My Daughter the Gymnast by JohnMurray4173

My Daughter, the Gymnast: A Stuck Tale.

My wife Molly was always in a hurry. Everything she did, she did full bore and full-on.

Molly arrived in this world early, some six weeks ahead of her due date. She didn’t even wait for her father to get her mother to the hospital. She was born on the side of the Pacific Highway in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. Her parents were just short of the exit down to The Princess Alexandra Hospital.

She walked early and talked early. Molly passed through school early. By the time she had finished her final year at high school, she was almost two full years younger than her graduating classmates.

Molly got her car licence on the first try on her 17th birthday. Her first car was a thirty-year-old Ford Escort MkII Sport. It was a virtual wreck with a blown engine when she purchased it. She spent every afternoon, evening and weekend pestering, bullying and helping her three older brothers and father rebuild the engine, strip the car down to the bare shell, and then fix, repair or replace the rusted or damaged parts.

I have no idea where she got the money for parts from, as her family was poor, and she had begun her Uni course, so money was at a premium.

As soon as the car was ready, Molly painted it lime green with black racing stripes and started competing in the local Rally Events. She got to be pretty good, regularly featuring in the local papers and magazines as a ‘rising star’ on the rally scene.

One of the local car companies offered her a sponsored drive, but Molly refused.

You see, Molly thought it was time to marry, settle down, and start having children. Four of them, she had decided. She loved being the only girl and youngest child in a four-child family, and she would have the same.

That’s where I came in.

I’m her husband, Paul. I’m a year older than Molly and lived a street over. Her brother Matt and I were in the same class all through school and are best friends. I spent a lot of time at the Spencer household as I grew up.

My dad had skipped out on my mother when I was just a baby, and mum never really coped. By the time I was a teenager, mum was a drunk. Some people are nice drunks, I hear. My mother wasn’t. She’d get loud and verbally and physically abusive when she got a load on. She got a load on often.

The Spencers, Dad Pat, Mum Valerie, the boys, Fred, James, Matt, and Molly treated me like a kind of de facto other brother and let me sleep on the couch whenever mum got too much to handle.

Molly didn’t say much to me, but she stared at me a lot. Even when she was only six or seven, I would turn from something I was doing with Matt and find her sitting on something, kicking her heels and staring.

It was virtually the only time I saw her motionless. The rest of the time, she would be doing something, kicking something, writing something, or taking something electrical or mechanical apart.

Molly did most of grade 5 with Matt and me. She had been moved up a class at her insistence and was already way ahead of us by the midyear break.

In class, she never spoke to me even once. But she sat two desks over, and I’d often find her looking at me when I looked over at her.

By high school, Molly had moved up another year.

I didn’t know if I was glad or not that she no longer sat staring at me.

On the morning of her eighteenth birthday, Molly came and found where Matt and I were sitting, waiting for our next class. I was only 19 and doing the first year of my teaching degree. Matt had started a mechanical fitter course at the same TAFE (Technical and Further Education Institute) I was studying at.

“Bugger off for a bit, Matt,” Molly told him. “I need to chat with Paul.”

Molly had a bit of a temper, and all the brothers feared her some. When the boys fought, they’d throw punches and maybe try some ‘kung fu’ kicks they’d seen in a movie, but they fought fair.

Molly didn’t. She usually went straight for the balls. Hands if she could, elbows, feet, knees, even teeth, if she couldn’t.

My wife was tiny. Barely 5-foot (152 cm) and only 99 lbs (45 kg). The boys were all as big as me, 6-foot+ (183 cm+) and more than 185 lbs (85 kg), so Molly had no compunction in evening the competition up by using low blows.

Once Matt was out of earshot, Molly turned to me and said, “Dad says I can’t get married until my 21st birthday, so you’re going to knock me up tonight. That way, you’ll have to marry me because I’m pregnant, and dad will have to agree.”

Molly hadn’t even tried to give me a kiss or hold my hand up until that point. Other than all the staring, I had no idea she even fancied me.

By 19, and after all the time I had spent with the Spencers, I knew Molly was impossible to refuse. No matter what I did or how I tried to evade or equivocate, no amount of dodging and weaving would save me. I was going to end up married to Molly.

Probably, about six weeks from today when the pregnancy was confirmed.

The Spencers owned a three-bedroom house. Matt and Molly used to share a room until Molly’s 11th birthday. Pat built an extra room on the back porch. It wasn’t much, but it was dry and warm. Fred was shuffled into there. Matt was moved into Fred’s old spot, and Molly got a room to herself.

“Make sure you’re over at ours sleeping tonight, Paul. I’ll come and get you around 1.00 am, and you can make me pregnant.”

Embarrassed as all hell, I mumbled, “Okay.”

I didn’t have a girlfriend and hadn’t had much experience at even kissing a girl. Helen Martin taught me how to kiss. She says I’m the best boy kisser she knows, but I’m not a patch on some of her girlfriends.

Helen even let me get to ‘second base’ one afternoon when we were ‘practicing kissing’, but her mum came home before we could get any further.

“What did Molly want?” Matt asked after Molly had strode off.

“Nothing,” I replied. I sure as hell wasn’t telling my best friend his sister wanted me to make her pregnant.

“Must’ve been something,” Matt said. “Molly never does anything for no reason. What did she say to you?”

Testing the waters, I replied, “She asked if I’d like to be her boyfriend. What do you think?”

Matt laughed delightedly

“You should marry her, and then we’d be brothers for real instead of close enough.”

“Maybe, I will,” I muttered.

“What? Are you nuts? Molly’s my sister, so I love her, but she’s out there, you know? You can’t even ISD (International Subscriber Dialling) where she is. Only a mad man would marry her, and I know you’re not that mad!”

“Let’s just drop it, okay?”

Matt looked at me for some time.

“Jaysus! You’re considering it. You can date her, Paul, but I still think you’re nuts! And if dad, or my brothers, catch you fooling around with her, they’ll fucking kill you, and you know that, right?

Ick… you fooling around with my sister, ewwwwww!!!!!! That’s just weird, man. She must be like a sister to you.”

“What if it’s what Molly wants, Matt? What do I do then?”

“If it’s what Molly wants, you may as well go and ask dad if you can marry her now cos you’re screwed!”

“I guess I’m screwed then,” I mumbled as the door to my lecture opened, and I walked inside.