I shook my head yes and wiped heartbreaking tears from my face again with the sleeve of my uniform. “I can't help it. There are so many kids out there…we would make good parents.”
“We are good parents, aren’t we, Bean?” Doug said in his best voice as he ruffled the top of the dog’s head. Bean backed away from him in my lap with her ears down and peed on my uniform. “We have plenty of time for that, Emma. Anyway, whatever happened to you not ever wanting kids?” He returned to the kitchen to stir his food.
“Throw me a towel. I don’t know; I changed my mind,” I said.
“You need to stop watching that tampon channel. It’s infectious. Next you’ll bedazzle the couch and decoupage my fish tank!” He threw the towel across the room and it smacked me in the face, but his comments were lighthearted and he was giggling. The dog, however, was irritated when I scooted her out of the way to soak up the piss on my leg.
“You are an insensitive cock head,” I pouted as I wiped and patted my lap.
“And you is a whiny ha-o!” He smiled and blew on his hot soup to cool it down.
“A what?”
He smiled gladly willing to repeat it. “A ha-o!” Doug rolled his neck for additional giggles.
“A ho? Are you trying to be ghetto?” It was comical to hear him say any word in slang since his vocabulary was extensive and his mindset could be considered on the brink of scholarly.
“Yeah, nigga,” he said as he placed a hand over his balls with a face reminiscent of An American Pimp after the character told his ho to “Bring me my money, bitch!”
“Oh, lord! You are right. I don’t want kids with you; they will come out retarded, and I’ll have to walk them to the short bus that you will be driving.”
“You know you luuuuv me.” His head rolled again as he shoveled another two scoops of soup into his mouth in a hurry to get back to work.
“I don’t love you.”
He drank the last of the soup from the bowl, and with food still in his mouth he said, “You just love my doggie style.” Doug laughed as he rinsed the bowl out and placed it into the dishwasher perfectly aligned and spaced evenly from the other dirty ones.
“What size helmet do you wear?” I said with “smartass” written all over my face.
“What? I can’t hear what you’re saying with my cock in your mouth.” His high-pitched laugh began a familiar techno beat as he walked over to me, Bean, and the piss-soaked towel.
“Fucker.” It was all I could manage to come back with as I sniffed the last of the snot from my nose.
“Puta la gata,” he said as he gently cradled my head with his hand to bring it forward. He gave me a loving kiss on my forehead and lingered in that position for a second before he stepped away. “I love you. I’ve got to go.”
Bean climbed into her comfortable curled position on my lap, lifted her jowls, exposed teeth, and timidly growled. Doug pointed his finger right in her face, making the dog flinch. “You… are expendable.”
Once our names came up on the list to obtain on-post housing, we moved from our cozy apartment to a place inside the military installation. At the time, government housing in Arizona was lacking in aesthetics, to say the least. Curb appeal was nonexistent.
Our backyard, which was supposed to be lush green grass, according to post regulations, was regular, dry desert dirt. It was hard and packed down. Only a few yellow patches of grass managed to sprout through where weeds native to Arizona hadn’t taken over already. Nevertheless, Doug and I took great pains to keep it free of debris and water it often after hand-tossing grass seeds in an attempt to grow our own oasis. We took turns holding the hose to spray our seedlings as the other raked dog shit from the Labrador and German Shepherd we adopted.
Bean was in a better home by this time since Doug’s ultimatum was “It’s me or the dog.” Poor Bean had to go. Our new dogs couldn’t have cared less if grass was there or not. As long as we raked, they were happy to crap on clean ground. But we tried; Lord knows we did.
As the realization of wasted effort began to set in, we inevitably just threw the hose off of the back patio and let the water run down to pool in the yard. Surely the grass would drink and we would be the envy of our neighbors.
One late afternoon in the midst of our ritualistic attempts at landscaping, a neighbor walked from her driveway to our back gate to say hello. She carefully held the hand of a three-year-old child as her silky brown ponytail swayed across her back. Her cheeks were thick and pink when she smiled to introduce herself. “Doncha love the grass here? Hi, I am Kay. My husband and I see ya’ll workin’ so hard to fix it, but, believe me, it just blows away in the desert. This is my daughter, Ellie.”
There was just something warm and welcoming about Kay and her big brown eyes. She was refreshingly honest and open right from the beginning. It’s unexplainable, really, but the connection was very sisterly and genuine. Our entire conversation was instant bonding on every level.
After talking a while, we became so comfortable with each other that the skeletons simply ran out of the closet! Her daughter was a product of her first marriage, in which she had an affair after she found out that her husband had given her a venereal disease. Kay told me that she really did not know if the baby was that of her ex-husband or the other man.
“The doctors told me that, because of the scarring, I may not be able to carry a pregnancy to full term, so, girl, I freaked and tried for six months before she came. But Tim doesn’t know this, and I think he would break down if I told him all of it,” she confessed. Then just as quickly as she told me her secrets, she changed the subject completely. “Oh, ya’ll should come over for supper tomorrow. I’ll make brisket.”
The meet and greet was quick, fierce, and well received by both couples. The next evening we shared a meal of Texas-style mashed potatoes, brisket with various vegetables and spices, and a dessert to die for, with beer for the boys. I’d say that was some good old-fashioned entertainment.
Doug and I laughed all evening and shared stories with Kay and Tim as if we had known them for years. I helped Kay clean up the table as Tim and Doug discussed “man stuff” that we were not privy to as they tossed toys for the dogs. It was absolutely wonderful to meet friends who were just like us: young, happily married, and all around good people. When the night finally closed in, Doug and I walked through our shit-free, dirt backyard hand in hand.
Over the next week our nightly watering became a running joke between the four of us. By the following week, when they came over for our dinner invite, the only life that had grown was a grass patch in the spot where Doug and I stood to water the dirt. Apparently our leaking nozzle gave the extra nourishment it needed to grow. Tim and Kay took great care to jump over our precious green patch before knocking at our sliding glass door, alcohol in hand. Once again, dinner was more of the same happy atmosphere, and, when it was over, the boys were told to do the dishes this time while the ladies freshened up for our night out.
Kay was plain and very forgettable, if not for her fantastic smile that produced dimples emphasizing her vivacious personality. She was not in the best shape, but she was by no means fat. Her body would have toned up nicely if she had time away from being a full-time mother to do a few sit-ups every now and then. Kay was a typical cute mom, the kind that dotes over her husband at every military barbecue and volunteers at the county fair painting kids’ faces for free. But this description makes her seem almost dowdy, homely, or like a jolly fat lady in a muumuu. Kay was not to be associated with a woman who wears a tent and calls it a dress, no sir. She dressed very well when the occasion called for it, and that night her hair was down and styled to look rich and silky like fine chocolate, unlike the frayed ponytail I had seen her wear all week. Her eyes were framed with a little brown eyeliner and mascara that brightened her almond color. Kay wore the most daring red lipstick, which looked a little sleazy, but, somehow, sexy at the same time. Her jeans fit every curve, and her top peeked open at the chest to reveal a black lace bra if she tilted just right.