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    The Messenger

    Stowing my bike in the garden shed I notice how quiet it is at the back of my house.   The goldfish in the pond circle in the dark water. Overlooking them is the the statue of Kwan Yin I gave Bette for her birthday two years ago.  In the distance, a jet plane gains altitude before veering south, leaving a long vapor trail behind it.

    Where is everyone?

    I peer around the corner of bamboo and see Bette’s arm dangling loose over the side of the hammock.  On her chest, Angelica makes baby blubbering sounds, soft enough not to stir Bette from her sleep.  There’s a conversation I want to have with her, but immediately after waking up is never a good time to ask Bette life-changing questions.

    I consider my approach.

    Her objection to marrying in another state, saying it just didn’t feel right somehow, since we’d always live in California and we’d felt sure it would be legal soon, had been fine with me at time.   Now, it’s not.  I feel differently with a baby.  If I were to die tomorrow would she have any legal rights to our child whatsoever?  That thought stuns me and I wonder why I’d never thought of it before.

    Perhaps, because getting pregnant, especially on the west coast, where LA’s very sexy culture had led me to believe – if I’d ever wanted sperm it would rain down from everywhere and I’d call a number and get pregnant.

    That turned out not to be case when you have a very picky partner and I hadn’t help matters much either.  There’d been a very definite ’ick-factor’ about it, and I’m not just talking about the sperm, which, thank God, I’d never seen.

    Bette, on the other hand, had developed an obsession with the millions of ’thems’ she’d affectionately named. while writing out her check, her surrogate swimmers.

    Swimmers for short.

    ”Swimmers is a good name for them,” she’d said one night during her preparations for our candlelit encounter.  One of several she’d designed for my fertility process.  Adjusting her magnifying glass, she’d marveled, ”Tina, I think these guys are going to do the trick.”

    ”Bette, please don’t ask me to look at them again.” I’d shielded my eyes, knowing I needed to get into the mood for their ’insertion’ if this were going to be at all pleasurable and not just plain weird.

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    Comments

    1. Hi Bb:

      This wonderful chapter is totally new, I don’t remember reading it or even something similar; very nice, very modern and very impressing, if they are at the end of 2009 or close to 2010 it will take some time; let’s see, the gay marriage was legal in California since 2013, so it could be some fight.
      This is romantic fighting together for their rights, our rights. Great chapter and also funny BTW. I’ll be waiting for the update. Thanks again for this gift.

      P

    2. Fantastic chapter! I loved the part about Bette and the “swimmers”. Truly amazing.

      Yes let Bette organize the campaign and destroy that Faye Buckley! She is the perfect woman for it.

      Thank you for the update!

      • Kenji, It was rather fun, wasn’t it? When I imagine a scenario for Bette and look through her eyes around the room, I’ll get a roaming commentary from her that often is very amusing.

        Thx4urcomment!
        Blackbird

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