Every week Melissa and I meet at the Upper Crust Bakery. Call it my last ditch effort to maintain my sanity. Anyway, this week brought on a direct address of an issue that I had wondered about breifly on our other visits, namely: how must we look to the people around us. We are loud, animated, intimate, wearing comfortable shoes and no makeup, and taking turns cooing over a beatific infant. We hug and kiss when we leave, though sometimes the other patrons of the Crust wouldn’t witness that as I often shoulder the diaper bag and escort Melissa as she carries Alec out to the car.

Yesterday, a nice, middle-class, exuberant sort of a lady came up to me and Alec just after Melissa left to go to the bathroom. She oohed and aahed over the baby for a bit and teased about carrying him off and then said, oh, your mommy will be back soon. Then she turned to me and said, “Is he yours?”

Hmmm.

I honestly wasn’t sure how to answer for just a second. She had seen Melissa nursing him. She had mentioned that his mommy would come back. Surely it was obvious…Oh. Of course. I had wondered before whether we might appear as if we were a lesbian couple, but no one had asked us. I decided to answer simply, “No” although I admit that it felt a little wrong to say it. He is mine…sort of. He just smiled and giggled, not feeling rejected at all, thank goodness. But the next time someone asks me, I wonder if I will answer, “Does it matter?”