Back at home, Angela was alone, working on her computer. She told me that Grace and Rosalie had gone to Disney’s California park and Emmy was with Lee and Jackson setting up their equipment in the new studio.
I flopped down on the couch, relieved to have nothing to do and nobody to deal with.
“Emmy said that we shouldn’t wait for her for lunch,” Angela said, scooting me over as she sat down on the edge of the couch. She toyed with the hem of my T shirt, pulling it up a bit to expose my belly, which she put her hands on.
“I love your muscles,” she said as I tensed my abs for her to run her hands across. After a little bit of that, Angela asked what was obviously on her mind.
“Leah, am I just… a replacement? Is that what Emmy wants? For me to be here for you after…?”
Sighing, I took Angela’s hands in mine, waiting until she looked up at me. “Ange, I don’t think it’s that simple. I think that may be part of it, sure, but I don’t think it’s all of it, or even the majority.”
“What do you mean?”
“To start with,” I said, trying to frame it properly, “I think that Emmy is planning for after she’s gone. I do think that she was happy you came into our lives, both because we both love you now, but also because she thinks that you and I will have a future together that she can’t be part of.” Saying it outright was somehow really different than just thinking these things to myself, and I found my throat constricting a bit as I spoke.
“Don’t think for a minute that she doesn’t love you and want to be with you right now, Ange. She absolutely does. I absolutely do. But she does know that her future is limited, too, and I do think that she wants us to be happy together after- after she’s gone,” I said, even though it was very hard to get the words out.
Seeing the tears in Angela’s eyes, I pulled her down onto me, holding her tight. “I know, baby,” I said softly. “I know.”
I wept for a little while, but Angela was in a much earlier stage of grief than I was, so her sobs were much more than mine. “Why?” she demanded. “Why does she have to die?”
“We all do, sooner or later,” I said. “Like she says in that song, her candle burns twice as bright.”
“I hate that song,” Angela said, her voice muffled against my chest. “I hate it so much!”
I kissed her head and stroked her hair. I rubbed her back and murmured gently, eventually lulling Angela into a sort of semi-consciousness. We lay there on the couch for a while, not saying anything, just thinking about life, the universe, and everything.
“Even after she’s gone,” Angela finally said, “I’m still going to love her.”
“Me, too, baby. Me, too.”
“I’ll be… Leah, I love you so much, and I’ll be your wife, and the best wife there ever was, but I’ll miss Emmy.”
“I will, too,” I said, but I had nothing else to add. Apparently, neither did Angela. We just held each other, commiserating in silence on our inevitable mutual widowhood.
Eventually Angela’s naturally buoyant personality reasserted itself and she got up off me. Sitting astride my lap, she asked if I was hungry.
“I could eat,” I admitted.
“Let’s go out, since we’ll be cooking all evening and tomorrow morning,” she suggested, and it sounded good to me.
By the time I showered and put on some nice clothes Angela had gotten all dolled up, her smoky makeup accenting her big blue eyes, and hiding the fact that she’d been crying. Her outfit was what I would call ‘casual sexy’, showing off a lot of leg in her denim mini skirt. The plain white scoop neck tank with one of my button-up white shirts as an open jacket completed the look. It was sexy without seeming to try, perfect for a sunny Los Angeles November day.
“You look nice,” I said. “But then, you always do.”
“If you keep that up, we might not ever get out of the bedroom,” Angela said, her eyes twinkling.
“I’d be O.K. with that,” I said, leaning down for a kiss.
We went to an Algerian place that had been getting good reviews, and I was happy to see that it wasn’t done up like some sort of souk den full of cushions. No, it was more like a French café, with a lovely patio for al fresco dining. My chicken couscous was nearly perfect, and Angela’s tajine looked amazing.
“I’ve never had Algerian food before,” she said, looking at the plate full of pieces of chicken, olives, and semolina. “But I really like this.”
“We’ll have to come back with Emmy,” I said. “You know her parents have a place in Morocco?”
“I’ve always wanted to go to North Africa,” Angela sighed. “There’s a city, a really old city there, that’s all painted in blue. Pictures make it look so amazing, you know? And Casablanca, the old markets…”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“I’ve never been,” I said. “But it’s on my list.”
“You and Emmy have so much money- I don’t know why you aren’t in Monaco, or Paris, or someplace like that.”
Shrugging, I said, “Work, school, building an empire- the usual things.”
In the car, Angela asked if we really had to go home just then. “Let’s go to the beach.”
The weather was nice enough, even if the breeze off the water felt a little bit cold. The two of us enjoyed the sunny fall afternoon, walking along the Santa Monica boardwalk. Walking out onto the pier, Angela did something she’d never done in public before- she took my hand in hers, and we walked together like that. I was thrilled inside that she was able to move past her own resistance to be seen in public as a lesbian, but all I did was give her hand a comforting squeeze to let her know I appreciated the gesture.
At one of the vendor carts I bought her a little braided leather bracelet and had silver-colored beads with the letters A, E and L slid onto it. She kissed me right there in the middle of the crowd, her eyes bright with happiness after I fastened it around her wrist.
Walking hand in hand wasn’t enough for Angela after that. She wrapped her arm around my waist and I draped mine over her shoulder, so we could walk and cuddle at the same time.
We rode the Ferris wheel, but otherwise skipped all the attractions on the pier in favor of simply enjoying the scenery and the company. As the time passed, Angela clearly grew more and more comfortable with PDAs, losing her hangup about appearances. The simple truth of the matter was that the only people checking us out were doing so because they thought Angela was hot, and also probably the idea of a pretty lesbian was titillating.
I’d long ago given up paying any heed to the quick glances or overt stares, but I could remember how awkward I’d felt back in high school when Emmy and I got that sort of attention.
On the drive back to the condo, Angela sighed. “I had a really nice day. Thank you, Leah.”
“I had a great time, too,” I said, putting my hand on the warm skin of her bare leg.
Angela covered my hand with hers and sighed again.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“It- I just thought that this might be like what we’ll be like after Em is gone,” Angela said. “Just the two of us, I mean.”
“Ange, we might have another ten years. Who knows? I guess what I’m saying is to live for today, and don’t think about that far down the road,” I said, mixing my metaphors.
“I know,” she sighed again. “But I can’t help it.”
“I understand that,” I said. “But you know what’s gonna happen tonight?”
“What’s that?”
“You, me, and Emmy are going to cuddle together in our bed, tell each other we love each other, and hold each other like tomorrow doesn’t matter. Because when we’re in each others’ arms, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we love each other.”
Smiling, Angela said, “I love you, Leah. And I love Emmy. It’s really strange… That wasn’t how I was ever taught it should be, but that’s how it is anyway.”
“Ange, is this the life you want?” I asked.
“Yes! Of course it is!” she said, surprised I would even ask.
“Then it is how it should be, regardless of what you were taught.”
“At the pier, there was a man and his wife. I don’t know if you noticed them. He was a big guy, and she was normal-sized, but they were old. At least fifty, maybe older,” Angela said, looking out the car window but seeing in her mind the couple she was describing. “They looked like they have been married a long time, but they were holding hands, and when they stopped to look out over the beach, she leaned against him. They were obviously still in love.”
Angela paused a moment, then continued. “I imagined that was us, Leah. Just you and me, because we’d lost Emmy by then, but we still loved each other, and we still took comfort in each other. I want that to be us. I wish Emmy could grow old with us, but I know it won’t happen, but I want us to grow old together. When we’re fifty, maybe older, we’ll walk together, your arm around me, and I’ll still feel a little bit, um, thrilled, to feel your strength, to know you’re there for me.”
I found myself needing to blink a bunch for some reason, but I wasn’t going to take my hand off Angela’s leg to rub my eyes.
“I talked to mis papís this morning,” she said, changing the subject. “They asked how you and Emmy are doing. I think they are trying, you know? They asked when they will be able to meet you two in person, and I told them that I would buy them tickets to come visit after the New Year. I explained that our new house is almost ready and we’ll be busy moving in during Christmas, but maybe they could come in January?” she said, turning it into a question.
“I’d love to meet your parents,” I said. “My Spanish is terrible, but it seemed as if both speak English pretty well, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Have they been to LA before?”
“No, the only place in the United States that they’ve seen is Miami, and Orlando. I took them to Disney World.”
“Would they be O.K. staying at our house, or do you think they’d be more comfortable in a hotel?”
“If they stay at our house, we’ll all get fat. My mamá loves to cook,” Angela said with a laugh.
“I love your cooking, so that doesn’t sound so bad,” I said.
“She’s a much better cook than me,” Angela admitted.
“We’ll have to ask if January works for Emmy, but I’d love it if your parents could come to visit. Maybe your sister, too? And don’t worry about the tickets. I’ll get ‘em.”
“Are you sure?” Angela asked. “Tickets from Cartagena are always expensive.”
I gave her a look and said, “I have money.”
“Oh, right. I forgot,” Angela said, slapping her forehead. “What I meant is that they’re my family, and so I should pay for them to come.”
“Are you my family?” I asked.
She looked puzzled by the question, so I clarified. “If you’re my secret second wife, that means you’re my family. If you’re my wife, then that means they’re my in-laws, which makes them my family, too. You’re going to meet my mom and sister tomorrow- I don’t know how you haven’t already, actually. And you’ll meet Emmy’s parents when they come to California after the New Year. And you’re getting two sets of in-laws!”
Angela laughed at that. “Lucky me!”
“My mom’s really cool, and my little sister is a good kid. You’ll like ‘em. Emmy’s parents are really, um, intimidating at first, but of anybody, they didn’t blink an eye at the idea of you joining Emmy and me. I know they want to meet you, too. They just take a little bit of getting used to.”
Mom and Tiffany arrived early, as expected. I’d made it clear to Mom that she was not coming up to Los Angeles to cook and that Angela and I had everything under control in the kitchen, but it was inevitable that she’d dive right in anyway.
Tiffany was a bit shy with Angela, but pleased to see me and ecstatic to see Emmy again. She wrapped her little arms around Emmy and didn’t want to let go.
“It’s been so long!” she said. “How come you never come down to visit?”
“I do not have a very good reason, Tiffany,” Emmy admitted. “We have been very busy, and you have school, so it is easy to forget about keeping in contact with those we love.”