Sorry Charlie Part Deux

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about," I exclaimed.

As I walked out of my 'new' doctor's office I had good reason to celebrate. I was going to live, live I tell you.

That may sound stupid to you but just one year ago, well; I thought I had less than six months before the permanent dirt nap. Yeah, it was all some screw up at the lab. I can't even remember what awful disease they told me I had. What ever it was, it wasn't. I didn't have it, and I didn't die.

After that I fired Bob, my so called doctor. I still play golf with him though, his handicap is six. My game has improved, I'm a six also. Funny how knowing you're not going to die improves your attitude.

My new doctor, Kathy, doesn't golf but she told me I should live a long life. She tells me that I'm healthy as a horse. I have absolutely no idea how healthy a horse is, but she's a doctor and you'd think they'd know.

It was weird at first, you know, going to a woman doctor. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made to me. I wouldn't consider myself homophobic, but wouldn't you rather have a woman's hands wrapped around your balls when you turn your head and cough? I know what my answer is.

I had a smile on my face when I got home that night. You couldn't have removed it with a wire brush. My life was so good these days, after last year's fiasco I seemed to be charmed. I'd been promoted at work a few months ago. Mary my wife loved me, and I was healthy. Life was perfect.

"Charlie, we have to talk," Mary said handing me four aspirin and a big gulp Jack Daniels.

This wasn't my usual before dinner drink, something was going on, "What's wrong Mary?"

"I talked to Doctor Kathy this afternoon, she called right before you got home," Mary said with a worried look.

You have got to be fucking kidding me, not again. That bitch, you just can't trust a doctor that doesn't golf, or the one's that do for that matter. My hand was shaking as I raised that humongous cup to my lips, "Here's to you Charlie and all of us that are about to die, again," I toasted to myself.

Mary stared at me, "Charlie, you've got to get a grip on yourself. I have some news and I'm not sure you're going to like it."

Well duh, how many times does a guy have to hear that he's dying before it kills him? Mary always did have a knack for the understated.

Those voices in my head came rushing back.

"HA, you see, you are a loser."

"You're a dead man Charlie."

"Blah, blah, blah, blah,"

The third voice was already feeling the effects of the alcohol.

I handed Mary my cup, "Refill,"

"No Charlie, just calm down. We need to discuss this rationally," she said.

RATIONALLY, she can't be serious. We're not discussing buying new drapes, rationally? Poor Charlie is being plucked from the vine in the prime of his life and she wants to be rational?

"Charlie, I'm pregnant."

Now what the fuck is she talking about? I'm gonna' die and she's joking around about having babies? "Stop kidding around Mary, how long?"

"How long? I'd say about eight weeks," She said.

Fuck me! Last time they gave me six months, "Mary, we have so much to do. We have to get prepared," I said, resigning myself to my fate.

"Now Charlie, there's plenty of time. Just relax," she said.

Mary was taking the news of my death very calmly, "Relax? We've got a million loose ends to tie up. We have to plan the funeral for Christ's sake. Mary, how can you tell me to relax?"

"Funeral? Charlie, Goddamn you, listen to me. I said I was pregnant."

"That wasn't funny the first time you told me, stop it Mary, this is serious. The doctor called and told you I'll be dead in eight weeks and you continue to make jokes about being pregnant?"

"CHARLIE, read my lips. I'm eight weeks pregnant. You're not going to die," she said very slowly.

"You mean I'm not..."

"No."

"Whew! I thought, my God, this couldn't be happening again. Man, am I relieved, Ha, Ha, I'm not dying... WHOA! Hold the phone, did you say you were pregn... OH Mary, how could you do this to me?" I said as I started to cry.

"It's not what you think Charlie," she told me trying to console me.

"That's what they all say, sniff. After last year when you cheated... I thought... we..."

"Damn you Charlie, I did not cheat on you. Not then and certainly not now," Mary said angrily.

"But.. The vasectomy... how? Why Mary, why?" I sobbed.

"Doctor Kathy told me that it's possible that your operation, well it all pretty technical. But the main thing is that it's your baby Charlie. Don't you think that I know who or what has been inside of me? I'm surprised that you'd even consider that."

I didn't have a response to her statement. I wanted to trust her, I really did. I didn't know what to do or say. I had been on top of the world a few short minutes ago, now look at me. The weight of the world had now come crashing down on the toes of my wingtip shoes.

I cried, when I wasn't crying I drank. I passed out shortly after nine that evening.

I was in a fog. When the lights came on, they were as bright as the sun. There was a big camera focused on my very confused face and someone was poking a microphone at me.

"Welcome Charlie, welcome to 'Whose the Daddy' you're our next contestant. I'm Wink Eubarker, and I'll be your host tonight," he said with a huge smile.

Who is this guy, where the hell am I? "Uh, thanks Wink, I think?"

"Ok Charlie, let's get right to the game."

Game, what game? "But Wink, I don't know how to play."

"Ha, ha, ha, that's the way the game works Charlie, only the wife really knows how the game is played."

"But Wink, how can I possibly win?"

"That's a good question Charlie. Let's ask your lovely wife Mary. Welcome Mary, it's great to have you here tonight."

"It's great to be had, Wink,"

"Ha, ha, good one Mary, meet me in my dressing room later. Now, please tell Charlie how he can win," He said ogling Mary.

"Well Wink, he can't. He's a born loser," Mary laughed.

"Ah Mary," I sighed.

"You look a little pale Charlie, are you ok?"

"No I'm not, I don't want to play this stupid game anymore."

"Too fuckin' bad Charlie. Mary is already knocked up, you have to play now."

"No," I begged.

"Mary, would you please turn over the first picture. Could the daddy be...? Your neighbor Mark?" he asked.

"No, No, No!" I cried.

"Mary please reveal the next picture... Who is that Mary?"

"My high school boy friend, Wink."

"NO, NO, NO!" I pleaded.

"Show us the last picture Mary. Could it be you Charlie? Are you the daddy? --- We'll find out after these commercial messages!"

"NOOOO!!!!!" I screamed.

I woke up covered in sweat, my head was pounding, and I had an over whelming urge to... Nope, I'm not going to tell you that part, it might come up later at my murder trial. Trust me, you're all better off not knowing.

I was relaxing in a tub full of hot water. Mary walked in and stared at me as I tried to slit my wrists with my electric razor.

She sat on the toilet and peed as the batteries on my Norelco gave out.

"Ok Charlie, I just got off the phone with Doctor Kathy. We're both going down there and not leaving until you're convinced that you're the father of our baby," Mary said sternly.

"But... but what if?"

"Well then Charlie, you'd better get ready to spend a lot of time in church. Cause if this baby isn't yours, you'll be raising the second child of God," she said flatly.

So I'll bet you can just imagine how we were going to prove the illogical truth. Yeah, a sperm test. Oh, I'd done my share of them before when I had the vasectomy, but, and it was a very big but, how we were going to extract a sample in my present condition.

On the way to the doctors, we passed a church. I wondered if it were a possibility. Nah, we weren't even Catholic, we were Episcoterian.

I was in the waiting room reading a pamphlet about Erectile Dysfunction when they called my name. Mary got up and started to follow.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"With you. I'm not about to leave your side until we settle this thing," she said , pushing me through the door.

The nurse led us to an exam room and told us the doctor would be with us in a few moments. I remembered the last time somebody went into an exam room with me, I was seven and had the measles. How embarrassing.

The wait wasn't too long but it sure seemed like it. Mary sat on a small stool tapping her foot. She seemed amused that I was so uncomfortable. The doctor asked me to remove my clothes, something I'd done in front of Mary a bazillion times. With two women there though, I was hesitant.

Have any of you had a woman fondle your package with your wife sitting in the room watching? It's freaking creepy! She checked my unit, she looked at the small scar on my scrotazoid.

"Ok Charlie, up on the table," she ordered.

She said she had to check my probate gland. Probate gland? Isn't that something a lawyer handles? When the doctor squeezed my nut sack and stuck three fingers up my ass I almost fainted. Doctor Kathy must be a lawyer too, because this is exactly how I felt the last time I visited one.

"MOMMY!" I screamed.

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what my asshole had to do with Mary being pregnant. We'd never ever even considered anal sex. My mood wasn't much better when she handed me that stupid little cup. The chances of me getting a boner were about high as winning the state lottery.

"So just what do you expect me to do with this?" I asked.

"We need a sperm sample Charlie," Doctor Kathy said.

"Ok, and how do you propose we get that?" I said, pointing to my balls, "Into there?" I said, pointing into the cup.

She looked at me like I had gone crazy, "The usual method, Charlie, would be masturbation."

"I see," I said nodding my head, "Doesn't one usually require an erection to attain the desired sample?" I asked.

"I see your predicament Charlie. Mary do you have any ideas?"

"Well I suppose I could try," Mary told her.

"Ok, then I'll leave you two alone. Please bring the sample when you've finished, I know how anxious you are for the results." The doctor said.

Mary has never before failed to arouse me in all of our years together. She removed her blouse and I felt a twitch. Her bra came off and there was movement, but not much. She rolled the little stool close enough for me to feel her hot breath on my cock. Her finger touched the head and found the off button. My dick deflated like a blowout on the freeway.

I'll give Mary her due, she didn't give up trying. It was evident after some time that each time she touched me the thought that she might have been with another man crossed my mind. When she realized my problem was her, she left the room in tears. I didn't do it intentionally, I really had no control over my own dick.

Doctor Kathy burst into the room and started in on me, "What the hell did you do to Mary, Charlie?"

I explained to her exactly what happened. She nodded and left the room. She was back a few seconds later carrying a tray with a vial and a needle that looked to be three feet long.

"What the hell is that and more to the point, what the hell do you intend to do with it?" I already knew the answer and didn't like it.

"Now come on Charlie, this won't hurt a bit," she said.

"Well then let me stick it in you and see for myself," I shot back.

"If you could stick it in me Charlie, we wouldn't need the shot now, would we?"

"Real funny, and what's with this we Sheeeet... Ouch! Fuck that hurt" I exclaimed.

"I'm sorry Charlie, but I had do it,"

Where the hell had I heard that before? Doctor Kathy sat patiently on the stool and stared at my dick. My Grandma use to say something about a watched pot or something or other, this must have been what she was referring to. I was diligently counting the tiles on the ceiling when the doctor stood and handed me the cup.

"Let's get the show on the road Charlie," she said and walked out of the room.

I had been so busy counting, there were one hundred and eighty four by the way, I hadn't noticed that I was as stiff as a screen door. What? Never mind it's not important you know how my brain works.

It had to be the least satisfying and most important squirt of semen of my life. 'What if' was stuck in my head. I stared down into the plastic cup, the milky white gloop just sat there. "Move Goddamn you, Swim you little fuckers," I yelled.

During my life when the pressure was really on, my thoughts are a bit confused. I'm here to say that at that very moment, the pressure of the situation came to the apex. My past and future life depended on the scientific facts contained within a pool of mucous at the bottom of a plastic cup.

Clarity of thought is something that one usually gains while sitting on a mountain top in Tibet. I have also heard that for some, it is attained through prayer. I had my epiphany while sitting on a stainless steel table in a ten by eighteen foot cubicle.

Trust, that's what life comes down to. It's a simple five letter word, not too difficult to grasp the idea. But the meaning, the true meaning of trust, is more difficult to understand than nuclear fusion. Honestly, it's deeper than the deepest ocean, it's a concept more remote than the farthest star.

For me to say I trusted Mary was easy, but did I really? If I did, why was I here talking to a puddle of sperm? Mary had told me that I was the father of her unborn child. If I trusted her, why did I need proof. Mary was my life, the mother of my grown children. We had shared it all, the good and the bad. She had not ever questioned any of the stupid things I had done, she simply trusted that I loved her. Mary knew what trust was.

My wife had never lied to me, yet I doubted her. On the other side of the coin there was medical science, had it ever let me down? Shit yeah, lots of times. Just last year when I was told I had only six months left. Yeah and why is my appendix scar on the left when everybody else's is on the right? Did you ever wonder why a doctor practices medicine? That question says it all. They practice because they haven't got it right yet.

Was I going to believe that a doctor that had opened the sack containing my nuts and sniped a tube was more trustworthy than Mary? Was I going to believe that Mary lied to me? Wasn't she the one that suggested, no, demanded this test? She wouldn't do that if she had something to hide. She would never have come here today if there was even the slightest chance the baby wasn't mine.

As I dressed, my betrayal of Mary hit home. Mary had come with me today to stand by me. She put aside the lack of trust and respect that I'd shown her. What had I done? I accused her of being unfaithful. I was ready to see her as the bad guy and she was still there to support me. If I were to go ahead with the test, what does that say about the love we have shared for over twenty five years? My love for Mary was suspect, I didn't really trust her. Oh yeah, I could say the words, but did I mean them and most importantly, did I believe them? Suddenly, things became all too clear to me.

Putting the sample cup on the counter, I left the room. I followed the corridor to Doctor Kathy's office. Mary's eyes were stained red from the tears. The doctor looked up without expression.

I spoke, wondering if the words inside me could ever heal the damage I'd already done to my wife, "Come on Honey, lets go home."

"But what about the test?" Mary asked.

"It's not important, I believe you and that's all that matters," I said reaching for her hand.

Seven month later, our baby was born. Six pounds, thirteen ounces of kicking screaming energy. He, oh yeah it was a boy, has ten toes, ten fingers, two ears and one nose just like me. Mary, breezed right through the birth even at her age.

Call me an idiot, or a fool. That's something that has been done before by better men or women than you. Would you or could you blindly take the leap of faith and trust? I did, and would do it again. It may not be in your nature to take another's word so easily, but ask yourself if being right was worth what you may have lost. Think hard, the answer isn't as simple as it may seem.

To rap this all up, don't any of you feel sorry for old Charlie. I don't, well except for the fact that I have to pay to be revasectomified. Did you know that the insurance company says only one to a customer? I think that's pretty narrow minded don't you?