Chapter Nine

"Mama, it's okay, really," Gitana said as she patted her mother's head. Jacinda was kneeling, stroking Gitana's belly and making cooing noises.

"Is this good or bad?" Chase asked. She accidently knocked one of the religious candles, the Fatima of Guadalupe. It wobbled precariously for a moment, but Chase caught it before it fell. It seemed she was always having little mishaps in this house of worshipping religious objects. Jacinda obviously had never read the story of the golden calf or ignored it if she had. There were a lot of graven images in this house—small statues of the Virgin Mary, pounded tin crosses, candles, rosary beads hanging from every doorknob in the place and decoupage pictures of Jesus mounted on pieces of wood hung all along one wall.

"Watch out, dude. I've almost lit the place on fire with one of those." Graciela pointed around the room. "God, she's got them all over the house, scenting Saints in the bathroom, like they're

blessing your poop. It's like living in the goddamn womb of the Virgin. I mean, look at all these fucking things." Graciela pointed around the room.

Jacinda leapt up and despite her bad hip grabbed a spray bottle containing holy water and doused Graciela with it. Graciela screeched, "Jesus fucking Christ, Jacinda snatched up one of the rosary beads hanging from the doorknob and chanted prayers like incantations.

"And you thought telling Stella was difficult," Gitana said, as they watched Jacinda, despite her bad hip, chase Graciela around the small living room madly shaking the rosary.

Jacinda's adobe house was in the South Valley, near the Bosque and the Rio Grande River, in an old neighborhood where the adobe homes were authentic. The house had small windows with blue frames, low-beamed ceilings and a kiva fireplace in each room. Chase felt like she was entering one of those made-to-look-real indigenous displays at the Folk Art Museum. Jacinda herself looked like she belonged in the display. Her long black hair was tied up tightly in a bun and she wore a woven skirt of blacks, blues and pinks and a white peasant's blouse.

That this diminutive, incredibly religious, old-fashioned woman had ended up with two gay daughters convinced Chase that God truly had a twisted sense of humor. Maybe Jacinda tried too hard. She'd personally performed three exorcisms on Graciela, to no avail. If anything, it made Graciela more blasphemous.

"Maybe we should have waited until Graciela wasn't here," Chase said.

"It'll be over soon. Mama can't keep up this pace for much longer."

Graciela ran to her room and locked the door. Jacinda grabbed a crucifix off the wall and jammed it in a looped hinge that was attached to Graciela's door. Graciela was locked inside.

"Is that legal?" Chase asked.

"Probably not. You know, for as much as they torment each

other they also need each other. Graciela threatens to move out once a week and Jacinda threatens to throw her out every other day, but neither of them follows through."

Jacinda returned to the couch, sitting down heavily and fanning herself with a paper fan depicting the Last Supper. Chase didn't even know they made things like that.

"That child will be the death of me." She patted Gitana's arm. "But you, you make me very happy."

Gitana smiled at her.

"Oh, but where are my manners. I get you lemonade and then we talk of the baby."

"I'll help," Chase said, getting up quickly and giving Jacinda her hand to assist her.

"Oh, and you, you a good girl too. I love you," Jacinda said, kissing Chase's cheek. "You are my other daughter."

Chase blushed. She did have ulterior motives in helping with the lemonade. She was secretly fascinated with Jacinda's kitchen. It was so authentic. She had a cast iron wood stove that she cooked on. Ristras and woven cloves of garlic hung from the rafters. The dishes were colorfully painted earthenware and the glasses were thick and hand-blown. Jacinda was an amazing cook—everything from scratch. Chase loved her food, except for the stuff with organs in it. Gitana had taught her the names of the icky stuff—the carne avocado and the menudo and something with brains in it with a name she couldn't pronounce.

Jacinda squeezed the lemons into the pitcher and set it and the glasses on a tray. She took some cookies that she always got from the patisserie and put them on a plate. "How long the baby?"

"Just over a two months. We didn't know until the other day."

Jacinda counted on her fingers. "Oh, my sweet, Lord Jesus. It will be a Christmas baby. What a sign, what a good sign." She raised her hands to the heavens. "You know, Graciela was born in the month of the Crucifixion. That was a bad sign." She narrowed her eyes.

Chase nodded her agreement.

"Why she not tell me sooner?"

"I think she was worried you wouldn't approve." Chase picked up the tray hoping this would end the discussion. She wanted Gitana to handle it.

"No, I'm not mad. It's a gift, a gift from God."

"Yes, it is." She took the tray to the living room with Jacinda in tow.

"I'm so happy," Jacinda said, sitting down next to Gitana on the couch. She touched her stomach again. "But how?"

"An accident by the doctor," Gitana started to explain.

Jacinda rolled her eyes heavenward. "There are no accidents with God."

"Yes, that's right," Gitana said. They both knew it was no use to explain the mishap. Jacinda would see it her own way.

Chase sipped her lemonade and wondered why Jacinda wasn't pissed off at them for being gay the way she was with Graciela. It appeared there were two sets of rules—granted they were polite and didn't use the Lord's name in vain. Gitana must have read her mind.

"So you're not angry about us being the parents?"

Jacinda looked puzzled.

Oh, no, Chase thought. She's going to make us say it. In all the time they'd been together, they never once spoke of being gay to Jacinda.

"You know, us," Gitana said, pointing at the two of them. "As two women together raising the child."

This time she got it. "I know the church thinks you two are bad, but I know in my heart that God makes everything. He made you, he made you love each other and he gave you a baby. You'll christen the baby?"

"Yes," they both said in unison.

Jacinda hugged and kissed them. "Such good girls. Do you have a name?"

"Angelica if it's a girl and Angel if it's a boy," Gitana replied.

She put her hand to her heart and smiled. "This is good, so

good." She kissed her rosary beads.

Graciela banged on her bedroom door. "Let me out of here, you crazy old woman."

Jacinda yelled something back in Spanish that didn't sound nice—something about pain and private parts from what Chase could tell with her limited knowledge of the language.

It suddenly occurred to her that she'd better learn Spanish because the baby would grow up to be bilingual. Maybe she should learn German and Italian while she was at it. She had studied French in college.

"I will make things for the baby. And here, take these." Jacinda got up and opened an enormous wooden hutch where she kept her special things. Chase leaned over and attempted to peer in. She half-expected to find the pinky bone of Jesus in there.

Jacinda pulled out a hand-carved wooden angel and two candles. "Put these in the baby's room. It will keep mi’ja safe."

"I will, Mama." Gitana took the things gently.

Chase was still eyeing the hutch. Gitana poked her. "We have to go, Mama."

"Si, take care." She hugged them both. "You take good care of mama and the baby," she told Chase.

"I will. I promise."

Graciela was yelling obscenities at the top of her lungs. Jacinda shook her head and then crossed herself.

Outside as they made their way to the car, they heard a pssst from the over grown purple sage growing on the side of the driveway.

"What on earth?" Chase said as she saw Graciela peering out of the bush.

"Be quiet, she'll hear you. Meet me around the corner," Graciela said. Her arms and legs were coated in black.

"What happened to you?" Gitana asked.

"I'll tell you later. You've got to get me out of here. I feel another exorcism coming on."

"All right, we'll meet you around the corner," Gitana said,

glancing at her mother's window.

Chase drove around the corner to Calle Delgado and waited for Graciela who hopped over the neighbor's short adobe wall.

Chase rolled down the window. "Hold on a minute. You're not getting in the car with all that black stuff on you. What is it anyway?"

"Soot. I had to climb out the chimney. It was the only escape route."

"How in the hell did you manage that?" Chase said, getting out of the car. She opened the trunk and pulled out a Tartar dog blanket and some doggie wipes.

"I used a rock climbing technique. It's called stemming. You use your hands and feet to counterbalance your body as you climb."

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Chase asked.

"I dated a rock climber."

"That figures," Chase replied, rolling her eyes.

Gitana lowered the window. "We better get going. Mama has spies everywhere."

"Right. I don't want her knowing we aided and abetted a fugitive. Here, clean up with these," Chase said, handing her the wipes. "They have lavender and chamomile in them. You'll smell nice."

Graciela scowled but wiped her arms and legs. Chase put the Tartar blanket on the backseat.

"What happened to your car?" Gitana said.

"That psycho bitch stole the battery, with her bad hip, no less."

"She probably had help," Gitana replied.

"Where to?" Chase said.

"Maloney's. I'm meeting Delia for drinks."

"So you're completely off Andrea now?" Chase asked. She hadn't planned on Graciela and Delia hitting it off at her dinner party but they had. Gitana's sister dating one of her writing buddies gave her a feeling of trepidation.

"She's too possessive." Graciela was using one of the wipes to get the soot off her white T-shirt, not very successfully. "Besides, Delia is hot and she's not into monogamy. She thinks it's archaic. Did you know she cleans house for people in the nude? She makes big bucks."

"I didn't know that," Gitana said, frowning at Chase.

"She doesn't clean our house. She writes porn. What do you expect? Nuns don't write porn."

"What about Lesbian Nuns} That was quite the book," Graciela said.

Chase glanced at Gitana. "This has been a very long weekend."

"Actually, I thought it was great. Hanging out with you guys was a lot of fun. I can't wait for Pride. Here, just drop me here," she said, pointing to the loading zone half a block from Maloney's. "Thanks, you guys." She hopped out of the car.

Chase took a deep breath, tuned into public radio and Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion.

"Wow," Gitana said, leaning back in the seat.