Miss Buddha by Ulf Wolf Page B

anything?”
    “No. He’s sending me paperwork later.”
    “Let me see it before you sign.”
    It was now Melissa’s turn to not respond.
Charles didn’t have to agree, that’s what Ananda Wolf had said. And
Charles, from what she could tell, could not care less one way or
the other about this book.
    Instead she rose and left Charles to his
games.
    Leaving the living room Melissa made a
mental note not to forget to ask Doctor Ross about Ananda Wolf, and
why she would have told him that she was pregnant.
     
    And she had meant to ask her, she had in fact
remembered to do so even as she stepped into her office, but at
this appointment she had the first ultrasound, and the detection of
that new little life which flooded her with she could not describe
precisely what, joy perhaps, though more than that, something
deeper; in the wash of that she just plain forgot.
     
    She found Mr. Wolf, who had already called
her twice to see how she was doing, to be a very nice man. She
enjoyed talking to him. He was comforting. Very supportive. So
different from Charles.

:: 17 :: (Still River)
     
    Doctor Ross answered the phone herself.
    “Good morning,” said Ananda, and introduced
himself.
    “How can I help you?” she asked in a
pleasant but professional voice.
    “I am writing a book on first-time
pregnancies, first-time motherhood, and Melissa Marten is one of my
research subjects.”
    “Yes?”
    “I believe she is your patient.”
    “Yes, she is.”
    “How is she doing? Are things going as
expected?”
    “Who did you say you were?” No longer quite
so pleasant.
    “Ananda Wolf. I’m a writer.”
    “And you are doing research?”
    “Yes.”
    “As a researcher you should know that I
cannot discuss any of my patients without a signed release.”
    Ananda grew very alert, almost painfully so.
He found himself on very thin ice, and it was cracking—cold,
threatening water below.
    But there’s nothing like necessity to
sharpen the senses, and in this case the intellect. “You have not
received it?” Ananda heard himself say.
    “No,” said Doctor Ross.
    “Oh, I apologize. I’ll make sure it gets to
you, and then perhaps we can talk.”
    “That would be fine.”
    Ananda noticed his hand shake a little as he
ended the call.
    :
    It rang so many times before Melissa
answered the phone that Ananda was about to hang up, to call back
later.
    “Hello.” She seemed a little out of
breath.
    “Melissa?”
    “Yes.” Panting still. She had definitely
been running.
    “This is Ananda Wolf.”
    “Yes. I can tell.”
    “Of course.” Then, “Have you been
running?”
    “Exercising,” she said. “The treadmill.”
    “Should you? I mean, considering.” Ananda
honestly did not know.
    “Oh, sure. Yeah, no problem.”
    “Well, that’s all right then. So, how are
you feeling today, other than out of breath?”
    “I was sick this morning,” she said. “Not
much fun.”
    “But you’re feeling fine now?”
    “No,” she said. “Not really. Better, but not
fine.”
    Ananda, who knew next to nothing about
motherhood or morning sickness, didn’t know what to say. So what he
came up with was, “One of the perks, I guess.”
    Melissa laughed at that, a short giggle that
struck him as happy. He could almost see her eyes sparkle. “At
least there’s no mistake about it,” she said.
    Again, Ananda didn’t quite know what to say.
He was, after all, not writing a book about first-time mothers, and
he did not enjoy the deception, not in the least.
    “Are you eating well?”
    “You bet. Better than ever. More than ever.
I must be gaining a pound a day.”
    Ananda decided then and there to do some
serious catching up on pregnancies—especially first-time ones—what
to expect and do; at least to the point of sounding borderline
intelligent on the subject. He owed her that much.
    “When is your next checkup?” he asked.
    “Tuesday.”
    And here Ananda sets out on his
well-rehearsed reason for calling: “Which reminds