Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 I love Game of Thrones.  It is by far my favorite way to wind down after a
fun filled day of providing tech support to the technologically illiterate.
Today included a rather spirited exchange with a rotund forty something who
insisted I clean up his hard drive without violating his, "Constitutional
right to privacy." Translation: pretend not to notice the copious amounts
of pirated porn flooding the drive.

   I suspected if I didn't have a vagina he would have been more cavalier
about it, but this was the reality of working in IT.  Needless to say, I
valued my time away from my customers, so the last thing on earth I wanted
to deal with was the doorbell ringing at eight o'clock at night.  I lived
in small apartment and wasn't super chummy with the neighbors, so the only
people who ever used my doorbell were there to sell me their religion or
something equally useless.

   I considered pretending no one was home, but the bell kept ringing
insistently.  I peeked through the peephole, expecting to find a demented
home security salesman or something along those lines.  Instead, I found
the somewhat disheveled form of my lifelong best friend/longtime hopelessly
unrequited girl crush, Amita Subramani, known to white people as Ami.

   "Hey Ami," I said, surprised, but happy at the unexpected visit.

   "Hey Sarah," she replied wearily.  Her hair was tied back in an
unusually messy braid and her mascara was smeared.  She still looked
beautiful, especially compared to me, the scrawny, pale, straw-haired nerd
known as Sarah Caulfield.  "Can I come in?"

   "Of course, come on in," I said, holding the door open for her.  "Sorry,
I thought you were a Jehovah's Witness or something."

   "Sorry, I should have called first.  I know it's Game of Thrones night,"
she explained apologetically, stepping through the door.  As she came into
the light, I saw that her dark brown eyes bloodshot and that she had a
large piece of luggage in tow.

   "No worries.  So, what brings you here?  And with a suitcase?" I asked
as delicately as possible.  Ami lived with her boyfriend Paul, so an
impromptu overnight visit did not bode well.

   "I'm pregnant."

   Ami's ability to surprise me knew no bounds.  "Wow.  That's awesome! 
Congratulations," I said enthusiastically, pulling her into a warm hug,
which she returned in kind.

   "Thanks.  That was the reaction I was hoping for," she murmured over my
shoulder.

   "Shit.  I take it Paul was less than thrilled?" I asked sympathetically.
Ami and Paul's conflicting positions on children was still unresolved after
years after they first started dating in college.  Although I liked to
dream that the reason they never married was that Ami was secretly a
lesbian and madly in love with me, I suspected the kids issue was the real
obstacle between Ami, Paul, and unholy matrimony.

   Ami shook her head somberly.  "He was furious.  Accused me of getting
pregnant on purpose.  He told me we'd go to the clinic tomorrow to get it
'taken care of,'" she replied bitterly.

   "Jesus.  He does know that choosing is part of the whole pro-choice
thing, right?" I asked incredulously.  I was immensely proud of myself for
not breaking into an impromptu rendition of the, "told you so," dance.  I
never liked any of Ami's boyfriends for obvious reasons, but I especially
didn't like Paul.

   "Apparently not," Ami said ruefully.  "It's not like I expected him to
be happy about it, but I thought he'd at least be a little supportive."

   "Want me to kick his ass?" I offered.  I could do it to.  I used to be
in the Army after all, which kind of made me a certified badass.  Okay,
slight exaggeration, but I could still take Paul.

   Ami chuckled.  "That's sweet, but I'd rather not have to post your bail.
I've had enough stress for one night," she said sadly.  Her gaze moved the
floor as she unconsciously ran her hand down her midsection.  "It's not
like I didn't know what I was getting into.  He told me right from the
beginning that me he didn't want kids.  I guess I was just hoping he would
change his mind."

   "I'm sorry Ami."

   "Thanks.  I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can.  I'll start looking
for a new place in the morning," Ami said.

   "No way.  There is no way in hell I'm letting you go through this alone.
Mi casa es su casa," I replied adamantly.

   "Really, I don't want to put you out."

   "You'd be doing me a favor.  Now when my coworkers try to drag me
downtown to get hammered and hit on experimenting college girls, I can tell
them I've got a beautiful woman waiting for me at home," I said with a
cheesy grin.

   Ami rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.  "Alright, you win," she
replied with a melodramatic sigh.

   "Damn straight.  Do you have everything you need?"

   "Just need a blanket and a spare pillow.  Your couch is pretty
comfortable."

   "Nonsense.  Take the bed.  I just changed the sheets," I insisted.

   "I am not going to kick you out of your own bed," Ami replied sternly.

   "House rules.  Pregnant women get the bed."

   "You're ridiculous."

   "You can put in a petition if you like, but I hear the owner is kind of
stubborn," I said with a shrug.

   Ami shook her head, giving me one of those looks that managed to combine
exasperation and gratitude into a single expression.  "You're the best, you
know that?" she said, leaning in to kiss my cheek.  "Thank you.  For
everything."

   "Anytime Ami.  Try to get some sleep."

   "Ok.  I love you.  Good night."

   "Love you too.  Night."

   I'm a light sleeper, an unfortunate byproduct of spending a considerable
amount of time in parts of the world where random explosions, alarms, and
gunfire were a frequent occurrence.  It didn't take much to wake me.  Any
strange sound would do the trick.  A woman crying qualified as a strange
sound.

   "Ami?"

   I left the lights off, moving quietly toward my bedroom door.  I heard
Ami gasping between her sobs, the awful panicked breathing of someone
strangled by pain and grief.  I knocked on the door lightly, unsure of what
to do or say.

   "Ami?  Can I come in?" I asked softly.

   She didn't say anything for a while.  I couldn't even hear her breathe.
"Yeah.  Just a second," she replied after a while.  I heard the springs
shift as she moved off the bed and opened the door.  Her eyes were red and
swollen, and though she'd wiped the tears from them, a few drops were still
on her cheeks.

   "Sorry.  Goddamn hormones," she explained dismissively.  "It's like a
freakin' roller coaster."

   I didn't buy it for a second.  I wrapped my arms around her and held her
tight.  "It's gonna be ok," I whispered.  I had no idea what I was doing,
but come hell or high water, I was going to keep that promise.

   Ami burst into a fresh set of tears, soaking my neck and shoulder as she
squeezed me back and didn't let go.  We stayed there for a while, holding
each other while she let out all of her fear and sorrow.

   "Will you stay with me?" she asked in a small voice.

   "Sure."

   I followed Ami into the bedroom, slipping in behind her as she curled up
under the covers.  She linked my fingers between her own and brought my arm
around her.  My presence seemed to calm her and within a few minutes, she
was asleep.

   I realized that this was the first time I shared a bed with Ami since we
were tweens and the first time I shared a bed with a woman since I broke up
with Cameron.  Normally I would have felt conflicted about it, but tonight
I was just grateful to give a moment of comfort to my lifelong friend.

   The smell of coffee and bacon greeted me the next morning.  I didn't
have to work, so I woke later than usual, surprised to find Ami already up
and about.

   "Morning," she said, her tone far more chipper than the last time I saw
her.  She was wearing one of my t-shirts along with a pair of yoga pants.
That particular shirt was much thinner than Ami must have realized, leaving
no doubt that she decided to forgo a bra, a fact I very deliberately chose
to ignore.

   "And here I thought you weren't a morning person," I said, helping
myself to a crispy slice of bacon and pouring a cup of coffee.  I noted Ami
wasn't drinking any herself and made a mental note to get some decaf.

   "Well, someone didn't have any food in the apartment, so I had to run
and get groceries.  You know what big white box in your kitchen?  The one
that's cold on the inside?  You can put food in there and it will last more
than a day," Ami teased.

   "There was a pizza in there," I said defensively.

   "It was at least a week old.  If I'm going to be living here, we're
going to need actual food.  My lovechild demands sustenance."

   "Amazing.  You've been here less than a day and you've already taken
over," I said in mock indignation.

   "I promise my rule will be fair and just," Ami grinned.  "Speaking of
which, I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

   "Ask away sister, ask away."

   Ami's smile was still there, but it receded a bit, the light dimming in
her eyes somewhat.  "I was wondering if you could pick up the rest of my
stuff from my...from Paul's place," she asked quietly.

   "Yeah, of course.  Does he know I'm coming?" I asked.

   "I texted him.  He said he'd pack up my stuff for me, that I swing by
later today.  I thought I could do it, but everything's still so raw, I
just don't think I'm up to it," she sighed.

   "I get it.  I'll head over this afternoon.  Do you have to work?"

   "Yes, unfortunately.  I'll leave you a key, but Paul will probably be
there.  He shouldn't give you any trouble.  He's not a bad guy.  We just
wanted different things," Ami said sadly.  I decided to keep my opinion to
myself.

   I headed over to Ami's old apartment later that afternoon.  Paul's car
was in the lot as predicted, so I took a moment to compose myself before
ringing the doorbell, determined not to introduce further drama into her
life.  I threw a flannel over my shirt and tied up my hair, trying for some
approximation of scary butch.  The actual result was less than
intimidating.

   Paul answered the door almost immediately, seeming just as ill at ease
as I was.  "Hey," he said tonelessly.

   "Hey," I grunted.

   "I boxed up as much as I could.  I think I got most of it.  Take a look
around, if you see anything, go ahead and throw it in," he explained.

   "Ok."

   We worked in silence for the next twenty minutes, loading boxes into the
back of my truck.  Once the bulk of it was loaded, we scanned the apartment
for anything Paul might have missed.  There was a variety of Ami's random
personal effects scattered throughout the apartment.  Paul looked like he
might protest a couple of times, but each time his body went limp and he
continued working quietly.

   "Is she okay?" Paul asked as I went through Ami's side of the closet.

   I gritted my teeth.  "I'm just here for her stuff dude," I replied
evenly.  Even when we were on good terms we were never on good terms, and
his recent actions had not improved my opinion of him.

   "Right."

   I tried not to make eye contact with Ami's former boyfriend, or even
look at him at all.  I caught him staring at the contents of a random box,
fixated on its contents and oblivious to all else.  In spite of my anger, I
found myself feeling sorry for him.  The man looked like he'd aged ten
years overnight.  I couldn't begin to imagine what losing Ami would feel
like, but it I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

   "I think that's everything.  Ami said she'd come by later on, give the
place a final sweep," I said briskly.

   "Okay."

   "It'd probably be best if you weren't home when that happens," I said,
allowing a little edge to creep into my voice.

   "Right," he replied dully.

   I picked up the last box and started out the door.  Paul caught my
shoulder, and I turned to lay into him, but found my heart wasn't in it
when I met his eyes.

   "Take care of her," he said simply as I walked out the door.

   Ami and I settled into a new rhythm quickly enough.  Our work schedules
overlapped for the most part, so we had plenty of time to get her unpacked
and set up in the apartment.  The second bedroom served as my home office,
and though I offered to let her move into it, Ami convinced me to continue
sharing a bedroom.  It wasn't the most practical solution all things
considered, but I suspected that she simply wanted me close.

   I could certainly empathize.  It's surreal and unsettling, going from
the reassuring warmth and soothing sounds of a loved one's presence to
still, cold darkness.

   There were a few issues here and there.  Nothing major, just little
bumps here and there as we grew reacquainted with each other's habits and
quirks.

   Ami was rather liberal regarding her state of dress after work and on
the weekends.  Turns out, she almost never wore a bra at home.  Removing it
was one of the first things she did when she got home, doing that bizarre
magic trick every other woman seems to know where she'd slip it off out
from under her blouse.  I tried it myself a couple of times, but only
succeeded in strangling myself with elastic and underwire.

   "Is it that uncomfortable?" I finally asked one afternoon after Ami
discarded her bra on the coffee table.

   "Oh yeah.  I think I'm getting my pregnancy boobs.  My bras don't really
fit anymore," Ami explained.  "You don't mind me going without, do you?"

   "It's a little distracting, but it's no big deal," I said with an
embarrassed shrug.

   "Distracting, huh?" Ami teased.  She seemed amused by my discomfort.

   "I am a lesbian," I replied sardonically.  "My people notice these
things."

   "I never understood the fascination with breasts," Ami said, looking
down at own.  "There's nothing special about them."

   The abundance of cleavage Ami exposed while surveying her bust was
prompting an unfortunate reaction, a sudden heat between my legs that
reminded me just how long it had been since I had sex.  I shifted in my
seat, trying very hard not to stare down my best friend's top.

   "Spoken by someone who actually has them," I retorted.

   "You have breasts."

   "Sure.  But there are breasts," pointing at my rather unremarkable
chest, "and there are breasts," I proclaimed, pointing at her abundant
bosom.  The luscious, golden brown breasts that hung before me compelled me
to do more than just stare.  Ami was either oblivious to the effect this
had on me, or was downright evil.

   "I still don't see what the big deal is," she shrugged.  Which made them
bounce.  Damn you Ami.

   "Agree to disagree."

   Other habits were more infuriating than distracting.  I'd forgotten just
how much time girly girls spent in the bathroom, and my BFF was a
particularly egregious offender.  My desire to give her privacy was quickly
overridden by my desire to get to work on time.

   "Ami!" I yelled irritably, knocking on the bathroom door.  "Are you
still in the shower?"

   "Yeah.  Do you need it?"

   "No, but I need to brush my teeth and stuff.  Hurry up!"

   "I'm shaving my legs.  Just come in," Ami replied.

   "Fine," I said, rolling my eyes.

   I went in and headed straight for the sink.  I brushed and flossed my
teeth, then started putting on my makeup.  When I looked in the mirror, I
saw Ami's silhouette in the not all that foggy shower door.  I couldn't
help but stare, captivated by the sight of her beautiful nude form.

   I tried hard to focus on my own reflection.  Since I was old enough to
notice girls, I was aware of the fact that Ami was a very beautiful woman.
But seeing her like this, that was something else altogether.

   Morning sickness was another bump in the road, albeit a considerably
less confusing and far more miserable one.

   "Ok, this baby had better be very cute, because I did not enjoy dinner
the second time around," Ami moaned.  She was sitting on the bathroom
floor, next the toilet.  I stood nearby, trying to find a remedy in one of
the half dozen pregnancy books the two of us bought.

   "The book says it should pass in a couple of weeks," I said
sympathetically.

   "Does the book say how to dispose of the body of the man that did this
to me?" Ami growled.

   "No, but I think there might be a chapter on it in one of my old field
manuals."

   "I thought you were a computer guy."

   "There were bad days," I replied darkly.  I might have been a commo
nerd, but IEDs and rockets didn't know the difference.

   Ami looked me in the eye, seeing something I tried to keep below the
surface.  I typically made a deliberate effort to avoid thinking about
Afghanistan.  Sometimes I failed.  "One of these days, you're going to have
to tell me about it," she said softly.

   "One of these days," I agreed.  Dammit, I was supposed to be looking
after Ami, not the other way around.

   Satisfied, Ami started to sit up.  "Ok," she sighed.  "I think I'm done
throwing up now."

   "You want some crackers?" I asked, pulling a package of them out of my
purse.

   Ami stared at them for a moment before returning to the toilet.

   "I was wrong."

   "Thanks for coming with me," Ami said warmly as we sat in the waiting
room.

   "Thanks for inviting me.  This is kind of exciting."

   "I know, right?  I'm a little nervous."

   Honestly, I was a little nervous too.  I guess that's how most people
feel before the first ultrasound.  "You'll be fine," I said, not sure whom
I was trying to convince.

   "Mrs.  Su...Subaruman...Su," the receptionist struggled.

   "Subramani." Ami corrected politely.  Gotta love it when Americans that
aren't in the know try to pronounce Indian names.  Fortunately, Amita was
easy enough to Americanize.

   "You and your wife can come on back." Neither of us corrected her.

   Ami giggled nervously as the technician rubbed cold, clear goo on her
slightly rounded abdomen.  "Alright, let's get a look at your baby," the
tech said cheerfully.

   I couldn't make sense of anything on the screen.  I felt Ami reach
toward my hand.  I clasped my fingers around hers, squeezing them
reassuringly.

   "And there it is."

   I couldn't really make out what the tech was pointing out on the screen.
It was just a series of black and grey blurs.  But the heartbeat, that was
unmistakable.

   "Wow.  Would you look at that?  She's really in there," Ami said in awe.

   "She?" I asked, equally amazed.

   "Just a feeling." I brought Ami's hand to my lips and kissed it gently,
incredibly grateful to share this moment with the woman I loved.

   It seemed like things were changing between me and Ami.  After the
ultrasound, we started making plans.  Converting the office into a nursery.
Picking out names.  Starting a college fund.  Building a future, together.
And despite that little voice that warned me that I was deluding myself, I
started to hope.

   Ami really was everything I had ever looked for in a partner.  I needed
her just as much as she needed me, and after the last few months I couldn't
imagine going back to an empty apartment.

   I chuckled when I walked through the front door early one afternoon. 
Ami was in the shower, belting out a heartfelt rendition of "Let It Go."
She has a beautiful voice, but she's oddly self-conscious about it, so I
decided to keep quiet so as not to interrupt.

   I sat down on the couch and started skimming a book on my iPad.  I
hadn't done much recreational reading in a while, and I was eager to delve
into another Asimov novel.  Ami's song ended and I assumed she'd be out of
the shower soon.  Now that the nausea was finally over, Ami started working
out again, hell-bent on ensuring that the only weight she gained due to her
pregnancy rather than sloth and poor diet.

   As intrigued as I was by Dr.  Calvin's foray into robotic psychology,
the sound of a low moan emanating from the bathroom caught my attention. 
The water was still running, but it did little to muffle Ami's voice.

   "Oh god yes," she moaned in delight.

   I nearly dropped my tablet on the floor when I realized what I was
hearing.  My face flushed as Ami's voice overlapped with the memory of her
naked body, and my mind started wandering in dangerous directions.

   Ami wasn't exactly helping things either.  "Oh fuck, yes, just like
that!" she whimpered.  My mind was racing.  While I had an overall idea of
what her body looked like, some of the details still eluded me.

   I started to imagine Ami touching herself, gently stroking her labia,
working a finger or two inside.  "Yes, yes, yes!" she cried.  I started to
imagine that I was the one touching her, kissing her, giving her the
satisfaction she craved.  "Fuck!" she squealed in ecstasy, the unmistakable
echo of her climax reverberating through the walls.

   I made a valiant effort to seem intently focused on my book as my friend
stepped outside.  Her body was wrapped in white robe, with her hair bound
up in a towel.  "Hi!" she said loudly, startled.  "You're home."

   "Yeah, slow day, got off early," I said casually, cringing inwardly at
my choice of phrase.

   "You didn't hear anything, did you?" Ami asked suspiciously.

   I have never been particularly good at lying, particularly to my best
and oldest friend.  My parents I could fool, but Ami always saw right
through me.  "Just a rather enthusiastic cover of the Frozen soundtrack. 
Idina would be very proud," I said, hoping she would leave it at that.

   "Good to know." She accepted the compliment, but I could tell she wasn't
satisfied.  "You didn't hear anything else, did you?"

   Crap.  "No."

   Ami scowled.  "You're a terrible liar," she said.  Her cheeks started to
redden.

   "It's no big deal.  Everybody does it.  I do it," I said magnanimously.

   "I know.  We shared an apartment in college," Ami retorted sardonically.
Since when did this become about me?

   Two could play at this game.  "Still, who would have thought my Ami was
a screamer?" I teased.

   "God," Ami groaned, burying her face in her hands.  "I am never gonna
live this down am I?"

   "Relax.  I promise only to bring it up in front of complete strangers,"
I promised.

   "Thanks, thanks for that," she replied, punching me in lightly in the
arm.  She sighed deeply.  "I swear; these hormones are driving me crazy."

   "Really?" I asked.  Ami was into her second trimester, her condition
noticeable to even a casual observer.  I heard rumors about pregnancy
increasing sex drive, but I didn't know how well grounded they were.

   "It's bad Sarah," Ami confided.  "The girls at work warned that my
libido would kick into overdrive, but I had no idea it would be this
intense.  I swear, I have never been this horny in my entire life.  A guy
showed up to deliver a package today.  I was this close to inviting him
in." She paused for a moment, horror struck at her own candor.  "Wow. 
Okay. Way too much information.  I'm sorry."

   "It's fine."

   "You sure?  You're not freaked out?"

   "It's a little weird," I admitted.  "Hetero sex isn't exactly my forte.
I mean, I know the mechanics of it, but the details have always been your
area."

   "Obviously," Ami replied, rubbing her swollen belly for emphasis.

   "It's just, thinking of you...like that, with how close we've been
lately and everything.  I don't know, I guess it's a little confusing
sometimes," I confessed.  I admitted more than I meant to and I think Ami
realized it as well.  Her robe was nearly open, her swollen breasts barely
contained behind the meager layer of cotton.

   "I understand," she said, barely above a whisper.  "For the record, it's
been a little confusing for me too.  And I don't think I can blame it on
the hormones."

   "How many times have we seen this movie?" Ami asked as Peter, Ray, Egon,
and Winston blasted a giant marshmallow man with radioactive energy.

   "I have no idea.  I think we've watched it at least five times a year
since we were kids," I replied thoughtfully.

   "So much better than Caddyshack."

   "Definitely."

   "And Star Wars."

   "Blasphemy!" I exclaimed, melodramatically.

   "Ewoks, Sarah.  Ewoks," Ami pointed out knowingly.

   "Point Ami."

   "God, I had the biggest crush on Egon when I was a kid.  Rest in peace
Harold Ramis," she said wistfully.

   "You have strange taste."

   "Oh my god," Ami shouted, clutching her stomach with her hands.

   "Everything ok?" I asked.

   "I think she kicked."

   "Really?"

   "Uh huh.  She did it again.  Feel," Ami said, grabbing my hand and
placing it on her belly.  "Here."

   "Whoa." Seeing the ultrasound was one thing, actually feeling her moving
against my palm was something else altogether.  I felt a sudden surge of
affection for the both of them.

   "This is amazing Ami.  I'm glad I get to be a part of it," I said,
trying very hard not to cry.  I wasn't successful.

   "There's no one I'd rather share it with.  I love you Sarah," Ami
replied, squeezing my hand for emphasis.

   "I love you too."

   "Can you do me a favor?"

   "They should put that on your family crest," I quipped.

   "Har har.  Anyway, I'm having lunch with Mom today.  I've been putting
her off for weeks, but she managed to pin me down," Ami explained.

   "I take it you haven't told her the good news?" I asked.

   "I'm thinking of telling her I've just gotten really fat," she replied
thoughtfully.

   "I don't think that's going to work." Ami was one of the lucky ones. 
Pregnancy mostly went to her breasts and belly.  Her hips were a little
curvier too, but there was no way she could pass off her condition as
weight gain.

   Ami sighed.  "Me either.  Anyway, I could use some moral support.  Are
you free?"

   "I think I can make that work, yeah.  Where are we meeting?" I asked.

   "Taj of India."

   "Really?  She's been in America for what, thirty years?  You'd think
she'd have grown accustomed to the local cuisine by now."

   "I think she just misses Dad," Ami said sadly.  Her father passed away
about five years ago.  Their relationship was hit and miss, mostly because
his daughter was far too American for his taste.  Still, she loved him and
she missed him.

   "At least you don't have to tell him."

   "I know, right?" Ami snorted, appalled at the thought.  "If he stuck
around long enough to see his unmarried daughter get herself knocked up,
he'd have had two strokes.  For as long as he lived in here, Dad could be
surprisingly old world."

   "Tell me about it.  I'm surprised he didn't forbid us from seeing each
other after I came out," I muttered.  Dyke, deviant, sick, pervert, these
and other lovely words were his primary means of describing people like me.
I tried not to take it personally.

   "He did.  In fact, he was afraid you might convert me," Ami confessed.

   "Huh.  Well, good thing it doesn't work like that, right?" I said,
trying to stay glib.

   "Yeah," Ami said quietly.  "Good thing."

   Ami's mother was always super early for everything, and even though we
rushed to beat her, she was already seated with a glass of water by the
time we made it to the restaurant.  "Hi Mom," Ami said nervously.

   Mrs.  Subramani stared as I helped my pregnant friend into her seat. 
She tilted her head slightly, like a cat considering her next meal.  "So, I
take it you have some news for me?" she said slowly.

   I rubbed Ami's back soothingly.  "I'm pregnant," she said simply.

   The older woman inhaled deeply.  She ran her finger along the rim of her
glass, staring at the ice cubes.  "I see.  When's the wedding?"

   "There's not going to be a wedding Mom.  Paul and I broke up," Ami
explained timidly.

   Mrs.  Subramani looked up sharply.  "Well that is just unacceptable,"
she scowled.  "I told you this would happen Amita.  The years you wasted on
that man, living in sin, only for him to abandon you the moment you get
into trouble."

   Ami fought the urge to roll her eyes.  "I'm pregnant Mom, I'm not 'in
trouble,'" she air quoted.

   "Do you even have a place to live?"

   "She's staying with me," I affirmed, trying to sound confident.  Even
thought I'd known this woman for the better part of two decades, Mrs. 
Subramani still scared the shit out of me.

   "Wonderful," she said, her voice dripping with heavily accented sarcasm.
"So now you're dragging her into this.  Honestly Amita."

   "Mom, this is a good thing," Ami pleaded.  "I'm happy.  Sarah is happy
for me.  You should be too."

   "You can't raise this baby alone Amita."

   "She's got me," I insisted.

   "That's not what I meant Sarah," Mom replied irritably.  "Ami needs a
husband.  Not one of your modern American relationships."

   "Mom, I know that this isn't what you wanted for me," Ami explained
firmly.  "It isn't exactly how I pictured becoming a mother either.  But
we're good.  Sarah has been amazing."

   "What am I supposed to tell my sisters?  That my only daughter went and
got herself knocked up, then shacked up with some pervert?" she scoffed.

   "Wow.  Guess we're not pulling any punches," I growled.  Thirty years in
America hadn't done much to moderate the elder woman's views, and the fact
that I was her daughters best and oldest friend did not make me immune to
casual bigotry.

   Ami was fed up.  "Let's go Sarah," she said, standing up.  She took out
her purse and tossed a couple of bills on the table, even though we hadn't
ordered anything.  "Mom, in a few months you're going to be a grandmother.
Maybe you should figure out what kind you want to be." With that, we turned
and left.

   "Unbelievable."

   "You were expecting better?" I asked shrewdly.

   "Not really," Ami admitted.  "But that was low."

   I sighed.  "She has a point.  You're never going to meet anyone if
everyone assumes that you're, you know, off the market."

   Ami glared at me.  "I don't care.  You have been so good to me.  I
couldn't have asked for a better partner." Ami stared at her hand for a
minute, rubbing her empty ring finger.  "I know this is going to sound
crazy, but I'm actually glad things didn't work out with Paul."

   "Really?" My throat was starting to get dry.

   "You're my best friend, the best part of my life," Ami explained.  Her
voice was thick with emotion, but it was clear and true.  "I can't imagine
loving anyone else the way I love you."

   "Ami, this thing we're doing, whatever it is.  I'm in.  I'm all in.  No
matter what," I said firmly.  And when she smiled back at me, I knew that I
would never love anyone else the same way.

   For reasons best known to her, my cousin Judy decided to make me her
maid of honor.  In her mind, the two of us were best friends, and even
though I made it abundantly clear that I did not have the time or the
inclination to help plan her wedding, I still found myself in trapped in a
public speaking role.  My occasional bouts of PTSD were replaced with
nightmares of me standing at the microphone naked while Ami and Paul made
out on the dance floor.

   "You're going to do fine," Ami insisted as she brushed my hair and put
on my makeup.  I tend to err on the side of no effort put in when it comes
to looking pretty.  I tried doing my own make up for prom and ended up
looking like a sad clown hooker.

   "I am going to freeze.  I always do.  Public speaking, not my thing. 
There's a reason I spend all day behind a monitor.  I do not have good
people skills," I insisted.

   "Have you tried picturing the audience naked?" she offered.

   "Considering the audience consists of my relatives, none of which I want
to see naked and few of which no one should have to see naked, I think a
different strategy is in order," I replied.

   "Pick a point in the room and stare at it?"

   "I usually end up looking at a person or near a person and it comes off
all eye-rapey."

   "Okay, how about practicing in front of the mirror?" Ami asked.

   "No, then I just get all self-conscious and wonder if my nose is all
weird or if my teeth are too big," I said, shaking my head.

   "So, basically you're a crazy person."

   "Basically, yes.  How is this helping by the way?" I asked irritably.

   Ami laughed.  "By helping you get past the real problem," she replied.

   "And that is?"

   "Overthinking it," she said, as if it were obvious.  "Sweetie, I love
you, but you overthink everything.  Sometimes you have to take that leap of
faith, so to speak.  Stop worrying and just jump."

   "Just jump, huh?" I said skeptically.

   "You've got this.  Speak from the heart and you'll be fine.  I promise,"
Ami said confidently.

   "Okay, I trust you," I sighed.

   "Good.  And worst case scenario if you blow the whole thing and sound
like a total idiot, at least you'll look gorgeous doing it," Ami said
proudly.

   She turned me to face the mirror, and I was pleasantly surprised by my
reflection.  My eyes didn't look all squinty, you could actually tell that
I had lips, and my hair looked more like gold than straw.  I actually
looked kind of hot.  "Wow.  I actually look kind of okay," I murmured,
slightly awestruck.

   "You look beautiful," Ami proclaimed.  "Say you look beautiful."

   "I look beautiful," I repeated.

   "Good.  Now tell me I look amazing, because my body has gone all
funhouse mirror on me and I'm feeling incredibly insecure about it."

   She had no reason to be.  She wore a sapphire sari, using the wedding as
an excuse to go full desi.  Despite the loosely draped fabric, a casual
observer could tell she was pregnant.  Even though Ami didn't believe me, I
thought pregnancy made her more beautiful, not less.  "You look amazing," I
said earnestly.

   "You're sweet.  You're a liar, but you're sweet."

   I could actually hear my heart in my ears, drowning out the chatter and
the music.  The best man was wrapping up his series of anecdotes and goofy
jokes, and I was about thirty seconds away from bolting straight through
the wall, leaving behind a Sarah shaped hole.  Seriously, I was less
terrified when I was getting shot at.

   Ami must have seen me shaking as I made my way to the microphone.  She
smiled at me, moved her hand out from her mouth, then pointing towards the
center of her chest.  Speak from the heart.  Easier said than done.

   I almost dropped the microphone, fumbling to adjust the height on the
stand.  I stood there like an idiot for what felt like an eternity before I
finally started talking.  "So, I'm Sarah.  Huh.  For a second, I thought
you were all gonna say, 'Hi Sarah,' like at an AA meeting or something. 
Not that I'm an alcoholic or anything," I stammered.  Great job Sarah. 
Strong opening.

   I took a deep breath, and just looked at Ami, and suddenly I was
speaking again.  "Judy, Sam, I have to admit, I envy you.  You didn't just
hit it off with the cute guy at the office or score with the hot girl at
the bar.  You fell in love with you best friend.  The person that makes you
laugh when you want to cry.  The person that you can talk about anything or
nothing with.  The person that makes you want to be...better," I said.

   Ami's smile faded into something else, an expression I couldn't quite
read.  I continued, never looking away from her.  "The person that just,
gets you.  That doesn't just love you in spite of your flaws, but loves you
because of them.  The person that makes you feel like you can do anything.
There is nothing I wouldn't give to spend the rest of my life with that
person.  If only we could all be that lucky.  And so, Judy, Sam, I wish you
the very best.  To the happy couple," I finished, raising my glass.

   "To the happy couple," the crowd echoed.  All except Ami.  She just
watched me, her face still unreadable.

   The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, as far as weddings go.  There
were toasts, drinks, and dances.  Ami and I danced a few times, but mostly
I ended up dancing with various relatives on both sides of the new family.
I forgot sometimes how many Caulfields there were until we gathered in one
location.

   Once the party started winding down, Ami and I headed back to our place.
She didn't say much, just idle chit-chat about the party, Judy's dress, my
overly inquisitive uncle, and the like.  I spend the entire ride home
deconstructing what increasingly seemed to be an insane public declaration
of love to my very straight best friend.

   What the hell was I thinking?  Seriously?  I never wanted to be that
girl.  I spent ten years fighting not to be that girl, not to be that sad
lesbian that crushes on a straight girl and gets her heart broken.  By the
time we got home, I just wanted to kick of my heels, put on some
sweatpants, climb into bed with a couple bottles of cheap wine, and drink
away the weekend.

   Ami had other plans.  "Sarah, that speech you gave today.  It was
beautiful," she said quietly.

   Great.  We were finally going to have the talk.  At this point I was too
tired, to raw to try to tap dance around it.  "Well, I just did what you
said.  Spoke from the heart," I replied.

   Ami wasn't one to tap dance either.  "Sarah, do you have feelings for
me?" she asked.

   "No," I said quickly, lying out of habit more than intent.

   "Sarah, I can tell when you're lying," Ami said softly, but firmly.

   "Really?  Because I've been lying to you for over a decade," I blurted
out, my throat ragged.  I was tired, so, so tired.  Tired of pretending I
wasn't in love with her.  I just couldn't do it anymore.

   Ami's eyes widened, but her gaze didn't waver.  "You've felt this way
for years, and you never told me?" she asked, pain and confusion seeping
into her voice.

   "What good would it have done?" I choked.  Ami didn't say anything in
return.  I decided that I couldn't make it worse, so I continued.  "I fell
in love with you when I was thirteen years old.  Thirteen, Ami.  That's way
too young to feel something that big and that complicated, and I didn't
always handle it well.  It took me years to figure out how to be your
friend without wanting, without hoping for more.  And now, these last few
months, it felt like things were changing between us, and for a minute I
started to think..."

   Fear and doubt washed over me.  I felt like I was thirteen all over
again, like the moment after the moment I first kissed Ami on a dare, the
one where I realized that it didn't mean the same thing to her that it
meant to me.  "It doesn't matter," I continued.  "So go ahead.  Do what you
have to do," I said, defeated.

   "What are you talking about?" Ami asked.

   "Tell me how much you care about me.  Tell me how much you treasure our
friendship, how you would never want to hurt me.  Tell me how you want
nothing more than for me to be happy," I said, anticipating the words
before I heard them.  "Tell me you love me...but not like that."

   "I can't," Amie whispered.

   "Why not?" I demanded

   "Because I'd be lying."

   It was like time itself had slowed to a crawl.  Ami stood there, her
eyes blazing, almost defiantly, waiting for me to say or do something. 
That horrible little nagging voice was still there, the one that said I was
one bad decision away from getting my heart broken and ruining what we had
forever.  But for the first time since we were children, I didn't listen.

   I jumped.

   I took Ami's face in my hands, brushing the strands of her silky dark
hair with my fingertips.  My heart thundered in my ears again, this time
more from excitement than fear.  She closed her eyes as I leaned in and
kissed her.

   Kissing Ami was like that moment just as you crest the top of a roller
coaster, that exciting mixture of panic and delight.  I'd waited so long,
had built it up so much, I almost couldn't believe it was happening.  I
could barely move, terrified that if I opened my eyes I'd find myself
kissing air.

   Then, something wonderful happened.  She started kissing me back. 
Gently, and a little uncertain at first, like riding a bike for the first
time.  Then she got bolder.  And I finally felt it.

   I felt love, Ami's love, all her love, pouring into me.  I felt loved in
ways that I didn't think were possible.  In ways I didn't think I deserved.

   "Whoa," she murmured, out of breath.

   Emboldened, I kissed her again, hungrily this time, running my tongue
over her lips, tasting strawberry lip gloss.  I was never a fan, but I was
rapidly becoming one.  Ami met my enthusiasm with her own, moaning into my
mouth as she ran her hands over my body.

   "Is this really happening?" I asked as we broke for air.

   "You talk too much."

   I felt cool air against my skin as Ami slowly unzipped my dress.  Smooth
move for a straight girl.  I gently tugged the loosely fastened cloth from
her shoulder, kissing her fiercely as I unwrapped her sari.  She slid her
petticoat to the floor, then pulled her blouse up over her head, leaving
her clad in only her bra and panties.

   "Wow."

   Ami smiled bashfully.  "You know, I'm no expert, but I can't help but
feel like you're a little overdressed here," she teased.

   "Well, maybe you should do something about that," I replied playfully.

   She nudged the spaghetti straps off my shoulders, the only thing holding
up my dress.  Gravity and a little help from Ami brought it to the ground,
exposing my small, pert breasts.  My face flushed as Ami stared at me,
gazing at my body like it was the first time she'd ever seen it instead of
the hundredth.

   "God Sarah," she whispered.

   I kissed her again, linking my fingers with hers and gently guiding her
to the bed.  I was pretty confident that both of us knew where this was
heading, but I wasn't in any hurry.  I was good at waiting.  I ran my
fingertips over the smooth contours of Ami's skin, through her hair, down
her neck and over her chest.

   Patience wasn't one of Ami's virtues.  She tore off her bra and tossed
it across the room, freeing her heavy breasts from their elastic prison. 
Pregnancy enhanced her already impressive bosom, and it took every ounce of
self-control to prevent me from burying my face in her bosom.

   Instead, I kissed her, slowly, lightly, down the curve of her breast,
just brushing her dark brown nipple with my lips.  Ami groaned as I teased
her with my tongue, guiding my free hand down her swollen belly toward the
edge of her panties.

   I stroked the thin and surprisingly damp fabric over Ami's pussy, gently
stroking her folds through the cotton.  She lifted her hips, allowing me to
pull the obscuring garment away without resistance.  I found myself staring
at my best friend's very wet pussy, inhaling the scent of her arousal.

   "Please Sarah," she whimpered.

   She was a bit too hairy to go down on at the moment, much as I wanted
to. Her pregnancy made personal grooming excessively challenging. 
Fortunately, I was a master with my fingers.  I continued brushing her lips
with my fingertips, causing her to cry out as her engorged sex reacted
under direct stimulation.  I slipped one inside effortlessly, then another,
massaging her clit with my thumb as I curled both fingers inside her.

   I moved back up the bed so that I could kiss Ami properly as I fucked
her with my fingers.  She was too overwhelmed to do anything but lay back
and enjoy it, but I didn't care.  Tonight was all about Ami as far as I was
concerned.  She moaned into my mouth, and rolled her head back, her
breathing rough and ragged.

   "God Sarah, don't stop.  Please don't stop!" Ami screamed.

   I didn't, not until she came, and not after that either.  I slowed down,
my tempo rising and falling, building her up to one orgasm after another.
After the fifth, once I was convinced that Ami was well and thoroughly
fucked, I withdrew my fingers, cradling her face in my hands as I kissed
her deeply.

   "Holy fuck!  What!  What?  Are you telling me we could've been doing
this for years?" Ami asked incredulously.

   I shrugged, hard-pressed to find a suitable excuse.  "I thought you were
straight," I said lamely.

   "So did I," she chuckled.  Ami sat up, stroking my arm affectionately.
"So, how do I, you know?  I want to make you feel good."

   I smiled encouragingly.  "Well, if you think it'll feel good for you,
it'll probably feel good for me.  Just see how I respond and go from
there," I explained.

   "Ok." She climbed over me, kissing down my neck and collarbone,
lingering for a bit before working her way down between my breasts.  I
hissed as she latched onto my nipple, scraping it a bit with her teeth.

   She kept going down, down, all the way down until she reached the hem of
my panties.  "Are you sure?" I asked.  She didn't answer, instead opting to
slide my underwear out from under me, awkwardly working them around me
knees.

   My whole body convulsed as Ami's tongue glided over my pussy.  Gotta
give that girl credit, when she commits to something, she goes all in. 
"Holy shit!  You sure you haven't done this before?" I asked.

   "Just doing what you told me to do," she replied, her voice muffled by
my crotch.  I never would have guessed my BFF was secretly a pussy eating
champion, but today had been full of surprises.  She licked, teased, and
massaged my cunt, driving me absolutely crazy.

   Then she was inside me, actually fucking me with her tongue.  Ami had a
long tongue, something she was alternatingly self-conscious of and proud of
as she went through varying stages of life.  I felt all of it, exploring
inside me, probing my sex.  I came quickly and hard, screaming her name as
my mind short-circuited.

   As I came back down from my high, Ami was cuddled next to me, her warm
skin pressed against my own, her fingers linked between mine.  God I loved
this woman.  I loved her in every possible way.  As my best and oldest
friend friend, as the sister that I never had, more family than my own
blood relatives, as the amazing mother she was destined to be, and as the
woman I'd loved since before I understood what love was.

   "I love you Ami," I said, quietly, but unafraid.  I'd spend the rest of
my life making sure she knew how much.

   "I love you too."

   We got married.  Not the next day or anything, but not too much later.
Spending the rest of our lives together was never in question, but there
were practical concerns that dictated an accelerated time table.  According
to Ami, I was just as much Naomi's mother as she was, and we wanted to make
sure everyone else saw it that way too.  It's not like we were in the habit
of doing things in order anyway.

   "This isn't exactly how I pictured us doing this you know," I admitted.
We both wore simple sun dresses for the occasion, mine green and hers blue.
She looked amazing in blue.

   "Really?  Were you thinking big church wedding?" Ami teased.  The
courthouse wasn't exactly romantic, but the people that mattered were
there. Ami's mother wasn't one of them.  Her loss.

   "Come on Ami," I pouted.  "You've been talking about your dream wedding
since you were ten.  I know you had originally planned on Prince Charming
instead of Princess Sarcasm, but the least I could have done was book a
place where they don't renew driver's licenses."

   Ami just smiled at me, that bright, beautiful, exasperated smile she
saved for when I was being ridiculous.  "Sarah, I don't want a wedding.  I
want a marriage," she said simply.

   I believed her.

   We spent our honeymoon cuddled in our bed.  Ami was due any day now, so
travel was out of the question.  Despite how gravid and uncomfortable and
overwhelmingly pregnant she was, Ami still summoned the energy for some
intense post-matrimonial lovemaking.

   "God you're good at that," she cooed as I ate her out.  She tasted salty
and sweet at the same time and smelled just a bit minty, remnants of a
recent shave.  She couldn't actually see her own vagina anymore without a
mirror, so I was tasked with trimming the hedges.  Not that I minded.

   "You know you're going to have to take it easy after the baby is born,"
I said, kissing her thighs.

   "Not for long.  The women in my family bounce back quickly.  Besides, if
there's one thing I've learned about being a lesbian, it's that there are a
lot of options when it comes to sex," Ami replied.

   I grinned.  Ami had taken to calling herself a lesbian, mostly for my
benefit.  She was still attracted to guys as well as girls, but a few of my
friends were virulently biphobic, so she adopted the label that caused the
least friction.  I personally didn't care if she was gay, bi, or straight
with an exception, as long as we were together.

   I leaned back against the headboard, stroking Ami's hair as she latched
onto my nipple.  My breasts were a bit bigger now, nothing compared to
hers, but a full cup size larger.  A combination of hormones and regular
suckling sessions caused me to lactate, allowing both of us to breastfeed
our daughter once she arrived.

   "Save some for the baby," I teased.  What started out as a way for me to
bond with our baby became something special for Ami and I.  She said I
tasted like melted ice cream.  It felt amazing, physically and emotionally.
Physically, the letdown was kind of like a mini-orgasm, that radiated from
my breasts and into my core.  Emotionally, the idea of caring for her,
sharing a part of myself in a way that no one else would or could was
deeply satisfying.

   I played with her hair lazily as she suckled away, draining the pressure
that became a familiar part of my daily rhythm.  I never thought I could
feel this way, wanted, needed, and loved all at the same time.  I fell into
a haze of dreamy arousal and sleepy satisfaction, so deeply and dreamily
engrossed in it that Ami had to say my name a few time to snap me out of
it.

   "Sarah, it's time," Ami panted.  She was squeezing my hand, hard.  The
large damp spot on the bed got my full attention.

   My time in the military helped focus blind adrenaline into productive
energy.  "Ok.  I'll help you get dressed.  Your go bag is in the closet. 
The hospital is twenty minutes away.  I'll give Dr.  Hammond a call and let
him know we're on our way.  How far apart are your contractions?" I asked.

   "Take it down a notch Sergeant Caulfield," Ami joked.  "We've got plenty
of time."

   "What if there's traffic?  What if there are DUI checkpoints?  What if
we get stuck in an elevator?  I do not want our daughter to be born in an
elevator," I insisted.

   Okay, maybe not that productive.

   A few hours and a hundred or so English and Hindi obscenities later, Ami
and I were parents.  I didn't believe in miracles, not really, but seeing
my wife and daughter was damn close.

   "How are you doing?" I asked, bring Ami's hand to my lips and kissing
her knuckles.

   "I am really, really tired," she sighed.

   "God, she's so tiny," I cooed.

   "She did not feel tiny."

   "Sorry I'm late," a familiar matronly voice said from the doorway. 
Guess there were still a few miracles to go.

   "Hi Mom," Ami said sleepily.  "Mom, this is Naomi.  Naomi, this is your
grandma."

   Mrs.  Subramani walked in hesitantly, uncertain that she belonged.  Her
face brightened at the sight of our baby, staring at her granddaughter with
instant, unconditional love.

   "Thank you for coming Mrs.  Subramani," I said quietly.  A part of me
was suspicious, even territorial, but I wasn't about to make a scene as
long as she was playing nice.

   "I understand the two of you have married," she said carefully.

   "We have," I replied evenly, draping my arm over Ami protectively.

   The older woman considered this for a moment.  "I won't pretend that I
understand what the two of you are doing, and I'm not sure that I ever
will," she began.  "But I'm not blind, and I can see how happy the three of
you are.  I have known you for many years Sarah.  You have only ever been a
faithful and true companion to my daughter.  I...would be proud to call you
my daughter as well."

   "Thanks Mom," Ami beamed.

   "Thanks Mrs.  Subramani," I said, offering my hand.

   "Perhaps Ashmita would be better?" my mother-in-law offered.

   "Agreed."

   That's how it started, how a lonely, morose, slightly geeky, somewhat
damaged former soldier got the girl of her dreams.  Make that the family of
her dreams.  Although Ami was willing to tackle another pregnancy, I
decided it was only fair that I jump on the grenade next time, a fact my
vagina still hasn't forgiven me for.  Still, Ami and I got a son and Naomi
got a little brother, so I call it a win.

   It wasn't perfect, nothing is.  Being best friends our whole lives meant
we knew exactly how to hurt each other, so when we fought, we fought dirty.
But being best friends our whole lives meant we knew exactly how to make
things right, so when we made up, we made up quickly and well.

   "You sure you're up to this?" Ami asked, eying my crotch suspiciously.

   "I should be asking you the same question.  You're the one that's
getting fucked," I said, looking down at the somewhat oversized strap-on.
Ashmita was all too happy to babysit on girl's night, which was code for
binge watching Netflix and fucking until neither of us could move.

   Satisfied that my surrogate cock was sufficiently lubricated, I crawled
on top of Ami, thrusting inside her slowly.  "God, it's so fucking big,"
she moaned as it stretched her out.  She wrapped her legs around me,
opening herself up as much as she good to accommodate the massive dildo.

   This was a new experience for the both of us, and while I had no desire
to have anything larger than Ami's fist inside me, this seemed like just
the sort of thing Ami might be into.  She did like men too after all, and
though she managed to convince me that I was far too pretty to ever be
mistaken for one, I figured the least I could do was fuck her like one once
in a while.

   "Yes, oh fuck yes Sarah, fuck me," Ami groaned, grinding her hips
against me.

   "You like that Ami?" I whispered into her ear.

   "Oh god yes.  Don't stop, harder, harder!"

   I obliged, finding my rhythm, long, hard, deep strokes.  There wasn't
much in the way of stimulation for me, but the effect it had on Ami was all
the motivation I needed.  I kept thrusting, over and over.  I kept going,
even as she came, bringing her to a second orgasm before the waves of the
first subsided.  Again and again until my arms and abs gave out and I
collapsed on top of her into a sticky, sweaty heap.

   "Best date night ever," Ami sighed, kissing me as she snuggled up
against me.  I ditched the fuck toy and spooned next to her, inhaling the
scent of her shampoo.

   "Well, given your mother's propensity for punctuality," I said, glancing
at the clock, "it looks like we have another hour and thirty-seven minutes
left to ourselves."

   "Whatever will we do with the time?" Ami asked.

   "Well, we could watch four episodes of Faking It, two episodes of
Property Brothers, or about two-thirds of The Martian," I offered.

   "All good options," she said thoughtfully.

   "Got a better idea?" I asked.

   Ami smiled.  That broad, bold, mischievous Ami smile that I could never
get enough of.  "Think your vagina has bounced back yet?" she asked
suggestively.
   I grinned.  "Only one way to find out."