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From: basmith@newshost.li.net (Brenda Ann Smith)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Kate and Emily: Homecoming, Part Three.
Date: 11 Jun 1996 17:12:59 GMT
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Homecoming, Part Three.
(6/02/96)
It was a tense flight back to New York.
I glanced at you. Your head was bent over a copy of The
Advocate. You'd hardly said five words to me since the morning.
I bit my lower lip nervously.
Three days ago I was in my bathroom taking a pregnancy test.
The test was so positive I could have read that pink plus-sign
ten feet away. "Emily?" You knocked on the door. "Baby, please
come out."
Slowly I rose from the floor and unlocked the door. It flew
open and you stood in the doorway. "Well?"
"It's positive." My voice was quiet, dull.
I started to cry again. You embraced me quickly, pressing
my face into your bosom. "Shh, shh," you murmured as you stroked
my hair. "It's all right."
We lay in bed together. You covered my face with small,
tender kisses. "Emily, please stop crying. It's all right."
"It's not all right," I sobbed. "Dammit, it's not all
right!" I screamed. I pounded my fists into your back.
"What's going on--" Amy opened the bedroom door and froze.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" The door slammed shut and we listened to
her footsteps scurry away.
You giggled. "Do you think this makes you 'out'?"
"That's not funny," I said, trying not to laugh. Poor Amy.
She was absolutely horrified, embarrassed at finding us that way.
"We've probably given her the shock of her sheltered life."
We were both laughing, trying not to fall off the bed. "It
could have been worse," you said. "She could have caught us
kissing." You kissed me. "Or fondling each other." Your hand
slid over my hip up to my breast, cupping it. "Or even worse,"
you whispered seductively into my ear, "we could have been making
love."
"Worse?" I repeated. "That sounds better to me." I rolled
you onto your back and kissed you deeply.
I didn't want to think about being pregnant. It was far
from my mind when I lifted your shirt, exposing your sheer creme-
colored bra. I unfastened it, pushing it off your breasts,
brushing your nipples lightly with my palms as I did. They
hardened, the areolae puckering and turning darker brown. I
lowered my mouth to the left one and grazed it with my teeth
before settling my lips around it to suck.
You emitted a low moan. I felt your hands around my waist,
searching for a way into my pants. You unbuttoned and unzipped
them and slipped them both into my panties. Your hands were hot
against my skin as your strong fingers kneaded my ass.
I lifted my head and sighed. "I can't do this, Kate," I
said, rolling off you.
You whimpered. "Let me do it to you, then."
"No. I'm sorry."
We lay in bed, neither of us looking at the other. Finally
you sat up and fastened your bra. "I'm going for a drive." You
stood, tucking your shirt into your jeans.
"Where? You'll get lost," I said, gazing at you.
You shrugged. "I'll be okay."
"If you're upset about--"
"That's not what this is about," you cut in. You looked
down at me. "What're you going to do, Em?"
"I don't know," I answered. "I really don't."
"We both need some time to think." You laid your hand on my
forehead. "I'll be back in a little while." You grabbed your
purse and left.
Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. "Emily?"
I was expecting Amy, but it was Bill. "Come in," I said.
He opened the door and stepped in. "I just saw Kate leave. Is
something wrong?"
"No. She just needed something from the drug store," I
lied.
"Oh. I wanted to talk to you about something." I nodded,
motioning for him to sit. He sat at the foot of the bed.
"Remember how we used to hang out in here late at night, after
Momma and Daddy had gone to bed, and gossip about everyone in
school?"
I grinned. "That was so long ago."
"About fifteen years. Amy and I have been trying to have a
baby for about eight months now," he said abruptly. "Neither
one of us is getting any younger, so we figured it was time...but
we can't seem to do it."
"Are you both..." I searched for a neutral word. "Is
everything okay?"
"She went to her doctor last month and she said that Amy was
perfectly healthy," Bill said. "So last week I finally went to a
doctor and he told me that--" He stopped there. He rubbed his
forehead with his right hand. "I'm sterile, Emily. When he told
me, I wanted to laugh, thinking about all the time I wasted in
college worrying whether I'd gotten some girl pregnant."
"Bill," I said gently. I laid a hand on his shoulder,
squeezing it. I could see that he was very upset. "Did you tell
Amy?"
He shook his head. "She doesn't know. I don't know how to
tell her."
"This doesn't mean you two can't have a child."
"It means that any child we have won't be mine," he said.
"At least, not biologically mine."
"Is that so important?" Bill hardly seemed like the type to
get caught up in that kind of thing.
"It's a little important, yes," he admitted. "I want people
to say, 'Oh look, he's got his daddy's nose.' I want to hold him
and know that he was created by mine and Amy's love. And part of
me even wants to make sure that Forrest genes go on for another
generation."
"Hey, I'm a Forrest too," I said. I thought of the little
Forrest inside me.
"I didn't mean that you didn't count," he said.
"I know." I sighed. "So what now? You can't hide this
from her forever."
"I was going to tell her, but all this stuff happened with
Daddy. She cares about him a great deal, and she was so upset
about it--" He lifted his hands helplessly. "I couldn't tell
her. Anyway." He smiled weakly at me. "I'm going to find out
what everyone wants for supper. What's your vote?"
"You know me. I'll eat damn near anything." He laughed and
gave a small wave before he left.
What was I going to do? I brought my right hand to my cheek
and felt the cool smoothness of the ring you'd given me. I
hadn't even considered your feelings.
I was pregnant. Should I keep the baby? I'd always been
pro-choice, but I never knew whether I would be able to have an
abortion. And Michael--I would have to tell him. Or would I?
What if I had the baby? Could I raise a child alone? But I
wasn't alone: there was you. I thought about my father, the
look in his eyes and the sound of his voice as he told me that
his most fervent wish was to see his grandchild, my child. And
then there was Bill and Amy. They wanted a baby, and I was
pregnant. Maybe it meant something.
I fell asleep thinking about it all. I dreamed that we were
back in New York in your loft, and I told you that I wanted to
keep the baby. You grew angry and laid down an ultimatum: it
was you or the baby. Crying, I chose you. You glared at me with
disgust and said that you couldn't be with me anymore.
I woke, twisted in the sheets and trembling.
You were sitting at the desk, your face in your hands.
"Kate?" You turned in your chair so you could see me and tried
to smile. I could tell that you'd been crying. "When did you
get back? What time is it?" I yawned.
"It's six-thirty. I got back a couple of hours ago. I
didn't want to wake you." You rested your chin on the back of
the chair. "Amy and I talked. About what happened before."
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her that I was just comforting you about your
father," you said. "She bought it. I think she would have
believed anything just so long as I assured her you weren't a
lesbian."
"You could have told her," I said. "I don't care if she
knows. I don't care if anyone knows."
You looked at me sadly. "I wish that were true."
"It is true, Kate," I insisted, sitting up swiftly. "I'll
march right out there and tell them all now--"
"No, it's all right. I believe you."
But I knew that you didn't. Truthfully, I probably couldn't
have told them all that I was a lesbian. It's not that my family
was homophobic. As a minister, my father counseled a lot of
young gays and lesbians who felt alienated or estranged from
their families after coming out. My mother did volunteer work in
an AIDS hospice, and a lot of those patients were homosexual.
One of Bill's roommates at college was openly gay. There was
never an unkind word said about any of them.
"Did you hear about Esther's boy?" Momma asked one night at
supper. I was twelve years old, Bill was fifteen. Esther was
our aunt, Momma's sister. Her "boy" was Steven, one of my
favorite cousins. They lived in New Orleans. We saw them about
once a year at our annual family reunion.
"What about him?" Daddy asked as he cut into his pork chop.
"He...came out."
Daddy laid down his fork. "Really?" Momma nodded. Daddy
shook his head. "Pity."
"Esther was hysterical when she called this afternoon,"
Momma went on. "Crying, shrieking, all kinda carrying on."
I looked between them. "Momma, what's 'came out'?" Momma
and Daddy looked at me. Bill, who was sitting next to me, nudged
me sharply in the ribs, and I bit my tongue rather than yell. "I
was...only...curious," I said meekly, uncomfortable under their
stares.
"It means that Steven is gay," Daddy said solemnly, "and he
decided to tell people about it."
"Oh." I thought about this. "What's 'gay'?"
The dinner table conversation ended with Momma admonishing
me to eat my carrots, and no one answered my question. Later
that night Bill came to my room, as he often did, and explained
everything to me. "It means he likes to kiss other boys and do
it with them. You know, a fag."
"Really?"
I knew what a fag was. Russell Hankins, who sat next to me
in social studies, was often tormented because he was a fag. One
morning he came to class and opened his desktop to reveal a
picture of a naked man. The boys behind me began to snicker and
whistle as Russell quickly ripped it off and crumpled it into a
ball. His pale ears grew fiery red with embarrassment as one of
them asked, "What's wrong? His dick was too big for you? We'll
find you a smaller one, ya cocksucker!" They burst into
laughter, causing Russell to run out of the room. It was the
first time I'd ever seen a boy cry.
Daddy came home from the hospital two days later. Things
between you and I weren't going well. I hated to leave so soon
after he was back but I thought that if we didn't return to New
York there might not be much of a relationship left.
"Hi, Daddy." I smiled at him as I came into the den. He
was sitting in his favorite leather recliner. His whole face lit
up when he saw me. I sat down on the loveseat. "I have to get
back to New York. My job and everything..." I couldn't come up
with a more compelling excuse.
"I understand," he said warmly. "News doesn't stop when
reporters do. When am I going to see you on CNN?" He grinned at
me.
"Soon, I hope." I studied his face, trying to memorize his
appearance. "I'm going to miss you. I'll get back as soon as I
can. I promise."
"Don't you worry about me. You know how your momma is.
She'll have me whipped back into shape in no time. She's already
got me on this low fat diet thing. They ought to call it a low
taste diet." He chuckled. Then his face grew somber. "I want
you to forget about what I said to you in the hospital. I had no
business telling you any of that stuff. It's your life and you
have to lead it."
"Daddy, it's okay," I said, laying my hand on his.
He shook his head. "No, it's not. I am so proud of you, of
everything you've accomplished, Emily. You never had anything
easy. You worked damn hard for everything. It doesn't matter to
me what you do with your life as long as you can look me in the
eyes and say, 'Daddy, this is all I ever wanted and I am happy.'"
I bit my lip, fighting my tears. "I love you so much,
Daddy." I knelt next to his chair and hugged him tightly.
"I love you too, baby," he said, stroking my head.
Theo was waiting for us at the end of the concourse. He
smiled as we approached. "Here, let me take your things," he
said. I handed him my cosmetic case. "How was your flight?"
"Good," you replied.
"How is your father, Emily? Is he home now?" he asked as we
took the escalator down to the main level.
"Yes, he is. He was discharged yesterday morning. My
brother and sister-in-law are staying with my mother for a little
while to help out, until they can establish some kind of
routine," I said.
"I'm glad to hear things are all right," Theo said. We
claimed our bags and left the airport. "Do you want to have
dinner, or do you just want to go home?" We were on the
expressway, heading into th city.
"If you two want to go out, you should," you said, "but I'd
really like to get home."
"Do you feel ill?" Theo asked, peering at you in the
rearview mirror. I looked back at you but you wouldn't look at
me.
"I'm just tired, is all," you replied. "The medicine."
"I'll stay with you tonight," I said after turning around.
You didn't argue. I didn't expect that you would in front of
your father.
Theo dropped us off in front of your building. He went up
with us, carrying our bags. He gave us both a kiss and hug
goodnight before leaving. I closed the door after he left.
"Why are you staying here?" you asked as soon as he was
gone. "You have to go to work in the morning and you don't have
any clothes here."
"So I'll get up a little earlier than usual," I said. "I
just want to be with you, Kate."
"I don't know if I'm in a companionable mood right now."
You snatched your duffel bag off the floor and stalked into your
bedroom. I followed you.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked.
"I don't know." You unzipped the bag and yanked all your
clothes out, strewing them on the floor. "I don't fucking know.
Leave me alone."
"Kate, don't do this. Talk to me," I pleaded.
"All right." You turned to me. "What are you going to do
about the baby?" I didn't answer. "The longer you wait the
harder the decision is going to be, Emily. And even though it's
not mine, your decision affects me."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying--" You stopped. "I think that you should go
home, Emily. I think that we should be away from each other for
a little while to think about things. This--your pregnancy--this
is a big thing, and it's something you--no, it's something we
have to handle. But I can't do it right now."
"Kate, I don't want to go. Let's go into the kitchen, make
some tea, and talk about this," I said. "I don't want you to be
angry."
"I'm not angry. Really. I just can't do this right now."
You came over to me and wrapped your arms around me. "I
love you a lot, Emily," you whispered, "but I can't do this now.
Go home."
Nodding, I extracted myself from your embrace and walked
slowly back to the living room. I picked up my suitcase and
opened the door. I waited for a minute, waited for you to come
out of the bedroom and stop me, but you didn't. I closed the
door quietly behind me and went home.