Grumpy Old Ladies

Magda looked up at her, waggled her eyebrows, and licked her lips lasciviously. "Well, if you want me to stop—"

"I don't," Donna said, sighing and falling back against the bed, "but we've gotta go."

"I mean, we don't have to."

Donna gave her girlfriend a smirk, and started shifting off the bed. "Come on. It's basically a tradition at this point. We go, we hate it. It's awful. Then, later, we complain to each other about it, and it provides us with endless fodder to dump on awful people."

"Ugh," Magda groaned. "I can't even hear the word tradition without associating it with crap no one should do anymore, and really have no excuse for, except to claim that it's habit."

"See?' Donna said, as she took a moment to enjoy the fact that she had a section of Magda's closet full of her clothes. "We're already doing it. It's perfect Grouch logic."

"What the hell is Grouch logic?" Magda asked, annoyed, as she went into the bathroom.

"You know, from Sesame Street? How Oscar the Grouch is the happiest creature alive?"

Magda didn't so much answer as she did laugh, obnoxiously.

"Like, if something is bad," Donna said, as she pulled her bra into place, "Oscar loves it. But then, if something is good, Oscar hates it... and then loves how much he hates it. It's win-win."

Magda's snarky laughter slowed, and she came back out holding her toothbrush like she'd forgotten it was in her hand. "Where do you get this stuff from?"

"You were lucky," Donna said. "Laurie and Lennox were close enough that they overlapped in a lot of things. Janet was just enough older than Henry that she was getting out of diapers when he was born. She was done with Sesame Street just when Henry was old enough to pay attention, and then as he transitioned out of diapers out came the twins."

"Oh God," Magda said, around a mouthful of toothpaste. "I'd never thought about that." She spit, and was much more intelligible when she said, "We didn't plan it that way. It just happened."

"Lucky!"

They got dressed, and filled their to go mugs with coffee spiked with some Bailey's, and set out. It was a gorgeous Saturday afternoon in early July, and the third Homeowners Association meeting of the year was happening a few blocks away. Most of the time, they were held indoors, but the heat was mild enough for them all to gather in the Daniels' backyard. Word had made it through the grapevine that Kiera's husband would be firing up the grill during the meeting. Donna wasn't hopeful that they'd stick around for anything after the fact, but she also wouldn't say no to some potato salad.

The first half of the meeting went as usual. There were petty noise complaints to be heard, and squabbles about branches. All the usual neighbor things that most people went through without resorting to increasingly erratic retaliation. Donna and Magda giggled privately, and hid their smiles behind their mugs whenever they were accidentally loud enough to turn heads. Ever since the Lafayette Pride, they'd been able to talk more about their prank war without getting bogged down in apologies and regret. They could laugh about it, and that felt good.

"Okay," Regina said, as she looked over the paperwork in her hands. "I think we just have one more piece of new business. Adrienne? Are you ready?"

One of the younger women from the far side of the neighborhood, whom Donna barely knew, stood up and waved politely. "Yeah, I, uh, hi! Um. You know, I was... I was talking with Regina, and I was saying how there's a few homes down at our end that have been on the market for a little while, and we put our heads together to see if we could come up with some ideas to make the neighborhood more attractive. So, I was thinking that, you know, for the upcoming school year, we could all get those stickers? For our cars? Proud parent of?"

Next to her, Magda stiffened. It was a small thing, but it was something Donna was becoming more accustomed to noticing.

"Bumper stickers. Window stickers. Those square shaped, kinda ad looking things you put in the yard? I was thinking that if, you know, people are looking around at houses and they see one where there's a thriving generation of kids coming up, and parents that are supportive of that journey, that might help put us over the top. You know, elementary schools, middle schools, high schools, universities. Whatever."

"What if we don't want to?" Donna heard herself asking, and was surprised it was her voice. She and Magda shared a look of mutual confusion.

Regina laughed politely, smiled, and said, "Donna, you have two of those window stickers on your car right now."

"That's not the point," Donna said. Breaking eye contact with Magda was like trying to escape gravity. She knew very well that she had two such stickers, but both of them were from different universities. She also knew that Magda very much didn't have anything like that. Lennox had struggled with being bullied in high school and hadn't gone on to college, instead pursuing a career as a machinist, and it seemed that every week Laurie was embroiled in another battle with the administration at her university. "What if we don't want to?"

Regina looked confused. "I mean... some allowances will be made. Not all of us have kids, but we were wanting to make this one official. On the books and everything. I think we all want to put forward that mentality of pride in our children. How is this controversial?"

"What," Donna said, moving to sit on the very front edge of her folding chair, "so unless we provide some justification, this'd be a bylaw? With verbal warnings at every meeting and, eventually, a fine?"

"Donna," she said, like she was speaking to a very slow child, "you already meet the requirements."

"Not all of us do!" she shouted, putting down her coffee mug.

"It's a buyer's market," Regina fired back. "We need to be doing everything we can to make ourselves more attractive, and if that means putting a stupid sign in the yard then who is the victim here? Who wouldn't want to support their kids?"

"It's not about the kids," she said, half turning back, "it's the schools, and Magda doesn't."

Next to her, Bethany muttered, "At the rate you two are going, can't she just have one of yours?"

"What did you say?" Donna roared, getting to her feet.

Magda got up with her, but she put her arm across Donna's shoulders and shook her head. From the front, Bethany gave her an unamused look.

"Okay," Regina said, stepping in between everyone, "We're getting off track here."

"I'll put a sign in my yard," Harold Anderson said, raising one arm and giving Donna a sidelong look. The Anderson's were one of only a handful of childless couples. "It's just a stupid sign. My taxes already go to the school anyway, so it's not like I'm lying when I say I support 'em."

"That's not the point!" Donna shouted.

"Then what is the point?" Bethany replied.

Donna's head whirled from side to side. There were so many of them, and the more she looked, the more she realized that almost no one was looking at her with any sympathy.

No one but Magda. "It's okay," Magda said, softly.

"No," Donna said, "it's not okay! I don't want to be defined by my kids anymore," and as she said the words, it hit Donna that she didn't want to be defined by her kids anymore, which was monumental. She repeated, "I don't want to be defined by my kids anymore."

"Woohoo for you," Bethany said.

"Okay," Magda said, turning around, "you can just fuck off."

"Ladies," Regina said, shouting over everyone with the most fragile polite smile Donna had ever seen. "Please!"

"Oh my God," Donna said, blinking and laying her hand on Magda's shoulder. "You were right. We should be done with this."

"Thank you," Regina said.

"We should move."

"Wait, what?" was the collective reaction of basically everyone, including Magda.

"We should move," Donna repeated. "Together. Somewhere else."

"Or at least get a room," Bethany said, drolly, and for which both Magda and Donna gave her the finger without looking away from each other.

"Do you mean that?" Magda asked.

"You work remotely now," she replied, "and I'm just... I'm ready for something new."

The taller woman took her by the arms, and stepped in closer. "You're serious."

"I'm serious."

"Sell both houses?"

"Okay," Regina said, as her polite mask cracked even more, "can you two not do this right now? Have your little epiphany later?"

Donna looked over, at the Homeowners Association she'd always wanted to be a board member of, and smiled as she felt the weight falling off of her shoulders. "Should we go have an epiphany right now?"

"We can have two or three," Magda said, keeping a straight face. "I mean, we've got all afternoon."

This elicited a broad range of reactions, from curious to outraged, and, importantly, none of which pierced the bubble that went up around them as Donna and Magda left everything else behind and started walking.

***

It started with finding the house. It was cottage-y, with a lot of stonework around the outside, and it was nestled back down a long driveway away from any neighbors, prying eyes, or litigious ninnies. It was perfectly sized for two women growing older as much as growing together. They had a big bedroom to themselves, and two other bedrooms that were repurposed for an office and a new playroom, with a lot of new toys.

Best of all, though, was the kitchen. The previous owners had been fond of big get-togethers, so the kitchen was outfitted with enough appliances to feed a platoon and the counter space for a small army.

It wasn't an army that Donna wanted to cook for, though, and it wasn't really cooking that she wanted to do at all. She wanted to bake. She spent a few weeks filling up the counter with pies, muffins, and cookies, and testing out recipes she'd always thought she could pull off but never had the time for, and when she was ready she took her pies back to that picturesque, lakeside diner.

The owner, Delilah, had been surprised to see them, surprised and delighted. Without her daughter there to bake for them anymore, they'd been filling their racks with grocery store fare, and the customers had noticed. Soon, baking for a diner filled Donna's days as much as it filled the air in their house with the sweetest, most wonderful smells.

With a little business advice from Delilah and a lot of encouragement from Magda, Donna rented a little storefront around the corner from the diner, and her one-woman LLC became a small business. She hired a couple women part time, housewives who had time on their hands, and things got bigger. Eventually, as the years went by, even that space was too small and they moved again. Two grocery stores in town carried her baked goods. People bought boxes of goods, with money, that had Donna's name on them. Her favorite specialty was seasonal pride-themed treats.

Every night when she went home, even on the days that weren't so great, she went home to her best friend.

Two years after they moved in, and a year after Donna's business started to take off, she and Magda made it official. The ceremony was small, but a surprising number of their new acquaintances, friends, and neighbors wanted to come. The guest list ended up twice as long as it had been when they'd first drawn it up, which felt incredible. Other people wanted to share in their joy, and the more time they spent together the more they realized they had joy to spare.

The most amazing wedding present was from Janet. Donna had been brimming with curiosity from the moment she saw the package, almost as tall as Janet and nearly as wide, and shooed Janet away from carrying it. Janet was pregnant, and though it was still early and she was physically capable of carrying things, Donna fussed over her with all her might. They had gradually gotten back on good terms, and Janet's pregnancy had mended the last cracks in their relationship.

When the time to open the presents came, Donna wanted to start with the big one. Magda laughed and agreed. She wasn't nearly as thrilled about presents as Donna, but she absolutely loved how enthusiastic Donna got. Together they tore away the cardboard box.

It was a beautifully crafted wooden sign, the kind that reminded one of taverns of old, clearly meant to be placed on the front lawn of their cottage. Amongst skillfully carved flowers and vines, and several deer, were three words in an artful, graceful font:

Grumpy Old Ladies