| Lance stared across the living room. His mind was swimming and his body was on fire, nevermind the deafening thud of his heart in his chest. Silence cut across the space and he gulped. Staring back at him was one of his oldest friends, a young woman of 24, expectation and hope dancing in her eyes. The question had been hard to ask of him, but if there was a person in the world who would understand it, Lance was it. He blinked hard, letting his dry eyes have some reprieve. His body was stuck to the couch and even his fingers were still, digesting the idea posed to him. Time ticked away, and her hopes were fading. This was not the response she had expected. Not that she knew exactly what to expect, but his stillness was unnerving her. "Water," he finally whispered, focusing on her face. "I need water." She jumped up. "Okay, we have water." Hurrying to the kitchen, her hands shook as she grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it. Returning to the living room, she extended it to him, noticing his hands trembling as he took it. In one long, drawn out sip, he finished it all, handing it back to her. The last thing she wanted to do was push him, but it was so very important to her, and now was the time. "Lance?" She was loosing him for sure. He took a deep breath and nervously twisted the band on his right hand. How could she ask such a thing from him? It was ludicrous was what it was. Although his heart went out to her, how could he be part of this with a clear conscious? He loved her so much, and her friendship had been a constant in his life for so many years, he hated to do anything to jeopardize it, but this, this was too much to ask of him. "I shouldn't have asked," she stammered, backing away. "Lance, I'm so sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was put you in this position. God, I'm sorry." He snapped his head up and forced his hands to stop shaking. She was his best friend and she needed him. He studied the way her long brown hair framed her innocent face, her big blue eyes so full of hope, hanging precariously on his answer. He wanted to comfort her, be able to tell her of course he would do it, anything for her, but the magnitude of the question posed to him was too great. Lance stood, still shaky, and went to her. "It's alot to digest," he explained, taking her hand in his. "I need to think about it, but no promises." She nodded, wordlessly, and her eyes filled with tears as she fell into his arms, arms that were so familiar and comfortable, arms that had held her through several break ups, deaths in the family, and finally, her coming out. He was her rock, and while he was not around much, she relied on his presence to be there always. He felt her tears dampen his shirt and sighed, stroking her hair. He loved her so much, so damn much, how could he refuse her this one thing. It went against ever moral fiber in his body, but what was he if not her friend. "Let's go to church," he said, finally, " Just the two of us. Let's go and ask God for some guidence here." Pulling back a bit, he gazed down at her fragile features and brushed a stray piece of hair from her eyes. "Okay," she sniffled, attempting to push back the flow of tears that were neither happy nor sad. She let him lead her to his car, and they drove in silence to the church where as children they had met, attended services with their families, and bonded so deeply. Stepping inside the large building, they felt comfort instantly. Sitting down in the wooden pew, Lance took her hand but stared ahead. "We need to really think this over," he said quietly, squeezing her hand to let her know he was still with her. "I know. I've thought a lot about it for months. It wasn't easy to ask this of you. It was the hardest thing, I think." She stifled a sob. "You mean the world to me. I didn't want to make you feel obligated or anything. You're not, you know." "I know," he sighed. "I know." They sat in silence for a few more minutes, each one lost in thought and prayer, each one trying to determine if what they were thinking about was right in God's eyes. Together, they could face family, they'd done that before, but God held a special place for both of them, and angering the Lord wasn't something they could do. Hearing the choir start to arrive for practice, Lance pulled her to her feet and lead her out into the bright Mississippi sun. He squinted and nodded toward some parishioners he recognized, but didn't break stride. His heart pounded so wildly inside, and his emotions bubbled carelessly within his soul. He loved her, but could he do this? "Lance?" Her voice was soft, and melted his heart with it's sincerity. He craved that voice while on tour, sometimes calling her voice mail just to hear it. It meant so much to him because it was real. She was real. She could care less if he was famous, or who he'd met, how much money he made. To her, he was Lance because it was what he was called since childhood, not because it was plastered on magazines and television. "Hmm?" He sat on the hood of his car and stared out into the midmorning sky. "I love you." She pressed herself between his legs and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I love you too," he answered, holding her tight. "Are you sure this is what you want? I mean, really sure?" "Yes, Lance. I'll never be able to do this the normal way. You know that. I've found true love, and once the wedding is over, I need children. There's no one I'd rather be their father than you. No one." He felt the sting of tears filling his eyes at the enormity of the statement. "Would they know I was the father?" he asked, having a hard time with the words, and the acutality that he was considering it. She nodded, pressing her face into his chest. "Of course. If that's what you want. They'll have two mommies, and they'll be yours." She sighed. "I know that this will be so hard when you finally fall in love and want kids with the love of your life. How will we explain it all? But we can think about it. I just wanted to ask this of you now. We talked about going to a sperm bank, but you have all the qualities I would want my kids to have. You're kind, and smart, and you're my best friend." Lance bit his lip, willing himself to stay solid with this. "I can't tell you yes right now. I need to think about it. I want to, really. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." His mind wandered to the idea of having children that he didn't raise, or wouldn't see day to day. His heart would break, but for her, for her he might be able to do it. "I know," she said, looking up into those eyes, eyes she hoped her children would have. "I swear, I wish I was straight because I would have gobbled you up years ago." He chuckled, touching the tip of her nose with his finger. "Yeah, yeah," he grinned. In his heart, he wished nothing more than that as well. Longing for her was lonely, tiring, and frustrating. At least it wasn't his fault they weren't together. She was a lesbian and deeply in love with a woman she planned to marry the following month. As much as his heart hurt from loving her so much, it would hurt more not to give her the one thing he could, the one thing that would bond them forever, children. "Could I be listed as the father?" he asked. "Of course! Lance, I want you to be the father. We both do. We wouldn't deny you that. I just wasn't sure you would want to do this, considering how you feel about marriage and kids. I know you want them, and I know this isn't the way you want them. I would understand if you said no." He tilted his head to the side and took a deep breath. "I would need to know that I would be part of their lives, forever. You know how important kids are to me." She smiled, and the dried tears on her cheeks made his entire being melt. Feeling the need to lighten the moment, he rubbed her back. "So, could we do it the old fashioned way?" "James Lance Bass!" she cried, laughing. "You mean?" The thoughts of her and him in bed, making love to make a baby were too crazy for her to even imagine. "Hey, gotta give me credit for trying!" She giggled. "We'll see," she teased, kissing his cheek. "I still love you, ya know." He nodded, slipping off the car. "Let's get out of here." His decsion was far from being made, and maybe it would take months, but he had some thinking to do. Sliding into the drivers seat, he stole a glance at her. Maybe. Maybe he could step up to the plate and do it. Starting the engine, he reached over and took her hand, fingering the engagement ring that perched atop her finger. Silently, he wished it was his. Pushing his gaze ahead, he pulled out onto the road, wondering what little Lance's would look like. He loved her enough, so maybe, just maybe. |
| THE QUESTION by Destiny |