I wish he were here

Hi, my name is Albert, and I want to tell you an incredible story...

It was at 08.15 on a rainy Friday night at southern California. I had stopped by a 7-Eleven gas station on my way to the city of Brentwood from Long Beach, just before to entering the Freeway. There, besides filling the tank, I bought some candy, chips, dips, wine and beer. Then, once I returned at the wheel, I headed northbound, to meet my beloved Brenda.

Brenda was 35 years-old plastic surgeon doctor, tall, shapely body by diet and the early-morning exercises’ culture, with a sensual, thin and symmetrical face, accordingly with their profession. She had brown hair and green eyes, with a slightly tanned and well-cared skin… oh yeah. She was a perfect California girl. We had begun a lovely relationship a little over a year ago. A few months after she helped me to solve a terrible physical problem of smallness of my manhood, which, unfortunately, couldn’t save my first marriage, at that time, because love and respect of that relationship had already disappeared. Brenda was also divorced from her husband and partner of the clinic; they both ran because she wanted to have children, but her husband certainly not to. Brenda knew also that soon she would be physically unable to have them... Therefore, she reached the point of divorce.

As a result, we both slide down to end together in the same sea of loneliness, from different paths of our amatory failure. A factor that wasn’t enough to begin a relationship between us, unless we hadn't liked each other since the beginning, when we met at her office. Nevertheless, we restrained our own feelings by the marital commitment, even though it was falling apart, and we respected it at that time. Notwithstanding, desire overflowed when the barriers vanished between us. In that way was born, little by little, this shared love sentiment.

We had left behind The Clubs parties and the "Friday nights of corruption" celebrations months ago in the relationship we were building. If we were not living together, it was because we still wanted to keep our independence until the due time, also, because Brenda wanted to wait for the wedding and the Opening the house that we already had prepared. But, sex was on holding too? No way, Jose. Not at all. We did it since the first moment we were informally free, and after a few hugs and kisses, either in her apartment, in mine or in a hotel when we were out of town on the weekends... But she was careful to do not get pregnant, until to be sure that I would be her lifetime man and an excellent father to her genes, inherited and shared with mine in a new being. Therefore, sex, wedding celebration and marriage were not prerequisites for sharing a family life... and she knew it. Therefore, this early morning I had gotten a Brenda’s phone called to my office.

“Yes, Albert. I’m ready, the time is right… I want to get pregnant tonight.”

Driving down on the freeway, heading to Brentwood, many memories came to my mind. I remembered, for an instant, my failed efforts to get pregnant with the woman of my first marriage and the subsequent result of frustration with verbal abuse by insults for my physical incapacity and, consequently, my extreme depression that made me lose any possibility to get an erection before her. The psychological trauma was so serious that neither Viagra nor the extra inches solved it, because the problem was not physical but mental. “You must be operated ... -the psychotherapist, who treated me, said and added- ... It is the root of all your failures. Actually, dangling around with three inches you will be very unhappy the rest of your life. However, fortunately, there is a cure now." And he sent me to see a plastic surgeon: Brenda.  

She solved the  problem adding 6 more to the few that I had. "Won’t be too much, Doctor?" I said when we talked about it before the surgery. "No… -she said-… It is never too much, but I advise you caution and be careful in your intercourse relationships. Size is important for fertilization, but is not all, because, for the enjoyment, there are many other ways to get it." Then, months later, she arranged my heart and pride also with a tenderness that became true love.

It also came to my mind the responsibility that I was going to assume. “A marriage itself, I could break it whenever I liked… -I thought-… It won’t be impossible to split the assets acquired during the relationship and then leave away. Nevertheless, a new being of my own flesh and blood would be something abysmally different to leave behind. Because, once the baby is born, I could never withdraw my genes from him or her, and, consequently, the responsibility for their upbringing, education... and love in the process.” It is clear that my thought would be true only, as a father, if I were a well human being or animal... because neither of these abandons their offspring.

However, this responsibility does not overwhelm me at all; on the contrary, it made me see life from a perspective of a better future. Yes, actually, I had never made love in a rational manner. I mean, consciously and deliberately to procreate, except for the traumatic time I told before, but simply carried away by the heat of passion and pure pleasure ... at least mine. But, what about my occasional partner's orgasms? Mmm ... I don’t doubt that many of those screams and moans were faked, not counting those gotten by other tricks and gadgets, if she allowed it, because about hardness and lasting it wasn’t waned.

Then, I thought about Brenda, and I figured her out as the couple that completed my life. I imagined her losing her delicate figure for the wished pregnancy, and I valued her in another dimension. Something I’d never done with anyone in my life, and this it was the particular way to say: "I love you," to be willing to create something of my own deep inside of her. Yes, I loved her, and I was sure that she loved me too.

The signal: "Exit to Brentwood...  1/2 mile," made me more aware of driving my truck. I made a right turn getting off the freeway, but the wet asphalt was extremely slippery for the first heavy rain of the winter season, so my truck slid around like a spinning top, crashed against the edge of the curb and got me out the road to go, stumbling over the  ramp, and finally stop.

"Oh, my god. Fortunately, I didn’t roll over, it would have been fatal." I said, trying to start the engine of my truck again... and when I got it, I happily went to make love to Brenda... to give my child alive.

"A man, is a little man...!" I heard the doctor said when she was grabbing the newborn and wrapping it in a blanket. Then she gave the baby to the suffering mother, while I was staring at them, in silence, from a corner of the delivery room.

"Your name will be like your father, Albert ...-Brenda told to the little one, and with tears in her eyes she added-… I wish he were here.”