sensation. But if you feel anything clearly, sing out.”
    “I will,” she said. She tensed in anticipation. She imagined a patch of her skin slicing open—a tearing sound, blood gushing up all over Dr. Stein. But there was nothing, nothing at all. This is going to be easy, she thought, and felt glad.
    E RIC BECAME aware of their bizarre positions. His whale of a wife knelt on all fours in front of the television, her great belly sagging only an inch from contact with the living-room rug while she made the strained huffing sounds of natural-childbirth breathing. Eric sat on the coffee table in order to be above her and pressed his clenched fist into the small of her back. Eric could picture how perverse the scene might look to an observer.
    Maintain steady pressure . Eric replayed the phrase of their instructor to encourage himself while his arm muscles cramped from the unrelieved exertion. Maintain steady pressure, Eric thought, watching Rock Hudson’s leering eyes. Nina had selected Pillow Talk from the television schedule to