Thursday, May 19, 2016

TALES OF THE SOUTHWEST: ME AND A BABY FOR THE LESBIANS


Looking at the Warren section of Bisbee, Arizona.
Through the gap in the hills...The Republic of Mexico.

"Look at this,” said The Lady of the House, reading her paper, “Melissa Etheridge thought about having Brad Pitt father a baby for her and her partner but she thought he’d want to be too involved with the kid.”
“That happened to me,” I said.
There was a rustling as The Lady of the House pushed her newspaper down and looked at me over the top of her glasses.
“Oh?” she said, “Do tell.”
“It was when I was living in….”
“Bisbee,” she finished my sentence for me.  “Of course it was when you were living in Bisbee.”
Bisbee is a town about a rifle shot from the Mexican border in southern Arizona.  It’s a haven for free thinkers, mental cases, trustafarians and such.  It has often been referred to as the world’s largest open air asylum.
I had made the acquaintance of Nermala Chingatti.  I don’t know how I met Nermala, she wasn’t exactly my tribe.  She worked at the local tattoo shop as its resident piercer.  All day long she punctured people to their hearts desire:  ear lobes, ears, cheeks, noses, tongues, nipples, bellybuttons and so on.
Nermala was out in the open about her lesbian lifestyle but then so were many other folks open about their alternative lifestyles in Bisbee. 
A dear cousin of mine who is lesbian lamented one time about having to live the closeted lifestyle in her south Florida town.
“You should move to Bisbee,” I said.  “It’s just a way of life here.”
She brushed off the idea, she and her partner were too established in their town.
Nermala’s partner was Dianna.  Dianna worked at the local tourist hotel as a waitress.  She had recently arrived from New York City.  Somehow Nermala and Dianna found each other and were living together.
One day as I was riding my bike through Old Bisbee Nermala flagged me down, I coasted on over to where she and Dianna were sitting on a park bench.
“We were just talking about you a little bit ago,” said Nermala.
Dianna sat beside her and smiled.
“We were talking about having a baby,” said Nermala.
“Oh?” I asked.  “I don’t know much about your lifestyle, how does that work?”
“The usual way,” she said.  “But some folks have been known to use turkey basters.”
“Which one of you would have the baby?”
Nermala pointed at Dianna.
Dianna smiled.
“I don’t want to have to deal with all that mess,” said Nermala.
“But what do I have to do with this?” I asked.
“We were talking about you helping us with this,” said Nermala.
Dianna smiled.
“Helping?” I said out loud.
Nermala stood up and thunked me on the head and opened her eyes wide.
“HEL-PING,” she said loudly.
“OHHHHHHH,” I said, “Helping!”
Nermala sat down and took Dianna’s hand.
“Well I could sure help with….”
“But,” said Nermala, “ We changed our mind.”
Dianna smiled and nodded her head up and down.
I stood there for a few moments still straddling my bicycle.
“Umm, do I get a say in this?” I asked.
“Nothing personal, Grant,” said Nermala.
Dianna smiled and nodded her head up and down.
“We just thought that you’re the kind of guy that once the kid got here you’d be in our business all the time wanting to see the kid and stuff,” said Nermala.
I stood there straddling my bicycle.
I was quiet for a few moments. 
Dianna sat there smiling.  I wondered if she ever said anything.
Nermala was looking me in the eye.
“Well,” I said with a smile, “Thanks for thinking of me.  I gotta go now.”
I waved at my two lesbian friends and they waved as I pedaled on down the road.
“And that was my brush with possibly being a father for a kid for a lesbian couple,” I said to The Lady of the House.
“Whatever happened to them,” she asked.
“They broke up a couple of years later and Nermala moved to England,” I said.
“Did they ever have a kid?”
“Nope.”
The Lady of the House slowly lifted her paper and went back to reading.
“I really think you should be glad every day you met me,” she said.

                                                                                -30-

No comments:

Post a Comment