Fertile

My wife, Lynn, and I have been married for three years; last year we decided to start our family. We bought two extra beds and set them up in different rooms, each covered in different sheets. Blue covers for our son to be and pink for our girl; a bit stereotypical but the whole process was exciting. After setting a few baseball bats and stuffed animals up we closed the doors and set a cradle up in our room. A year later the brass knobs on the doors have grown dusty and our cradle has yet to be rocked.

Sandwiched between the stucco covered drywall and my wife's embrace, I stare at a picture of a pheasant flying over a field of wheat. The picture hangs over our cradle. On, Lynn's side of the bed is a little white nightstand with our coffeemaker on top. Just outside of our bedroom is the bathroom; our bathroom centers around the blue linoleum floor and a off blue counter and strange royal blue sink with peacock spouts. She found a royal blue sink on e-bay and had the sink put into our bathroom. Honestly, I lost the whole blue argument. Our living room is in the center of the house with the kitchen attached to it. Across from the living room are two empty rooms whose doors remain closed.

Beads of sweat roll down my face and back leaving a damp circle on our ivory sheets. Shifting onto my side I can see my wife; her mouth is open with a strand of drool is running down onto the pillow. I unlock her hands from around my waist and push her back onto her side of the bed; she reaches out her hands to pull herself closer to me.

"Is cold." She says to me from under three blankets and our comforter. Her hands latch around my waist again suctioning her naked body to mine so she can leech off my heat. Slowly I scoot my butt backward trying to push us farther from the wall. Reaching under the covers I fold the comforter back so I can see her face. My hand rubs her belly and I move my face closer to her lips to give her a kiss.

"No. To early. Sleep." She turns her body away from me. Lynn and I have been trying to have a child for the past year, so far nothing. At this point either of us would take a miscarriage over nothing. I put my hands on her neck and start to massage it slowly.

"Elijah, sleepy time." Lynn curls up into a ball. I slide my hands down her back and continue to rub. Lynn's face turns to me and with slit eyes gives me a sharp glare.

"Sleep. Tomorrow." Lynn wriggles away from me. I lay on my back again to see the pheasant across the room; at least she is no longer trying to sap my body heat. The pheasant is lucky to be alone in his painting, no wife, no worries, just the open sky and a full wheat field in which to soar. I lay in bed until about seven then go to take a shower. Going back into my room I reach over to our nightstand and turn on the coffee maker. After a year's worth of marriage we figured why go to the kitchen to make coffee when the machine could work as an alarm and a brewer. Looking over at our bed my wife is sprawled out over the entire bed, half above and below our sheets, face down. Lynn's butt peaks out over the sheets; I sit just staring at her perfect tight ass while the steam of the coffeemaker rises up to my face. Lynn turns to look at me, her eyes opening to slits, she spies me looking at her ass and pulls the comforter up.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry." I return.

"Mmhmm." She turns her face back to her pillow. Lynn then slides the comforter back down just to the point where I can not quite see her butt. The buzz the coffeemaker makes catches me off guard. One scoop of black coffee grounds falls into the filter; looking at Lynn again, we need two more scoops. The thick black liquid squirts into pot.

"Here." I say to Lynn. One hand slithers out from under the covers then reaches up into the air and starts grabbing at nothing. I carefully time sliding the mug between each grasp. She pulls the cup to her side then turns her head to take a sip. After a swallow of the liquid energy she turns over and opens her eyes completely. "What do we have to do today Hun?" I ask.

"Um. Not much I guess. I don't have any work to get done." She takes another sip. "Oh!" she springs out of bed and runs into the bathroom. I follow her out the door and step onto the cold linoleum floor. In the bathroom Lynn opens the medicine cabinet and takes out a home pregnancy test; Lynn sits on the toilet and places the test between her legs. Pulling the test out she stares waiting for a smiley face.

Is a pregnancy really the most advanced thing she'll ever pee on? I guess girls don't pee on stuff the way guys do. What is the most advanced thing I've peed on? My dad's old tractor, a tractor has got to be more advanced then a pregnancy test, but then again I've never peed on a pregnancy test to find out.

Lynn throws the test at the mirror and pushes me aside as she leaves the bathroom.

"What's wrong babe?"

"Another fucking line. Nothing absolutely nothing."

"Well something must be wrong, it can't be nothing." I say, following her as she closes our walk-in-closet door leaving me to wait for her.

"The test. It's negative."

"Oh." I wait silently; hearing her thrash about in the closet looking for clothes. "Do they work the day after, don't you have to wait for a missed period or something?"

"You don't know how they work. It's a girl thing." I hear Lynn throw an object at the walls in our closet.

"Ok. I'm sorry." I wait for a moment. "Still, I don't think a test works the day after; pregnancy tests aren't like the pill."

She walks out of the closet having found nothing but underwear to put on. Lynn falls onto the bed and balls up into the blankets.

"Baby, everything is going to be fine. We still have us." Rubbing my hands on her back I sit next to her.

"What if it's me?" she asks. She pulls the covers up over her head.

"What do you mean?" Lynn's only reply sounds like teacher from a Charlie Brown movie. "What?" Her head pokes out.

"What if I'm broken?" She moves the covers up over her head again.

What if we couldn't have children, would we still be in love. In high school we used to joke about the names we would like to have. College we formally decided on names for a boy and later a girl. Now we have rooms ready everything we ever dreamed about has come true for us. We got married and bought a house, both of us work at the jobs we wanted. Not having a child is the only part of our relationship left unfulfilled. I understand how Abraham felt about Sarah and why having a child was so important. Sarah felt that 80 was to late for her to ever have a child, here Lynn and I wonder if 35 is to late.

"Beautiful. You're not broken. Babies just take time." Another mumble comes from under the covers. "What?"

Her head pokes out. "I have an appointment today at a clinic. I'm getting checked out."

"Ok babe."

"You would still love me if I'm broken right?" I lean closer to her and scoop her up into my arms, then slide under the covers holding her onto my lap.

"Of course. I didn't marry you because I thought you would make good babies. I married you because I love you."

"Yeah." She spins around wrapping her legs around my waste and begins to kiss my neck. Her hand slides down to my legs and pushes into my crotch.

"Hey. Beautiful are you allowed to have sex before you go to the clinic?" I ask. Her hand moves up to my neck and embraces it.

"I don't know. Good point though." She climbs off me and heads back into the closet. I can't believe I just said that to her. Possibly the stupidest thing I've ever said in my life. What man turns down sex from his wife, not only that, sex in the morning. Sex in the morning means sex at night, and now I will not get either. Damn it.

I stack some dishes on the island in the kitchen. The stainless steal dishwasher is vibrating in its socket against our sink. Grabbing a towel off the counter top I jam it between the hard plastic floor and the machine to stop the sound. Water splashes off plates and bowls; I put a plate under the water using my fingernails to grind off pieces of crusted meat and spaghetti noodles. After the dishes I go into the living room to pick up the clothes that we had left out from the night before. Crumpled up on the tea table is her blouse and beside it a bra; picking up the blouse I pull it up to my nose. I love how my wife's clothes smell. Our front door slams and Lynn comes running in, dropping her coat on the table. She runs to me and jumps up into my chest expecting me to catch her; her weight throws me backwards into the couch. Boney hips dig into my side; Lynn starts kissing my neck and moving her hands on my chest.

"The tests were good." She says to me taking only a moment to stop kissing. "The doctor did an ultrasound and some sort of fallow-scoopy thing and he says I look healthy." Her hands run under my shirt and pull it off.

"That's good news." She slides down to the ground and starts to undue my pants.

"I want you to go get checked out." Her hands slide up my bear legs.

"What? No. Lynn I am not really into that sort of thing." My hands reach down to stop her while we discuss.

"The clinic, you'll go tomorrow." I can feel her hand wrap around my cock; my hands fall to the sofa.

"Baby. I don't want..."

"You need to go get checked tomorrow." Her hand moves in a rhythmic motion.

"K."

Sitting out in my car I stare at the white brick building. Leaning back in my seat and I stare up into the sky. A pack of spearmint gum lies on the dashboard, a fourth piece folds into my mouth. The wad grows in my mouth and I move it over into my cheek. One woman enters the building holding a baby with two young boys following behind her. All I want is one and she is wondering if she can have four, some people are just assholes. The tinted windows on the clinic don't allow me to get an accurate count of who is inside. Automatic doors swing open, I toss the wad of gum aside onto the grass and I take a step inside. The waiting room has a typical checkered floor with a couple of couches and chairs lining the room. In one wall a window is cut out and a rather large woman sits in the chair staring silently at a blue screen of a computer that is reflected off her glasses.

"Name?" the lady doesn't look at me.

"Elijah Crawford."

"Sign in please." She turns to face me. "What are you here for?"

"I need a physical. Well, a check up."

"Right." She reaches down and pulls a small plastic cup up and sets it on the counter. "Take this we'll call you when a room is ready."

"Um." I look at her name tag. "Bertha, is there any other way then the cup."

"If you want we can use a tiny camera, get the count that way, or you can..." Bertha picks the cup up and holds it between her index and thumb and then shakes the cup in front of my face. I take the cup and walk to the back of the room. To my right is the woman I saw walking in, she is breast feeding while slapping the hands of her younger son away as he tries to climb into her lap. The waiting room has five other women sitting in different positions, some read magazines others fiddle around in there purses. One short woman comes over and sits next to me.

"I think you're brave."

"I'm sorry?" I say back to her.

"Most men don't have the guts it takes to come in here. You really have balls."

"Thank you?" I look over and pick up a magazine quickly without looking and open to a random page.

"The fact is most men have a problem they just don't want to do anything about it." I don't say anything to her and flip a few pages. "I know my man wouldn't be caught dead in here." I wonder if she really even has a man. "Worried about your wife's breasts?"

"Huh?"

"Your reading about breast enlargement, you worried that a baby will stretch them out?" I look down at the magazine and see four different women standing in a line up comparing breast sizes, before and just after getting pregnant.

"Mr. Crawford." With a click Bertha goes silent. Why she needed a loud speaker to announce who was next in the small waiting room I don't know. I set the magazine down and walk up to the receptionist; a nurse in teal scrubs meets me.

"We'll be in room 21B." she says to me. Do nurses wait in the room while I extract semen; God that would be awkward. She walks around the corner and opens a door for me. The room looks like a typical appointment room with a bed covered in tea paper. The difference between this room and the typical appointment room is the television with built in tape player in the corner and a small rack of magazines mounted on the wall.

"If you need material there are some magazines here, and a few tapes you can choose from in the desk below the T.V. The doctor will come in a bit to collect the sample and talk to you about the tests." She, thankfully, walks out and closes the door.

I take another quick sweep around the room and look at the television. I press play; the screen kicks on in the middle of a scene with two men having sex. The television is blaring as two men moan loudly. I scramble to hit the off button, the power doesn't work. Hit the power button again, slowly at first then rapidly, I bang my fist against T.V. and try to turn down the volume. The door opens and the female nurse pops her head in.

"Everything alright sir?"

"I can't get this off." She looks at me then at the T.V. and walks over and presses stop. The screen goes black. The nurse gives me a look up and down before she goes out. Hopping onto the long grey bed covered in paper I undue my pants. Half naked I sit and try to adjust myself on bed; the wrinkling paper is so loud the nurse must be wondering what the hell I am doing. As cold as the room is I am not surprised by how small my dick looks in my hand. Pulling my cell phone out I dial Lynn's number.

"I can't do this."

"What baby?" she asks.

"I'm at the clinic. I can't just masturbate."

"Elijah, I'm at work, I can't discuss this right now."

"Well what am I supposed to do."

Her voice goes low on the receiver. "Just think about last Friday. I really can't talk. Have a good day baby." She hangs up. I guess masturbating at a clinic qualifies as a good day in most men's books.

I close my eyes and try to envision my wife standing naked before me. The picture changes to her undressing and just as she gets to her bra I can see Bertha the receptionist standing behind her. Bertha smiles and holds a little plastic cup up to her face and begins to shake it. Thick fingers go back and forth while my wife continues to undress. This is not working. Opening my eyes I see my cold hands wrapped around my dick the only change is that it looks smaller. I get up and head over to the wrack of magazines. I reach behind and pull up a magazine that looks relatively unused. Wedding Night Dump, is printed at the top. The pictures inside show newly wedded wives laying underneath there husbands who are taking a dump. I throw the magazine across the room, feeling a bit of vomit come up into my mouth. I reach down and pull my pants back on. Outside the door the nurse is washing her hands.

"Nurse, I think I'll take the camera." Worst decision of my life.

With the 'check up' over I sit on my bed and just wait. The pheasant does his continual loop over his field. Lynn comes through the front door and call for me.

"In here." I reply. She comes through the door.

"So?" she asks "How did it go?"

"Terrible."

"Was the clinic that bad?"

"I kept picturing you and Bertha together."

"Bet that was hot."

"Yeah, for Bertha." Lynn climbs into bed with me and lays her head in my lap. "So I elected to have the camera."

"The what?" I explain the whole lubricated process to her. "Dear God!"

"Yeah."

"And the results?"

"Processing. Men take a little more time then ladies." For once.

"Well sounds like you need some special treatment." She runs her hand up my thigh.

"Not tonight baby."

"Really?" She leaves to go to the kitchen to get something to eat. I simply stare at the emasculate pheasant.

After dinner the phone rings.

"Mister Crawford."

"Yes."

"Hi, this is Doctor Lewis from the clinic. I have your results from testing.

"Alright."

"We need you to come back in to confirm the test. Our lab consensus is that you have Azoospermia. The tests are not final until we do a second check. Azoospermia is a disease where your body is not producing any sperm, or something is blocking the sperm from reaching the semen. However, because of the test administered we know that nothing is blocking. Again we will need you to come back in; you can schedule an appointment with Bertha." I hang up on him.

Azoospermia. Infertile. Broken. I return to the living room. Lynn is sitting on our couch sipping from a mug of coffee.

"Was that the doctor?" she asks me.

"Yeah."

"Well?" I tell her the disease. "So what, I can't have children now." I sit silently. "Ok well, there are a lot of choices that I have. I could go to a sperm bank." The child would be of another father, the baby would be Lynn's, not mine; the child could never be ours. "Or we could... Your brother we could ask him." Our future child being the product of my brother; I would see my son and know that my wife had scientifically induced sex with my brother. Neither of us could stand the thought of having a child that wasn't ours. We got married to have a family; having a child is the point of getting married, the child was us. Us did not exist without a child, the dream of having a baby created an us. I cam not provide her a child, I am the broken one. I look at Lynn and see a potential mother married to a sterile man. Lynn gets up off the floor and grabs her keys off the counter.

"Where you going?" I ask.

"I told you last week, Jason is in town. I am going out to dinner with him."

"Jason from high school?"

"Yeah. I'll see you later." She walks out the door.

A ray of sun pierces through our dusty blinds and hits me in the eyes. I open my eyes to see the solo male pheasant flying above a dying wheat field. On hunting trips only male pheasants are allowed to be hunted, that way the females can repopulate for next season. Lynn lays curled up on the opposite side of the bed, she wears a grey hoodie and sweat pants. I get up out of bed and hit the alarm on the coffee machine. Lynn sits up in bed and watches the water pour into the pot; She reaches over for her mug and fills it on her own, then hands me the half empty pot.

"I have to be to work early." Lynn says to me.

"Alright."

Lynn gets out of bed and heads to the bath room. I sit on the bed and finish my coffee.

"I'll make you some breakfast."

"I got to go, I'm gonna be late. See you tonight." Lynn walks out of the door and I get ready to go to back to the clinic.

Bertha sits behind her desk with a doughnut with multi colored sprinkles in her hand.

"Sign in please." I take the list and sign it. "Mister Crawford, nice to see you again."

"Yeah." Bertha knows what happens if a man comes in for the second time, she doesn't have to pretend to be nice in greeting now. How come people become extra nice when they know you have a disease?

"The nurse will be with you shortly Mister Crawford."

"I'll take the cup."

"Are you sure Mister Crawford?"

"Yes."

The second time in the room is a ton easier then the first. I have to fill this cup as much as possible. Five minutes in the room and I miss the bottle. The counter has a couple latex gloves, I grab one and try to wipe some of my semen from the grey bed into the cup. The cup looks relatively empty. I need to do this again, get more in the cup, lots of semen surely means millions of baby producing sperm. Bending over the bed I start to masturbate again. The door behind me opens.

"Oh God, excuse me. I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to." She closes the door.