Family Affair Page 8

  Gitana lowered the window. "We better get going. Mama has spies everywhere."

  "Right. I don't want her knowing we aided and abetted a fugitive. Here, clean up with these," Chase said, handing her the wipes. "They have lavender and chamomile in them. You'll smell nice."

  Graciela scowled but wiped her arms and legs. Chase put the Tartar blanket on the backseat.

  "What happened to your car?" Gitana said.

  "That psycho bitch stole the battery, with her bad hip, no less."

  "She probably had help," Gitana replied.

  "Where to?" Chase said.

  "Maloney's. I'm meeting Delia for drinks."

  "So you're completely off Andrea now?" Chase asked. She hadn't planned on Graciela and Delia hitting it off at her dinner party but they had. Gitana's sister dating one of her writing buddies gave her a feeling of trepidation.

  "She's too possessive." Graciela was using one of the wipes to get the soot off her white T-shirt, not very successfully. "Besides, Delia is hot and she's not into monogamy. She thinks it's archaic. Did you know she cleans house for people in the nude? She makes big bucks."

  "I didn't know that," Gitana said, frowning at Chase.

  "She doesn't clean our house. She writes porn. What do you expect? Nuns don't write porn."

  "What about Lesbian Nuns? That was quite the book," Graciela said.

  Chase glanced at Gitana. "This has been a very long weekend."

  "Actually, I thought it was great. Hanging out with you guys was a lot of fun. I can't wait for Pride. Here, just drop me here," she said, pointing to the loading zone half a block from Maloney's. "Thanks, you guys." She hopped out of the car.

  Chase took a deep breath, tuned into public radio and Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion.

  "Wow," Gitana said, leaning back in the seat.

  Chapter Ten

  Gitana came out of the greenhouse and said, "Where'd you get that?" pointing at the SUV.

  "At the Hummer dealership." Chase opened the passenger door so Gitana could check out all the features.

  "Are you test driving it? I thought we were going to Pride?"

  "We are. In our new car—or SUV rather. I traded in the Passat. This thing is built like a tank. We'll get a baby on board sign and then if some moron hits us we won't even feel it. Do you like the color?"

  "It's definitely yellow." Gitana peered inside.

  "I thought it looked like a school bus—that way when Bud goes to school it won't be a shock."

  Gitana nodded. Chase noticed she looked dubious.

  "Let me go tell Nora I'm leaving," Gitana said.

  "So she can keep on eye on the text-crazy employees."

  "Yes, I feel bad leaving her on our busiest day of the week."

  "That's one of the perks of being the boss." Chase wiped a fingerprint off the window with the sleeve of her T-shirt.

  "I know."

  "I think having Pride on Saturday is rather bourgeoisie. Lots of people work on Saturday excepting white-collar types." Chase got in the driver's seat and inspected the placement of the mirrors. She made a slight adjustment using the remote feature.

  "Perhaps you could mention that to the Pride committee when we get there."

  "I might just do that." Chase busied herself with the controls. She didn't have them completely mastered. There were so many. She grabbed the owner's manual.

  "I'll be right back," Gitana said, staring at the massive machine.

  "Okay." Chase didn't look up.

  Gitana returned shortly. She opened the back door and slung her pack on the seat.

  "Don't hit the teddy bear," Chase called out.

  "Why is there a bear in a car seat?" She closed the door and got in the front seat.

  Chase stared the car. "I'm practicing driving with a baby. I had the State Farm agent show me how to properly install it. He told me one of the common mistakes parents make is putting the car seat to one side instead of the middle. In the middle you can look in the mirror to observe the child's behavior instead of having to turn your head around and thus removing your eyes from the road."

  "I see."

  Chase pulled out of the parking lot. "This thing has balls."

  They drove into town with Chase explaining all the different features of the new vehicle with the delight of ownership. Gitana mentioned something about greenhouse gases and fuel economy.

  "Safety first," Chase replied. "As for doing my part to help the environment, I've changed all the lightbulbs in the house to fluorescent bulbs and ordered thirty trees from the Edgewood Soil and Conservation Bureau to offset that. I thought the back acre looked a little sparse so I want to fill it in. There's still plenty of room."

  "Oh no, not the trees again." Gitana leaned her head on the window and groaned.

  "You don't have to plant this time. You're pregnant. I thought I'd hire Graciela. She needs a new battery and probably some other car parts by now."

  The last time Chase ordered trees it had taken a week of solid digging to get them all planted. Then there was the watering which consumed every evening for an entire summer because the monsoons hadn't come. The ten poplars, ten chokecherry, ten green ash and ten plum trees had taken off and the property had become somewhat of a forest. Not all Chase's positioning had worked out though, and some of the trees had to be moved as they got bigger which meant their kindly neighbor with the tractor had to be enlisted to move them.

  "You'll plan better this time?" Gitana said.

  "Yes, now that I know what they're capable of. I have skills now."

  "What does this get for gas mileage?" Gitana rummaged around for the paperwork.

  "Not too bad." Chase had removed that part of the paperwork in anticipation of this discussion. "But I've got that figured out already. I've ordered a biodiesel conversion kit and there's a guy in town that can change it over. Then all you have to do is add a DSE alternative fuel additive to used frying oil and you have fuel. How cool is that? It's very economical after the initial investment." Chase didn't look at her.

  "And how exactly are you going to pay for all this economy?"

  "Don't worry, I've got it all worked out. I can write two moist mound sagas a year if I put my nose to the grindstone."

  "What about your mystery novel?" Gitana inquired.

  "I'll work on it."

  Chase got on the freeway. She could feel Gitana studying her.

  "Am I being obsessive?"

  "Kind of, but in a sweet way. You're approaching this with your usual fervor." Gitana took her hand.

  They picked up Delia and Graciela at Delia's rundown house in the University District. She lived with several other hot lesbians, according to Graciela. She had described the place like the Island of Lesbos. Chase imagined young nymphs in togas fucking on the seedy couch or on a bathroom floor in need of serious cleaning. Chase pondered her own dirty mind. Was this a by product of her moist-mound sagas? She should really concentrate more on her mystery novel, but she got stuck a lot. Perhaps, it was the mountain of research required to satisfy savvy forensic-type readers that was holding her back.

  "Sweet ride," Graciela said as she slid in one side and Delia got in the other. They both stared at the teddy bear in the car seat. "What's with the bear?" Graciela asked.

  "Training," Chase said as she pulled away from Delia's scary Victorian-style house. Chase bet it looked perfect at Halloween. Stick a pumpkin on the dilapidated porch and call it haunted.

  "I dated a chick once with a bear. She took it everywhere including the bedroom, if you know what I mean. It was creepy," Delia said.

  "Is the bear coming to Pride?" Graciela said.

  "No, it stays in the car. I just want to learn to drive without snapping Bud's head off. All right?"

  Gitana was reading the owner's manual. Chase was certain she was looking for the stats on gas mileage.

  "That's cool," Graciela said.

  Chase hoped she wasn't acting like her mother.

  The parking
lot at Pat Hurley Park was completely full. Chase had her first experience with the Hummer. She was reminded of some line from the movie Costa Brava, "Now, that you have it, what to do with it."

  "We're going to have to walk," Chase said.

  "No, we're not. Do you still have all the stuff from the dealer?" Graciela said.

  "What kind of stuff?" Chase asked.

  "The paperwork, that vanity plate, and the stuff on the window with the specs," Graciela said.

  "It's in the glove box," Chase said.

  "Let me have it," Graciela said. "Then pull it up on the grass over there."

  "We're not doing what I think we're doing?" Gitana said.

  Graciela ignored her. "Stop here. I'll be right back." She hopped out.

  "I don't think this is a good idea," Gitana said, looking over at Chase.

  "A burly all-man tow truck driver wouldn't set foot here, nor would anyone call one," Chase said.

  "I think it's ingenious," Delia commented.

  Graciela hopped back in the car carrying a short metal stake with a placard attached. She ripped off the "Please pick up your dog's refuse" part. "Got any gum?"

  Gitana, seeing her protestations were for naught, dug around in her purse and pulled out a half consumed pack of Orbit sweet mint. "I'm still registering my protest."

  "Your opinion has been noted and rendered moot," Graciela said. She popped several sticks of gum in her mouth and handed two more sticks to Delia who chewed rapidly.

  Graciela stuck the vanity plate to the placard with her gum and took Delia's contribution to secure the manufacturer's information, including sticker price, to the window. "Perfect, let's go." She got out of the car and stuck the metal post firmly in the ground. She looked around to see if they'd been noticed. "All clear."

  "Good work," Delia said, putting her arm around Graciela's shoulders.

  Chase surveyed her handiwork. "It looks convincing."

  Gitana rolled her eyes. They headed toward the blaring music, rainbow flags and the white tents of the vendors. Graciela snagged a brochure of events. Studied it briefly and handed it to Chase who perused it thoroughly.

  "Drag queens in an hour. Got to see that," Graciela said.

  Chase smiled wryly. She'd never understood the fascination with drag queens, to her, you were a guy or a girl and you did what you could with it. Drag queens still liked gay men but gay men liked men. So why would you fuck a guy that looked like a woman? Bo had dated a drag queen once. Chase had met him during one of the writer's meetings at Bo's house where he was camping out or rather leaching off Bo as they found out later. He plucked his eyebrows, wore a blond wig and had water balloons for tits. He served coffee wearing tight black slacks and a red turtleneck that hid his Adam's apple. His smooth crotch was a mystery to Chase.

  Bo did get a good short story out of his misfortune and it was published in the small gay magazine Hung. That was one of the good things about being a writer, you could exact your revenge with impunity using fictional wit and satire as long as you altered a few personal details. Chase found great satisfaction in this. She kept the knowledge to herself lest her prey became privy to her hunt for stories, details and diction.

  "I see lots of eye candy," Graciela said. Both she and Delia turned around to check out a very well-endowed in the chest and scantily dressed woman in high heels and a black leather miniskirt.

  She did have nice legs, Chase thought. Gitana caught her looking and poked her. Chase made to look innocent until she noticed Gitana checking out the well-developed torso of a young black woman. They both laughed.

  The roar of motorbikes filled the air and leather-clad women on Harleys rode across the grounds in an orderly procession.

  "Dykes on Bikes, this doesn't get any better," Graciela said.

  "Oh, baby, look at that one, tits for miles," Delia said.

  "I love halters," Graciela said.

  "Did it ever occur to you two that how you refer to women is derogatory?" Gitana said.

  They passed the first vendor tent where they were selling rainbow bumper stickers, tank tops with pink triangles on the front, and various bracelets with rainbow beads and the occasional pewter-cast pot leaf.

  "No, it never occurred to me. I'm just embracing my inner vagina," Graciela said. "My femaleness."

  "You are so full of crap," Chase said. She picked up a hat with rainbow palm trees on the brim and set it back down again.

  "Rainbow stuff is so old school," Delia said.

  "I like the Human Rights Campaign stuff," Gitana said, picking up a tiny green tank top with the HRC logo of a blue rectangle with two yellow bands across it. She held it up.

  Chase, suddenly understanding it was for Bud and not Gitana, although she had been wondering what she would look like in it, seized the moment. "I like that one. Let's get it." She pulled out her wallet and paid the stoic woman at the cash register who handed her an HRC brochure which Chase took with great enthusiasm. With this the woman smiled. Chase handed the tiny bag to Gitana and began reading the literature.

  Their child would grow up in a gay household and they would need answers to the cultural issues of the day. She certainly didn't want Bud to turn into Anita Bryant or Pat Robinson because of an inadequate upbringing. This parenting thing was getting bigger by the minute. It was fortuitous that babies took so long to get built. She had seven months to get herself right. If she could write a novel in six, certainly she could master parenting in seven.

  "Come on, this isn't a fucking library," Graciela said, pulling at Chase's elbow.

  "I'm coming." Careful to fold it neatly, she shoved the brochure into her back pocket.

  Gitana was already at the next booth signing them up for the Democratic Party.

  "Is this a good idea? They're all conniving bastards," Chase said.

  "We have a civic duty, now."

  "We do?" Chase said.

  "For the baby's future."

  "Oh, I get it. Because the future really does matter. We can always run away to Canada if they start rounding up and putting us in camps. Let's be the smart early people when it comes to getting out," Chase said, eyeing the well-dressed woman in charge of the booth. People in blazers and trousers at a picnic were suspect.

  "Camps, that's the least of it. They'll harvest us for organs before that," Delia said.

  "You guys are paranoid," Graciela said. "Hey, let's get a beer," she said, noticing the beer tent.

  "I can't. I'm driving and she's pregnant," Chase said, a little wistfully.

  "Boring," Graciela muttered.

  "Yeah, but that means we can get trashed and we'll have supervision. It can't get better than that," Delia replied.

  "If you're obnoxious, you'll be taking the bus home," Gitana warned.

  "Just make sure we don't hook up with some ugly chicks because our sense of judgment is impaired," Graciela said.

  "Okay, Casanova," Gitana said.

  "Hey, if I remember correctly, before Chase you were quite the Casanova yourself," Graciela said. Gitana blushed.

  Graciela got in the beer line while the rest of them waited.

  "She was?" Delia said. She appeared to examine Gitana in a whole new light. "I can see why."

  "Mine—remember," Chase said.

  "Of course." Delia went to help Graciela with the beer purchase.

  "Casanova, huh," Chase said.

  "I was young and unfettered." Gitana put her arm around Chase's waist. "And then I found you."

  "Were you looking for me?"

  "I was."

  "Is that why the botanist was taking a women's studies class?" Chase inquired.

  "It was a good place to start." Gitana kissed her cheek.

  They had met in Professor Murphy's lesbian lit class—reading Adrienne Rich and Lillian Faderman. The class was divided into four groups of five. Gitana had traded with one of the other women so she could be in Chase's group. Chase figured it had nothing to do with her despite Gitana's ever-present proximity during each g
roup study meeting.

  Gitana asked her out for coffee. Even then Chase thought they were going to discuss their part of the group's project. Instead Gitana asked her what she planned to do with her life. Chase was an English major and most people, including her mother, assumed she'd go on to teach. She wrote intriguing and innovative term papers and had the support of her teachers. This was essential for grad school admission. Rather than skirting the question as she usually did, she told Gitana the truth. "I want to be a writer."