The Short Version

         You can say this is the short version to the long story that is my life. I’m giving you the short version because quite frankly there is not a whole lot in my past or present that I care to relive. My therapist says that’s my problem; that I block out my past. I have decided to write out my life story, the short version anyhow, because my therapist feels that if I write my experiences and emotions down, it will help me make a decision and help me to reflect and come to terms with situations and feelings. I am writing all this down in hopes that something in my life will make sense for once.
         For as long as I can remember my life has been wild and crazy. My father was a marine biologist and when I was first born he inherited a very large sum of money from a great uncle he didn’t know existed. Despite our newfound wealth, we stayed living in the same 800 square foot apartment near Ocean Beach in San Francisco. My mother was a dance instructor with insomnia and when she wasn’t practicing her dance steps, she was playing the piano no matter what time of day or night. I was an only child and my parents were always working or off on exotic vacations so I spent most of my time with various nannies. Most nannies didn’t last very long. They always told me I was a great kid but they couldn’t work for my parents because they were too crazy. I never really noticed my parent’s wild quirks because they hardly spoke to me. I’d give anything to be that oblivious child again.
         When I was nine years old, my parents hired the last nanny I would ever have. His name was Bernard until an hour before my bedtime when he would transform himself into Bernice. He worked at a nightclub as a drag queen and he would get ready for work before he put me to bed each night. Bernard became my best friend because he was always around, unlike anyone else in my life. I never made friends in school because I was far too serious for my age, but I always had fun with Bernard. He always took me down to the beach after school and sometimes we’d go shopping at thrift stores. He used to tell me he liked taking me shopping because I was the woman’s prospective he needed. I would help him pick out costumes and do his makeup for his job at the night club and he would tuck me in bed before telling me he loved me, something neither of my parents ever did.
         When I was 14 my father found out that my mother was having an affair with one of Bernard’s drag queen friends, Miguel or Miss Anastasia depending on which time of day you seen him. My father divorced my mother, fired Bernard and forbid me to see him, despite that he had no clue of my mothers affair. My mom moved in with Miguel and was beginning to look like a drag queen herself. I moved into a plush condo in downtown San Francisco with my father, but he split his time between his home with me and a home he had in San Diego while he worked down there. I basically lived on my own from then on because what started out as splitting time between two homes turned into my father coming to visit me every few months or so.
         I started hanging out with Bernard’s nephew, Edison. He was the only kid I knew at my school and we both loved Bernard despite that we were forbidden to see him. Edison’s parents were very conservative and didn’t approve of Bernard’s life style; little did they know that their son was gay. Bernard and myself were the only people who knew that Edison was gay. At school he was known for sleeping with any and every girl he could. He was extremely attractive and had I not known about his sexuality, I too would have had a crush on him. He used to tell me that I was the prettiest girl he knew and I never knew if he was joking when he would try to sleep with me.
         Edison, Bernard and I were a perfect family despite our abnormalities. Bernard got cancer when Edison and I were 22 and passed away shortly after. Edison was all I had. My mom was busy with her drag queen lover and new baby boy and my father had now reduced his visits to every couple of years and all I seen of him was his money.
         When Edison and I were 24 years old, he still had not come out to his parents. I was beginning to think he was not gay. He never dated any men for longer than a day and he was constantly seducing women. I had dated a little but nothing very serious. My views on marriage and life in general were a bit screwed up thanks to my past and the few guys I dated wanted things to be more serious between us. That and they were a bit uncomfortable that I lived with the infamous gay, ladies man of San Francisco.
         Having said all that brings me to now. Despite how imperfect or peculiar my life has been I’ve always carried on as if things were normal because for me things were fine. Well at least until now I’ve been fine with things. You see, I fell in love recently with a man I could see myself having a normal and happy life with. We’ve only been dating a short amount of time, but like Bernard used to say, when you meet the one you just know they’re the one. I also found out today that I am three months pregnant with Edison’s child. I am in love with a perfect and normal man but I am pregnant with my gay best friends child. Here it is in ink, and I still don’t know what to do…