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“She said, ‘Danny,’” he adopted the stance of a new mother laying down the law in her house and marriage, “‘We can get through anything as long as there is mutual respect. Right now, I’m not feeling mutual respect.’ So, I guided the rest of our marriage under the presumption of there being mutual respect. Made the hard times easier because I knew she at least respected me as a person and a husband. Sometimes, though, I thought I might be sleeping outside… but I blamed that on the baby hormones. Once you were three, four, things calmed down in our house. It’s why we never had more kids.”
“Really?”
“Your mom was a terror with a newborn. We both knew it.”
Rhea picked at her food like a bird picking at the dirt. “Sometimes I feel like we’re on different wavelengths. We respect each other, but do we have enough in common? I don’t know.”
“You love each other… you respect each other… what else is there? I swear you kids think marriage is supposed to be more magical than that.”
Rhea thought about that long after she left her father’s house and long after she crossed the Santa Monica city limits.Is mutual respect enough?Sounded great for a neighbor or roommate situation, but love? Marriage?
It wasn’t that Rhea entertained fantasies of separating. If anything, the mere thought sent her into a spiral of panic. Being without Paige was almost as impossible to fathom as being without air.
Yet Rhea was realistic. The honeymoon period ended years ago. They had been coasting long before they decided to address the distance between them, and now? She almost didn’t recognize her wife anymore. Or maybe there was another problem.
Maybe she recognized the old Paigetoomuch – and Rhea’s issue wasn’t interest, but jealousy.
That wasn’t Paige’s fault, but it might be Rhea’s if she didn’t learn to control the green-eyed monster that throttled her fragile sense of self.
Chapter 25
Forthefirsttimein much too long, a Saturday rolled around that was perfect for a day out as a couple.
Paige had a few ideas. They could go to the movies. Maybe hit one of the regular clubs in West Hollywood, the kind that catered to queer couples, whether they were married for thirteen years or met yesterday. She didn’t mind the idea of the zoo, either. How long had it been since they held hands while watching animals live their lives?
Which, when she thought about it, was a weird idea.
Rhea wasn’t up for any of that. She wanted something more lowkey, like walking around the shopping districts and browsing for new books or office supplies. “We do that all the time,” Paige said. “It’s a nice day for something different.”
Eventually, they consulted Dr. Seville’s list of date suggestions.
“Hmm.” Rhea held the list closer to her eye as she studied the small print. “Hmm.”
“What?” Paige remained on the couch, her wits frayed from indecision. “I don’t think this is the weekend to go skydiving.”
Rhea turned the piece of paper around. “One of the suggestions is to revisit your very first date.”
“That’s the Santa Monica Pier.”
“Which we don’t live too far from.”
“Only in terms of LA traffic.”
It was decided, though. As soon as Paige put on clothes suitable for a walk on the beach, she passed her wife the sunscreen and hopped in the driver's seat of her car. The day was young, and she wanted to get there before traffic completely took over the parking lot.
“How long has it been since we last went to the Pier?” Rhea asked as soon as they left their neighborhood. “For a sizable amount of time? Like for fun?”
“When would we have gone without the goal being fun?”
“There was that time you did that fun run for charity. It was like two years ago.” Rhea was quite pleased with herself as she remembered. “You had to wear a mask when it was eighty degrees out. So it was aroundthattime.”
Paige only vaguely recalled. So much from those early years of the 2020s eluded her. “I think I did that because I was about to reopen the gym for regular clients and wanted to make sure I was in shape.”
“You’ve always been in shape.”
“You know what I mean.”
Paige wished they had left even earlier because the parking lot at the Pier was already filled with cars, trucks, and SUVs full of tourists and kids. For every Californian license plate, there was another either from out of state or Mexico. Some families in shoes and cargo shorts made their way to Pacific Park, home of the only amusement park directly on the West Coast. Others, barely dressed in anything but bikinis and swim trunks, hauled beach gear down to the neighborhood surf. And, of course, there were the anglers with their rods and tackle boxes.
