(I am so sorry it has taken me so long to post this part but I encountered a severe case of writer's block. I had it mostly written but then I started to play Spider-Solitaire and lost a couple of games. I told myself that I'd finish writing as soon as I won a game...164 losses in a row at last count! I thought it better to just give up and finish writing. Thanks for all the reviews and your extreme patience. Enjoy.)
Part 2
Carter walked through the doors of the clinic and took in his surroundings. The reception area was bright and cheerful, painted in a warm cream as opposed to the clinical white he was expecting, and the profusion of pot plants and paintings gave the impression of a hotel lobby rather than the place that was going to determine his manhood. Looking past the double row of chairs he could see the young, efficient receptionist sitting behind the desk, sifting through various pieces of paper in front of her and answering the telephone that rang intermittently. He watched as she put the phone down and turned her attention back to the files in front of her, then taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders he walked up to the receptionist.
"Excuse me, my name's..." She held up a finger to cut him off and picked up the phone that had just started to ring.
"Hello...Yes..." she began typing something into the computer screen in front of her, "Yes he is...Of course...Right away." She hung up the phone and then called out into the waiting room. "Mr Robertson? The doctor will see you now." She then turned her attention to Carter. "I'm sorry to keep you, sir. Can I help you?"
"Hi. Yes. My name's John Carter. I have an appointment to see Dr Infante." He looked nervously around the waiting room, certain that everybody in the waiting room must be watching and listening. The receptionist typed his name into the computer and waited for his appointment to come up.
"Okay Mr Carter, if you'd just like to take a seat a nurse will be along to see you shortly." She gave him a cheery smile then turned back to her work. Carter was just about to follow her instructions when he remembered the reason he had come this morning. He cleared his throat to regain the receptionist's attention, then in a lower tone of voice he answered her questioning look.
"Um...they said I should bring this with me." He gestured to a brown paper bag that he had kept hidden under his jacket.
"And what is that?" she asked with a slight smile on her face. If Carter wasn't so incredibly nervous he'd have said that she was doing this on purpose just to make him uncomfortable, but that would be unprofessional, wouldn't it? He gave a little nervous laugh, glanced over his shoulder, and answered in a low voice.
"It's my...my specimen."
"Specimen of what, sir?" she replied in a normal voice. Oh God! Carter whirled around to look at the other people sitting in the waiting room, certain that they must be listening to every word that was being said. He turned back to the receptionist and begged her with his eyes to be quiet.
"You know," he said, signalling downwards with his eyes, "my 'specimen'." He had lowered his voice so that it was barely audible, but the girl behind the desk seemed to understand what he was saying and, taking pity on him, she lowered her voice and took the bag from him.
"I'll make sure it gets down to the lab, Mr Carter. Now if you'll just take a seat somebody will be along to see you."
"Thank you," he said, relieved, then walked the few steps to one of the armchairs scattered across the waiting area. He slumped into the chair, picked up a magazine from the table beside him and pretended to read it, but in reality he was watching the other people sitting in chairs.
Both men and women were waiting; some obviously couples whilst others were, like him, by themselves. He wished Abby were here waiting with him so that he would feel a little less self-conscious, but he had told her that he could do this by himself and not to bother coming...Thank God she never listened to him! She was planning on coming along at the end of her shift, and he was willing to admit to himself now that he needed her with him, if only to stop his thoughts from wandering.
Looking around over the top of his magazine his first thought was that the women all looked hopeful and excited whereas the men looked like they were just about to meet their executioner. He wondered if he looked like that, then realised that he must do. Since Abby had told him that the problem might be with him, that they couldn't have children because of him, he hadn't been able to think straight. It made him feel sort-of a failure as a man that he wasn't able to get his wife pregnant. After all, if Dr Luka "super-sperm" Kovac could impregnate women just by looking at them then he, John Carter, should at least be able to do the same after a year of trying at every opportunity...he had to stop thinking like this! God he wished Abby was here now. Just then a shadow was cast over his magazine calling his name, and he looked up to meet the gaze of a middle-aged nurse in a crisp uniform.
"John Carter?" the nurse asked as she consulted the clipboard she held in her arms.
"Um..." he shook himself out of his little reverie and smiled politely, "I'm sorry, yes, I'm John Carter."
"If you could just follow me I'll take you to a room where you can get ready." She began walking down a corridor that ran beside the reception desk and Carter walked quickly after her. She stopped in front of a door and opened it to reveal a small room with a chair, a table with a television in the corner, and a small hatch in the wall. She motioned for Carter to enter the room and handed him a specimen cup as he entered.
"When you've finished if you could just put the cup in the hatch, close the door and ring the bell to let us know you've finished. You can then return to the waiting area and the receptionist will call for you when the doctor is ready."
Carter was a little confused as to what she expected him to do with the specimen cup. He had already handed one to the girl in reception and he couldn't see why they'd want another. He lifted an eyebrow and gave the nurse a puzzled look. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, I should have asked if there were any problems," she said, obviously misjudging his confusion. "Do you want anything before you go in? Magazines? A video?"
"What would I need a...oh." Carter suddenly clicked what was expected of him. This wasn't going to be any normal urine sample they were taking from him. Blushing several shades of red he quietly excused himself from the nurse and shut the door in her face, quickly getting on with his business and depositing the cup in the hatch before slinking out of the room and making his way back to the waiting room.
This time Carter was certain that everybody was looking at him, and he was even more certain that they knew what he had been up to. Sitting down in the chair he slumped his shoulders in an attempt to make himself as small as possible, hoping that nobody would notice him in his mortification, then he closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands.
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The next thing Carter knew somebody had slumped down into the seat beside him and placed a hand on his knee. He looked across and gave a relieved smile when he saw that it was Abby.
"Hey babe," she said, placing a hand on the side of his face and pulling his face closer so that she could plant a kiss on his cheek. She let her hand linger on his cheek, rubbing it softly with her thumb to comfort him. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm beginning to feel that I'm some sort of leper," he whispered. "Have you seen the way they're all looking at me? I may as well have a tattoo across my forehead saying 'Shooting Blanks'!"
"Oh, stop being so melodramatic you big baby! Everybody in this room is in the same position as us. Why would they be looking at you in particular?"
"Well. It's probably something to do with the fact that I was practically frogmarched into a little cubicle and made to give another...sample...then I had to come back out here and wait, knowing that everybody knew what I went out for. It's embarrassing...and not funny!" he added, seeing that Abby was trying hard not to laugh.
"I know. You're right...did they offer to get you some dirty magazines?"
"It isn't funny Abby!" he said, mortified that she found this so amusing.
"You're right!" she said, tears pouring from her eyes as she tried unsuccessfully to hold her laughter in. "It's not funny at all! It's the complete opposite of funny...so did you go for 'Big Jugs' or 'Playboy'?"
"Abby!" Carter looked around to see that, if he was being paranoid before, everybody in the room was definitely looking at him now as Abby was creased double in his lap, shaking with laughter. "I can't believe you find this so funny. I wouldn't laugh if it was you in the same position." This had the immediate effect of sobering Abby up. She stopped laughing and reached out to put her arm around Carter.
"Oh John, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, but you know you look so funny when you're embarrassed. You go this lovely shade of red and you do this really cute thing with your feet...just like you're doing now." He looked down and saw that he was shuffling his feet up and down to some imaginary beat. He stopped suddenly as he became conscious of what he was doing, and crossed his hands between his knees to stop him from doing it again. He looked up at her with the puppy-dog look he knew made her melt and spoke softly.
"So you're not laughing at me because you're disappointed?"
"No," she replied, sitting back and ruffling his hair playfully. "I'm laughing at you because you're so cute! I told you this would probably turn out to be a lot of fuss about nothing...lets just wait until we speak to the doctor and she can tell us the results of the tests and where to go from there. No point worrying till then, is there?"
"When did you become the level-headed one in this relationship?" he asked with admiration in his voice. She ignored his comment and continued in her best 'nurse talking to a scared little boy' voice.
"So you promise to relax until we talk to the doctor?"
"Okay nurse," he smiled.
"Good." She picked up a magazine from the table and began to flip through the pages. "Now lets see if there are any quizzes in these magazines that can help me find my perfect man."
"Hey!" Carter gave her a playful slap on the shoulder.
"Just kidding," she smiled at him. Leaning against his shoulder she could feel him relax as they talked quietly about her shift at work, how the place was falling because Weaver was away, what time they were going over to Gamma's for the fundraiser the next week...everything and nothing. They had lost track of time and had almost forgotten where they were when the receptionist's voice cut into their thoughts.
"Mr Carter? Dr Infante is ready to see you now."
Abby looked over at Carter and squeezed his hand. "Are we ready to go?" she asked. He returned the pressure of her hand and smiled at her, then they both rose and followed the familiar path to the doctor's office.
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(I'm sorry that after such a long wait I present you with such a short chapter. You'll be pleased...or possibly slightly disturbed...to know that I've been doing some research on the web and you'll be able to find out what's the matter with Carter's 'boys'! Next chapter will definitely be up by Friday. Writer's block be damned!)
Part 2
Carter walked through the doors of the clinic and took in his surroundings. The reception area was bright and cheerful, painted in a warm cream as opposed to the clinical white he was expecting, and the profusion of pot plants and paintings gave the impression of a hotel lobby rather than the place that was going to determine his manhood. Looking past the double row of chairs he could see the young, efficient receptionist sitting behind the desk, sifting through various pieces of paper in front of her and answering the telephone that rang intermittently. He watched as she put the phone down and turned her attention back to the files in front of her, then taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders he walked up to the receptionist.
"Excuse me, my name's..." She held up a finger to cut him off and picked up the phone that had just started to ring.
"Hello...Yes..." she began typing something into the computer screen in front of her, "Yes he is...Of course...Right away." She hung up the phone and then called out into the waiting room. "Mr Robertson? The doctor will see you now." She then turned her attention to Carter. "I'm sorry to keep you, sir. Can I help you?"
"Hi. Yes. My name's John Carter. I have an appointment to see Dr Infante." He looked nervously around the waiting room, certain that everybody in the waiting room must be watching and listening. The receptionist typed his name into the computer and waited for his appointment to come up.
"Okay Mr Carter, if you'd just like to take a seat a nurse will be along to see you shortly." She gave him a cheery smile then turned back to her work. Carter was just about to follow her instructions when he remembered the reason he had come this morning. He cleared his throat to regain the receptionist's attention, then in a lower tone of voice he answered her questioning look.
"Um...they said I should bring this with me." He gestured to a brown paper bag that he had kept hidden under his jacket.
"And what is that?" she asked with a slight smile on her face. If Carter wasn't so incredibly nervous he'd have said that she was doing this on purpose just to make him uncomfortable, but that would be unprofessional, wouldn't it? He gave a little nervous laugh, glanced over his shoulder, and answered in a low voice.
"It's my...my specimen."
"Specimen of what, sir?" she replied in a normal voice. Oh God! Carter whirled around to look at the other people sitting in the waiting room, certain that they must be listening to every word that was being said. He turned back to the receptionist and begged her with his eyes to be quiet.
"You know," he said, signalling downwards with his eyes, "my 'specimen'." He had lowered his voice so that it was barely audible, but the girl behind the desk seemed to understand what he was saying and, taking pity on him, she lowered her voice and took the bag from him.
"I'll make sure it gets down to the lab, Mr Carter. Now if you'll just take a seat somebody will be along to see you."
"Thank you," he said, relieved, then walked the few steps to one of the armchairs scattered across the waiting area. He slumped into the chair, picked up a magazine from the table beside him and pretended to read it, but in reality he was watching the other people sitting in chairs.
Both men and women were waiting; some obviously couples whilst others were, like him, by themselves. He wished Abby were here waiting with him so that he would feel a little less self-conscious, but he had told her that he could do this by himself and not to bother coming...Thank God she never listened to him! She was planning on coming along at the end of her shift, and he was willing to admit to himself now that he needed her with him, if only to stop his thoughts from wandering.
Looking around over the top of his magazine his first thought was that the women all looked hopeful and excited whereas the men looked like they were just about to meet their executioner. He wondered if he looked like that, then realised that he must do. Since Abby had told him that the problem might be with him, that they couldn't have children because of him, he hadn't been able to think straight. It made him feel sort-of a failure as a man that he wasn't able to get his wife pregnant. After all, if Dr Luka "super-sperm" Kovac could impregnate women just by looking at them then he, John Carter, should at least be able to do the same after a year of trying at every opportunity...he had to stop thinking like this! God he wished Abby was here now. Just then a shadow was cast over his magazine calling his name, and he looked up to meet the gaze of a middle-aged nurse in a crisp uniform.
"John Carter?" the nurse asked as she consulted the clipboard she held in her arms.
"Um..." he shook himself out of his little reverie and smiled politely, "I'm sorry, yes, I'm John Carter."
"If you could just follow me I'll take you to a room where you can get ready." She began walking down a corridor that ran beside the reception desk and Carter walked quickly after her. She stopped in front of a door and opened it to reveal a small room with a chair, a table with a television in the corner, and a small hatch in the wall. She motioned for Carter to enter the room and handed him a specimen cup as he entered.
"When you've finished if you could just put the cup in the hatch, close the door and ring the bell to let us know you've finished. You can then return to the waiting area and the receptionist will call for you when the doctor is ready."
Carter was a little confused as to what she expected him to do with the specimen cup. He had already handed one to the girl in reception and he couldn't see why they'd want another. He lifted an eyebrow and gave the nurse a puzzled look. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, I should have asked if there were any problems," she said, obviously misjudging his confusion. "Do you want anything before you go in? Magazines? A video?"
"What would I need a...oh." Carter suddenly clicked what was expected of him. This wasn't going to be any normal urine sample they were taking from him. Blushing several shades of red he quietly excused himself from the nurse and shut the door in her face, quickly getting on with his business and depositing the cup in the hatch before slinking out of the room and making his way back to the waiting room.
This time Carter was certain that everybody was looking at him, and he was even more certain that they knew what he had been up to. Sitting down in the chair he slumped his shoulders in an attempt to make himself as small as possible, hoping that nobody would notice him in his mortification, then he closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands.
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The next thing Carter knew somebody had slumped down into the seat beside him and placed a hand on his knee. He looked across and gave a relieved smile when he saw that it was Abby.
"Hey babe," she said, placing a hand on the side of his face and pulling his face closer so that she could plant a kiss on his cheek. She let her hand linger on his cheek, rubbing it softly with her thumb to comfort him. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm beginning to feel that I'm some sort of leper," he whispered. "Have you seen the way they're all looking at me? I may as well have a tattoo across my forehead saying 'Shooting Blanks'!"
"Oh, stop being so melodramatic you big baby! Everybody in this room is in the same position as us. Why would they be looking at you in particular?"
"Well. It's probably something to do with the fact that I was practically frogmarched into a little cubicle and made to give another...sample...then I had to come back out here and wait, knowing that everybody knew what I went out for. It's embarrassing...and not funny!" he added, seeing that Abby was trying hard not to laugh.
"I know. You're right...did they offer to get you some dirty magazines?"
"It isn't funny Abby!" he said, mortified that she found this so amusing.
"You're right!" she said, tears pouring from her eyes as she tried unsuccessfully to hold her laughter in. "It's not funny at all! It's the complete opposite of funny...so did you go for 'Big Jugs' or 'Playboy'?"
"Abby!" Carter looked around to see that, if he was being paranoid before, everybody in the room was definitely looking at him now as Abby was creased double in his lap, shaking with laughter. "I can't believe you find this so funny. I wouldn't laugh if it was you in the same position." This had the immediate effect of sobering Abby up. She stopped laughing and reached out to put her arm around Carter.
"Oh John, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, but you know you look so funny when you're embarrassed. You go this lovely shade of red and you do this really cute thing with your feet...just like you're doing now." He looked down and saw that he was shuffling his feet up and down to some imaginary beat. He stopped suddenly as he became conscious of what he was doing, and crossed his hands between his knees to stop him from doing it again. He looked up at her with the puppy-dog look he knew made her melt and spoke softly.
"So you're not laughing at me because you're disappointed?"
"No," she replied, sitting back and ruffling his hair playfully. "I'm laughing at you because you're so cute! I told you this would probably turn out to be a lot of fuss about nothing...lets just wait until we speak to the doctor and she can tell us the results of the tests and where to go from there. No point worrying till then, is there?"
"When did you become the level-headed one in this relationship?" he asked with admiration in his voice. She ignored his comment and continued in her best 'nurse talking to a scared little boy' voice.
"So you promise to relax until we talk to the doctor?"
"Okay nurse," he smiled.
"Good." She picked up a magazine from the table and began to flip through the pages. "Now lets see if there are any quizzes in these magazines that can help me find my perfect man."
"Hey!" Carter gave her a playful slap on the shoulder.
"Just kidding," she smiled at him. Leaning against his shoulder she could feel him relax as they talked quietly about her shift at work, how the place was falling because Weaver was away, what time they were going over to Gamma's for the fundraiser the next week...everything and nothing. They had lost track of time and had almost forgotten where they were when the receptionist's voice cut into their thoughts.
"Mr Carter? Dr Infante is ready to see you now."
Abby looked over at Carter and squeezed his hand. "Are we ready to go?" she asked. He returned the pressure of her hand and smiled at her, then they both rose and followed the familiar path to the doctor's office.
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(I'm sorry that after such a long wait I present you with such a short chapter. You'll be pleased...or possibly slightly disturbed...to know that I've been doing some research on the web and you'll be able to find out what's the matter with Carter's 'boys'! Next chapter will definitely be up by Friday. Writer's block be damned!)