Date: Sat, 18 Feb 2017 12:53:25 -0500 From: MGTBILL@aol.com Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter 30 DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter 30 by Donny Mumford I'm like, "What? She says she's pregnant? How, um, what the fuck...?" Rob shakes his head, "I don't understand it either, Dylan. She just texted me ten seconds ago, just as I was coming in the front door.... look," and he passes me his cellphone. Hardly believing my eyes, the text reads, 'Hi, Daddy, our baby's inside me. Love, Frankie.' Shaking my head, "Is she mental with that 'Our baby' shit? She can't be pregnant anyway; you used a condom!" Rob takes back the cellphone, "Yes, I absolutely wore a condom. She gave me the fuckin' thing because I didn't have one with me that afternoon." What'd he just say? Putting that aside for another time, I ask, "Um, didn't you tell me she opened the condom packet and put it on you." He goes, "Yes," and I'm thinking... Oooh, there's a big red flag! "She put it on you, huh? Maybe she purposely cut it with a fingernail or something." Robby thinks for a second, then goes, "No! Nobody would be that sick! She's playing a practical joke. That's all this is, a sick joke!" I mutter, "Why that cunt!" while at the same time I'm thinking how I need to following up on Rob's comment about not having a condom with him that afternoon, inferring that he usually does have one. Yeah, but that discussion will wait for another time. Her being pregnant is as unlikely an event as I can think of, but for some reason I've got a weird feeling she's serious. It's weirdly unlikely, but for the minute I'll go along with the sick-joke scenario to give Rob hope. "Yeah, a sick joke, that must be it." He's nodding his head trying to convince himself it's a joke. Robby's still standing inside the front door holding his satchel in one hand and staring at his cellphone in the other. I'm seriously puzzled by this, asking, "When was the last time you even saw her, Rob?" He shrugs, "Um, I'm not sure. A couple of weeks ago, I guess. Didn't we say 'Hi' to her and a couple of girls at Tracey's on our way to the club?" I'm like, "Um, maybe, but it's just so odd she'd all of a sudden want to play a practical joke on you. That's all I'm saying. Ya know?" He's shaking his head, "So, you think she's serious?" Taking Rob's satchel from his hand, that I'll bet he forgot he was holding, I go, "I don't know what the fuck to think. You should text right back, Rob. Say something that infers you know... it's total bull shit." He nods his head again, then asks, "What should I say?" I go, "Um, say what you said a minute ago: that it's a sick joke." His fingers are shaking as he tries to text her. I'm like, "Here, let me do it, Rob." Taking his phone, I text: 'Really? You'd make a sick joke out of something as serious as that?' Then we both stare at the cellphone waiting for her reply. It comes pretty quickly: 'Rob, I'm as upset as you when typed that text, and I'm sorry. It's not a fucking joke! This is real life. We need to talk!' Rob goes, "Goddammit!" and throws the phone at the sofa. It hits a back cushion and bounces off onto the carpet. My heart is beating like a drum. This is a very scary situation; one that many guys and girls find themselves in, although you never expect to be one of them. It's always a bitch when real life intrudes into our almost carefree college life. As stressful as this is I need to stay calm for Rob. Walking over to his cellphone on the floor, I pick it up, and text, 'You bet we need to talk. I just got back from Thanksgiving break two minutes ago, I'll text you after class and we'll talk.' I almost add 'bitch' at the end, but I believe her now and we'll need her cooperation in an obvious resolution of this situation. Robby looks shell-shocked standing there looking at me, asking in a monotone, "What'd you tell her?" I hand him the cellphone and carry his satchel into the bedroom. Robby follows me, saying, "She texted back that she'll wait for my text, and that she's very distraught." I mumble, "I don't know what to think, Rob, but it's mighty suspicious! I mean her getting pregnant the one and only time you had intercourse with her while wearing a condom. If she really is pregnant you need to have a blood test or something, and I mean immediately to prove it's not yours. The, um, fetus or egg or whatever it is at this point couldn't have anything to do with you." In the bedroom we both look at our laptop computers on the desk, then go for them at the same time. Rob has the edge on me and he gets to the desk chair first. Sitting down he Googles, 'condom failure' and oh fuck, there are many ways a condom can fail. We read all the percentages for failure that range, depending on the study, as low as two percent failure rate to a high of fifteen percent or even eighteen percent. Different factors contribute to failures like how the condom was stored, how old it is, how it was put on, rolled all the way out or put on inside out, etc. etc. I go, "Wait a second! Isn't she on the pill? All girls are on the pill, right?" He shrugs, "How the fuck would I know?" I look startled and he says, "Oh man, I'm sorry for jumping down your throat, Dylan. Um, I guess most girls are on the pill... I don't know." Our conclusion: the information online is not encouraging, and that's assuming Frankie didn't sabotage the condom in the first place. Rob still has his coat on so I put mine on and we have a smoke out on the balcony silently watching the light snowfall. So far it's melting on contact with the parking lot, but accumulating on the cars. Rob takes a deep breath and exhales noisily, then mumbles, "I'm kinda shaky, Dylan." I go, "Yeah, me too, but there are options assuming she's sensible about ending the pregnancy as soon as possible." His eyes shift over to mine and then back to looking at the snow coming down. Exhaling cigarette smoke I'm like, "You do want to terminate the pregnancy, right?" He shrugs, "Jesus, Dylan. It's a living thing. Um, not thing, a living human or something human, ya know?" Holding my cigarette in my right hand, the back of my left hand at my nose, I'm thinking, 'Oh shit.' Then say, "It's basically up to Frankie anyhow, don't ya think?" He shrugs, "I just hope to hell it's not mine so I don't need to make a decision like that." He's not religious, although I guess you don't need to be religious to be against abortion. Ugly subject maybe, but so is life sometimes. The light snowfall stops just as we finish our smokes. Flicking our butts over the railing, and I do another pretty damn good flick, not that Rob was paying attention to it. Inside he's rubbing his face with both hands as I squeeze his shoulder, saying, "No sense agonizing over this until we find out what's what. We need to have that talk with her." He absently nods his head, then plops down on the sofa and gets back up immediately to walks around a little, muttering, "Why the fuck did I ever get the idea in my head that I needed to see what it was like to... oh Goddammit it all! And she talked me into it too!" I mumble, "Yeah, but..." and he goes, "Yeah, I know... I could have, should have said 'NO!' but, oh I don't know why I didn't. It's just that she... oh fuck it!" I'm like, "This is no small matter, Rob, but beating yourself up about it isn't, you know, going to help matters. We need to rationally figure out what to do. First, let's get lunch somewhere, then go to class, then call her." I have a hard time even saying her name. I had bad premonitions from the very start about her. Her and the other one, Beth, with their bull-shit fan club story. I don't know what else I could have done though. I mean without coming off as the jealous gay boyfriend. After walking around muttering under his breath and kicking a few things, Rob looks at me, "You're right. Let me put my stuff away and we'll get lunch." He empties his satchel of clean, ironed clothes that his mom did for him. As Rob's putting things where they belong, he mumbles, "Gee, babe, I see you did all our wash; the hamper's empty. Thanks." I shrug, thinking how everything seemed like silly-sexy-fun with Daryl like twelve hours ago and now this. We drive to McDonalds and get fries, cheeseburgers, and artificial milk shakes, then sit inside to half-heartedly eat our lunch without much talking. Rob does a number of annoying deep breathy sighs, like whoa-is-me, but I let it slide. The boy is stressed to the max obviously, and I get that. It's just that I'm so pissed-off we need to deal with this, and all because he was curious. I knew he was unaware of the curiosity and the cat theory! After lunch we both sort of sleep-walk through our only Monday class, taking almost no notes. Actually I can't recall a single thing Professor Mc Govern said. Putting on our backpacks after class, Robby says, "Lets stick with our program, Dylan. As soon as we get home we'll do the assigned reading for today's class, and then talk some more about my situation with Frankie, if you're willing." I go, "Of course I'm willing!" Walking towards the pickup I'm wondering how much reading we need to do. I'm almost positive I would have heard her give the assignment, so I ask, "Um, I didn't hear Mc Govern give an assignment for tonight." He unlocks his pickup truck, mumbling, "Yeah, she said we need to notice this, and she pointed to the whiteboard where she'd written today's assignment. Pages 209 to 236. It won't take much time." I'm like, "Oh, yeah, no problem." Back at the apartment we read the pages out loud to each other and then quiz each one another for a few minutes. It's almost like neither of us wants this study time to end because then we need to talk about that subject again. Rob finally closes the text book and takes another deep breathy sigh as we exchange 'looks'. Putting the text book in his backpack, he mumbles, "There's one thing I'm definitely not doing. I'm not going to be the one who even mentions abortion. I'd feel like a sleazy asshole suggesting it. I don't feel right about abortion anyway." I quietly say, "That's gonna actually be pretty much her choice, not your's, Rob. Don't ya think?" He nods, "Yeah, I guess. Hey, what if she's mistaken? I mean, maybe she believes she's pregnant, but she's not pregnant, ya know?" I go, "Her second text kinda makes me think she is, um, pregnant." He gets up from the desk and throws his backpack on the bed, muttering, "Fuck!" I follow him into the kitchen where he opens the refrigerator and grabs one of the two Coors cans that represent our apartment's entire stash of beer. Holding the can out to me, I shake my head, mumbling, "No, thanks," then, "You should text her pretty soon." He pops the tab and drinks some beer, then asks, "Can you believe this shit, Dylan?" I go, "No, not hardly, but you saw online how it's not exactly rare that condoms fail, so...." He sits at the kitchen table looking forlorn, so I sit down too and cover his hand with mine, quietly saying, "We'll work through it with her, and it'll be okay, Rob. Nobody else has to know about it. I mean none of our friends and certainly not our families." He says, "That's only partially true if she aborts... and I'm not gonna suggest it." I wanna yell, " `Right, you only mentioned that fifty fucking times already! I get it; you don't like abortion. Who the fuck does?' Instead I settle for a mumbled, "Yeah, I know! You mentioned that before... um, a couple of times." He looks up so I try for compassion in my voice, "Anyway, like I suggested earlier... it's unlikely you'd need to suggest it to her, since it's up to her in the first place." He frowns, still not texting her. I ask, "She's not Catholic or Southern Baptist, is she?" He shrugs, "We never talked about religion. I don't know what religion she was brought up believing in. What are you, by the way?" I go, "What religion am I? Um, Christian, I guess. When we were young Chubby and I went to a Methodist church's Sunday School for a few weeks, but they asked us not to come back. Chubby kept interrupting the lady with some kinda off-beat questions. You know, challenging some of the Bible's concepts, and whatnot." Robby grins, "Jeff got you two thrown out of Sunday School?" I chuckle, "Yeah, for real. Our moms were furious with the church 'cause we were only like seven years old. Anyway we never went back." Robby snorts out a laugh, mumbling, "That's, um, so fucked-up, ya know..." I go, "How about texting her now. Let's get this talk she wants to have out of the way. Maybe she's already figured out what she's going to do, and merely wants to tell you about it." He nods, muttering, "Somehow I doubt that very much." He takes his cellphone out, muttering something under his breath; then, before he hits her number, I go, "Ya know, her first text is troubling me. She texted 'our baby' and ended with, 'Love, Frankie.' That doesn't have a ring of abortion about it at all, does it?" He goes, "No, it sounds like she wants to start a family, um, with me... I guess. Her later text did say she was disturbed." I nod, "She's disturbed alright, but whatever, go ahead and text her, Rob." He does and she replies immediately. Rob looks up at me, "She'll be right over," and I'm like, "Is she coming alone?" He mutters, "I don't know. What, you think her parents might be with her?" I go, "God forbid! That's extremely unlikely though. Um, did she say 'I'll be right over' or 'We'll be right over'?" He goes, "She said, 'good, I'll be right over and we can talk', and that's her entire text." I shrug, "Sounds like she's coming alone. Maybe she hasn't even told her friend, Beth, about it." Rob fidgets as he sits in the kitchen chair tapping his fingers on the table. He taps his little finger, then ring finger, middle finger, and forefinger: tap, tap, tap, tap real fast and continuously until it's on my nerves so bad a pain streaks up the back of my head. I reach over and cover his hand with mind, stopping the tapping. He looks up with a questioning expression on his face. I quietly say, "Try to relax a little bit, Rob. It's way more her fault than yours anyway, and by a wide margin too! She kept nagging for it, right?" He frowns, "I wouldn't say nagging so much as reminding me over and over." I go, "Well what the fuck do you think nagging is? That qualifies as nagging; constantly reminding you about it is nagging, pure and simple. That's the fucking definition of nagging!" He goes, "Okay, but we're kinda past the point of who's more at fault. We're at the, 'what the fuck do we do now' point." Then the buzzer goes off letting us know someone is ringing from the back door. We look at each other, then I mumble, "I'll get it," and walk over to hit the button that allows her in the building. I'm like, "I wonder how she got over here so fast?" He gives me a look, like, "Who cares?" He's stressed; we're both stressed and a little scared of all the unknown and un-thought-of aspects involved in this situation... if it's even real. Waiting for Frankie to come upstairs, Robby gets up and walks over to look out the glass doors to the balcony. It's like he's trying to get as far away from the front door as possible. It's sort of like that animal, or is it a bird, that sticks it's head in the sand hoping danger will pass by. Thirty seconds later there's a light tapping on the front door. Rob turns his head frowning, so I go over and open the door. Frankie says, "Hi, Dylan," and I go, "Come in, Frankie. Sorry for, ya know..." and Rob comes over asking, "How are you? Do you feel okay?" She does an awkward hug with Rob, one he reciprocates too late and, like I said, it's fucking awkward. She says, "I feel odd; that's how I feel. My body feels different somehow. I've had some morning sickness but nothing too awful. What are we going to do?" I ask, "How'd it happen?" and Frankie says to Rob, "Can't we discuss this privately? Dylan is nice to care, but this is between you and me, Robert." He's annoyed, "What's this Robert shit? And no, Dylan stays." She gives him a startled look, and in a conciliatory manner, Rob quietly says, "Sorry. I don't want to upset you, Frankie. I'm sorry if I sort of snapped at you there, but it's... you know, you called me, Robert. I don't get why the fuck...." and his voice drifts off. She's annoyed now too, saying, "Well, Robert, is your fucking name, isn't it?" He raises his voice, "Yeah, it is, and your name is Francesca. Do you want me calling you that?" I go, "Guys, you're focusing on the wrong thing here, um, probably to avoid talking about the reason you're here, Frankie." She gives me a dirty look, then asks Rob, "Can we sit down at least?" He goes, "Of course, there's no need for this to be contentious." She sits at the kitchen table, muttering, "You're the one who snapped at me first," and he goes, "Who cares who snapped first?" Jesus! Rob sits across from Frankie, asking, "No offense, but is there any chance you're not pregnant?" She goes, "Yeah, one-hundredth of one percent," and I say, "So you're saying there's a chance?" She makes a 'huff" sound, but doesn't look at me. I'm standing next to the table leaning against the kitchen bar. She tells Rob, "I missed my period and my breasts got a little sore. Then I threw up Thanksgiving morning and that's when I knew I was probably pregnant." Rob mumbles, "I'm sorry you were sick." I go, "Um, did you take a test of some kind to be sure?" She snaps at me, "Of course I did!" Then in a calmer voice, "I bought a pregnancy test at the drugstore and it basically said... congratulations, you're with child." Robby rubs his face, muttering, "Oh jeez. Um Dylan, do you have any thoughts on the matter?" I go, "Yeah," then to Frankie, "Have you told anyone besides us?" She shakes her head, "No, not yet, and I don't know when I'll do that, not that it's any of your business." I go, "Jesus, I'm just trying to help us talk through the options here. No need to act like a cun..." and Rob says, "Dylan! Please." She goes, "Let's get this out in the open right now. If you're hinting about an abortion that is out of the question," turning from me, she says to Rob, "So you and I need to make plans, Rob." I ask, "What kind of plans are you contemplating?" and she looks at me, and yells, "Mind your own fucking business, Dylan! This is private between Rob and me." Rob's pissed-off again as he loudly says, "No it's not, Frankie! Whatever involves me, involves Dylan! He and I are getting married after college and living happily ever after no matter how we resolve this situation." Frankie's face gets red, but she controls her temper, saying, "This isn't something you 'resolve'." He mumbles, "Poor choice of words maybe." I go, "So, what do you plan on doing about this, Frankie?" She shrugs, and starts to answer me, then she gets flustered and turns back to Rob, saying, "It's obvious what we need to do. Can't you see that." Rob frowns, then looks at me. I shrug, so he asks Frankie, "What's obvious?" She goes, "The right thing to do is for us to get married like next weekend." Rob's eyes go cold; the way I've seen them get before he goes nuclear in a fist fight. In a barely controlled voice, he says, "What's choice number two, because what you just said isn't happening, and it pisses me off you'd even suggest it. What planet are you from, Frankie? Get married! Really?" She says, "Oh for chrissakes, I don't mean married-married. Just temporarily for a year or so and then we'll get divorced. It'll make him or her seem more legitimate. The baby I mean." I'm staring at Robby, who looks over at me, muttering, "Perhaps Dylan has a somewhat more rational idea. Anything would make more sense than." I go, "Do you mind if I ask why abortion is 'obviously' out of the question, like you said?" She says to Rob, "I'm not talking to him anymore, but I'll tell you that my parents would disown me if they knew I'd had an abortion." I say, "Why do they need to know? You can have one tomorrow if you wanted, which Rob will pay for, and he'll even hold your hand while you're getting it. Nobody has to know anything. Your pregnancy is obviously a huge mistake, but it's correctable." She ignores that and says to Rob, "What are you going to do to make this right, Rob?" He goes, "Me? What do you want me to do? And how does one make this right anyway?" She goes, "If you won't marry me temporarily, then tell me what you're going to do about this!" Nobody says anything for a few seconds, then Rob stands up, and says, "Ya know, I'm getting royally pissed-off here, Frankie. I want to be supportive and I'm concerned about your wellbeing and all, but I assumed you'd be thinking of realistic options, and instead you expect me to come up with some magical solution that makes everything okay. Your idea of us 'getting temporarily married' is beyond ridiculous!" She says, "It's all I could think of." He asks, "Where'd you get the condom you put on me?" She says, "What difference does that make?" He goes, "It makes all the difference in the world between being pregnant and not being pregnant. And anyway, aren't you on the pill?" She gets red in the face again, mumbling, "Usually, yes, but I didn't renew my prescription and I was going to when I got back... that's not the point though." I ask, "What is the point?" She starts crying, her hands covering her face. Rob does another big sigh, then rubs her shoulders, saying quietly, "Getting married isn't the answer, Frankie. Let's talk about what happens if you carry the baby to, um, term or whatever the word is. Till delivery, I guess." The crying turns to sniveling and Robby plops a box of Kleenex on the table. She grabs a few and wipes her eyes, then looks at Rob, asking, "Wouldn't you like to see what our baby looks like?" He goes, "Sure, but you're the one who would be doing all the work for nine months. Do you really want to go through that?" Calmer now, she says, "It's exciting in a way, and what choice do I have?" I quietly say, "You're not thinking clearly. A baby will change your whole life immediately and prevent you from doing all the things college students do to make this the best years of our lives." She actually nods her head at me, murmuring, "Yes, you're right, but I'm still asking, what choice do I have?" Robby's just staring into space, so I say, "There's only two choices. Have the baby or abort it. Um, is there any chance it isn't Rob's?" She gives me a furious look, yelling at me, "You're disgusting!" I snidely mutter, "That's your opinion, but it's beside the point. I ask you again, is there's any chance the baby's not Rob's?" Rob and I looks at her, and she mutters, "No," saying it so quietly I could barely hear her. Undeterred, I ask, "Are you positive?" and she frowns, then says, "Yes, I'm like ninety percent positive." I roll my eyes, "Ninety percent isn't positive, it's likely. Let's talk about that." She goes, "I forgot about one night when, um, never mind, but Rob and I fit the timetable perfectly." A tiny ray of hope. I'm staring at Rob with a look on my face indicating he should follow up on this line of inquiry. He finally shows a resigned expression on his face, and asks, "Um, Frankie, is there some way we could test to be sure?" She starts crying again, blabbering, "You're both horrible. Neither of you two ragamuffins care about me." Her ragamuffin reference is because Rob and I haven't had a haircut for almost two months now. Robby ignores the personal attack, gets up and goes over to her again as she slumps in the kitchen chair. He puts his arm across her shoulders, murmuring, "Of course we care about you. You're our friend," She says, "You're both hoping it's Lee's baby and then you can forget about me." Well, duh, yeah!! Expanding on this ray of hope, I quietly ask, "Who's Lee?" She shakes her head wiping her eyes with more tissues, then goes, "Nobody, Lee's nobody. What are we going to do, Rob?" Rob says, "I think we both need to take a day or two to step-back and consider all there is to, um, consider. Don't ya think that's a good idea, Frankie?" She asks, "You'll stick by me, won't you, Rob?" He goes, "Of course... as much as I can. Like I asked before, whaddaya want me to do?" She says, "Be supportive." Standing behind her, he shrugs while looking at me, like, 'What am I supposed to do now?" I shrug back, 'cause I don't know.' Finally I ask, "Have you seen a doctor yet?" She goes, "No, don't be so fucking stupid! I just found out last Thursday, Thanksgiving. When was I gonna see a doctor?" Well fuck you too, but instead of saying that, I mutter, "Well in that case, that should be the next thing you do. Be positively certain you're pregnant for one thing, and if you are, find out positively who it belongs to." She says, "It's Rob's," and I go, "Maybe that's who you want it to be, but make sure!" Rob goes, "Dylan, please. Frankie's upset. We're all upset." She looks defiantly at me, as she leans back against Rob until he adds, "But Dylan's right. You need to see a doctor like tomorrow." She abruptly stands up, saying loudly, "I should have known you'd be worried about yourself, Robert, and you wouldn't give a shit about me." He says, a bit sternly, "See a doctor and, when that's settled, you and me need a day or two to consider what we're going to do." I say again, "And don't forget, while you're at the doctors ask him how you can determine the father." She yells, "I hate you, Dylan! You jealous faggot." Rob says, "Yeah, whatever, but you still need to find out if I'm the faggot who knocked you up." It's silent as that utterance hangs heavily in the air. A couple of seconds later Frankie shakes her head, then quietly says, "I apologize for using that vulgar term, Dylan." Then to Robby, "I apologize, okay? You're right, I'll see a doctor this week and we'll talk again." Rob mumbles, "Yes and, um, take care of yourself. Did you tell Beth?" Frankie shakes her head again, and I say, "You need a friend to talk with about this. Get Beth's perspective. You can talk things out with her and we'll all get together later this week and talk some more." Rob rubs her shoulder, quietly saying, "Yeah, there's undoubtedly a number of things we haven't thought of yet." She takes a deep breath, then murmurs, "Okay, I'll do that." Robby sort of moves toward the door and she gets up to drifts there with him. Since she never took her coat off she's ready to go. She says, "It's snowing," and Rob goes, "Yeah, it started during my ride back here, but I thought it stopped." She nods and says, "I'll text you," and does the awkward half a hug again, and again Robby's not ready for it and it's, um, well it's awkward again. He repeats himself, saying, "Um, take care of yourself," and she's out the door. The door closes and we look at each other not knowing what more there is to say. I go over to him and we do a hug that last half a minute that's not the least bit awkward. Rob mutters, "This blows, huh?" Letting go of him, I say, "Yeah, and that's putting it mildly. Do you know who Lee is?" We sit on the sofa and Robby lies his head back, mumbling, "Nope, never heard her mention the name before today." I go, "Well it's obviously someone she's had sex w ith around the time you did it with her." He goes, "Ooh fuck, can we take a break from talking about this for a while? Please." I nod, "Sure, Rob. I'll be on my computer checking on something." He holds out his hand and I hold it for a second on my way to the desk in our bedroom. Naturally I'm Googling abortions and determination of paternity. Huh, this is good news: a fairly recently developed blood test can determine paternity. All they need is a blood sample from at least one of the suspected fathers. That's no problem and an easy solution that avoids DNA testing which is wicked expensive and takes weeks for the results. Huh, and there's a pill, well two pills that will bring on an abortion. I don't even want to think about how gruesome the implications of that might be. There's a list of reasons a pill method shouldn't be used. Then there's the conventional outpatient abortion that's fairly routine nowadays in Massachusetts, although possibly unpleasant in a number of ways. I would imagine so. Huh, it must be done within sixteen weeks of her last period. She'll need to determine that. Let's see: it was five or six weeks ago they did it, and then who knows when her period was due after that. Well, she'll know obviously. The point is a decision doesn't need to be made this week. This is all good to know, although it's still all pretty much up to Frankie. I'm surprised I find, after the rude way she treated me, that I feel really, really bad for her. Walking back to the living room I see Rob's still kinda sprawled out on the sofas in a mostly sitting position. I push his left leg over to give me room to sit beside him, then put my arm around the back of his neck. He lies his head over on my shoulder and we sit silently like this for maybe fifteen minutes. Rob finally sighs, and says, "This is terrible and, while I want to be pissed-off at Frankie, I can't stop feeling sorry for her. It's terrible that she feels all alone." I go, "I hope to hell she confides in Beth. To talk things out, ya know?" He mumbles, "Yeah, and maybe Beth can talk some sense into her. Something other than us getting married perhaps." I give him a hug, then say," A baby at this stage of her life might sound cool now, but the reality of the situation isn't cool." I'm thinking of Chubby's and my mom who kept their babies as seventeen-year-old girls and, with almost zero options available to them after that, they've led a waitresses' life ever since. Then I think how glad Chub and I are that they did what they did, and maybe the baby inside Frankie would think the same thing. It's a troubling decision one way or the other. Robby asks, "What'd you find online?" I tell him about the choices and timetable for abortions and about how relatively simple it is to establish paternity. When I finish, he nods his head against my shoulder, then murmurs, "Poor Frankie." I go, "Yes, I feel bad for her too, but how'd this happen? I mean she knew she wasn't on the pill being too lazy to get her prescription refilled, and then she uses some bogus condom that was around for who knows how long?" Rob mutters, "Whatever happened can't be changed now, and I'd feel like a creep playing the blame-game with her. And it won't solve anything anyway." I go, "You could be paying child support for eighteen years. Have you thought of that? That's a real possibility and not a small thing to consider." He lifts his head off my shoulder, sitting up, saying, "Hey, maybe we could adopt it... the baby. You and me?" I give him a big opened-eyed-look. mumbling, "Say what?" and he mumbles, "That probably wouldn't work, would it?" I say, "No, and for so many more reasons I can think of right off the top of my head it's not even funny. We'd be at minimum of a foursome: you, me, baby Rob, and Frankie hovering around constantly, and probably the grandparents on both sides." He goes, "Yeah, Jesus! That wouldn't work." Another sigh from Rob and I go, "Lets go out and have a few beers someplace." He gets up, saying, "Okay, but promise me we won't talk about this." I go, "You got it, Rob. How 'bout the Beef and Ale House in Middlebrough. They carve the roast beef right in front of you. Good rolls too with au jus; it's a really good sandwich." As he's putting on his coat, he says, "I add horseradish to their roast beef sandwiches, and that stuff is hot!" And that's what we do without talking about Frankie hardly at all. We're in the bar for almost three hours, but for our supper we only have four draft beers and two roast beef sandwiches each. It's not a good time though, so we eventually look at each other and nod our heads toward the door. I say, "Lets go home and sleep on it." It's pitch black outside as we get in the pickup, then Rob says, "Can you believe you and I have been apart for five days and we haven't once mentioned reunion sex?" I go, "I wouldn't exactly say I haven't thought about it, although you're correct that I haven't mentioned it, um, in lieu of other pressing matters." He goes, "Well put, but do you think our minds can sneak away from the reality we're currently dealing with for some loving." I buckle my seatbelt, saying, "Yes, we need to do that." As Rob drives us back to the apartment I'm thinking that we've actually weathered the first rush of this totally out-of-the-blue disaster. Getting over the first shock wave is the hardest, then the reality of it sets in and decisions can be made with clearer heads. For now, a sweet diversion is what Rob needs, and me too although probably to a lesser degree. It's only ten-minutes-of-nine when we get back to the apartment, but we undress to our boxer shorts anyway. Get to bed early. Side by side, we do out bathroom things and then get in bed to snuggle together. Rob murmurs, "I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciated having you with me when discussing everything with Frankie; that meant a lot to me. You were my touch of reality, my life-line. I was really scared and had no idea what to do or say. You had my back and I was able to keep it together until my brain started working again. You said things that had too be said, and I'll bet Frankie is glad you were there too." I mutter, "If so, she had a strange way of showing it." He goes, "She's even more scared than me. I feel very sorry for her and, at the same time, she really pissed me off with that stupid temporary marriage idea, and then calling you a faggot." With Rob tracing the pad of his finger along my cheek, I go, "She was thinking about herself and how her parents are going to react when they find out. In her scenario the 'rents would be pissed she ran off and got married, but the pregnancy situation wouldn't need to be discussed for months. She'd claim true love between you two made it seem like you both were typically impetuous college students who felt you just had to marry. It's an insane idea, but Frankie's basically desperate." Rob wistfully murmurs, "Maybe aborting the pregnancy immediately is the best move for Frankie, and me, and the fetus. Oh man, I find it hard to even say that. You and Jeff were born out of wedlock, right?" I mutter, "Out of wedlock?" and he goes, "Jesus, that sounded so stupid, didn't it? Out of wedlock." I go, "Actually our dad married Chub's mom so I'm the bastard." He hugs me tightly, murmuring, "Don't say that, Dylan." We're laying in each other's arms silently for a while, thinking our own thoughts as my fingers slowly run through Rob's hair. Then I grin to myself thinking about Frankie calling Rob and me ragamuffins. Next Saturday we'll get haircuts from Golden. Having hair this long is still a novelty for me though, and I like it. Rob reaches up to take hold of the hand I'm using to play with his hair, asking, "What are you thinking about, Dylan?" I go, "Nothing important. How about you; what were you thinking about?" He smiles and in the dark I can just make out his profile from the light of the moon shining through our bedroom window, "Oh, I was thinking about my favorite thing to think about... you. I was thinking how important you are in my life and how lucky I am that you love me like you do." I snuggle against him a little tighter, murmuring, "Well, mostly it's because you have a very good masculine body to snuggle with. Have I ever told you that?" He does a quiet chuckle, "You've given me so many compliments I have a hard time keeping track of them all, but yes, you've mentioned that a few times. Have I mentioned the same about your hot body?" I go, "No, I don't believe you have." He chuckles again, and goes, "Yes I have," and his face comes to mine for a soft, slow lover's kiss that lasts maybe a minute. When out lips part there's that subtle wettish sound that lips make when separating after some deep serious kissing and sucking. My hand goes behind his head and we kiss again as desire grows into sexual arousal with feelings of love surrounding everything. A quiet whine of desire escapes from my throat. Our lips part again as we both inhale deeply, then Rob whispers, "I love you with all my heart, Dylan." and this time we kiss hungrily, our tongues lapping together as our sexy lips kiss. Our saliva mixes and spreads around our mouths as Rob rubs between my legs. His hand is inside the front opening of my boxer shorts moving my hardening penis until he can get his fist around it to stroke, stroke, stroke it... and I moan, "Oooh, Robby.... ummm." Satisfied my cock is as hard as bone, Rob flops me on my back and gets between my legs to pull off my boxer shorts, tossing the shorts toward the desk chair. My head rests on Rob's pillow as anticipation of what's coming next makes me gulp. I watch him pushing my legs apart, then pushing them towards me. I get an arm around each leg pulling them back until my asshole is off the bed. Robby's on his knees as he spreads lubricant up and down his four-inch fat cock. My eyes are big as saucers watching him guide his hard cock to my asshole, the slippery bulbous head hits my quivering anus and spreads the lips. He leans forward slightly pushing it in past my sphincter muscle and I gasp, "Aaaah, mmmm." Rob leans over me between my legs, a hand on either side of me, his head a foot in front of mine. Looking into my eyes, a serious expression on his face, he thrust his hips driving his hard fat organ two inches up my ass and my back arches off the bed as my stretched rectum protests, then settles down and pleasure sensations swarm over me. I close my eyes and quietly moan, "Ummm, oooh it feels good, Rob." He takes a hand off the mattress and with his fingers lightly brushes the hairs off my forehead; then, leaving his hand on top of my head, he leans down and kisses my lip. Lifting his head after the kiss he humps the last two inches of his hard fat boner up my ass and my eyes open wide, staring into his. His head comes down for another kiss on my lips, and a murmured, "I love you, Dylan," as the pain inside me subsides and I sigh with a little grin on my lips. What could be better than this? With a fistful of my hair Robby pulls my head back further, then let's go and straightens-up. His hands push a little on the back of my thighs as he does a half dozen full thrust back and forth in my rectum and I squirm on the mattress, my asshole and prostate alive with a million zings of pure pleasure that nothing else can match it. A steady rhythm of, "Slap, slap, slap, slap," sounds ring out. They're not too fast and not too slow. It gets me moving my head from side to side on the pillow moaning quietly at the incredible pleasure sensation coming from inside me. Indescribable pleasure for me that's so perfect I can't conceive of anyone else experiencing this level of it during anal sex, never mind experiencing more. Surely this is the highest degree of sexual pleasure possible. My really tight boner begins lifting off my belly getting tighter and tighter until it's sticking straight up. Exquisite sensations coming from my anus and prostate while I inhale Rob's sexy scent and stare at his face and it's like three, four, five minutes of life's perfection. When I see Rob biting his lip and scrunching his face, and his thrusting gets faster and faster I know his climax is on him. I'm going, "Ooh, ooh, ooh, Rob, ooh," with my climax roaring on me too, and then my back arches, I squeal and a spurt of cum shoots up a few inches. Rob's humping against my buttocks filling me up with cum as I gasp, humping my hips again with a long string of cum shooting way up there this time, then another as I'm struggling on the bed humping and gasping with another shorter streak of cum firing up even as the earlier ones wetly splat across my chest. Muscles tighten around my groin forcing drools of cum to roll out of my cock and slide down my boner as it begins losing it boner-hardness. The enormous rush at the peak of climax leaves me momentarily feeling faint. Then a sweeping last smattering of pleasure-blips roll around my ass and groin and I lie limply savoring the magic of climax. My eyes are droopy as I begin noticing other things around me, most notably Rob who's leaning forward on his hands, a hand on either side of me again. His head hangs between his arms as I listen to his deep breathing and feel his cock still inside me. He lifts his head slowly and gives me a little smile, murmuring, "This makes everything worthwhile, no matter what, huh?" I nod and smile back, feeling wonderful for the first time since waking up today. Rob takes a deep breath, then pulls his cock out of my ass as I go, "Ummm." My legs drop to the mattress on either side of him and I hold my arms up, open wide. Rob gently lies forward and I wrap my arms around him as the cum on my chest spreads between us. The sides of our faces together, we do some deep breathing before he lies completely on top of me. We're identical in size so our feet are next to each other rubbing together even as the sides of our faces do the same. He lifts his head and we do a sweet kiss, then another. His body feels so nice against mine and the only thing that would make me happier is if his sparse sexy beard was against my face. He just came from home though, so he's clean shaven to please his father and his boss, who are one and the same. The rest of the time Rob pleases me in that regard. I swear he looks even more handsomely cute with a couple days of soft blond whisker-growth on his face. A cool little mustache, some chin hairs and then some along his jaw. His cheeks remain as smooth as a baby's. I think that combination is so cool and sexy looking. After maybe ten minutes the sticky cum between us creates an uncomfortable feeling so we get up and pad into the bathroom to clean-up. Rob wipes his cum off my legs and ass with a washcloth, then we both wipe our chests and stomachs. Rob says, "Is there anything in the world better than that sex we just had?" I shake my head, mumbling, "Nope, not even close." We get back in bed naked and snuggle together while trying to avoid a big wet spot where some of my climax landed next to my body. I murmur, "All of a sudden I'm feeling really tired." He goes, "Me too, Dylan. Stress makes you tired." We rustle around a little more getting perfectly comfortable in each other's arms. I murmur, "I missed sleeping with you, Rob, it took me forever to fall asleep." He murmurs, "Me too," and we fall asleep together. Our Tuesday morning's class isn't until ten o'clock so when I wake-up and see it's only eight-fifteen I stare at my gorgeous boyfriend for awhile, then pull at the hairs that have grown over the top of his left ear. He continues sleeping so I run my fingers through the hair on top of his head, then get a fistful and tug on it until he opens one eye. A slow grin forms on his lips as I keep pressure on the fistful of hair. He asks, "Am I to assume you want me awake?" I nod, and he goes, "Is the reason you want me awake, um, sexual in nature?" I nod my head again, and he rolls over with half his body on top of mine, and says, "Good, but let's do our sex while taking a shower." Naturally my bath with Pony flashes by my brain, but now I'm in the big leagues with Rob so it's flashes out of my brain just as quickly. I use the bathroom first for nature's calling, then wash my face and hands and while Rob's in the bathroom doing his private stuff I get things out of the refrigerator for breakfast after our shower. A quick microwave of a big potato, only partially cooking it. Then I peel it and dice it, burning my fingers a little in the process, then cut up some onion and green pepper. Putting vegetable oil in a large frying pan over low heat, I drop the potatoes, onion, and peppers in the pan to slowly brown. They're going to be our home fries to go with eggs and toast. I hear, "Dylan, baby, your head of the household is waiting for you." With a smile on my face I'm quickly down the hall and into the bathroom where Rob's holding the shower stall door open; the shower running full-force with excellent water pressure. Good shower in this apartment! In I go followed by Rob. We do a detailed bathing and shampooing of each other head and body, then I get an awesome hard fucking from Rob with my arms extended and my hands against the wall of the shower stall for support. Awesome gasping climaxes for both of us and then hugs and kisses under the shower's rainfall for another two or three minutes. Drying ourselves I wonder if Rob managed to get the pregnancy dilemma out of his mind for at least ten or fifteen minutes this morning. The topic hangs in the air like a heavy dark rain cloud full of lighting and noise and uncertainty. In our bedroom getting dressed, Rob asks, "Do you think we should do anything about Frankie today?" I shake my head, "No, not unless she wants to. Let her confide in someone and maybe get a second opinion." He nods, "Yeah, there isn't anything more to say after yesterday anyway. I mean unless she sees a doctor." I go, "You know what this situation is like? A guy and a girl drinking too much, meeting for the first time at a party, and later they have sex. If she gets pregnant there's no romance or anything that makes them close to one another, so it's basically up to the girl to make the decision how she wants to handle it. Your's and Frankie's situation is pretty much like that as far as a one-time thing. She was more than a willing participant, she talked you into it basically. Your responsibility, I would think, consist of supporting whatever her decision is." He nods his head, "Sure, but first she needs to see a doctor for two reasons. One, to be positive she's pregnant, and two to ascertain that I'm the father... or not." I go, "You, or the mystery man, Lee. Yes, that's what she needs to do before we talk with her again. Or at least that would be the best case scenario. She may want to talk before she sees the doctor, but it wouldn't be any more productive than our last 'talk' was." Rob and I tend to cover the same topics a number of times, maybe convincing ourselves we're seeing the situation clearly, or maybe we're simply rationalizing... it's hard as hell to tell. Robby sits at the kitchen bar drinking coffee and watching me fry eggs. Carefully flipping the eggs over one at a time, I ask, "How you holding up, Rob?" He goes, "I'm definitely fucked-up over this pregnancy situation, and I can't help thinking Frankie's a lot more screwed than me. The two of us managed to create a mess for no good reason at all. It's just plain stupid any way I look at it." I nod my head, then take the frying pan off the flame, saying, "I'm thinking she was hell-bent on having sex with you. Maybe it was mostly because of that asshole bet she had with Beth, but whatever the reason she was determined that you were gonna have sex with her." He goes, "Water over the damn, Dylan. The fact is I shouldn't be allowed around girls without some adult supervision." I chuckle, "Yeah, there were no adult minds involved in that unfortunate afternoon some weeks ago." He shakes his head, mumbling, "At least I was able to think about something else last night during our happy sex together." I murmur, "I sure as shit hope so," and he mutters, "And afterward there it was again waiting for me. The situation was right there looming over my head again. " I go, "Yeah, me too, but of course your cloud must be larger and much gloomier than mine." The toast pops up and I nod my head at the toaster. Rob gets up with a sigh, then butters the toast as I'm sliding perfectly prepared over-easy fried eggs onto our plates. Two fried eggs each, and then a good portion of lightly browned home fries. We eat while discussing our classes for today, then we talk about how we're dreading next week's final exam review classes. Then the week after that we take the final exams before a three week Christmas break. Frankie's pregnancy would be an unexpected ball-buster any time of the year, but it's even worse happening just before the Christmas break. As I'm thinking that, Rob reaches over to touch my arm, saying, "Thanks for sticking with me through all this. And, um, thank you for not mentioning what a complete loser I am for getting myself involved in this mess. I let Frankie dictate too much of what we did together and I'm as disappointed in myself about that as anything else I can think of in my whole life. She manipulated the hell out of me, but in the end it's my fault too." Neither of us has anything to add to that, so we finish our breakfast silently while listening to a Counting Crows CD. If I didn't love him so much, and if I hadn't screwed up royally a few thousand times myself in life, I'd probably be more critical of Rob's poor choices all during the Frankie and Beth nonsense. Since I'm no saint myself, however, I have no right to make him feel any worse than he already does. After picking at his food, Rob helps me quickly clean-up the kitchen, then we get our coats and backpacks on and try being normal college students the next four hours or so. Sleepwalking through our three classes, then back at the apartment we do the day's assignments. As we finish with that, Rob says, "I almost wish we had more to do because at least I get to concentrate on something besides a certain pregnancy I'm involved in." Nodding my head and putting the text book in my backpack, I say, "C'mon and do the run with Pony and me again today." He goes, "That sounds good, Dylan. Then I'm meeting Golden at the ballpark to look at videos of our swing. Physical exercise and then watching videos almost makes me believe things will get back to normal with time." I go, "You guys watch videos just like professional ballplayers, huh?" Rob rubs my head, saying, "Yep, just like them, babe." We do the three mile run without any conversation and afterward, as I'm leaning over trying to catch my breath, Pony and Rob do a balls-to-the-wall, all-out hundred-yard-dash to see who's the fastest. Rob wins by a nose, as they say in racing circles. Now both of them are bent over trying to catch their breath with me saying, "C'mon pussies, let jog another mile or two." Pony looks up grinning, giving me the finger. After a half hour workout in the fitness center we wash up in the lavatory and Rob heads over to the baseball complex to meet Golden. Pony and I walk to his dorm room as he asks, "Is there some problem with Rob? He seems uptight or something." I shake my head, "Nah, it's probably the finals exams coming up." Tuesdays and Thursdays Pony's roommate has late classes so that's our two days a week to do some extracurricular working out, also called buddy-sex. I spank his ass with my bare hand until he has both his hands back there protecting his buttocks as he yells, "stop!" Heh heh, I worked up another little sweat spanking his ass. It doesn't get me aroused, but I get a kick out of feeling a tad dominant. And there's a real touch of dominance watching Pony get in his 'spanking position' with his pants down, bending over with his hands on his knees waiting for his spanking. He gets off on it too. We've found that it's sexier for him if he just pulls his pants down as opposed to being naked. I'm way past being critical of anyone's fetish, particularly this one as I have a touch of it myself from my days of doing sub/dom sex when Ryan was spanking me. That hasn't happened for a couple of months now and I get a little jealous of Pony occasionally because he gets to play the submissive role to my partially dominant one. Fetishes are impossible to explain or understand. Today Pony has tears in his eyes from the spanking which brings back memories of Ryan's and my hot sexy days during our freshman year. Pony wipes his eyes, grinning and pointing at his boner, then muttering, "It's fucked-up, Dylan, but look at that boner I got while you whacked the shit out of my ass." I shrug, "You're perverted, Pony; pure and simple." He goes, "I know you don't mean that," and he does a quick kiss on my lips, mumbling, "There! How'd you like that?" I'm very fond of Daryl. After his stinging buttocks calms down, and his boner does the same, Daryl gets completed naked. I pull my pecker out through the fly of my pants and he sucks me off with his sharp bottom teeth scraping the underside of my stiffening cock. It gets me hard fast and occasionally I'll let him continue until I shoot my load in his mouth. We've tried getting my boner in his throat without success thus far, but not from lack of trying on Daryl's part. Most days though, after sucking a boner on my dick, I fuck him as hard and fast as I can. Really hard fast fucking and we both have awesome climaxes. Damn, he reminds me of me sometimes; I mean in the way he loves taking it up the ass. Great ass for fucking too. His involuntary muscle contractions really get me off awesomely. We're good buddy-sex partners and I'm kinda proud of myself for 'topping' him pretty damn well. He doesn't have any complaints. We clean-up a little and he gets dressed. Usually I'll hang around awhile and we'll exchange a few ball-busting comments, none of which we mean or take seriously. It's for chuckles and yucks mostly. Today Daryl goofs around with a few kisses, claiming they make him slightly nauseous. Ah, flattery! Today his roommate, Tom Higgins, returns and we talk and joke around with him a little before the three of us leave together; those two to their dining hall for dinner and me to meet Rob at the pickup for a ride to the apartment. Golden has dinner with Rob and me again tonight. He's over for dinner two or three nights a week as if the mentoring continues. After dinner while we're drinking a couple of beers Rob tried talking Golden into using my haircutting tools to give us the haircuts we missed almost a month ago, but Golden's firm about not doing that, saying, "Not tonight, but this coming Saturday, boys, I'll try to fit you in then. That's my haircutting day for this month." Rob goes, "You need to make an exception this time for your mentor and his beloved boyfriend." Golden says, "Nope, no I don't." Golden is no push-over and while he obviously likes Rob a lot, he's mostly just a teammate after all. The mentoring is basically over by now and they're just friends. As they banter back and forth I'm thinking how good it is seeing Rob grinning and laughing. It also makes me think that in a way I'm mentoring Daryl. Mentoring him in the ways of gay sexy fun and, heh heh, he's much more willing to do what his mentor says, than Golden is. I go, "Okay, Golden, you're being a hard-ass about making us wait until Saturday for haircuts. Dude, we're not freshman, but let me ask you a question. When you gave Rob and me haircuts that first or second day you were here, you bitched about how much you disliked doing haircuts." He goes, "Was that a question?" I'm like, "No, smart-ass, my question is: how come you do about twenty-five haircuts a month when you hate doing haircuts?" He goes, "Because most of them are my teammates. They're like my brothers, and the others are close friends of my teammates. You wouldn't understand because you've never been on an organized team." Rob gets a little hot, saying, "That's bullshit, Golden! Dylan understands teammates and teamwork as much as you do. Don't be such an ass thinking a person needs to be on a sports team to know about teamwork. He knows teamwork from doing actual work, on a real job. You're playing a child's sport with your teammates." Golden's a little shocked at the force behind Robby's words. He turns his head to me, then back to Rob, his ponytail flopping around as he says, "Okay, lighten up though, dude! It's a point well taken though, but I work in the summer too so I get it." Rob goes, 'I've been working summer since I was thirteen." Then Golden says to me, "My mentor just jumped down my throat, so my deepest apologies for not considering teamwork in the work place." I go, "Okay, apology accepted for your pompous remark, and now how about those haircuts?" He goes, "I'm not pompous... what's that mean anyway." I grab his ponytail and pull it, and he goes, "No haircuts tonight, but if you let go of my fucking ponytail, as I said before, I'll for sure try fitting you in for haircuts Saturday." I liked how Rob stood up for me, and I liked the way Golden took the criticism without getting defensive. He's a good guy and since he let his beard grow slightly it covers the ass-crack in his chin and he's good to look at. Nice looking guy! And, Golden coming over tonight helped Rob get his mind off the pregnancy without Golden even knowing there is a pregnancy. No word from Frankie all day Wednesday, which plays out pretty much like Tuesday except Pony and I can't use his dorm room for the extra workout we like to do. Then Thursday after class Frankie finally sends a text to Rob saying she has a doctor's appointment Friday at noon and asks Rob to come with her to give a blood sample. He shows me the text and I'm like, "Way to go, Frankie! That's great, Rob. We'll know definitively what we're dealing with after the appointments." He nods, looking nervous. We've talked about it and both agree that Frankie probably counted days, or whatever you do to determine your sex partner at conception, and it's Rob. But that's the last we mention the pregnancy and the day goes by like most Thursdays. That night Rob and I have very hot lover's sex twice before bed and it's almost like things are normal for a while. After my Friday morning class, Rob and I are standing outside the Franken Building with our hoods up against the cold. The little snowfall earlier in the week never amounted to anything, but the weather's turned cold. Neither of us has spoken a word about Frankie's doctor's appointment or Rob's blood sample this afternoon. We haven't mentioned either thing since hearing about those two appointments from Frankie yesterday, but that's what we're both thinking about now as we light cigarettes. Exhaling smoke I allude to that topic, "I'll come with you if you want me to, Rob." He shakes his head, "No, thanks, Dylan. I'm a big boy, and I gather she's going alone." I mutter, "Yeah, okay. Um, I wonder if she's told Beth about it yet?" He shrugs, "Who knows. C'mon, we'll drive to the apartment and kill some time there until the appointment." We start walking towards the parking lot as Rob sighs, then, murmurs, "I suppose I should text Frankie to see if she needs a ride." We get in the pickup and he starts the engine, saying, "When I get to the clinic it shouldn't take long because it's in those medical buildings right off route 125, about two miles from our apartment." I just nod and when we get to the apartment Rob's understandably fidgety. I mean, it won't be long before there's no question that he's the father. That's what we think will be the results of the blood test. He sighs again, then texts Frankie, who texts back saying she doesn't need a ride, which puzzles us. When this is resolved and time has passed, I need to mention to Rob about the 'sighing' he's doing every three minutes. It's not cool. I say, "Sounds like she isn't going alone, Rob." He goes, "I don't know. I'm getting my finger pricked, and then I'm outta there. Frankie says a nurse will take the blood sample." He paces around while we do today's after-class assignment, or homework as I call it. We finish that and Robby mutters, "Oh screw it, I'm going over there early and maybe I can get in and out without seeing her." I nod my head patting him on the shoulder, mumbling, "Good luck, Rob." He looks a little pale as he goes out the door. I'm a little fidgety myself waiting for him to get back here and tell me what happened. Then I get a call from Steve Church, Ryan's roommate, asking for a haircut this afternoon or tomorrow. I tell him I'll text him back about the day and time, but I'll be glad to do it for him. I'm thinking I might learn something about Ryan, who wasn't at our class earlier today, not that he missed anything. We had a substitute professor who looked to be about our age. Rob's back in half-an-hour looking better, saying, "I'm glad that's over. There was a form completed and waiting for me at the reception desk. Frankie took care of everything. I merely took the form and went where the receptionist said I should go. Only one person in front of me and then it took a minute to wipe my finger with alcohol or something and stick a needle in this finger," and he holds up his left index finger that has a Band-Aid around the pad. He goes, "I left without seeing Frankie. I think she was in a different building." I go, "So now we wait." He shrugs, "Yeah, we wait, but I'm sure we know the outcome. It'll probably be me, and we'll be right back, more or less, where we were Monday." I go, "No, we'll know now. No speculation, and hopefully Frankie has talked everything over with someone and has come to the logical, although unfortunate, conclusion." He mutters, "I don't want to talk about that." I make us sandwiches. Rob picks at his; then, a little after two o'clock his cellphone buzzes. We both look at it, then look at each other, then he picks it up, mumbling, "It's a text from, Frankie..." No shit. I ask, "Well, what's it say?" His expression tells me nothing as he hands his cellphone to me. I gawk at it, then read her text out loud... to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com ======================================================== Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you. Donny Mumford ======================================================== Please consider a tax deductible donation of any size to nonprofit Nifty to help with the expense of maintaining this ginormous free story site. Thank you very much. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html