There are Zero Yeti’s in this, but at least one lesbian

It’s always a strange type of interaction, those times when, after years of on and off chafing on terms like identity and faith, that one is forced to be relied upon as the sounding board for their mother’s parental angst.

This is apparently a common enough, if rare example. Though that didn’t make it easy for Brenda to listen. 

“Did I tell you about the little trip she took to that clinic? I had to drive her back before she did something horrible, you know.” she hears her mother say, the same tone as last she’d made the point to call. “Do you know? she didn’t even tell me who knocked her up.” she says, like that was necessarily an easy thing to answer.

Only, Brenda knew full well that their mother rarely needed a response in order to say her piece and feel respected.

“It’s not as if I’d know! She never flouted male attention, but the least she could do was tell me, right?” 

Having lost place at the start of the conversation, Brenda simply said, “I can’t imagine it’s easy to talk about, even without the consequences.”

“I suppose you’re right about that. Girls that age tend to be a little loose.” her mother said with a laugh at the expense of her youngest, chafing at her irresponsibility. Brenda tapped her foot, wanting to get inside and see her sister.

Finally finding a better mood her mother said, “I’m sorry I’m holding you up. Maybe you can teach her a thing or two about being frigid.” she said as a call back, though Brenda didn’t quite remember what it was to.

“Don’t count on it.” she hollered back, feeling a bit confused at how they’d gotten to that subject specifically. Though it made enough sense, when she considered her reason for visiting. 

Rachel was pregnant.

Her baby sister was pregnant, which while not an impossible development, was a surprising one. She’d kind of assumed that her mother’s anxiety over these sorts of things would’ve stopped her up, though the same couldn’t be said of her, so Brenda may’ve been extrapolating a bit on the results of her mothers beliefs.

She’d kind of assumed they’d matter more with whole human lives as the consequence, but she’d known it was often a less sensible equation than that for girls with stressful home lives.

She found the doorway of her mother’s rental and saw her sister, little worse for wear, lying out on the couch in an absurd position. One she recognized from when their mom was last pregnant. She thought for a moment about what to say, as Rachel found a position on her pillow that best suited both baby and bladder.

“Well Einstein, how’s that tyke?” she said finally, feeling awkward with the distance. This wasn’t really how she’d expected to greet her sister, at least this early in her life. Maybe ever.

“She’s just about hanging from my rib-cage, so fine.”

“That’s nice.”

“How’s it going with your donor?” she asked, as she seemed to find an itch along her hip. 

“Honestly, it could be better. I think Harry might be a dud.” Alice and Brenda had announced almost two years before that they’d started trying, and really it hadn’t. There were still so many question marks for them as far as what to do next.

“That’s sad.” Rachel said, rather plainly. “Do you need a slutty teenage surrogate?” she asked in the still odd position that allowed her the most room.

“It’s not surrogacy if it’s just your kid. Kid.”

“It is if you aren’t raising it. And also you’re a swan.” Rachel said, rubbing her belly. 

“Or an ostrich, or almost any other brood parasite,” Brenda continued for her, “It is just a practice you know.”

“Well, that’s strange enough. I’m glad you reddit’ though.”

“Ma’ told me about the baby, I knew already, from months ago,” Brenda thought through what to say next, it was really no use to know and she didn’t much like to think it, “she said something about you trying to abort.”

“She really said that?”

“Well, she intonated yeah. She didn’t cuss at me though so I think she’s being pretty reasonable.”

“Not if she thinks that,” Rachel said aghast, “good lord.”

“She’s probably worried about you turning-” atheist? Vampire? It didn’t matter, their mother was on the warpath which for her meant screaming at commiserate blue-hairs, and lucky for them and their area code not much else.

Brenda was lucky that she hadn’t been served the blame also, she’d gone and married another woman, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if she had.

“Yeah, that’s kinda why I’m in this mess,” she responded, minding the gap for Brenda’s thoughts. “Can’t have ‘girlfriends’, if you don’t have girlfriends.” Rachel laughed, with a lilt that referred to arguments she’d witnessed, just as much to ones Brenda hadn’t seen.

So that’s why Mom wasn’t angry with her. 

Her sister had went to bat for her, played the psycho gambit and managed not to cower.

Brenda smiled and pulled forward, “ ‘Can’t have grand-babies without a boyfriend,’ I mean she’s kinda right with that one. But this is a little early.” she could certainly see that, Brenda could see from there how far along Rachel really was.

“Well, at least she can never mistake me for a lesbian.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, but there’s nothing wrong with being precocious, at least with easy assumptions.”

“You shouldn’t call a pregnant teenager easy.”

“I can if she’s married.”

“I’m sure that’s supposed to be backwards.”

“It is, but who’s telling?”

“Well, same difference I ain’t exactly observant enough for lent,” she said, looking at her belly, “or apparently for this.”

“You aren’t?”

“I wasn’t,” she said honestly, “I might’ve known how to use a condom but it's kinda hard to use one when your ‘boyfriend’ thinks it’s a sin.”

“Didn’t I already tell you what to do in that case?”

“yeah.”

“Does he still have both testis?”

“Yes”

“I can assume you didn’t blue-ball him either.” Brenda stated, trying to be at least a little aware of her sister’s feelings. Leading to a tragic first thought, “was he- was he at least alright? Can guys even be good at it?”

“Inappropriate.” was her only response.

“Yeah, probably. But, so is offering me your firstborn.” 

“But you’re a wicked-witch here to do my bidding, ain’t that always supposed to cost you a baby?”

“Not if you don’t want it!” Brenda said, since they were on the track of fairy-tale tropes, “it’s supposed to be like Rumpelstiltskin, you want it, I want it, you learn my real name and I’m screwed either way.”

“But I already know your name. I mean unless you did some soul searching I hadn’t heard about.”

“No I didn’t, I’m still very happily a woman.”

“Good,” she said, moving forward with, “I’ve been working under the assumption that you wouldn’t be under the knife or anything anytime soon.”

“You don’t know, my appendix might burst.”

“With how Alice feeds you? Not likely.” Rachel said, continuing, “That’s half the reason I want you girls to have my kid. You’re always so careful with your food.”

“We aren’t that careful.”

“Do you not remember the Dunbar’s yearly cookout?” she said deadpan, “I’ll settle for the kid never drinking arm flavored punch.”

“That bitch still gets invited?” Brenda asked, remembering said bitch.

“Why not? She’s dumb about the right things, she’s mean about the right things, and she’s easy to gossip about.” she explained, all too aware of what the cookout tended to be. “she doesn’t even have any embarrassments to harp on.”

“Paul-Diddler doesn’t count?” Brenda thought, for a moment of a few years before when his behavior was one of the more common pieces of gossip. 

“Not since he got married, Missus Lorry Dunbar has apparently fixed his impropriety.”

“Ah.” which was how that topic fell out of circulation. They stayed static for a moment while cooling off from their ramble. Rachel drank more of her tea before rolling from her side and off to the restroom.

Brenda took that moment to sit down, realizing that she really hadn’t had a ramble like that in a long time. At least with her sister. She’d had close enough with friends, and her wife but she was also able to see them more often. Thinking about it wasn’t all that fun for her, but then she heard hollering from the bathroom. 

“Tissue!”

Being the only other person inside the house meant being the gofer for Rachel, and trying to remember if mom switched the closets again. She hadn’t, but the tissue was definitely set higher than was sensible for anyone who had to stretch around a baby bump.

Does this mean they finally found the backscratcher, or that mom was being petty? Brenda didn’t bother to ask that when handing a roll over the threshold, so instead she asked, “How’ve you been getting the tissue down from there?”

“Well, it’s not usually that urgent. So I just throw things till it topples.”

“Doesn’t that leave a mess?”

“Yeah, but it’s not much trouble.”

“That’s a very you move.”

“Damn right,” she laughed, as they stopped talking. It’s pretty normal for people bereaved of a shy bladder to talk at many points through the doorway while taking a sabbatical, but it was just strange to try and talk over the flush, or while things were moving along.

She washed her hands, before asking, “So! Are you gonna drive me over to the resale? I need to drop off some things.”

“You do realize you’ll get your figure back postpartum right?” Brenda said to the door as it opened.

“That doesn’t matter, I had bad taste last year. I’m never gonna wanna wear that stuff again.”

“You say that now, but you know what they say when feelings run high.”

“You think I can’t Konmari last year’s mall-haul on a baby bump?” she challenged, like anyone with any sense of self preservation was going to fight her on that.

“Yeah no, that's silly. You got it all together?”

“Yeah, it’s all in my room.” she said, gesturing to Brenda’s old room. The doors lock had been removed for obvious if kinda witless reasons, though seeing the old screw holes was a bit demoralizing even if she’d long since moved out.

It was kinda bazaar seeing everything laid out, the things mom had thought were necessary at this point.

That and the overabundance of last seasons overpriced and underused day-wear. She couldn’t agree or disagree on the taste of any of it, most of it being stowed away in boxes with jerried up handles, but she wasn’t that surprised at the collection.

“Goodness me, that’s a lot.”

“I know.”

“How’d that happen?”

“If I were to explain my mindset without a therapist I’d likely have a meltdown.”

“Depression Buy?”

“Kinda. Psychology ain’t supposed to have easy answers like that.”

“So you aren’t nesting?”

“Not this early on. Besides, prepping for a niece-slash-daughter won’t need to happen until a year and a half from now.”

“You’ve already got this all planned out don’t you?”

“Hopefully.”

“What makes you think it’ll work out?”

“Well, you’re already so good with Alice’s first. And you’re not even related to ‘em,” she pointed out.

“You barely know that.”

“Yes I do. I know you’re okay with raising someone else’s kid. You’ve always said that you weren’t having your own. Even before you broke your closet.”

“Still, I’d rather not benefit from your youthful escapades.”

“I know you’re saying that ‘cause the alternative is ghoulish, but I also know that you want a child. You wanna watch somebody grow up, and you want to help them get wherever they’re meant to be.” she said very seriously, before faltering to levity, “Besides, you’re gonna be better at this mom thing, and we both know it.”

“Bold words.”

“I’m a depression case, you guys at least have some sensible folks around for when you fuck up.”

“When?” Brenda asked at the implication.

“Yeah, ‘when’. You gonna do my heavy lifting?”

“Alright.”