Well...Alright | Buddy Holly

Preperation (B.H)

May 1st, 1960. 2:32 am, the Holly Apartment

I'm barely asleep when I jolt awake to Vi kicking my back.

"Buddy, I swear to god, if you don't get me a god damn sandwich from Junior's Deli, I will kill you then myself," Vi grumbles as she kicks me off of the bed. "I have never been so hungry and so angry in my entire life,"

I scramble up from the floor and grab my glasses. "I know, I know," I say, trying to find some pants. "I'm sorry," I pull on a jacket over my pajama shirt. It's the third time this week she's woken me up and demanded a sub. She's damn lucky they're open all night.

"I hate being pregnant, this is all your fault!" She slowly sits up in bed. "All of this just because you came? Just because you had an orgasm?"

"I'm sorry," I learned not to argue with Vi, especially when she's like this. "I know,"

"If you never would have done that then I wouldn't be in so much pain!"

"What kind do you want, doll?"

"Turkey and ham and lettuce and pickle and mozzarella cheese,"

"You don't even like pickles,"

"Well maybe I do now since I'm pregnant. Get me my god damn food!"

I nod. Don't try to argue, she'll make me sleep on the couch. She's just extra touchy. All the hormones and other fun things that come with pregnancy.

"Okay, I'll be back soon, dear," I slide my slippers on.

I drag myself out of the bedroom, into the hall, and on into the living room before grabbing my keys and wallet.

That woman is so lucky I love her so god damn much. Being woken up at 2am to go get her some weird sandwich from the deli down the road? It's the worst. I wonder if I'm the only husband who does this. I would hope other husbands care this much.

I pull my jacket a little tighter around me as I step outside of the complex. It might be May, but it's sure as hell chilly in the middle of the night.

Junior's Deli is the only place in this neighborhood open 24/7. I guess I'm lucky her cravings are for something available.

I make it down the road and duck inside.

"Buddy, my friend!" George says. "Back again so soon?" I've been coming here atleast twice a week since February.

I nod as I try to adjust my eyes to the sudden brightness of the florescent lights. "Yeah, yeah,"

"What is it this time, pal?"

"Turkey, ham and lettuce and pickle and mozzarella cheese," I ramble off, plopping in a booth. "She doesn't even like pickles,"

"My wife was the same way when she was pregnant," he says ducking down and grabbing the bread. "She always wanted pork rinds. She hated them before she was pregnant and after. She only wanted them during,"

"Yeah?" I mumble, trying not to fall asleep sitting up. Getting woken up for food requests sucks, but getting woken up every 20 minutes because she has to pee sucks more.

"Yeah, man, all 6 of her pregnancies were like that,"

I wonder how many kids Vi and I will have.

"Your first one, right?" Jr asks.

"Uh-huh."

"You want more?"

"Probably, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it,"