I have to open this with an apology to the author of the story this is based upon. I have searched my hard drive several times and cannot find the story, though I am sure I saved it. The first is one of my favorite pieces. It has haunted me for years because it ended without "closing". So finally I rewrote the story, adding what would have been a postscript to he original. If and when the author reads this, I would appreciate his contacting me. And hope mightily that he forgives me for using his talent.
As always reader, let me know what you think of this. Remember: When you beat a dog he gives you a lick. When you pet a dog he gives you a lick. Whether you want to beat me or pat me, let me get my licks in.
Vickie was royally pissed!
Her husband Carl was pissed, too. But he was pissed royally drunk on his ass upstairs, unconscious on the bed. Vickie was mad as a cat in the shower.
Dang blast it, and all the other blasts her granddad said that got her giggling; but she and Carl had agreed! They wanted a kid; they wanted it now and they wanted it their own flesh and blood. The son of a bitch she married wouldn't even go get his virility checked!
"I'm fine, skookums," was all he said. And where the heck had he come up with skookums? It was more archaic than those things granddad used! Anyway, her husband just patted her on the head, literally, before explaining sometimes getting PG took longer than other times.
Damn it to hell anyway, his cousin Gertrude claimed all she'd done was hold Bruce's hand and he'd knocked her up!
Nine months later they had twins! '
Not that Vickie wanted twins particularly, but she wanted a baby!
After the fight this afternoon when Carl was already half way to getting sloshed, Vickie put down a few too. She had promised herself she was going to stop the weekend drinking; and she'd done it for the past couple months. But today was just too much.
She loved Carl; all long, lean, blonde, funny and masculine Carl. But she wanted a baby! Vickie yearned to get pregnant and big. She longed to toss her cookies in the morning, have backaches and need to piddle 24/7. Well, she wasn't looking forward to all that, but she wanted a baby. If that's what it took, so be it! She wanted it! And it was time, damn it to hell! She was thirty-two and healthy. She wasn't getting any younger, dammit!
Tiny, petite Vickie was lying on one of the redwood chaise lounges beside their backyard pool. She had tippled but was far from drunk. She and Carl had fallen into a bad habit over the six years they were married. They drank, and drank heavily on weekends. Vickie had recognized the problem they were giving themselves and she had been cutting down, a lot, but Carl didn't see a problem.
The big doofus seemed unable to break the habit, just saying he could quit whenever he wanted. The drinking was worrying Vickie now, but she knew enough not to nag him. She had watched and listened to her mother for too many years not to understand that all the nagging did was drive the man away. Her mother had driven enough of them away, that was for sure.
He was all right during the week, but Friday afternoon until Sunday afternoon he was "in his cups." Vickie couldn't point fingers though. She'd been doing the same until they agreed to make a baby. Then she cut down the drinking, usually only having a cooler or two on hot days. When she got pregnant she would be on the wagon, and happy for it.
Oh, how she wanted to be a mommy.
God knows they had tried! It was just casual the last two years. She'd gone off birth control. But it didn't work. Then a couple months ago they agreed they had practiced enough, it was time to get serious.
Vickie had been to the "baby-making" doctor who told her everything looked fine. According to Dr. Lois she was a gun; loaded, aimed and cocked. All she needed was someone to pull the trigger and her womb would go off. Dr. Lois said sometimes things DID just take a little time, but Dr. Lois also wanted to check Carl and make sure HIS gun was cocked... so to speak. The good doctor wondered if his heavy drinking hadn't done something to his balls. Maybe soaking them in Jim Beam and Gilbey's Gin had pickled them or something.
And the son of a bitch wouldn't go!
Vickie had been lying there on the lounge in the hot sun for over an hour, fuming. It had been enough time for her to sip down two gin and tonics. They were more than she'd been drinking in an entire weekend lately! The gin bottle and tonic were both in the ice bucket sitting alongside the lounge, along with melted ice. Carl, the son of a bitch, had staggered off to their room half an hour ago. His usual routine, he'd sleep until dinnertime a couple hours from now. Then he'd get up, eat, then drink until bedtime.
God but she loved the son of a bitch! But he wouldn't get checked! And he didn't seem to be able to stop the weekend drinking. Hell! He'd never tried.
What in HELL was she going to do? Without kids her life would be a barren desert. The most important thing to her was being a mother, raising a family! Carl had been adamant. He wanted no children that didn't come from his wife's womb. Adoption wasn't something he would even discuss. She was willing to try artificial insemination even though the odds of it being successful were very low. She was willing even if it risked her life. Women died in childbirth every day, it was something she risked giving birth. And if his sperm count was low the doctor suggested there were things they could do that would raise it. But Carl wouldn't think about any thing but natural childbirth for them.
She was coming to see only two possibilities. The first was accepting that she would never have a child. If she chose that one her future stretched out bleakly before her. She saw herself becoming bitter and cold. The marriage would be a shambles with no joy. Life for both of them would become desolate, a desert with no reason to live.
Her second choice was to leave Carl. Leave the man she loved as much as life itself. Leave and find, if she could, another man to sire her children. That was even more unpalatable than the first choice.
"Oh my God," she prayed. "what am I to do?"
It was then that she heard someone opening the creaky gate into the backyard. She didn't want company so she lay quietly, peeking through her lashes to see who was coming. Vickie was willing to bet it was their buddy Rich. He was the only one who just walked into the backyard like he owned the place. Sometimes it seemed that way to Vickie, too. He was such a gem, long skinny and blonde like Carl, and funny as the dickens.
He had become so close to them they never planned anything any more without calling him first. Then the three of them had fun together.
It had surprised her when Carl invited him over a couple years ago. She usually was pretty reserved around unmarried men, but Rich was just different. And he had been Carl's "best buddy" since grade school. Carl had been so tickled when Rich moved back to town!
She never understood why the man hadn't married. He wasn't gay, he liked women. Lord knew women liked him. There seemed to be no end to the number of Vickie's friends that had set out to snare him. But somehow nobody seemed able to get past his reserve. Not that they weren't able to get him into bed. She'd had enough morning after postmortems to know he really liked women!
Rich was a software engineer with his own company and worked out of his home. He kept some of the weirdest hours, too. When his brain got "locked up" as he called it, he'd go for a walk. Then when his mind cleared he'd head home and work until he had that problem solved. Some days he worked all night long, not even breaking for a cup of coffee. Sometimes he walked aimlessly for hours, but most of the time his walks ended here with her and Carl. When he showed up Rich always just walked into their backyard. If no one was outside he'd walk into the house, yelling he was there. Then they would all have a grand time.
Vickie wasn't sure why she was OK with the casual way he made himself at home. Somehow though, it just felt right. She did know she wouldn't change it for the world. If she hadn't been as deeply in love with Carl as she was, she would have been setting her sights on Rich.
But Carl was all the man she needed.
If the son of a bitch would just get her pregnant!
Anyway she was pouting and depressed. She just couldn't face even Rich so she just played opossum. Let him think she was sleeping and he would leave.
Rich came through the gate, announcing to the world he was there before he saw her lying by the pool. He was loud enough to scare the birds quiet that had been serenading her from the many trees in her back yard.
It was all Vickie could do to keep from giggling when she heard Rich's quick gasp for air. She was wearing her new Ivory colored bikini, with her dark tan the little patches of cloth looked like her tan line. From where Rich was standing she knew she appeared nude.
Privately she thought the designer who made it had only used a very small handkerchief and a ball of string. She thought he'd cut the hankie into three parts, two patches for the top and one long one for the bottom. Then he threw away the other half of the hankie. After tying the top two pieces together with the string, the designer fixed strings on what was to be the bottom. It had to be a man that designed it. Still she liked to sun in it, and had to agree Carl was rather "fond" of it.
.... There is more of this story ...