Chapter 11

Again, the next morning I got up and went to school. This particular Friday was different because there was only a half day of classes scheduled. The second half of the day was a work day in preparation for Parent/Teacher conferences that were slated for that evening. I’d have stayed there all day, except Hannah called the school and asked them to have me call her back. I got that message and went to the office to make the call. Our school district had a “no cell phone” policy and the only way the students would stand for it was if it applied to the teachers as well. Admin could have them, but not us lowly instructors.

Which is why as the kids were streaming out, happy about an afternoon off, Madeline, one of the secretaries, overheard me say, “Okay. I can be home in ten minutes. Can you make it until then?”

This, of course, was in response to her asking me to come home at lunch and make another deposit in her ‘sperm bank’. Normally teachers stayed at school to eat lunch and then get ready for parent/teacher conferences, but it wasn’t required.

The problem was that I left to get home to my hot-bodied lover without telling Phoebe I wasn’t going to be there for lunch, which we usually ate together in the teacher’s lounge. When I wasn’t there and she inquired if anybody knew where I was, Madeline said, “Oh, he had to go home. It sounded like there was some problem.”

Which is why Phoebe, knowing my sister was there, got worried something had happened to Hannah and decided to come see if I needed help.

Phoebe cannot be blamed for her desire to help, nor for misinterpreting the moans she heard when she came in the unlocked front door after tapping and getting no answer. Those moans must have sounded like moans of pain to her inexperienced ears.

She appeared in the doorway to the bedroom and was greeted with the sight of my very naked sister riding me, groaning, and saying, “Shoot in me, baby brother. Get me pregnant. Make twins in me!” I was in the process of waxing on and off with her breasts. Mr. Miagi would have been proud of me.

Phoebe, however, was not.

I caught movement in my peripheral vision and looked at Phoebe. Hannah had been watching my face, waiting to see the signs that I was about to spurt. When she saw that she’d start milking me and then roll us over as I fired off in her pussy. She liked being on top, but didn’t want to waste any sperm due to gravity. When she saw my head turn and my eyes widen, she looked too.

Phoebe was already frozen, and the chill extended to Hannah, who suddenly sat stock still, impaled on my bone.

Phoebe turned and Hannah yelled, “Wait! Don’t leave! Please, I can explain!”

She leapt off of me with the agility of a woman ten years younger than she was, and dashed naked out of the door after Phoebe.

I lay there in a daze. I suspect my reaction was like that of a person buried under a collapsed building during an earthquake, and who regains consciousness not quite understanding what happened, but knowing he is in deep, deep trouble.

I honestly don’t remember much about the first five minutes after my naked sister scrambled to stop my maybe-could be-sort of girlfriend from storming out after what she saw. What I remember most vividly was that, after Hannah did not come back, I got up, put on a pair of shorts, and went out into the living room, where I saw Hannah and Phoebe sitting on the couch.

Hannah was still naked, though she had a pillow in her lap. Phoebe was sitting very erect, half sideways, and they were ... talking.

Hannah saw me and said, “Go back to the bedroom. We’re busy right now.”

So I did that. I mean that was easy, right? All I had to do was go away from danger. Flight is much easier than fight, at least for a man like me. I’m not a violent person, remember?

Of course that didn’t mean I felt relieved. Not at all. Imagine some justice system where, when you’re put on trial, you’re not allowed to be there, or offer anything towards your defense. Everything is settled by others, but you have to live with the verdict. The verdict in this case would be GUILTY! How could it be anything other? Talk about getting caught red-handed.

The trial went on for long enough that I couldn’t stand it any longer. I put on a shirt for some odd reason and then went out there again.

This time it was Phoebe who told me to go back into the bedroom. The only shred of comfort I got, other than the fact that she was still there at all, was that she wasn’t sitting so erectly anymore. She was leaning on the back of the couch with one arm extended along the back.

I can’t convey with words what it was like as another hour passed. I could hear them talking, but not what they were saying. I couldn’t imagine what they were saying to each other, what kind of conversation could take that long, under the circumstances. Voices were raised on both sides, but it wasn’t a shouting match. What perplexed me the most was why Phoebe was even still there. I could invent no scenario in my mind where Phoebe would be willing to stay, much less have some kind of discussion about what she’d discovered.

I was pacing when Hannah walked into the room, as naked as when she’d run out of it. I turned but she held up a hand to stop my barrage of questions.

“She went home. She said she’d talk to you tomorrow. She needs time to think.”

“Think about what?“ I gasped.

“You. Both of you.” She blinked. “And us.”

I was dumbfounded.

“She’s going to think about ... us?” I know my voice sounded incredulous.

“Yes. I explained everything to her. I told her about Austin and Cynthia, about why I’m here ... everything.”

“You talked for over an hour!” I said. “How’d you get her to stay long enough to work around to all that?”

“Actually, I told her all that first,” said Hannah. “There was no other way except to lay it all out and hope that what I’d seen in her eyes was true.”

“What you’d seen,” I said, dully.

“She loves you, Bobby.”

“Not anymore,” I said.

“Give her time. I know you’re upset, but give her time. I think she understands why all this was ... necessary.”

“Oh yeah,” I snapped. “You really needed somebody to get you pregnant and it was necessary that it be me. I’m sure she got that right away.”

“You’re upset,” she said again. “I understand that. But it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“Yeah, right,” I growled.

“Please do me a favor,” she said.

“A favor? You mean another favor? What will it be this time? Oh, I know. You joined a ‘My husband is sterile’ club and you have half a dozen new friends who also want to get pregnant. And you volunteered me!”

“No,” she said, patiently. “What I’m asking is that you don’t have this attitude when Phoebe talks to you tomorrow. Your relationship with her doesn’t have to be over, Bobby. She just needs to think about things. Let her do that and then listen to her when she wants to talk.”

“You’re insane,” I sighed. “And I’m insane, too.” I sat down on the bed. “And if Phoebe doesn’t throw knives at me tomorrow, then she’s insane right along with us.”

“Insanity loves company,” said my sister.

“I think that’s misery,” I said, tiredly.

It was misery. I still had to get ready for the conferences, and I had to do them, paying attention to each set of parents and trying to impart valuable information to them. I knew Phoebe was probably just as distracted as I was, but we had to do it. I was miserable, not the least because I knew I was responsible for her being miserable. Once again, a man had shat upon her.

Once I glanced at the door and saw her face in the window, staring at me while I talked to a set of parents, but she moved on with no attempt at non-verbal communication.

After my last conference was complete, I gathered my courage and went to her room.

It was dark and empty.

Hannah was gone when I got home. There was a note on the table.

“I know you’re not in the mood. Call me after you talk to Phoebe.”

She was right. I couldn’t have been in the mood if I hadn’t had sex in over a decade. Not only had I screwed things up with Phoebe, but now Hannah was once again denied the opportunity to get pregnant again. Three sets of lives had been damaged.

I was sitting around feeling sorry for myself when there was a tap at the door. I turned to see Phoebe open it and come in just like she always did.

“I got a sitter for Chris tonight,” she said.

To say I was astonished is the understatement of the century.

“Hi,” I managed to croak.

“I thought we could talk.”

“Hannah’s not here,” I said, for some inane reason.

“I know,” she said. While my mind was trying to figure out how she knew, and had finally settled on the fact that Hannah’s car wasn’t parked out front anymore, she said, “How did your conferences go?”

How did my conferences go? Suddenly I got calm. That question screamed that she was just as uncomfortable as I was. But she was there. She could have been anywhere, but she’d come to beard the lion in his den.

“I was distracted,” I said.

“Me, too,” she said.

“You want to talk?” It still seemed incomprehensible to me.

“I want to understand.”

“Most women would just shoot me and get it over with,” I said.

“I’m not most women.”

We stood there and I was just thinking I should ask her why she wanted to understand when she answered the question before it was voiced.

“Look. Since Chris’s father shit all over my life you’re the first man I’ve met who treated me like Phoebe, instead of treating me like some opportunity to get his rocks off with a pretty girl. You’ve treated me with respect. I wasn’t used to that, but I’ve gotten used to it and I’m not crazy about the idea of just kicking you to the curb. I don’t think I could start over again, Bob. This one time was all I had in me. So I need to understand how this all happened. I know what Hannah was thinking. Now I need to know why you did what you did.”

I was willing to tell her, but there was a lot to tell and I didn’t know which parts were important, and which parts were like those Bouncing Betty mines you hear Vietnam vets talk about. Once one of those popped up ... it was pretty much over.

“It’s complicated,” I said.

“I’m sure it is,” she replied.

“It could take a while.”

“I told the sitter I’d pick Chris up by eight tomorrow morning at the latest,” she said.

“Really?”