Even Lovers Drown

Baked goods scented the homey kitchen. Egg shells, baking mix, and used spoons littered the tiled countertop. Bowls of icing—reds, blues, purples—awaited cleaning by eager mouths. Amongst the mess, Blake Andrews haphazardly poured sprinkles on the iced tops of her cupcakes, humming. They glittered against the bright, hand-dyed icing, promises of delicious treats for the picnic she had planned.

“Momma,” a child’s voice broke her concentration.

She looked down, met by the sight of her son Noah. The bright kitchen lights bounced off his messy, golden blonde hair. His green eyes, identical to those of her partner, stared up at her, his mouth screwed in contemplation.

Smiling, she placed the bottle of sprinkles on the counter and knelt to his level, prepared to appease his curious mind. There was no end to the three-year-old’s questions. And Blake was more than willing to answer every one.

“Yes, honey?”

“Where do babies come from?”

Except that one.

Her mind blanked. “Um, uh, well” she sputtered.

He was too young for this conversation. Way too young. Easy, false explanations sped through her mind, each shot down as soon as they arose. She didn’t want to lie to him. And besides, the concept of a giant bird delivering a baby would only raise more questions.

But with two mothers, she wasn’t quite sure how to broach the biological concept, and a simple “from Mommy’s tummy” wasn’t going to work.

Her pregnant wife drifted into her thoughts. Telling their son about the pregnancy, explaining there was a baby in Mommy’s tummy and he would be a big brother, had been easier. He got too excited about having a sibling to ask how a baby got there. Three months since, her wife just beginning to show, and he thought to ask Blake.

An idea popped into her mind, vibrant and promising.

“Why don’t you ask Mommy?”

Her wife could handle this one.

“I did. She told me to ask you.”

Damn.

“Did she?”

He nodded, the pensive expression not once leaving his face. Blake’s eyes drifted around the kitchen, searching for something, anything, to get her out of attempting to answer and confusing her child for life. The scent of cupcakes tickled her nose, the colorful topped creations visible from her crouched position.

Perfect.

“You know,” she said, her voice a hushed whisper. “I just finished making cupcakes.”

His lips formed an excited “O,” his green eyes sparkled. All thoughts of babies gone for the time being.

Evasive maneuvers, successful.

“You did?” he asked, his voice dropping to mimic hers.

She nodded. “With purple frosting and sprinkles. Your favorite.”

Red for her, blue for her wife, purple for Noah. His favorite color, a mix of Mommy’s hair and Momma’s eyes.

“Yeah?” His voice raised in delight. His mouth formed a broad smile, exposing a dimple that reminded her of her wife’s older brother.

Blake grabbed a cupcake from the tray, purple with sprinkles, and held the treat out to him. “Do you want one?”

“That would ruin my attepite,” he said but he eyed the baked good in her hand, waiting for permission to snatch it and run.

His appetite, what they frequently told him he would ruin if he ate a sweet before lunch or dinner. He didn’t care about that, didn’t even understand what they meant by “appetite.” Getting caught in the act of ruining his appetite was his concern.

“We won’t tell Mommy.”

“Okay,” he exclaimed, grabbing his distraction and darting from the kitchen before Blake had a chance to change her mind.

Smart kid.

Chuckling, Blake stood and returned to the cupcakes, delicately stacking one of each color into a container for their lunch. Despite having a cupcake already, Noah would be upset if he didn’t get one during their picnic while his mothers ate theirs. There was no reason to withhold a second treat when the first had been given in Blake’s desperation to escape his question. Snapping the top in place, she placed the container next to the sandwiches her wife made and began placing the rest of the cupcakes into a larger container to save for later.

“Why did our son just run through the living room with a cupcake?” Her wife’s voice distracted her from her task this time.

She turned. Saylor Andrews stood in the kitchen entrance, her red hair pulled in a loose ponytail, a flowing, white sundress concealing her small baby bump. Her arms crossed under her chest and her mouth was twisted in a frown.

Clearly, Noah did not understand how to be discreet.

Smiling good-humoredly at her wife, Blake returned, “Where do babies come from?”

Saylor’s stern expression cracked, giving way to her melodic laugh and breathtaking smile. “I’m sorry,” she said, laughter tickling her voice, and walked further into the kitchen, stopping to lean against the messy counter. “I didn’t know what to tell him.”

“What are we going to do when he asks again?” Blake asked.

“Guess we can’t bribe him with cupcakes forever,” Saylor joked, sticking her finger in the blue icing then into her mouth.

“I didn’t bribe him. I evaded his question.”

Delayed guilt sank in, weighed heavy in her stomach. She avoided her son’s question for the sake of her own comfort. Such a normal question for a child to ask and she didn’t give him an answer. She gave him a cupcake. She’d answered all of his past questions. Why his face was on magazines in the checkout line—as lead singer of Say Goodbye, her celebrity status encompassed her family—why he didn’t have a daddy—because some mommies liked other mommies and some daddies liked daddies and some mommies and daddies liked each other—why Mommy’s spaghetti was better than Momma’s—she was convinced the O shapes Saylor used were the culprit. She quenched his curiosity the best she could, encouraged him to ask questions, and he handled each explanation with a willingness to learn something new.

But she couldn’t tell him where babies came from.

“Hey,” Saylor said, leaving her perch against the counter. She stepped behind Blake, slipped comforting arms around her waist, and pressed her body against her back. “We’ll figure this out, okay? There’re books on parenting for lesbians. One of them has to have a chapter on explaining pregnancy.”

“I just don’t want him to learn from someone else, you know? We should be the ones to tell him. Not his daycare teacher, his little friends on the playground, a babysitter. It should be us, his parents.”

“He will learn it from us.”

Blake looked over her shoulder, into the reassuring green eyes of her wife. Her guilt and fears dissipated under the gaze. Calm settled over her. They’d figure it out. Together.

“I love you,” Blake murmured.

“I love you, too.”

Their lips met, gently melding against each other in a loving kiss. Blake’s nerves prickled in delight, Goosebumps rose on her arms, excitement pooled between her thighs. Her fingers trailed Saylor’s arms, tickling her smooth skin, eliciting a shiver from her lover.

“Later,” Blake mumbled against her lips, “Your ass is mine.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“No, ‘Bastian,” Noah’s giggling shriek pulled them apart.

Their Golden Retriever bound into the kitchen, muddy paws leaving prints in his mad dash. Spotting his favorite owner, he let out an excited bark and charged for her.

“No, Sebastian,” Blake commanded.

Too late.

He rose on his back legs and planted his muddy paws on her sweatpants. His tongue lolled over the side of his mouth, his eyes content squints as Blake begrudgingly patted his head, his breathes coming out in short pants.

“’Bastian got muddy,” Noah said, standing in the kitchen doorway.

Covered in mud and speckles of purple icing.

Saylor giggled. “He’s not the only one.”

Blake forced Sebastian off her, and he trotted from the kitchen, presumably to return to digging in the flower patch. She stared down at her mud splattered pants, then at their son, whose mischievous smile lit his face.

“Looks like you and I need to go change, buddy,” Blake said.

She strolled across the kitchen, scooped Noah into her arms, and slung him over her shoulder. His thrilled laughter mixed with Saylor’s amused giggles. Happiness swelled in Blake’s heart, overwhelmed her senses.

This life seemed impossible five years ago. To have a wife and a child and a dog and a nice house in the suburbs was just a fantasy she entertained during late nights on the tour bus. Until Saylor stumbled into her world.

And she couldn’t have been happier.