A Girlfriend or Two

"I must explain this to you both, or rather to the four of you. I love you both very much and wanted to give you proof of that, but since this is a bit complicated and we haven't decided on all the details yet, I thought it would be better with different names in the rings. Both Anders and Runar are my names so it is perfectly fair and true and I tossed a coin to decide what name each of you got. I only hope that I haven't upset either of you with this."

They threw themselves around my neck at the same time and kissed one cheek each, so I figured it was alright in the end.

Later that day Karen expressed concerns that I had spent too much money on them:

"You're not rich, you're a student, you shouldn't have spent that much on us."

"I promise that I can afford it honey. I have managed to secure another source of income and it even payed better than I had hoped, so it isn't a problem."

"Another job? But you already work two evenings every week: when do you plan to study and see us? You can't do that!"

"It takes less than an hour each week, or each month if I prefer that, and the only time so far I earned eighthundred."

Then she got really upset, and I realized I hadn't presented it the right way.

"Doing what? Selling drugs or robbing old ladies?"

"Sorry, I should have said it from the beginning: I have found a buyer for my sketches and paintings, not the ones with you or Mel but the others with groups of people in different settings when they looked at you posing. I sold four of them so that was twohundred a piece. Not bad, huh?"

She exhaled the breath she had been holding and relaxed.

"I'm sorry Anders, but you scared me for a moment. You know you can't earn that kind of money in an hour in a legal way, well aparently artists can, but you know what I mean. No, that wasn't bad, but are you sure you want to sell them?"

"Yes, I have no problem with that when it isn't the ones with you in them, or Mel: that would be different I think. Then again, wouldn't it be kind of flattering to see yourself in a painting in a vernisage where you can hear people comment on you without realising it is you?"

"That would depend on what they said after all."

"They would say 'what a beautiful woman that is, even in a painting made by an idiot she is stunning!', I'm sure of it."

That made her laugh.

"Yeah, sure! 'What is a fat cow doing in this vernisage?' is more likely."

"Never, and you know it, so stop putting yourself down. And remember that I am the cause for you looking like you do now, and I am proud of what I have done."

It was the end of the discussion, but eventually it started another some weeks later.

It was in february, and we were still trying to figure out how to solve the near future. With two mom's and kids, and a father who studied at the university, the economic future was a major part. I still had a lot of sketches and watercolours that I could sell, but there were two problems: the prices went down and most of them had Karen or Mel in them in some way.

Those that were from a distance, where they couldn't be recognized, were no problem for us to sell, but the rest? I figured that a series could give me a higher price, something for collectors, and that gave me an idea: sketches of Karen and Mel naked, showing their round bellies and full breasts but nothing else.

I asked them what they thought about it, and although they weren't enthusiastic they agreed to pose for two series to begin with, one each.

We did them in our apartment in front of a white sheet and with lighting from the sides to give contrasting shades. The coal gave them a greyscale that accentuated the round feminine forms, and the nonexistent background turned the focus even more on the body. With only the torso and arms it also became neutral: it could be anyone and wasn't sexual at all.

We tried different angles and positions, from full frontal to halfway from the back, from laying down to standing, hands supporting the belly, covering the breasts, behind the neck or simply hanging down the sides. All in all each series held thirty sketches and I did up to ten in a day, alternating between Karen and Mel to give them time to rest.

Looking through the finished pictures I really liked them and almost decided to keep them for myself, but they were after all made to be sold, the first ones ever I made for that purpose.

The three of us went together to the art gallery that my buyer owned, the next saturday to show him what we had to offer and listen to what he thought.

He didn't look all that happy to see me, maybe because he had several customers there, but after I had handed over the two folders I carried and he opened the first one he shone up a lot.

"May I but them all up on display to see them at the same time, there aren't any fullfigure or facials, is there?"

"Yes, you may and no, there isn't."

So he cleared away some paintings and began adding sheet after sheet along one wall. Then he opened the other folder and removed more paintings from another wall and placed those sketches there. Some of the other visitors got curious and came over to look, and after a while there was a buzz of talk and speculative glances from the sketches to Karen and Mel who both blushed. I actually felt a bit flustered myself, so I didn't blame them.

Then a raised voice cut through the buzz:

"I'll give you ten thousand for one series, 25 for both!"

"Thirteen and twentyeight!" another voice countered.

"Don't listen to them: fifteen and thirtyfive, cash!" came a third.

That was when Melanie began to sway like a straw in a hurricane and I hurried to catch her before she fell. The owner shouted for everyone to shut up, led the way for us to his office where I lay Mel down on a sofa, and then he left us, closing the door as he did.

It had all happened so fast that I hadn't registered before what was happening, but now I had to sit down too and so did Karen.

"That was crazy!" she said at last "They acted like maniacs, trying to hold an auction without even knowing if they were for sale."

"Yeah, but did you hear the last bid before Mel started to sway: thirtyfive thousand for all, that is more than fivehundred a piece! They didn't seem likely to stop there either, what the hell is going on here?"

I was shocked and it took a few moments before I remembered Mel. Karen and I tried to revive her anyway we could and eventually managed to do so. She was pale to begin with but her colour returned quite soon. We didn't dare to let her sit up though and I left to ask the owner to call an ambulance.

When it had arrived and Mel was loaded on a stretcher and Karen sat in the passengers seat up front, the owner of the gallery took a hold of my arm before I could get in with them.

"Here is my card, call me as soon as possible and take care of your models now. Good luck."

Then he let go of me and I got in at the back beside Mel.

After a full examination we were told to go home, all of us, and both girls should avoid stress and emotional swings if possible and especially when standing for extended periods. Nothing was wrong and we were welcome back in about a months time.

I guess I had over-reacted and I continued to do so when we got home: I told both Karen and Mel to sit down on the couch, relax and stay there while I prepared a late lunch and served it. I even went to the bathroom with them, supporting them with an arm around the shoulders.

Mel got tired of the fuzz soon enough and told me to stop or she would go to Texas to be able to live, and pulled me down between them.

Preparing our laundry on monday Karen found the business-card in my shirt pocket and asked what it was about. It only said Patrick Fillmore and had a phonenumber under the name, nothing else, and I suddenly realized that he had told me to call as soon as possible. Explaining that it was the owner of the art gallery and that I didn't know what he wanted, I was nagged continuously until I made the call.

After initially having to assure him that everything was well with Mel, and that took some time before he was satisfied, I wondered about the sketches: was he interested in buying them?

A chuckle was heard from him:

"Right, very funny young man!" he then said "You think that I would say no to something that I have a solid bid of ninetyfive-thousand for already? I don't think so, but since the bid is already there before we have negotiated our deal I think it is fair that we change to another way of doing business: if you accept that I, with certain items that I deem extra good, sell them for provision, ten percent, then you leave them with me and I pay you when they are sold. Ordinary items I pay for in cash just like before. How dose that sound?"

I suddenly knew exactly how Mel had felt at the gallery but fortunately I had a couch behind me where I dropped down when my knees gave way.

"Wh... what was it that you sa... said? Nine... ninetyfive... thousand?"

I had my eyes locked onto Karens face to get some kind of fixed point in a world that swayed and twisted, and it expressed exactly how I felt so I pulled her down to me.

"That is what I said, yes: ninetyfive zero, zero, zero. Given a few weeks more I guess it could go up even more, but then again it might not. For a first series, or rather first and second, that is a very good price, but it is beautiful pieces also. I will be happy to handle anything else in the same line of work from you."

"Deal then." I almost whispered, and was told to pick up the cheque for 85500 dollars at any time after wednesday, then we said our goodbyes and hung up.

That was a lot of money. Even today it is, but then it equalled something like 10 years wages for the common man, ludicrous amounts for sixty coal-sketches of pregnant torsos. I wasn't about to cancel the deal, no way, but put in perspective I was damn lucky I was already sitting down when it all hit me.

Karen and I was still sitting there half-an-hour later when Melanie entered the apartment after a late class. The sound of the door closing kind of woke us up and brought us back to the real world, but Mel could still detect that something had happened:

"What's the matter? Has anything happened, are mom and dad okay?"

"Everything is fine, it's just that we have had a shock." Karen assured her "Come and sit down and I'll tell you."

So she did and Mel's reaction was extraordinarily calm in memory of her reaction at the gallery. She simply said:

"It's what I have said for years, some people have too much money and too little common sense. Our luck this time, though."

Then she got up and left to start with dinner.

Both pairs of parents came to visit in time for the babies to arrive, and so did my brother Daniel. I was alone to meet them at the airport, not wanting to take any chances, and since we figured that we would need some transportation of our own in the future and had the money now, I arrived in a van. With only two hours between the flights I saw no point in driving back and forth, and hardly had the time either, so Clair and Brad, who arrived first, joined me in a restaurant while we waited.

The conversation centered around one thing, and one thing only: the deliveries at hand. How were the girls holding up, did I take good care of them, were they nervous, was I nervous...

Despite calls almost every evening for two weeks the questions never ended and I understood that they were at least as tense as we were. Their bodylanguage suggested the same thing: nervous smiles that were suddenly wiped away, fingering the napkins over and over, hardly touching the food on the plates. It was a relief when we had to walk over to the gate to wait for my folks and Daniel.

It was the first time they met and after introductions all around, handshakes and a few selected hugs, we left for the parkinglot. The van raised some eyebrows and Brad asked if it was a rental despite that it didn't have the usual stickers. I said 'no, it is ours' and added that the explanations would have to wait until later.

I wasn't used to driving there yet, it was a lot more traffic and lanes than back in my small swedish hometown, so I concentrated on that and let them handle the conversation without me.

When I parked, it raised more eyebrows: it wasn't an apartment-block but the driveway at a fairly large one family house with a yard surrounded by a brick wall.

"Where are we and what are we doing here?" Clair demanded to know.

I didn't have to answer because at that moment Mel and Karen called out to them from the open front door.

"Welcome everyone. Come over here and give us a hug."

The expressions exchanged between our parents showed their confusion when they strolled over to greet them, Daniels face showed desire when he followed.

It took time with all the hugging and kissing cheeks and patting bellies and 'ooh:ing' and 'aah:ing', and before they had finished I had brought all the luggage inside. Eventually everyone entered the house though, and that started the next phase: the tour of the house and answering all the questions.

That was Karen's responsibility and she started in the livingroom where two walls were almost totally covered with sketches of Mel and her. Some where later series's of their pregnant bodies, not made to be sold, some were from the dressed sessions in public we had done before. A third wall had watercolours of them, but the forth was empty: it gave an overwhelming impression anyway.

"Oh my God!" Clair gasped at the same time as Daniel uttered an expletive in swedish.

My dad calmly stated:

"Well, why not, both Mel and Karen adorns any place I must say."

Brad stepped closer to a much larger sketch of them both, fullfigure, pregnant, but dressed in swimsuits. We had done a nude varity too, but that was not for parents, or Daniel, to see.

"How many paintings have you done of them?" mom asked and I was embarrassed to answer her.

"I really don't know, mom, but it must be several hundred altogether, maybe a thousand even. It started with Karen as soon as I got here after I met her at their practice in the stadium. I haven't sold any of them where you can see that it is her."

"You have sold others?"

Brad looked surprised at me, but it was Karen who answered.

"Yes, he has. First it was for a hundred or two apiece, then prices dropped. The latest things sold were five series's though, two of me, two of Mel, and one together. Thirty sketches in a series and the first two were sold for..." she made a pause for effect "95.000 together and the other three for 40.000 each. We own this house, it is payed in full and so is the van."

That made a dent even in dad's composure.

So then they knew: we had no economic worries for the foreseable future, but money doesn't solve everything. The situation was still the same: I was to become the father of two children with two women, sisters at that, and they were a week or two, or maybe only days or hours, from delivery.

I was determined to be there when both children were born, but how would the hospital staff react to that? I couldn't marry both women, no matter if we wanted to: that was forbidden. I could well be the father of their children, but that would surely raise some questions and cause problems both now and in the future. No matter how much we had thought about this we hadn't solved it still and time was running out.

That evening, after the others had gone to bed, I sat in the livingroom and talked with Daniel while he studied the pictures hanging on the walls.

"How do you manage to screw up and still come out on top?" he wanted to know.

"Easy enough," I told him "in this case I forgot to think and things happened all by themselves. It could have involved you too quite easily."

"Me? How come, I hadn't ever met Mel until today, only heard her name on the phone once and read it in letters."

"Remember when we fucked Karen senseless last summer at grand-dads old place? You didn't use condoms and she wasn't on the pill. The only reason that you aren't involved is probably that she was already pregnant then. I spent one night with both of them in their home in Texas, didn't use condoms but Mel was on the pill: didn't help. Fate I guess, but I can't complain about it, both are too good to be true in every way possible."

"Tell me about it. When I'm with girls back home I always think about that weekend with Karen and now I have met her sister who is almost a copy. I envy you your problems, man, and you get to see them naked whenever you want while I see them dressed. Can't you share with your own brother?"

I didn't answer him, only got up and dragged him by the arm to the master bedroom while he protested:

"What the fuck is the matter with you: it was a joke, okay? Where are we going?"

"To talk to Karen and Mel. For once in your life you have said something intelligent, I only hope you meant it."

We burst into the bedroom and turned on the lights. Both girls lay in the large bed we shared and they glared at us as I closed the door and sat down on the bedside with Daniel.

"What's going on and why is your brother in our bedroom?" Karen demanded "If he wants to repeat last summer I'm not interested in the current situation."

"Girls, Daniel is a genius, though I doubt that it will last for long, and has given me a sollution to our biggest problem right now."

"Painless child-delivery? Great, tell me at once!"

"Okay, not that, but another problem. Listen now and tell me what you think."

Karen was the first of them to give birth three days later. Although everyone in both our families were there, waiting outside in the corridor, I was the only one by her side. I had been warned about temperamental outbursts that could occur during the delivery and wasn't spared in any way: 'ass-hole' I was called when I told her to push, 'your fucking fault!' she said when it hurt the most, and those were the kind ones. It took an hour, but then she held Felicity to her breast and told me she loved me, so yeah, I would say she thought it was worth it in the end after all. The rest of the families were allowed a visit later and our daughter was gawked at and complimented like every newborn.

It was less than a day before they all returned with Mel for her turn. I was already there with Karen and Felicity when Daniel rushed inside and said it was time:

"She's ready to go!" he almost yelled "I can't do this!"

Then he passed out in an armchair by the bed.

I had a hard time keeping a straight face at his performance: it wasn't worthy of an award in any way, but then again he wasn't offered millions to do the part either. A nurse was called and Karen told her that he was the father of her sisters child and were expected to 'support' her, the nurse said he would only be in the way if he was hysterical already, and I 'volunteered' to 'take his place', being his brother after all and knowing Mel 'very well'.

So, officially Daniel was the father of Mel's child and I was replacing him as moral support for Mel while in reality I was the father and Daniel had nothing to do with it.

The staff assisting with the delivery was the same that had helped Karen the day before, and they recognized me very well, joking that I should be admitted to the mental ward if I volunteered to take my brothers place being cursed at and humiliated by a woman again. Then we had a shock when we caught the word 'twins', and both Mel and I repeated it with raised voices.

"What do you mean, 'twins'?" I demanded to know.

"Two babies." the nurse said with a wide smile "You didn't know?"

"No! Did you know Mel?"

"No, I didn't want any details at all, not the gender or anything." she wimpered.