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Authors: Jacqueline Diamond
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technician.
Darryl’s stomach gave a reflexive quiver at the thought of being jabbed with a needle. It probably felt different for women, though. Maybe they had fewer nerve endings in the abdomen, kind of a protective evolutionary development. Although he didn’t think amniocenteses had been around long enough to have spurred evolutionary changes.
“Your husband seems anxious about the sex,” observed the technician as she pressed a button and took a picture of the screen image.
“He wants a boy,” Belle said. “So he can flaunt it.” She emphasized the last two words.
“I do not!” The accusation stung, primarily because it was true. Or was it? Darryl had never considered what it would be like to have a daughter.
He studied the screen again as the technician moved her mouse, seeking another angle for the next picture. Someday that squiggly creature would be a beautiful bride, marching down the aisle. Or a big strong man, playing high school football as Darryl had done. Or, since Bellewas the mother, it might turn out to be a short, feisty woman barreling down the football field, bowling men over left and right.
A girl would need a father to warn her about the tricks boys used to get what they wanted. And to reassure her about her own desirability. And to make it clear that not all members of the male sex were the enemy.
Fathers were important to their children of both sexes, he reflected. And surely the relationship began even before birth.
Darryl remembered his idea about writing an article on men’s biological instincts and their equal importance as parents. Better yet, in personal journalism, it sometimes paid to exaggerate for effect. Suppose he claimed to believe in the natural superiority of men as parents, even during pregnancy?
What a storm of controversy that would provoke! It would give the circulation of About Town a real boost, and it could force readers to rethink their assumptions. It might even influence a few judges, whom he suspected enjoyed the Flaunt It centerfolds as much as the next man.
Best of all, Darryl thought, he could do the research and help Belle at the same time. It was a perfect opportunity.
A S SHE CHANGED into her clothes, Belle gave her stomach another wipe with the tissue. That stuff wasn’t coming off; it would have to soak in. She didn’t mind the indignity of the procedure so much as the fact that Darryl had stood there watching the whole thing.
The nerve of that man, showing up today! What had been his point, anyway? He couldn’t expect her to believe he was actually interested in the child.
He’d come to gloat, that was it. He’d come to vaunt the fact that he still had his hard, sleek figure, while she was ballooning.
At least the ultrasound had proved that the pregnancy was normal, that the excess weight was the result of maybe a touch of overeating. The baby looked fine.
Belle glanced at the picture the technician had given her for the baby’s scrapbook. That tiny bundle had such a cute, curvy shape. Well, if Darryl expected her to thank him, he could wait until they made frozen daiquiris in hell.
When she emerged a few minutes later and didn’t see him, she told herself the worst was over. She would march through this pregnancy just fine without Mr. Fair-weather Friend.
Then she saw Darryl waiting in the outer office. She gritted her teeth as he exited the doctor’s office beside her, and hoped he would quickly be on his way.
Instead, as soon as they were alone, Darryl said, “I’ve got an idea.”
“Maybe we should discuss this some other time,” she said. “In private.” Suppose one of her colleagues saw them together and drew the obvious conclusion about the baby’s paternity?
“I have no problem with discussing it now.” His dark, rather saturnine face pressed close to hers. “I’ll whisper in your ear, if you like.”
She didn’t like. His nearness was having a disturbing effect on her nerve endings, raising bursts of static
Darryl’s stomach gave a reflexive quiver at the thought of being jabbed with a needle. It probably felt different for women, though. Maybe they had fewer nerve endings in the abdomen, kind of a protective evolutionary development. Although he didn’t think amniocenteses had been around long enough to have spurred evolutionary changes.
“Your husband seems anxious about the sex,” observed the technician as she pressed a button and took a picture of the screen image.
“He wants a boy,” Belle said. “So he can flaunt it.” She emphasized the last two words.
“I do not!” The accusation stung, primarily because it was true. Or was it? Darryl had never considered what it would be like to have a daughter.
He studied the screen again as the technician moved her mouse, seeking another angle for the next picture. Someday that squiggly creature would be a beautiful bride, marching down the aisle. Or a big strong man, playing high school football as Darryl had done. Or, since Bellewas the mother, it might turn out to be a short, feisty woman barreling down the football field, bowling men over left and right.
A girl would need a father to warn her about the tricks boys used to get what they wanted. And to reassure her about her own desirability. And to make it clear that not all members of the male sex were the enemy.
Fathers were important to their children of both sexes, he reflected. And surely the relationship began even before birth.
Darryl remembered his idea about writing an article on men’s biological instincts and their equal importance as parents. Better yet, in personal journalism, it sometimes paid to exaggerate for effect. Suppose he claimed to believe in the natural superiority of men as parents, even during pregnancy?
What a storm of controversy that would provoke! It would give the circulation of About Town a real boost, and it could force readers to rethink their assumptions. It might even influence a few judges, whom he suspected enjoyed the Flaunt It centerfolds as much as the next man.
Best of all, Darryl thought, he could do the research and help Belle at the same time. It was a perfect opportunity.
A S SHE CHANGED into her clothes, Belle gave her stomach another wipe with the tissue. That stuff wasn’t coming off; it would have to soak in. She didn’t mind the indignity of the procedure so much as the fact that Darryl had stood there watching the whole thing.
The nerve of that man, showing up today! What had been his point, anyway? He couldn’t expect her to believe he was actually interested in the child.
He’d come to gloat, that was it. He’d come to vaunt the fact that he still had his hard, sleek figure, while she was ballooning.
At least the ultrasound had proved that the pregnancy was normal, that the excess weight was the result of maybe a touch of overeating. The baby looked fine.
Belle glanced at the picture the technician had given her for the baby’s scrapbook. That tiny bundle had such a cute, curvy shape. Well, if Darryl expected her to thank him, he could wait until they made frozen daiquiris in hell.
When she emerged a few minutes later and didn’t see him, she told herself the worst was over. She would march through this pregnancy just fine without Mr. Fair-weather Friend.
Then she saw Darryl waiting in the outer office. She gritted her teeth as he exited the doctor’s office beside her, and hoped he would quickly be on his way.
Instead, as soon as they were alone, Darryl said, “I’ve got an idea.”
“Maybe we should discuss this some other time,” she said. “In private.” Suppose one of her colleagues saw them together and drew the obvious conclusion about the baby’s paternity?
“I have no problem with discussing it now.” His dark, rather saturnine face pressed close to hers. “I’ll whisper in your ear, if you like.”
She didn’t like. His nearness was having a disturbing effect on her nerve endings, raising bursts of static
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