Two hours later, with two more drinks under my belt, we had begun to slow down. Now, the three of us made a solid team. With Linda and Casey both entering stuff on two different computers, while I arranged the stacks and kept my Long Island full, the time passed quickly. There was a great deal of laughter. Linda had some great stories from when she was in college.
And we were clicking right along, talking, working, and a drinking, when I came across one page of notes that caught my attention. I stopped and set my glass down, sure that I had read something wrong.
In the center of the page, in between some strange numbers and weird codes, was the word penis. I read the first few lines of the page again. Casey and Linda’s voices kind of blended into the background while I did my best to decipher the clinics jargon.
The page was a data sheet, a bunch of questions and blanks for answers. There were questions about when the prescription had been taken, how much time had passed since taking the pill and the first noticeable side effects? What were the side effects? Has there been any noticeable change in the penis (fully erect size, prolonged erection, excessive ejaculate) since the tests began? I read the last question over and over again.
“What’s that one?” Casey slipped the paper from my hands and began looking it over like every other page and stack I had handed throughout the evening.
“Penis,” I said the word and almost laughed at the sound of my own voice. “It has questions about penises or penis size or something,” I tilted the last of my tea back and swallowed. God, that was good. Linda makes a helluva drink.
“Yeah, it’s a questionnaire,” Casey handed the paper to her mother and their eyes met, but just for a second.
I reached over to the tray and took a sip off Casey’s drink. “Whose penis are they asking about?” The question just kind of bubbled out of me. I didn’t think much about it, I mean, there were three women in the room working on a bunch of scientific test stuff from some clinic, and one of the pages asked about penis size and erection. It seemed like a fair question, but as soon as I said it, Casey dashed across and closed the bedroom door.
She looked at me and then her mom. The room went quiet and I couldn’t figure out why. I grabbed Casey’s drink; the closest one with anything left in it and took a long sip while the other two started at each other like they were trying to communicate with their minds.
“Alright,” I laughed uneasily, “what’s going on?”
“It’s us,” Casey looked down at her shoes.
“What?” I looked at Linda and found her looking down at her shoes as well. Suddenly, both were acting like scolded children and I couldn’t figure out why. “What’s us? What are you talking about?” I picked up a fresh stack of papers.
“The penises,” Casey said softly, “they’re…ours.”
Penises, what a funny word. Two penises. Should it be Peni? Is that the plural of penis? Ours? Wait, what? I looked at Casey and ran the words over again in my mind.
Casey looked at me and then at her mom.
I followed suit and turned to stare at her mom. She had turned her chair toward the bed and was facing us. I looked her over, staring at the cleavage that bubbled out of her purple top. Then down across the flatness of her belly to her skirt, a knee length black skirt that hugged her thighs and hips. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
My brain did a quick backflip and landed on the right side of how ridiculous the idea sounded. “Wait, you’re saying you have a penis because you have been taking some kind of drug from this clinic for money.”
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