Local Lit

“How do I look?” she asked.

“You look great,” Rita Jane lied.

“No, really, how do I look? I feel like an oversized blueberry.”

“Honestly, you look very, how should I say, straight.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, that’s good. Blue is the perfect color to wear to a Memorial Day Parade. It’s very patriotic.” She gulped down the rest of her coffee. “Did you read this morning’s editorial? Listen to this: ‘Doesn’t this administration have better things to do than harass pregnant women?’ Isn’t that great?”

Initially Claudia had been horrified to learn about the daily protests at the U.S. Attorney’s office and had been mortified when news of her pregnancy made national news. But Dan had convinced her that she would only win her case if she had public opinion on her side. Since the daily demonstrations had begun almost a month ago, all the D.C. daily and weekly newspapers had editorialized against the Department of Justice’s decision to prosecute Claudia. Claudia was Washington’s cause célèbre of the moment.

Since the story had broken about Claudia’s pregnancy people were naturally curious to learn who the “father” was. After several heated discussions among the four of them — Claudia, Rita Jane, Dan and Dave — Claudia had decided to say that there was a sperm donor who wished to remain anonymous, which also happened to be true.

They took the Metro to Union Station. The heat descended upon them as soon as they left the air-conditioned station. By the time they reached the starting point of the parade at Third and Pennsylvania Claudia’s hair was plastered to her forehead and she looked gray, but at least she had managed not to throw up.

The Quakers had suggested that Claudia walk in the parade. Ten years ago they had successfully sued the city to march in the parade arguing that war protestors should be honored as well as veterans. Since Claudia and Emad were victims of the “war on terror” it was fitting, according to Dan and the Quakers, that she participate in the Memorial Day Parade.

Dan was lecturing the assembled marchers, many of whom had been taking part in the daily protests, on the way to handle questions from reporters. Signs read, “Free Emad,” “Seven months is long enough — bring Emad home.” Sarah’s sign was a blown-up picture of Emad and Semya that said, “Bring my Papa home.” Dave handed out bunches of glossy brochures to distribute to people along the parade route.

“Our message is simple, Dan said, expounding with his hands as he spoke, “We want law enforcement, not harassment. Emad and Claudia are not terrorists. Bush and his buddies should go find some real terrorists. And stay away from the pregnancy issue. If anyone asks, say it’s not relevant.”

Rita Jane thought that Claudia’s pregnancy and impending parenthood with a lesbian partner was the issue for a lot of people, but she agreed with Dan that it was best to try to stay away from that issue. Claudia had become a poster child for both the right and left: the right thought she was committing a horrible sin and the left thought she was a hero.

Dan left the others to look for a parade organizer and she and Claudia found a spare bench in the shade. They didn’t hold hands like they normally would have, aware that others might be watching. Dan returned with a map of the parade route and a handsome man who looked familiar.

“We’re behind the peaceniks,” he said, “towards the end. Everyone, I’d like you to meet Congressman Weymouth, Chairman of the Judiciary Committee.” Dan recited everyone’s name and Weymouth made the effort to shake everyone’s hand. Dan introduced Claudia, “This is my friend who’s being persecuted. I mean, prosecuted,” and this is my good friend, Rita Jane.”

When he shook her hand, he looked right into her eyes, managing to convey warmth and concern. Of course, he was a politician, Rita Jane reminded herself. He was much better looking in person than on television. No wonder the Republicans loved him.

“Can I talk to you guys for a second?” Dan asked, pulling them away from the rest of the group and forming a huddle with the congressman. Dan was grinning from ear to ear and practically jumping up and down with excitement. “The congressman wants to learn more about Claudia’s case. He’s thinking about calling for a Congressional Oversight hearing into this prosecution.”

Claudia’s mouth dropped open. Rita Jane couldn’t read her reaction to the news. “I’m flattered,” she said.

“I’m very concerned,” Weymouth said seriously. “We should meet soon.” Looking at Dan he said, “Call my scheduler next week to arrange it.” He shook hands again. “I’m sorry I have to run off. I need to get in place before the parade starts. Very nice to meet you both.”

“Thank you, sir,” Claudia said. Once Weymouth was safely out of earshot she and Dan hugged each other, squealing with delight. “You’re amazing,” Claudia said.

“I know,” he smiled.

By mid morning the pleasant temperatures had turned oppressive. It was 90 degrees with nearly 100% humidity. The parade route afforded no shade and the air was thick and unmoving. Rita Jane hovered near Claudia, making sure that she drank fluids regularly. Along the way people occasionally asked Claudia questions or offered her a cool drink. Rita Jane accepted the drinks and made sure they were caffeine-free before she turned them over to Claudia.

They felt the first hint of a storm at around noon. At first it was just a few sprinkles that didn’t warrant an umbrella. The hair on the back of Rita Jane’s neck prickled from the electricity. Suddenly an enormous crash startled the crowd and a flash appeared that seemed to be right next to them. The sky opened up and rain dumped out, drenching them instantly. The parade was almost over and without waiting for direction from the organizers the friends took off running to the nearest shelter, the Ronald Reagan Building at Pennsylvania and 12th Street. It was a beautiful modern building used for offices and public events, especially business-related ones.

“Finally, Reagan was good for something,” Dan said after they passed through the metal detector and had shown their IDs to the guards.

“You know he gets a bad rap but a lot of decent things happened under his administration,” Aimee said.

Rita Jane was wet and tired and the last thing she wanted was to hear a protracted argument between Dan and Aimee about the merits and evils of the Reagan administration. She and Claudia dashed into the women’s room attempting to dry themselves with the electric hand dryer.

Claudia’s dress clung to her wet skin, forming an outline of her swollen belly and protruding naval. Rita Jane felt the familiar twin emotions of regret and jealousy, chalking them up to being tired, hungry and soaking wet. She missed her mom and wished she could talk about the pregnancy with her. Her parents were trying to be supportive, but no matter what they said or did, Rita Jane knew the pregnancy didn’t make them happy. She had invited them for the Memorial Day barbecue that afternoon, but doubted they would come.

The rain was over almost as soon as it had begun. The parade had broken up from the shower and crowds were heading to the Mall to feed the ducks in the reflecting pond or eat picnic lunches near the Lincoln Memorial. The TLC crowd headed back home for the annual Memorial Day Kick-Off-the-Summer barbecue, which, like the Columbus Day event, was filled with food, drinks, games and political speeches.

By the time they returned, the party was in full swing and the air, thick with the smell of grilled meat. Rita Jane led Claudia to a plastic lawn chair to get her off her feet. She handed Claudia a chilled bottle of sparkling water and asked, “Can I fix you a plate?”

“I want chicken,” Claudia said, to Rita Jane’s surprise. “No, make that ribs. I want ribs. No, I want chicken and ribs,” she laughed at herself. “I shouldn’t but that’s what I feel like eating so I’m going to declare this a guilt-free day. There must be a rule that allows pregnant vegans who have been suffering from morning sickness for months to eat meat if they want to.”

Audrey said, “Baby girl, you’ve got to give in to those cravings. It’s your body telling you that you need to eat something. When I was pregnant with you I used to crave beets.” She laughed and put her hands on Claudia’s shoulders. “I hate beets. You couldn’t get me to eat a beet if it was the only food and I was starving. But with you I ate beets. As soon as you were born, I was back to hating beets.”

Rita Jane laughed. “I for one am glad to see you crave anything. You don’t eat enough as it is. If you want to eat ribs, I’ll eat them, too. Paul will be thrilled.”

Rita Jane was surveying the buffet table for the healthiest options when Audrey tapped her shoulder. “Are those your parents over there?” Without waiting for an answer, Audrey ran over and hugged them both. “You must be the Spencers,” she said in her thick Texas drawl. “It’s mighty nice to meet you. You have such a charming daughter and I am so happy to meet you.” She pumped Martin’s hand several times and embraced Leigh again. “We have so much to talk about. We’re going to be grandparents. Is this your first time?” She didn’t wait for an answer, knowing the answer already. “Me too. I can hardly wait.”

Rita Jane was grateful for Audrey’s enthusiasm, which balanced her parents’ despair. But she appreciated that her parents had made the effort to come to the picnic, which couldn’t have been easy for them. She wondered if Audrey and her parents would find something to talk about.

“Audrey Connors this is Martin and Leigh Spencer. Mom, Dad, this is Claudia’s mom, Audrey.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Leigh said stiffly.

“I’ll check in with Paul to see if there’s anything I can do,” Dr. Spencer said, leaving the women alone.

The atmosphere relaxed with the doctor’s departure. Even Leigh seemed happy to see her husband go.

“How are you?” Leigh asked Claudia as if she wanted to know the answer, not just as a way to make conversation. “Rita Jane tells me you’ve been awfully sick.”

Claudia nodded. “I haven’t taken well to being pregnant.”

Audrey interrupted, “Who would with all the stress you’ve been under.”

Leigh nodded agreement. Claudia shrugged.

“I think she’s going to have a boy,” Audrey announced. “I was hardly sick at all with Claudia but her two brothers made me wish I was dead most of the time.” She laughed. No one said anything. Rita Jane racked her brain for something to say, but Claudia beat her to it.

“Leigh what was your pregnancy like?” she asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Leigh’s face lit, happy with the memory. “Of course I don’t mind. I was a little sick at first, although nothing like you, and then I felt great and then I got to the point where I couldn’t wait for the baby to get out.” She smiled. “We wanted to have more, but I never got pregnant again,” she said wistfully. “I wanted to adopt, but Martin didn’t. But we were so lucky to have Rita Jane. She was healthy and happy and has been such a joy to us.” Leigh looked embarrassed. “Now I sound like a boasting mother.”

“You should be proud, she’s a lovely girl. I mean woman,” Audrey corrected herself.

Martin returned with a tray of drinks and Paul carried a large platter of grilled chicken and ribs. Claudia took a piece of each and devoured them as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

They ate without serious conversation enjoying the food and the warm evening. The doctor didn’t say much. Audrey and Leigh kept the conversation going with Leigh telling Audrey all the Washington sights that she “had to see.” Rita Jane ate her meal, steadfastly trying to ignore her father’s stony silence, urging herself not to say anything to make the situation worse. Just when she thought she couldn’t take another minute of his judgment, he picked up his drink and said, “I’d like to toast the chefs. Thank you for the excellent meal.”

Everyone joined in agreement. He paused as though deciding whether to say anything further then added, “And a toast to the new baby and its mother. Here’s to a healthy pregnancy.”

As everyone raised their glasses, Rita Jane saw tears roll down Claudia’s cheeks. Leigh smiled at her and she felt her loneliness dissipate, like fog lifting off the water as the sun rises.