Wedding Bell Blues - [2]

softly strumming guitarist, and Lily had cried until she marveled that there was any fluid left in her body.

But today’s service had nothing to do with Charlotte. Had she been alive, it would have been thekind of thing you couldn’t have dragged her to. Today’s service was about Charlotte’s parents and howthey wanted to remember her — which, of course, was in complete contrast to her. Now that Charlottewas dead, her parents could shape her into what they had always wanted her to be: a dutiful, passive,Christian daughter. Of course, the only reason they could make this transformation was that Charlotte wasno longer around to defend herself.

But Lily was still around — a fact, she was sure, that troubled Charlotte’s parents no end. And foras long as she was around, she would defend Charlotte’s real memory. Charlotte’s parents might not likeit, but they would have to put up with Lily’s troublemaking for one reason: Mimi, the bearer ofCharlotte’s genetic material, who was snoring sweetly in her crib.

The story of Mimi’s conception, like the conception stories of all children of lesbian parents, was along one. Lily and Charlotte had often discussed the fact that if straight couples had to go to the sametrouble as lesbians to get pregnant, there would be fewer cases of abused and neglected children becausethere would be no instances of “oops, a pregnancy.” Every child would be wanted because the parentswould have gone to a whole hell of a lot of trouble in order to conceive.

Even though Mimi’s conception was the result of many frustrating months and so many intimateencounters with a turkey baster that Thanksgiving would never be the same again, the method by whichMimi’s biological parents were chosen had been as simple as a game at a children’s party.

Lily and Charlotte’s best friends were Desmond and Ben, who lived in the condo adjoining theirs.

Ex-lovers whose personalities were as different as RuPaul’s and Bruce Bawer’s, Desmond and Ben hadcontinued to share the same living quarters even after they had stopped sharing a bed. It was as if they haddecided that now that they were no longer lovers, they would be brothers instead — with a specialemphasis on sibling rivalry.

On the evening Lily and Charlotte had naively thought their baby’s conception would take place,Lily had made a pan of her famous eggplant parmesan while Charlotte had gone out to buy the biggest jugof decent wine she could find. That night, after Lily, Desmond, Ben, and Charlotte had eaten dinner andswilled down enough wine to giggle away any awkwardness, Lily had set two black hats on the coffeetable, one labeled sperm and one labeled egg. The slip of paper drawn from the sperm hat woulddetermine the sperm donor; the egg hat would reveal the biological mom’s identity. Since Lily andCharlotte’s cycles were in sync, they figured they were equally likely to conceive.

“Who gets to pick?” Charlotte asked.

“Well, one of the boys should get to pick from the sperm hat,” Lily said.

“You do it, Ben. I’m too nervous. I feel like I’m a game-show contestant or something,” Desmondsaid, his amethyst pinkie ring glittering as he poured himself another glass of wine.

“Oh, for god’s sake—” Ben closed his eyes, picked a slip of paper out of the hat, unfolded it, andglanced at it. “It’s you, Dez.”

Dez leaped out of his chair and began dancing around the room, singing, “I get to be the patriarch!

I get to be the patriarch!” The sight was made all the more comical by the fact that Dez’s large body wasclothed in a purple flowered caftan at the time.

“Are you girls sure you want him to be the father?” Ben asked. “I mean, what if the kid turns outto be a boy? Do you really want a son prancing around with Dez’s genetic material?”

“Oh, I want you to listen to her,” Dez said. “Just because she’s got a closetful of Tommy Hilfiger,she thinks she’s the butch one.” He turned to Lily and Charlotte. “Any objections to the kid calling meBig Daddy? It’s what Ben used to call me...once upon a time.”

Ben looked down to hide his red cheeks. “Shut up, Dez. It’s the girls’ turn to draw.”

Lily held out the egg hat, and Charlotte shut her eyes, selected a slip of paper, and glanced at it.

“Omigod! It’s me!” she whooped.

Ben laughed. “The queen and the diesel dyke! What kinda morphodite are you two figuring onmaking?”

Lily smiled. “Fortunately, a normal child was never what we were shooting for.”

“Well, I, for one, am completely comfortable with the idea,” Dez said. “This child will be yetanother fine collaborative effort between Dr. Charlotte Maycomb and Dr. Desmond Reed.”

Colleagues at Atlanta State University, Charlotte and Dez had collaborated on a number ofacademic papers and one book, The Lust That Dared Not Speak Its Name: A History of Nineteenth-Century British Homosexual Scandals.

After another round of wine, Lily, Charlotte, and Dez retreated upstairs while Ben flipped on theTV to catch the financial report on CNN. Once they were upstairs, Lily presented Dez with a glass jar.

“Oh, so now that you’ve wined me and dined me, you want me to put out, is that it?” he said.