So far I have three of them.
Number the first:
It's something parents take for granted. If one of the kids is seriously ill, whichever parent is available or has the right skills will deal with it. Except we're only married over there on the other side of the river, not here. I can't imagine it'll ever work here. But we can afford a house in the suburbs here.Maybe keeping a low profile will work. Maybe spending more on lawyers' fees to draw up papers and contracts and wills.It will do, mostly. It will have to do. It just has to. I have a bad feeling about this, and it's not even 3 AM, when I worry about things.
Number the second:
So my BFF Vicky came over after school. We were going to work on our biology homework. Genetics. Gah."Hey, Miranda, I wonder if being gay is inherited," said Vicky. As if she'd just thought of it.It's hard, remembering that our lives are so different, despite spending so much time together. She was walking around our dining room. "I've always liked this picture," she said. The long-delayed wedding picture, in a neat little frame. With me in the picture, holding flowers. Because I was, like, fourteen already by the time my parents were married."My folks have some wedding pictures around," Vicky said. "They look so young..."And we looked at each other from across the great divide. I mean, like, duh, if a woman is going to have, what, ten kids? And she's straight? She'd best get started right out of school. Which would make her not much older than we are now. When the picture was taken, I mean. Meanwhile, gay people wait decades and finally it's decided. Over there across the river. Cherry blossoms on the DC side of the Potomac. Not here. Never here in Virginia."It's just... people usually get married before they have kids," said Vicky."Straight people do," I said. "Sometimes."We looked at each other a little longer, each wondering what kind of alien she'd become friends with.
And the third:
Just kind of getting by, under the radar. They told her she could never have kids of her own. Sarah and Lia proved them wrong. In ways that were better left undiscussed. They lived in the Northern Virginia suburbs, commuting opposite directions to work: Lia south to her job in a university biology department, and Sarah across the river to DC where she did research on human fertility.When it became legal across the river, they got married. They went everywhere with a briefcase full of papers, naming each other guardians and medical proxies for the kids, who after all were no legal relation to one of their biological parents, here where they lived.When every parent's nightmare came true and Miranda got hurt, due to a too-glib tongue, it was Sarah's hospital badge with the magical letters MD after her name that gave her access, and allowed her to whisk Miranda across the river. Meanwhile the authorities were staging a home visit, and found the younger daughter, Susie, home alone while her Moms were dealing with Miranda's accident and treatment.It all almost worked, until one day it didn't. This is the tale of what to do next when your life collapses under the consequences of necessary lies.
I thought I'd sort of dribble out stuff like this on the Book of Faces and elsewhere, hoping people will be intrigued and stay tuned for the actual book announcement, launch, etc.
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