Mr. and Mrs. Doc Martin

“Ofelia, is there something you’ve forgotten to tell me?” Kathryn stood at Ofelia’s open bedroom door with the light from the common room pouring into the darkness around her.
“I didn’t mean to. They just hopped away.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ofelia’s mind cleared.
“I forgot to tell you something?”
“Wake up sleepy head!” Larissa’s head popped out from behind Kathryn. “Time to rise and shine or the shift will be half over before you get out of your jim jams… and we’ve got a lot to do today.”
Larissa turned on the lights and Ofelia pulled the blanket over her head.
“I’ll start with the closet.” Larissa opened the closet and tsked. “Girl, we’re seriously going to have to talk fashion.” She inspected the closet for a few moments before throwing some clothes on the bed. She pressed the releases and the closet came out of the wall.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes. By then, I expect you dressed, ready, and caffeinated if necessary.” She practically skipped out the door, Lia’s closet floating along after her.
“I hope you know what you’re getting into,” Kathryn turned and headed back to the common room.
That was all the motherly advice she had to give? Ofelia threw back the covers and planted her feet firmly on the floor. She picked up the deep red v-neck sweater and tight black denim jeans Larissa had thrown at her to wear, an outfit Lia would have never chosen for work on her own, but since her closet had already glided out the door, she had little choice.
Today Lia was scheduled to sub for Valentine Sweet, and since she Val didn’t do much of anything anyway, Lia had plenty of time to straighten out her new living arrangements, though it seemed that Larissa had most things taken care of.
By the time Larissa was back, Lia had gotten dressed and performed the basic toiletries for the day. She glanced around her room. Despite the odd knickknack, she really didn’t have a whole lot to move. All her files and preferences would already be transferred automatically to her new quarters. Her walls had already faded to solemn gun metal gray that lined the hallways. Her bed sheets would be changed on the next laundry day, and her mattress would set itself to her preset liking.
Lia and Larissa piled the rest of her things in a box, and the two set off for their new apartment. Larissa had already set the controls, and as soon as she left for school, Ofelia muted the bright neony color scheme that was spread all over the walls. She left the colors bold, but not so busy that her eyes hurt.
The next item on her agenda was to find Doctor Martin Edwards and personally ring his neck… or at least give him a stern talking to regarding his penchant for advising teenage girls to engage in premarital sex.
On her way to sickbay, she was waylaid by Mrs. Doctor Martin Edwards, who, at the prime age of 40, was ecstatic over the impending arrival of her first grandchild.
“Would you just look at that sonogram? He’s got such big strong arms! I just know that your mother is going to have to work hard to keep her job once he comes of age.”
Mrs. Edwards thrust the grainy image in front of Ofelia’s face. She herself had seven children ranging in ages from 5 to twenty, and if given the chance, would spend hours mothering anyone within reach. Mrs. Edwards was one of the only women on board who had refused to take a career even part time in order to “raise her family.” She was also the resident busy body and given her lack of occupation, found plenty of time to make decisions for everyone else.
“Oh, did Tyler tell you that you’re coming over for dinner tomorrow. You are such a lucky girl. He is a handsome devil. I don’t see why you’re wasting precious time. You probably have less than ten years of child rearing left in you.”
Ofelia had learned early on, that smiling, nodding, and backing up was the fastest way to get out of a conversation with Mrs. Edwards. Telling her that she was afraid of babies was the quickest way to get an hour lecture.
“Tyler and I are not a couple, so maybe it’s another girl that he’s bringing over for dinner.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! The two of you are just made for each other. Why just the other day I was talking to…”
Just as Mrs. Edwards was about to launch into a tirade, the sickbay door opened and Garret Conway wobbled out with a security guard close at his heels.
“The man was so completely drunk, that I didn’t have to numb him at all when I stitched up his hand.” Doc Martin shook his head and smiled at his wife, who held out a basket.
“I baked you cookies. They’re almost real, well, except for the flour and the chocolate.”
“You’re such a sweetheart.” The doctor kissed his wife primly on the lips. It was a wonder how the two of them had had seven kids together. He was a pudgy balding man in his late 40’s and she flipped out if her skirt had a wrinkle.
“You must do something about that.” Lia was startled to see that Mrs. Edwards was addressing her.
“About what? Garret Conway? Being drunk? He’s Irish.”
“I meant about that place. The Bar. Your mother should have closed it years ago. It isn’t right to have a gambling establishment on our colony ship. Think of what an example he’s setting for the younger generation.”
Kathryn had never actually been in The Bar, as it was the one place where all the trouble making louts on board tended to congregate and waste time together. There wasn’t much of a drinking law aboard, but alcohol was in short supply. If you had something to trade, you could get credits, and as long as you had credits, and the bartender didn’t laugh you out of the bar when you tried to order a drink, you could stay.
Mrs. Edwards had campaigned heartily against The Bar when it first opened, but seeing as the young men who frequented the place tended not to cause trouble anywhere but there, it left the rest of the ship safe for moral crew members like the upstanding wife of the Chief Medical Officer. On top of that, Earthlings tended to remember that Prohibition was a complete and utter failure, even though it had happened a couple of hundred years ago.
“You should at least go have a conversation with the proprietor about letting drunkards wander around the ship. Tell him to keep them there until they sober up.”
This was sounding more and more like an order to Lia. How did she get into this conversation in the first place? She’d simply wanted to talk to Dr. Edwards, and now had been commissioned to talk to The Bar owner.
“Actually, I…”
“So you can tell that man he needs to shape up or ship out.”
“I…”
“I’ll expect a full report at dinner tomorrow night. Have a good day, honey,” Mrs. Edwards said, before she sharply turned and sped down the hall to the lift. Lia stared after her, mouth open, until she realized that Doctor Edwards had gone back into sickbay. She followed him in and he motioned her into his office.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” he said as he settled himself in his plush chair. “I’ve got something I want you to look at.”
Caught off guard, Ofelia sat in a chair across from him as he beamed something to her PDA. She pulled it out of her pocket blinked confusedly at the young handsome face staring back at her. Who ever it was, she’d never met them before… which was quite odd considering the small confines of their little traveling society.
“His name is Harrison Flanders. Smart as a whip… an expert in herbology.”
“I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Of course you haven’t. He’s been dead for ten years. He died in the Decompression.” Lia winced. Almost 200 people had died when a freak accident had weakened the field surrounding one of the decks. Most of the dead were the young married couples that were supposed to help the ship reach its population quota of four thousand people before they reached Eden 12. Jack and Tyler’s parents had been two of the victims.
“What does this have to do with me?”
“Well, we managed to save genetic material from twenty three of the men, but I thought he was the most handsome. Don’t you think?”
Still clueless, Ofelia grasped at straws. “Do you want me to write a crew profile on him for the ten year anniversary?”
“No. I thought he’d be a good choice for the father of your child.”
Ofelia stared at the doctor for at least a good minute before she comprehended that he was absolutely sincere. Not only that, but he actually thought he was being helpful.
“Let me make one thing clear to you, doctor, neither Larissa nor I will be having a baby anytime soon.” Ofelia stood. “First of all, Larissa is only 15, and telling her to have sex to have a reason to move away from her family is just irresponsible medical advice. She’s not old enough to take care of a child.”
“You are old enough.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want one.”
“You must remember that sometime the greater good should come before the preferences of the individual. You don’t have to go with Harrison Flanders. There’s 22 others to choose from.”
Lia took in a deep breath before she could scream at him. He started flipping through the faces on his PDA.
“I just assumed that since you keep giving Tyler Crosby the brush off, that you didn’t preferred men... and that in vitro fertilization would be the most appealing option.”
“So just because I’m not interested in Tyler means I’m gay?”
“Sexual orientation is not a factor in your child bearing capabilities.”
“Just for your information, I am not gay.”
“Of course you are. You turned down the most appealing man on the ship. There’s nothing wrong with alternative lifestyles. Perhaps you just haven’t admitted it to yourself.”
“I’m not a lesbian.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because when I dream at night, I dream about men. Men with big long penises. Not women. No vaginas. Penises.”
Now it was Doc Martin’s turn to be silent. Through Ofelia’s angry haze, the realization that her doctor had no idea of the meaning of doctor patient confidentiality popped into head. As soon as she left, he’d call up his wife, who’d then telegraph it across the entire population. At least everyone would know that she wasn’t a lesbian.
“I think this conversation is over.” Lia strode out of his office, through sickbay and out into the hall, nearly running over two interns on her way. She was in the lift, heading to Q Deck before she even knew why. The lift doors opened and she quickly passed through the comfy chairs and coffee tables where a few off duty crew members were playing cards. She made a straight line to the black doors emblazoned simply with the words The Bar.
The place was empty except for man behind the bar who, upon her fast approached, pulled a bottle of Whisky and a shot glass from underneath the bar and pushed it towards her.
Without much thought behind her actions, Ofelia grabbed the glass, tilted back her head, and swallowed it all in one go. She let out a wheeze and laid the glass back on the table. The bartender refilled it with a sly smile. It was a dare. The whisky was already burning a hole in her throat all the way to her stomach, and he wanted to see if she had the guts to take another shot.
Today, she did.
“So I might guess that you’re having a no good very bad day?”
“Apparently I’m a lesbian, and I don’t even know it.”
“That’s a shame.”
That’s when Lia noticed the bartender was staring quite unabashedly at her breasts. The heat from the alcohol had started to burn its way out to her skin.
“I’m not really, you know. It was just ‘assumed,’” Lia made quote marks in the air with her fingers. “because I don’t want Tyler Crosby as a husband.”
“He’s an ass.”
Lia stared at the bartender. He looked like he hadn’t been to bed, or maybe he’d just woken up and hadn’t bothered to shave and comb his hair. He had a tiny scar on his chin that was almost hidden by his scruffy beard. Ofelia couldn’t resist the urge to touch it. His whiskers prickled against her fingertip.
“Usually when a girl touches a man like that, she wants to be kissed.”
“Too bad there’s this big old bar between us.”
“Have another drink.”
He poured her another drink which she downed with a giggle, then quicker than Lia could follow, he’d hopped over the bar and pressed his mouth to hers.
The kiss was tingly, tentative at first, waiting for an invitation. She parted her lips and put her hand on his neck and that was all the encouragement he needed. He deepened the kiss and pulled her toward him. Their tongues met and she spiraled toward him in a haze of pleasure and alcohol. When he finally slowed the kiss to a halt, he was completely supporting her, and she was seriously considering asking when he got off shift.
“I’d say that lesbian is definitely out.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“Because lesbians don’t usually impress me.” The bartender shifted a bit, and Ofelia realized exactly what he meant by impressed. Very impressed.
“I don’t usually… but…” How does one ask a strange man to find a back room without seeming like a complete tramp? “I don’t even know your name.” Names were a good place to start. After all, she knew most everyone onboard. She probably would recognize the name. He looked to be in his mid thirties. Ten years in age wasn’t that much of a difference once you were over the age of twenty one, right.
“Rex.”
Now that name she recognized. Rex owned the bar. This was the man she was supposed to chastise for his corrupting ways. It seemed odd that the only thing Ofelia wanted to do was find out exactly how corrupting he could be.
“Ofelia.” She tilted her head up to receive another kiss, and he generously complied. For a few moments of bliss, she melted against him. Then suddenly she felt him stiffen and pull away. Had she done something wrong?
“Clovelly?”
“Yeah. So?” She tip toed up for another pleasurable kiss, but he stepped away from her completely. Ofelia nearly fell over. She grabbed at a bar stool for balance and when she looked back at Rex, he had vaulted back over the bar and was pouring her another drink.
“What are you doing over there?”
“I think, sweetheart, that you are off limits. Have another drink.” Lia let it sit on the bar.
“Whoever told you that?”
“No one had to tell me that. It’s just bad business… nailing the captain’s daughter.”
“Nailing?”
He let out a short laugh. “We just met. Did you think it was anything else?”
Rex was right. They had been about to nail each other. Her body was still screaming out to her that it wanted to be nailed. His must be too. That’s why he’d gone back behind the bar. What business did a rogue have being full of caution and self control? He had to be hurting back there. Ofelia gave him what she hoped was her most sultry look. She probably looked more like a drunken puppy dog than a vixen, but that didn’t solve the current problem. Rex simply smiled and downed the glass of whisky himself and placed it back on the bar.
“I don’t have any credits,” Ofelia warned.
“That’s all right. Yours are on the house.”
Ofelia’s PDA buzzed a reminder. Larissa’s morning school session had let out, and she was expecting to meet Lia in 10 minutes in Val’s office. Ofelia stared at the offending message, then at the offending man, giving him the most withering glare she could muster, before hustling out of the bar. This day was certainly making a running for the worst morning ever.