A Summer in Sonoma

“What we could use is a vasectomy!”

“Yeah. I guess. After this one…”

“Billy!”

“What?”

“We can’t have another baby!”

“Well, you act like this is my fault!”

“It wasn’t the UPS guy!”

He grinned into her eyes and brushed a little hair away from her brow. “I bet I know when it was,” he said, his voice thick and husky. “We had dinner with your folks and you liked me. I didn’t fuck up all night, which is a miracle, huh? Then after the kids were in bed, you liked me a lot. Kind of took me by surprise, but I think I stepped up to the plate pretty good there.” He gave her a kiss on the nose, on the lips, on the chin. “I did such a good job, maybe you popped about ten eggs and one of ‘em slipped right by that IUD…”

Her eyes welled with tears. “We can’t afford another baby. We can’t afford the ones we have.”

“We get by okay. It won’t be a struggle forever.”

“It will if you keep knocking me up!”

He chuckled. “You’re so damned knock-upable. I just can’t help myself. And it’s not like I planned it. I’m just so potent.”

“See, you think you’re so manly right now. They’ll swim through anything—through condoms, IUDs, diaphragms…And you’re goddamn proud of yourself!”

“Nah, that’s not it,” he said. “But I have to admit—I love you pregnant…”

“You’re just an idiot! I can’t pay the bills! Don’t you get that?”

“Except the part where you’re in a bad mood all the time and throw up. But you’re probably not crazy about that part, either.”

“Did you look around Marty and Joe’s tonight? The big house, the nice furniture, all the stuff they have? You know why? They didn’t get married when they were twelve, they have only one child and she works, that’s why! While we’re eating casserole made out of tuna or, on a big night, wings and thighs!”

“Yeah, it’s really tight, but I don’t think we should give any children away…”

“I’m not finding this funny at all! We’ll never get out of debt!”

“Listen, you can’t make assumptions about people, about their lives. Who knows what’s going on in their private lives? For all we know, Marty and Joe have fifty-thousand-dollar credit-card bills and a second, third and fourth mortgage. And besides, I wouldn’t trade one of our kids for a pinball machine or pool table.” Then he rolled his eyes upward. “Well, I’d probably trade Clint for a boat and an RV…”

“We haven’t planned one single baby,” she whimpered.

“Apparently we don’t have to.”

“Really, I’m very upset about this,” she said, pursing her lips, trying for control.

“Okay, I’m not going to let you get me all stirred up, because you’re…well, you know what you are,” he said. “We try our best to keep from getting pregnant, but we’ve had a surprise or two and we take what we get. Not because we wanted another one right now, but because it’s on the way, it’s ours and we can.”

“Well, don’t get all hooked on the idea. This would be an IUD pregnancy and there’s no telling…”

“You take the home-test thing?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Ah. You already threw up.”

She nodded pathetically. “You know, it might not make it…”

He leaned over her more closely, slipping his big hands under her short nightie. “Jules, this is you and me—the baby factory. It’ll make it. And we might not have a boat, but we’ve been so goddamn lucky. Look at those kids, huh? They’re smart! Healthy. And damn good-looking.”

“Clint’s hyperactive. I can’t keep up with him. I’m at the end of my rope…”

“He’ll settle down. Jeffy was kind of like that. Listen, I could get a few more hours a week…”

“You’re never here as it is.”

“I’ll work as hard as I have to, baby. I’ll do whatever it takes. And I swear, I’ll get that vasectomy before this one even gets here.”

“If one swims through that, I’ll kill you in your sleep!”

He laughed and put his hands over her breasts. He jostled her a little, rubbing against her thigh. “One good thing—you don’t have to worry about getting pregnant for a while.”

“That’s not exactly an incentive,” she told him, sniffing back a tear.

“You can eat like a pig. Everything you want,” he said.

“I get postpartum depression,” she said.

“No, you don’t. You get early pregnancy depression, but when you have a new baby in your arms, you’re alive like no other time. Just how late is this period?”

“A couple of weeks. But you know me…”

“So far you’ve been late exactly three times. But why didn’t you do the test right away?”

“It costs seven dollars! And besides, I don’t want to know for sure,” she said softly.

“After dinner with your folks,” he said dreamily. “I loved that—that was wonderful. I wish that would happen more often.”

“I wish you’d turn me off, not on.”

He grinned. “Well, that explains why you’ve been such a bear. Jesus, there was no making you happy. Except, what’s up with the wine? You’ve had wine.”

She shook her head. “Apple juice in a wineglass with Cassie, that’s all,” she said. Then she started to cry and he held her close. “Billy…” she cried. “Billy, I don’t want this to happen…not now. If we were on our feet…”

“Yeah, it’s okay, baby. You’re just feeling the pressure—I understand that. But we’ll be all right. In the end, things always work out for us. Listen to me—I want you to listen to me now. We have something special. We’ve had it since we were kids, and it’s never been about money. We’re not going to be broke forever, honey. But we’re going to have something special forever. I love you, Jules. Since I was just a boy, I’ve always loved you—only you.”

“This is the talk you give me when I’m upset about being pregnant…”

“Which is just about every time you’re pregnant,” he laughed. “I’m not a real religious guy, but these kids—they have to be meant to be. They just keep sneaking up on us. And they come out perfect.”