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Weetzie changed into her lace negligee from Trashy Lingerie and climbed into bed between Dirk and Duck. They all just sat there, bolt upright, listening to “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.”
“I feel weird,” Weetzie said.
“Me too,” Dirk said.
Duck scratched his head.
“But we want a baby and we love each other,” Weetzie said.
“I love you Weetz. I love you, Dirk,” Duck said.
Weetzie took Dirk’s right hand in her left, and Duck’s left hand in her right. By the time the Beatles were done wanting to hold hands, they were able to look each other in the eye. Weetzie felt like giggling, so she did—loud, high pitched hiccups—and this made Dirk and Duck laugh too, because what was the point of all this if you couldn’t laugh about it?
“We could always turkey-baster it. I know some great lesbians—“ Dirk began, but Weetzie cut him off with a horrified shriek of air “No!” that set all of them off into giggles again, a braying chorus that chased any tension out of the air. It was more effective than burning sage, Weetzie thought, and then stopped thinking, because Duck had leaned forward to kiss first Dirk, and then her.
It was weird to kiss Duck. Weird but nice. It was even weirder and nicer to kiss Dirk, her best friend soul twin, the boy who taught her how to roll joints and helped scrounge up the pay-off to her last five credit card bills. It was like trying an avocado milkshake for the first time, the discomfort of the unfamiliar giving way to the sweetness of experiencing a whole new way to enjoy something—or someone—you already loved.
Weetzie enjoyed feeling Dirk and Duck enjoying themselves as much as she was, but then her old insecurities came back from the deepest of her dark places. All she could think about was how she had been mistaken for a boy before, how she had thought that the first time she met My Secret Agent Lover Man. She thought of him, his pale body and scruffy face, and her heart twisted. But she pushed him away—it was her body, and she could make her own choices.
Dirk and Duck had her sandwiched between them, Dirk’s mouth on her shoulder and Duck’s on the other side of her throat. She felt calmed by the pressure of their bodies, their heaviness and closeness like a comforter around her body in the deepness of winter. Even in the heat of the Angels, she felt an icy blizzard raging inside her, a scruffy snow-paled secret agent frost man glaring at her through green icicle slit eyes. He melted away though, gradually banished from the heat of their sweat-slick bodies.
She felt an inner calm now, certain that My Secret Agent Lover Man would love their baby—and there she shuddered, at “their,” at the notion that this child would be all of theirs. This baby will have four parents who will each love her twice as anybody else loves their babies, she thought fiercely, and kissed her love into Duck’s mouth, making sure that all of the universe could feel her love ring out.
“Weetzie, for us to not know who the father is,” Duck began.
“We both have to finish inside you,” Dirk said, his hand curved on Duck’s hip. Weetzie wrinkled her nose at the phrasing, but she spread her arms wide to pull the both of them into her embrace, nestling their bodies against hers. When she opened her eyes again, she swore she saw the room glittered with a silver magic, her face tingling with the pins and needles of exhilaration.
She turned her secret post-glow half smile toward Duck on her left, and Dirk on her right. They crept their fingers into her palm in response, and the three of them fell asleep that way, holding each other in their hands and goofy smiles on their faces.
And that was how Weetzie and Dirk and Duck made the baby—well, at least it was how it began, and no one could be sure if that was really the night, but that comes later on.