Family Affair (35 page)

"I want to look authentic."

"Does that mean we get a hot dog?" Chase placed the visor back on the hook and turned her attention to the hot dog stand located in the walkway behind them.

"Of course," Addison said picking up the visor Chase had been looking at and tucking it under her arm with her other purchases. She went to the checkout counter and pulled out her debit card. When she had finished she handed Chase the visor. "Here, you'll need this. It's really bright out there."

Chase put it back on. "Thanks. Now, what do you want on your hot dog?"

"The works," Addison said, as she clipped the sales tag from their purchases with a small pair of scissors she'd fished out of her backpack.

Carrying the hot dogs, Chase followed Addison to their seats, happily musing about taking Bud to these kinds of events. She hoped Addison would help her at least in the beginning until she got good at maneuvering these activities. Bud was to have as normal a childhood as possible.

They went up two flights of stairs and were behind home plate.

"Wow, these are great seats," Chase said as they sat down. She started in on her hot dog. "These are really good," she said, after taking a large bite.

Chase had read about baseball games, saw photographs and the blurbs on the television when a big game was on, but she'd never sat in the stands, smelled food that everyone knew was bad for your HDL or heard the fresh roasted peanut vendors as they made their way up the stands hawking their wares. She thought she might give those a try as well. The murmur of the crowd and the hum of the grandstand music all made her feel like she was on another planet. It was fantastic.

Addison took out a pair of enormous binoculars that looked a lot like the pair Stella had used for surveillance. She scanned the crowd.

"Don't you want your hot dog?"

"In a minute," she said, and then, appearing satisfied, she set the binoculars on her lap and ate her hot dog.

Chase sipped her Dr. Pepper and watched as the players did some practice throws. They wore white uniforms with red piping. The other team wore blue uniforms and yellow piping. She didn't know who they were, but it didn't matter. All she had to remember was who wore what color. She could handle that.

Addison put down her half-eaten hot dog and resumed her watch.

Something was wrong. She studied Addison. "Why don't you tell me what's really going on? We agreed no secrets."

Addison sighed and pursed her lips as if to demonstrate the difficulty of her confession. "My dad is dating this woman who has a kid. I wanted to see for myself."

"How do you know they're here?"

"I overhead my mom talking to him. Something about settling up this afternoon and he said he was going to the ballgame and she said you never took Addison to a ballgame. I raided my mom's stash of tickets. I wanted to see what they look like."

"I'll be right back." Chase raced back to the souvenir shop and grabbed a pair of binoculars. "These the best you got?" she asked the vendor.

"Lady, this is a souvenir shop. They'll get you a good look at home plate."

Chase paid and went back to the stands.

Addison was scanning the crowd. She looked up as Chase squeezed past her. She sat down. "All right, let's find the bastard. I mean your father."

"He is a bastard," Addison said.

"Okay, you scan that side and I'll get this side. We'll do it in quadrants."

"I found him," Addison said. She pointed. "Down there."

Chase pointed her binoculars in that direction. "He's by himself." She was hopeful.

"For the moment," Addison replied. She slurped at her Dr. Pepper as if retribution might be lurking in the recesses of the crushed ice.

"Want another one?" Chase asked.

"No, I'm fine." She pulled a Red Bull from her pack and poured it in the plastic cup with the red and orange Isotope logo like she was mixing a drink.

Chase was worried. A smart hopped-up kid with a grudge could do ugly things. "What are you planning on doing... exactly?"

"I haven't quite decided." She went back to her binoculars.

This added to Chase's anxiety. The announcer read the line-up for each team as the players ran out on the field. Chase couldn't concentrate. She didn't know a lot about baseball, but there was always Wikipedia if Bud had questions. She wondered what parents did before the Internet. They probably made shit up. Parenting wasn't so simple anymore. Kids could check facts now.

Addison went back to staring at her father long-distance.

The Isotope batter whacked the ball. He made it to first base and kept going as the ball sailed upward toward the centerfield fence.

Chase tapped Addison's shoulder. "Hey, look, something is actually happening. He might get a home run." Chase jumped around in her seat like all the others—she almost felt at one with the rest of the world. Maybe that's what sports were about—a sense of unity. The batter made it home. The crowd, including Chase went mad. "That was exciting." She looked over at Addison. "Did you see it?"

"It's a boy with red hair and freckles. He looks like Ron Howard when he played Opie in Mayberry RFD."

"You've seen that show?"

"Nickelodeon."

"Who are we talking about?" Chase asked.

"My father's new kid."

"Really?" Chase grabbed her binoculars and honed in. Addison was right. Daddy was playing it up big. A chunky blonde appeared to be the boy's mother. That's who Dickhead is doing, Chase thought with disgust.

"See him?"

"Yep. His mother's nothing but a fat tart." Chase put the binoculars down on her lap. She looked over at Addison.

Addison was sitting back in her seat, looking over the program and eating her hot dog. "Let's have another one of these. They're really good. Should get the spicy brown mustard this time."

"I thought you'd be upset." Chase eyed her warily. She didn't want to set her off but absolute denial wasn't a good thing either. It could surface years later and cost a fortune in shrink fees.

"He's a boy. I can't compete with a boy and it all makes sense now. My father is as I suspected him to be. He's very insecure. He feels more comfortable with those people for whatever reason. It's perfectly understandable that he's more comfortable with a boy. I'm not able to grow a penis and if I had a little brother I'd be jealous and feel slighted. This way I don't have to deal with it. I always knew my mother was too sophisticated for him hence his attraction to the frumpy blonde—case closed, moving on."

"It's that easy?"

"I never really liked him in the first place."

"I'll go get us more hot dogs," Chase said, quite relieved. She could deal with her own neurosis but other people's frightened her.

"Better hurry. Looks like we stand a chance of winning," Addison said. The crowd roared as another batter hit a home run.

Chapter Twenty-Four

There was entirely too much change for Chase. First, there was Nora and Eliza and now Lacey. It was like she was in the fun house and everyone, once familiar, had gone weird.

"I just don't understand why you're not more militant," Lacey accused her.

"I don't know what you mean," Chase said.

She and Lacey were having coffee at Starbucks. Chase had an appointment with Dr. Robicheck later that day.

"Yes, you do." Lacey slurped her latte.

Chase wasn't ready for this kind of discussion. In the back of her mind, squarely filed under things to be fearful of, was gay parenting—specifically rights and how Bud would fit into a world where most kids had a mom and a dad. It was going to be awkward and she didn't like it.

Lacey stared at Chase. Before she was a militant lesbian, Lacey had always been distracted by scoping the crowd, thus Chase was free from scrutiny. She had found that most restful, but now Lacey was focused and seemingly always asking questions about being gay.

"You know, there are whole days when I don't have a lesbian thought. It's quite refreshing to be liberated from the apron strings of my vagina," Chase replied. This would shut Lacey up.

Lacey's eyes grew wide and she positively gaped. Chase knew she had the advantage. A lesbian couple walked by. The one with the buzz cut took an appraising look at Chase. Her girlfriend with the curled back hair doused heavily with hair spray grabbed her girlfriend's hand in a proprietary manner.

Lacey watched them closely as they walked from the door to the counter. "Is there a chart?"

"Of what?"

"Lesbian hairstyles," Lacey replied.

"I don't think so. Why?" This was definitely a curve ball, Chase thought. She'd been using a lot of baseball lingo since her foray into professional sports.

"I heard there are seven. I want to know what they are."

"Why? Do you want One?" Chase asked, studying Lacey's well-coiffed hair.

"I want to be close to my people." Lacey finished her latte and wiped her mouth.

"We need to go to the bookstore," Chase said.

"To find my people?"

"No, to get a book. We might see some hairstyles, though."

"I'm in," Lacey said, hopping up.

They strolled by the lesbian couple with the two of seven lesbian hairstyles. Lacey apparently couldn't restrain herself. She stopped. "I just love your hair. I was wondering where you get it cut."

Chase was mortified. The one with the flattop, smiled. "New to the fold?" she asked Chase.

Chase nodded. "We need to come up with a handbook."

"I wish," Lacey said petulantly.

"We get it cut at Supercuts," the woman replied, her girlfriend eyeing Chase and Lacey suspiciously.

"Thank you," Lacey said. She gave Chase her I-told-you-so look.

"Whatever," Chase responded as they left. When they got in the car, Chase glanced at Lacey. She did look different—more sure of herself. Still, there were hurdles. "Have you told your parents?"

Lacey turned on Cutler and toward San Mateo. Chase hated this intersection. It was the most accident prone in the entire city.