Grumpy Old Ladies

"I'm sorry that you felt like you couldn't tell me." Then she frowned. "No, that makes it sound like you didn't have good reason to—"

"It's enough that you're here now," Laurie said, interrupting her, and Rhea nodded.

"That's the second time I've heard that recently," Donna said, giving Magda a sad smile, "but no. It's not enough. Ollie, bless his soul, he could be kind of a prick."

Rhea snickered, and both Laurie and Magda gave her the exact same look; unamusement.

Donna said, "I should have stood up for you."

"You didn't know," Laurie said, softly.

"I still should have. I didn't stand up to Ollie about anything. Not really. Not to his face. We had a way of not really challenging each other to get along. I'm pretty sure he thought I voted straight Republican."

"Did you?" Rhea asked, again getting the same stare from both Laurie and Magda.

"God, no," Donna said, slouching a little in her chair, "but I didn't stand up for what I believed in, and I let him define me. We always kind of stayed out of each other's way when it came to different areas. I ran the house, he... Ollie was a good man, but..." She drifted off and shook her head. "He grew up in a small town. He didn't—no. No, I'm... I'm not gonna make excuses for him."

She leaned forward, elbows on the edge of the table, and looked down at her hands, and so it was that she had a good view when Magda reached over and laid a hand over hers. Laurie did the same a moment later.

"I'm sorry," Donna said, as she felt the tears welling up. "I'm..." She made a sound in her throat, fighting the tightness, and then withdrew her hands to use her napkin to wipe at her eyes.

"You didn't need to say that," Laurie said.

"Yes she did," Rhea said. For a third time, Magda and Laurie gave her a withering stare, but Rhea just looked steadily at Donna and nodded. "Not for our sake, but...you know. Sometimes you've just gotta say stuff like that. Put it out there in the world. I get it."

That was the moment when Donna realized that Rhea was good enough for her daughter, and that made her smile.

***

"See the one in the pink shoes?" Rhea said, leaning over and pointing. "She's married to the one that just subbed in. The other blonde one there."

Donna watched the two women in powder blue uniforms—guards, Rhea had called them—briefly reach out and touch hands as they settled into their rhythm, and blinked. They'd barely looked at each other, but they had a good sense of where the other one would be. Donna knew absolutely nothing about basketball, no matter who was playing, but it was easy to tell the difference between players who just played together and could make it work, and the couple in love.

She still didn't quite understand how the different kinds of scoring counted for different points, but she could reliably count on the volume of Rhea's cheering to tell her how important each score was. When Rhea had approached her after dinner and asked if she wanted to go to an event the following night, Donna had readily agreed without asking for any details. A WNBA game was not what she had imagined.

"Did you play?" Donna asked.

Rhea made a face and laughed. "God no. I'm terrible at this."

"Oh, I just..." Donna blinked and looked up. "I just thought... you're really tall, so—"

"What? I'm, like, five-nine," she replied, laughing even harder. "Those girls down there tower over me."

"Oh, I..." Donna looked back and forth, but it was hard to imagine. "I think my scale is off. You and Magda are, like, the tallest women I've ever met."

Rhea just smiled politely. She had a broad grin that split her face, and cheekbones that shined when she smiled, and it was easy to understand what drew Laurie to her. She had a big presence, and little Laurie had always been so shy and introverted. She needed someone like this to draw her out of her shell. Someone who could say fuck very loudly in a crowd, and not care who heard.

It occurred to Donna that Laurie had been shy and introverted, but that had started to change when she went away to college. She was still a mile away from anything like an extrovert, but... The previous year, just before Ollie passed, they went out to dinner with Laurie and the restaurant had gotten her order wrong. When she was little, Laurie would have just eaten what she was given and not wanted to make a fuss, but instead Laurie had politely flagged the waitress and pointed out the mistake. If they'd been together for two years, maybe Rhea was already having an effect on her.

Donna tried to watch the game, and was appropriately awed by women doing something she herself couldn't do even if she spent years practicing, but her heart had never been in competitive sports. It was hard to care about 65-66 when she could barely keep track of which team had which score. The whole thing moved too fast for her to follow, especially because Donna was really just waiting for her moment.

"Can I ask you something?" Donna said, at the end of a period.

Rhea's eyebrows rose, but not as much as Donna would have expected. "Sure?"

"How did you know you were gay?"

Rhea coughed, or laughed, or cleared her throat, or swallowed something wrong. Donna couldn't be sure. She had a far away look in her eye when she turned, though, and Donna was fairly certain she had overstepped.

"Oh my God," Rhea said. "My first baby gay!"

Donna just blinked. "A what?"

"You're my first baby gay! Usually, I'm the one reaching out to my friends that've been out longer than me. This is so cool!"

"What is?"

Instead of answering her, though, Rhea just gave her a very sharp look and said, "You know, Laurie's brothers and sisters all think it's funny to call you two girlfriends, since you're spending so much time together now, but that's not that far off, huh?"

"What's not far off?" Donna asked, feeling a little more defensive.

"I'll tell them not to joke about it."

"Joke about what?" Donna whined. "What are you talking about?"

Rhea leaned in a little closer next to her and pointed out into the crowd, finger moving in an arc from right to left.

Donna tried to follow her finger, but only felt more and more lost. "What? What am I missing?"

"Do you see them all?"

"The women?" Donna asked, shrugging.

"Yes," Rhea said, dragging out the vowel sound to add some meaning to the word, "and?"

Donna looked harder. It was a lot of women. Certainly some men, but mostly women... in groups of two. Turning to each other to the exclusion of everyone else. Holding hands.

"It's okay," Rhea said, nudging her with her elbow. "You're not the only one."

It wasn't until that moment, as she looked out at a sea of smiling faces, that she realized that on some level, the real question she'd been asking was am I the only one that feels like this?

"I'll make sure they stop joking about it," Rhea said. "It's not a punchline. We're not a punchline."

Donna nodded, grateful for the sense that someone was looking out for her, but she also felt an immediate and acute sense of loss that she couldn't quite place. If she had been sober, she might have asked herself, why would making sure no one calls Magda my girlfriend make me sad, but Donna had had a few beers to help her get into the mood, and she couldn't quite pull those thoughts together.

"Wait," she said, "is this why you brought me here? Are you a shaman? You knew I needed to talk about this so you brought me to a safe space to talk?"

Rhea's eyebrows raced for her hairline. "What? No! I just like going to Sky games."

Donna nodded, accepting this, and then looked back at the game for a moment. "You know who would be into this? Magda. She would totally be at home like this. Yelling at the refs. Screaming her head off at the other team."

"Maybe next time you two come to town, we could all go? Laurie is bored to tears, but if she had you to talk to I bet she'd come, and me and Mags can watch the game."

"Oh no," Donna said, shaking her head vigorously. "No. I mean, yes, game, good idea, but don't call her Mags. She hates that."

"She does?"

"Yeah. Hates it."

"Shit, I've been calling her that for a while." Rhea sucked a breath in through her teeth.

"I call her Em, but I think I'm the only one."

"So, what should I call her? Magda is a little... formal for me, and I... I give nicknames. It's a thing."

"You could call her Maggy. I know some of her coworkers call her that, and I've never heard her complain about it." Donna thought for a moment, and added, "Really, though, you should just ask her."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah. She respects being up front and honest."

"Okay. So... when are you gonna tell her you have a crush on her?"

Donna froze, shoulders rising slightly toward the ear, but before she could respond Rhea waved her hands back and forth in front of her.

"Forget I said that. I didn't mean to push you. You'll talk to her when you're ready."

"Thanks," Donna said, blushing fiercely. "If I, uh... if I have any more questions, can I ask you?"

Rhea smiled, for a long, long moment. "I'd be honored to be your gay sherpa."

Donna did not merely laugh; she snorted, which she normally hated but in that one instance didn't mind because Rhea just seemed so damn nice. Good for Laurie, she thought.

***

"How're you doing?" Magda asked, covertly, head leaned to the side but without turning toward her or attempting to make eye contact. The party wasn't loud, not yet, but there were a lot of people in a big room, which meant that dozens of conversations were echoing just enough to raise the background noise level to a dull roar.

Donna took another slightly-more-than-a-sip of her gin and tonic, and nodded. "Fine." Which was a lie.

"Mm-hm." From the sound of it, Magda didn't buy it any more than Donna meant it. "I still think you look great."

Donna took a long breath, and muttered, "Thanks."

"Do you want to dance?"

Donna blinked, and paused, and then regretted the pause because, before she could answer, someone approached them.

"Maggy!" said a younger, dark haired, dark skinned man. "Hey!"

Magda jumped to her feet, smiling broadly. "Enrique! I didn't know you'd be here!"

"Maggy, this is my wife, Ynez!" Donna almost hadn't noticed the shy, extremely pregnant girl behind him. "Ynez, this is Magda."

"The famous Magda," Ynez said, one arm cradled around her belly and the other extended for a handshake.

"Pleasure," Magda said, giving her a firm shake and smiling broadly at Ynez's swollen belly. "Guys, this is my friend, Donna."

There was something peculiar about the introduction that hit Donna like a splash of cold water. It was subtle, though, and it took Donna a minute to realize that Magda had stepped back and beside her, placing them on equal footing. Suddenly, all the panic from earlier came bubbling back up.

The day before they'd left, Donna had, with the best of intentions, peeked at the clothes Magda had packed for their trip. Her friend had a beautiful purple satin dress, sleeveless with a modest neck cut hanging on her closet door in a see-through dry cleaner's bag, and that made her extremely excited. Donna owned a dress with a similar level of shine, in a beautiful deep wine color that accentuated the way her cheeks flushed, and it would pair perfectly.

Her dress did not compliment the skirt-blouse-jacket combo Magda had worn instead, though. The reds and blues contrasted too much, like they were about to get on stage and debate something, and she felt her pulse racing that they were standing right next to each other. Everyone would see them clashing visually, and she'd embarrass Magda.

The idea of embarrassing Magda in front of her coworkers put her in such a dark mental space that she missed at least some of the conversation between Magda and Enrique, so she tried to catch up.

"—made it work," Enrique was saying, turned slightly to address his wife. Ynez was looking back and forth between her husband and Magda with a big smile, which Enrique quickly mirrored. "I know."

"No," Magda said, shaking her head. "Come on. You can't—"

"I can," he said, laughing.

"You can't give me credit," she said, wielding her index finger like a knife, "for you putting in the work, in night school, for five years, and getting that degree."

"I can," he repeated, smiling broadly. "You're not the boss of me."

Ynez looked up at him, giving him a beaming smile he probably wasn't even aware of, and Donna thought, that used to be me.

"No," Magda said, giving him a smile that was equally proud, "I'm not. Not anymore. So how is accounting treating you here?" Then, before he could respond, she barreled right on, adding, "We haven't talked in a while! How are you doing? How is Cervantes?"

Ynez and Enrique both laughed, but Donna stood all she could stand of letting the conversation pass her by, and said, "Who's Cervantes?"

"My pet turtle," Enrique said. "Cervantes is doing great. I'll tell him you asked. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

"I'm sure," Magda said, laughing. "How is your dad doing? How is Beanie?"

Enrique stiffened, just a little, and Ynez immediately moved to support him. One hand on his hip, the other reaching up across his back to rest on his shoulder. It was a familiar move for Donna, something done in advance of hard news, and she felt her body poised to do the same thing for her own friend.

"Uncle Bernardo passed," Enrique said. "Eight months ago. Emphysema."

Magda just blinked, clearly shocked, but before Donna could enact her plan, Magda grabbed her hand and held it. "I'm so sorry," she said, still addressing the couple.

"No, no," he replied, and though his smile was pained, it was also genuine. "He lived to see his first great grandbaby. He got six more years because of you." Each syllable of six more years was punctuated with a stabbing, pointed finger.

"Wait," Ynez said, stepping away from her husband just a little. "So the woman who pushed you and got you off the plant floor was the same one who saved Beanie's life? You never told me that."

"He had a heart attack," Magda said, half turning toward Donna. "Fell over right in the middle of the floor between the Black line and the Red line. I just... happened to be right around the corner. Heard Duc start shouting, and..."

"And," Enrique added, meaningfully, "happened to have paid attention to that super boring first aid training on the defibrillator, and stayed cool in a crisis, and rode in the ambulance with him."

Again, still turned toward her, Magda said, "Beanie always used to say he was gonna work right up until the day he died. When he retired right after that, I really hoped he was making changes in his life."

Ynez laughed, and Enrique did too. "Beanie was Beanie," he said, "down to the last drop. When the doctor told him he had stage four, the first thing he did was light up a cigar. The doctor was pissed."

"Wait," Donna said, blinking. "He lit up a cigar in the doctor's office?"

"Didn't bat an eye. He said, what are you gonna do? Give me double cancer?"

"Down to the last drop," Magda said, smiling and shaking her head.

"I don't miss the constant coffee jokes," Ynez said, chiming in with a perfectly calculated smirk.

"Oh!" Donna said. "The last drop! I just got it!"

Magda gave her hand a squeeze, which was surprising because Donna had almost forgotten they were holding hands, and then let go. "I'll be right back. Wait here."

As Magda moved away, Donna clasped her hands in front of her, and smiled at the couple. "How far along are you?"

"Seven months," Ynez said, smiling.

"Oh," Donna said, staring at Ynez' cheeks, "look at that, you are glowing. How is the pregnancy going?"

Ynez smiled again, this time with her head shrinking a little into her shoulders, and held up her crossed index and middle fingers. "Pretty well so far. She's already lined up, head right up against the cervix."

Donna leaned in, practically buzzing, and said, "Do you think she'll come early?"

Ynez shrugged, still beaming. "Happens a lot with the women in my family."

She smiled wistfully. "I loved being a mom. Even being pregnant. The last one was pretty rough, with the twins, but I was—"

"Oooh," Ynez said, interrupting, "twins. Yikes."

She nodded, and she felt her eyes flare for just a moment. "Yikes is right. I was as ready and prepared as I was gonna be, and it was still a..." She trailed off, noticing the faintest sliver of fear lurking underneath the other woman's smile, and waved her hand. "Sorry, I don't know what I'm babbling about."

Ynez just cocked her head. "Have you ever really talked to anyone about how hard it was?"

"I mean, you," Donna said, laughing, "just now. Obviously."

The glowing little Latina knitted her fingertips together underneath her belly, and shrugged her shoulders a little. "You'd be surprised how many times, since I've been pregnant, that another mom has come over to me and, out of nowhere, just started telling me about the worst parts of their experiences."

"Oh my God," Donna said, raising her hand to her mouth. "I'm so sorry. I just, I mean... I did exactly that."

This time, Ynez waved her off playfully. "I'm used to it. I'm a therapist. I will say, though, that every time I've asked those moms, the ones with the horror stories, if they've ever really had a chance to work through how difficult it was, if they had someone they could talk to who would really listen, the answer is always no."

Donna opened her mouth to respond, and came up empty. She licked her lips to buy herself time, and was saved when Magda reappeared with both hands full of champagne flutes.

"Okay," she said, holding out one hand toward the couple, "don't worry, they're all just sparkling grape juice."

"Thank you!" Ynez said, brightly, as she took hers.

Donna smiled gratefully as she took one as well, and then Magda held hers up. "To Beanie. The best damn mechanic we ever had, and the only man I ever met that couldn't whistle."

"To Beanie," the rest of them said, more or less in unison.

As she sipped the grape juice and smiled privately at the joy of being included, she couldn't help but fall back into a memory. At her parents house, when she and Ollie were still dating. When they'd told her parents that she was pregnant, with Janet, and Ollie had gotten them all champagne. She'd gotten it all the way to her lips before she'd realized she couldn't drink it. Ollie, bless his heart, had constantly ordered her alcoholic drinks when she couldn't have them. He meant well, but...

She'd never begrudged him for drinking in front of her, even when she couldn't and really wanted to, but seeing Magda being that thoughtful, and that courteous, was simultaneously hard and wonderful. She didn't like thinking ill of Ollie. For all his faults, he'd been a kind and attentive husband and partner.

At the same time, though, it really was no comparison.

"Come on," Magda said, turning to her, "Let's dance."

This time, Donna was so deep in a moment of awe toward her that she couldn't help but go along with it. Before she knew it Magda had taken her hand, and she was following the tall brunette out into the crowd.

The songs came quickly, one after another, with a lot of high energy. Some of them she didn't recognize, but she'd always thought herself a pretty good dancer. She'd always been able to move her body, and she certainly held her own. Magda, meanwhile, had a unique style that was as hypnotizing as it was incredible to behold. There was a lot of tossing her head around as she moved, and the way her short hair whipped back and forth was mesmerizing.

She did her best to keep up. She did her best to stay on the same wavelength as Magda, and once she found it she never wanted to let it go. Once they were on the same page, it was effortless. Everything melted away. It was just the two of them, alone with the music.