One pill, two pills, a lifetime of pills popped out of their little mint green plastic case.  They are supposed to keep girls from getting pregnant, supposed to make their bodies as regular as clockwork and train stations.  Mary Beth hadn't had her period last month.  It can't be a pregnancy, she thought.  Joe and I use birthcontrol pills and condoms.  He always pulls out in time too.  Now almost another month had passed.  Two an a half rows of teeny white pills had been pressed out every day at precisely at twelve noon.  Mary Beth couldn't figure out what she had done wrong.
 It must be all the stress, she thought.
 Mary Beth worked full time at the Kountry Kitchen, a little diner just off route 27 right before it runs into Millville, Ohio.  It was supposed to be one of those cute little mom and pop diners.  It might have been at one time.  Now the chrome was a little rusted in places and filmy in others were generations of chickens had their eggs run in dripping streams down the countertops.  Not even a good scrub with a toothbrush would get the counter clean.  Mary Beth mostly worked at night when the only patrons were other familiar Millville folk and the occasional trucker.  Nights didn't make Mary Beth much money in tips.  So she had taken up working over time whenever she could.  She figured that all the extra work had messed up her cycle.  She couldn't be pregnant.  No way.
 With an accusatory whistle the phone rang.  It scared Mary Beth out of her denial, made her jump across the room to pick it up before it threw her into a panic.
 It was Joe.  Joe was Mary Beth's boyfriend since high school.  They had both dropped out at sixteen so they could get married.  However, it somehow turned out that Joe didn't want to get married after all.  He said that they didn't have enough money to get married.  Mary Beth thought that money didn't matter when two people were in love.  But Joe knew best.  That's why he worked such long hours at the Junque and Antique shop in town.  He was saving up money so they could get married someday. However, Joe seemed to spend a lot of money at Cell's.  Cell's was the only bar in town.  But Mary Beth figured that a man needed a few cold ones after a long day fixing up broken bikes and refurbishing torn chairs.  That's why she was working overtime.  If she gave Joe all her extra money he could spend it on beer and save all his money for their life together.
 "Mary Beth," Joe began, "How you doin pretty baby."
 "Oh fine Joe, I was just --"
 "Baby," Joe interrupted, "I was wondering if you had any money left over in tips from last night?  Me and the guy's are going up to Cell's to shoot some pool and get a nice buzz on.  You know I don't get paid till Friday."
 "Umm, well I only made ten dollars in tips last night.  That's really not enough money to get us both plowed. Besides I have to work tonight," Mary Beth replied.
 "Mary Beth, you know that when I say 'the guys' I don't mean you.  Are you a guy?"
 Mary Beth knew that tone of voice.  It warned her to shut up before she got him real mad. Right about now the veins in his neck would be popping out, his hand would be clenching and releasing.  Mary Beth couldn't help it.  Sometimes she just said things that were so stupid.  She couldn't blame Joe for having to teach her so harshly.
 "No Joe, I guess I'm not one of the guys.  I'm sorry.  I can go drive over to the Junque shop now with the money if you want it," Mary Beth said with a sigh.
 Joe grunted over the phone lines.  It was a contented sound, the sound dogs make when they lie down after a long day chasing squirrels in the backyard.  "No baby, that's all right.  You don't work till ten tonight?  I'll come over at eight after work.  You be home?"
 "Sure Joe, I'll be home."
 "Good."
 The phone went dead in Mary Beth's ear.  The problem with our relationship, Mary Beth thought, is that we never get to see each other enough.  Joe worked days at the Junque shop and Mary Beth worked nights at the Kitchen.  This left just enough time for Mary Beth to cook Joe dinner and maybe go down on him if he had had a particularly hard day before she left for work.  There wasn't the time for the quality talks Mary Beth wanted to have about wedding dates and children.
 It seemed to Mary Beth that sex was the basis of their entire relationship at this point.  And while sex with Joe was OK Mary Beth wanted more.  Mary Beth wanted a home of her own with Joe.  She wanted a house like people on TV had, with a deep front porch to sit and watch the sun set, and a wishing well in the front yard and an above ground pool for the children to swim.  But I can't be pregnant right now, Mary Beth thought.
 It could be a tumor.  She had seen in the Weekly World News  that a woman out in Arkansas thought she was about to give birth but instead a tumor the size of a basketball ripped through her stomach killing her instantly.  Mary Beth patted her own stomach absentmindedly, pressing gently to make sure there wasn't any hard, cancerous growths inside.  If she had cancer she would have to take those drugs where all a person's hair fell out.  Joe wouldn't like her if all her hair fell out.  Joe said that her long brown hair was what made him notice her at first.  Later he admitted that her D cup boobs had attracted his attention as well.
 Mary Beth remembered that in health class the teacher had told them that loosing weight too fast made a girl's period stop.  She thought, Maybe I'm losing weight after all.  That thought pleased Mary Beth a lot.  She ran down the hall to the bathroom, bounced on the scale and watched with a frown as the needle settled on 145 as usual.  Shit, she thought, it's just gotta be the stress.

 At the Junque shop Joe was just getting finished varnishing a tired and worn rocking horse.  He ran a trembling hand over his sweaty forehead.  He really needed a beer.  Make that several beers, and maybe a scotch to wash them down.  Joe thought back to the phone call to Mary Beth.  That bitch doesn't know how well she has it.  Always trying to horn in with the guys.  She doesn't think.  Might even try to fuck John or Bill if I'm not careful.  He smiled thinking of Bill's hairy belly bouncing on Mary Beth's big titties.  If she needs it that bad she's got it coming tonight.
 Joe locked up early, eager to get to Mary Beth's house.  As he climbed into his rusty old truck Joe thought that Mary Beth did do two things right.  She cooked as well as she fucked.
 Joe drove across Millville taking in the sights as he drove.  He'd been born here. Grew up on Fairy Street, endured endless taunts from kids at school.  Joe would be damned before he let the other kids think that just because he lived on Fairy Street he was a homo.  Joe passed his parents house, his face drew up as if in pain.  His parents still lived there but Joe never visited.  He was glad he got out when he did.  It was one thing to be called a homo by other kids, it was another to be called one by his own father.  His stupid cunt of a mother never raised her voice to defend him either.  The fat skuzzball just sat in the kitchen making her husband a sandwich while he beat his son silly for joining the wrestling team.
 All Joe wanted to do was make his dad proud.  A sports team, what is more manly than that?  Instead of a hug or at least a smile Joe was severely beaten with the buckle end of the belt so hard that Joe's father might as well have sunk his fingernails into the skin of his son's back and pulled the skin off, slowly.  For days Joe couldn't leave the house.  His shirt stuck to his back, thick with pus and blood.  In the dark, in his room Joe would lie on his belly and dream of a home of his own.  In the end he had to tell the wrestling coach that he thought wrestling was a gay sport.  He had no choice.  Joe's father had threatened to burn Joe in the crotch with his cigar if he didn't tell that "flamer trainer" where to get off.  His father said that if he didn't prove once and for all that Joe wasn't a homosexual himself he would make sure that Joe never had the pleasure of either sex.
 Fucking bastard,  Joe thought.  He punched steering wheel of his car, setting of a resounding honk that he let last for seconds.  Joe prayed with all his soul that his parents knew it was him...


Look Next Month For Part 2...


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