Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ivy
Tragically, I don't have time to devour my fake boyfriend. Cynthia and I barely arrive in time for our evening task.
Amara takes us through another dinner recipe—a pesto pasta—while the guys get to work on hiding the cake from Cynthia.
The food comes together quickly, then we all gather together in the big dining room to enjoy a big, easy meal.
"I'll let you retire early tonight," Amara says.
My shoulders fall in relief. It's been a fun day, but I'm tired.
"One question for the table. Then one question to take with you," she says. "A private confessional. I'll even look the other way on Ivy and Romeo sharing a room to discuss it."
Cynthia laughs. "Really, you're only encouraging him, treating him like a horny teenager."
Romeo adopts an over-the-top shrug of innocence. "When did I ever invite a girl overnight?"
Daniel raises a brow. It's the same gesture Romeo does. And this time, it looks the same on him. It looks similarly playful, I guess.
Amara shakes her head in that boys will be boys way women do. "You are like teenagers when you're together. Everything is about sex and shocking your mother."
"Was Daniel ever obsessed with sex? Really?" There's surprise in Cynthia's voice, but I can't place the implication.
Daniel notes it, but he doesn't seem to take offense.
Romeo laughs. "Are you kidding? He was obsessed with you."
"He was not," Cynthia says.
"He was," Romeo says. "And he always tried to spin it into this pragmatic thing, of course, the way Daniel does.
‘Cynthia and I are both on track to earn in the 95th percentile.
With our heights, our child is likely to have a height in the 75th percentile.
She's got such beautiful brown eyes, don't you think?’ Then he'd realize brown eyes weren't a quantifiable trait. "
"That doesn't sound sexual," Cynthia says.
"Well…" Romeo looks to his mom. "I shouldn't share the rest in mixed company."
Daniel blushes. It's really cute, actually.
Amara shakes her head. "What did I say? Obsessed."
"Let me put it this way: he read a lot of books that could explain what he should do, when, and how, and for how long." Romeo raises a brow.
"Books? Or… magazines?" she asks.
Romeo mines zipping his lips.
She laughs.
Again, Amara shakes her head. This time, she powers through. "That can be the answer if you want. But at least listen to the question before you dive into the gutter. What is your idea of a perfect marriage?"
Oh, just that little thing.
Great.
Really great.
I swallow another sip of my gin and tonic. Let the cool liquid warm my throat and cheeks.
She should know better, really. She should know there's no such thing as a perfect marriage. She's been married before!
I fold my hands in my lap and adopt my therapist face. The one that says I'm listening; I'm attentive; I'm not judging anything you say as unusual or outrageous.
I try to avoid it in social situations. People find it off-putting.
As they should. It's a professional mask designed to remind clients of the unequal nature of our relationship, where they are free to come and go as they please, and I am there to help without any emotional investment in their lives.
It doesn't really turn out that way, of course. Not exactly. Of course, I cared about my clients and wanted them to do well. Now, I care about my listeners, and I want the best for them.
I have to keep that to myself, for the most part. It's okay to share a little I want good things for you, as long as I'm vague about what those things are.
Otherwise, people start to mold themselves to fit what I want, and it just doesn't work. There's a lot of power in the relationship. A strange sort.
I never got used to that imbalance. That’s one reason I prefer what I do now—I don’t have to train myself not to overinvest emotionally in someone I help over the long term.
Even though it's in my nature to keep to the sidelines, to hide behind a poker face, to intellectualize the emotions of others.
Amara takes her turn first. "Marriage is not just for men and women.
It's wonderful we've extended the right to all sorts of relationships, but, for me, that part is important.
I am a woman, and I want a man who appreciates my femininity.
A man who provides and leaves room for me to tend to the house, the family, the garden.
I know it's old fashioned, but it's how I've always wanted things.
To cook dinner for my husband, to let him choose where we go on vacation, to help him with his work problems. It is not that I am subservient to him, in any way.
Rather that we take different roles, equally important roles, ones that compliment each other.
" She looks to me and Cynthia. "I know that isn't right for many younger women.
I know you want to be equal. But you don't have to be the same to be equal.
You don't have to split finances down the middle to share fifty-fifty.
And, yes, I know, more than any of you, how risky this is for women.
How it puts you in a position to lose everything if your husband decides to take it away.
But it doesn't have to be that way. I always trusted Carlos, but we still had everything in writing. "
"What are you talking about, Mama?" Daniel asks. "You and Dad didn't have any money? What was in writing?"
"We knew where we stood," she says. "The accounts.
The savings. Your college funds. And when your great-aunt passed and this became ours, we talked about it, what it meant for us.
For you. We both had the same goal: to give you two the best lives possible.
But we didn't always agree on what that meant. "
"What sort of stuff did you not agree on?" Cynthia asks.
"Carlos was like Daniel," she says. "He wanted to be an American.
United States American." She waves off Daniel before he can object.
"He wanted the big house, the fast car, the expensive college.
He knew image mattered. He knew people would look at Danny and Rome and see the color of their skin and know they were from south of the border.
We were both immigrants, but it was a different experience, because of our countries, because he was a man and I was a woman, because of a million things. "
"And you wanted them to stay down to Earth?" Cynthia asks.
She nods. "To remember what matters. Family. Small moments. Small pleasures. Love and art and food and music. And, yes, boys, sex, too."
"That's what she meant by little things," Romeo jests.
"She was talking about your stamina, yes," Daniel returns.
Cynthia laughs.
I do too.
Amara shakes her head. "I worried they would care too much about image and status.
Maybe you do, sometimes. But you are both good boys, even if you make some mistakes.
" She looks to the painting of her and her late husband.
"Carlos and I didn't have much money, most of the time, but we always knew how to share with each other.
I would make the home and he would make the money.
Some people don't see that as equal, but it felt equal to me.
It freed me to my art, and he never resented that. "
"As long as you kept the place nice," Daniel says.
She returns something in Italian.
"It's true, Mama," Romeo says. "Dad was fussy about it sometimes. Rude, even."
She shakes her head. "No one is perfect. I was not perfect either."
Cynthia notices the tension and offers her a reprieve.
"I want something like that too, Amara. The delegation.
But not along such strict gender lines. I don't want to give up my career to stay home with children forever.
But I want to be able to put Daniel in charge of home-maintenance while I take care of any kids.
And dinner." She laughs. "Of course, he's the one who cooks dinner. "
"Mom did teach that well," Daniel offers.
Cynthia continues. "The rest, I don't know.
Marriage is a financial and legal contract.
If you look at things logically. But I want the magic too.
I want to know I have someone there, through sickness and health, for richer or poorer.
I want to really believe that he'll be there for anything.
To know I will. I know some people see that commitment as giving up freedom, but I think it is another kind of freedom.
A surrender to being something bigger than myself.
" She runs her thumb over her engagement ring.
"That's more romantic than I am, normally.
But I want that. And, well… the honeymoon too. "
"The honeymoon sex," Romeo adds.
But it strikes the wrong tone. His voice is fun and playful, but the words hit the air and they suggest something else.
Some lack.
Or maybe I'm projecting.
Again.
Daniel cuts through the tension in the air—or maybe it was never there—with a strong, confident voice. "I want that too."
"Where are you going on your honeymoon?" I ask.
"Paris," she says. "But we're waiting until Christmas." She doesn't say if that's for personal or practical reasons. Maybe she's always wanted to see Paris in Christmas. Or maybe they have to wait for work to lessen.
"Have you been before?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Daniel hasn’t either. We've always wanted to… And it will be beautiful."
"Where did you go on your honeymoon?" Amara asks me. There's no judgment in her voice, but I hear the subtext anyway.
You failed at marriage once. Don't think about failing my son on round two.
"Hawaii," I say. "It was beautiful. A perfect place really."
She continues, "when was—"
Romeo interrupts. "I think it's my turn now, isn't it?" He motions to the table. "If we're doing clockwise."
Amara nods of course. She looks from Romeo to me, then back to her son. Proud of him for standing up for me, maybe.
I don't know anymore.
"No one knows better than the three of you—I've rarely thought of marriage.
But I did notice what you and Dad were like.
" He smiles in a nostalgic way. "You showed me what it meant to love and trust someone.
And now Daniel and Cynthia are doing the same.
Not to spoil your wedding toast." He holds up a glass.
"All of you are equals in your relationship.
You love in different ways, but you love just the same.
I want that. To find someone who sees the world the way I do.
No. Not quite. Close enough I understand, but far enough they expand my world view.
Someone who pushes me without ever pushing too hard.
Who sees the best in me. Who sacrifices, but never more than they can give.
Who is strong and unwilling to back down from what they want. "
"What about where you live?" Amara asks. "Kids?"
"It's not that those things don't matter.
They do," he says. "But as long as I see my family, I'm happy.
I could be here, in your guest room, or in Rome with Grandma, or even in Jalisco with all our cousins.
I could travel the world and spend a month at Christmas here.
I don't need any one place to be home. I need a person who feels like home. Like a home we've built together."
Where did he get all that?
He continues, "someone who loves me without confining me. I see so many people who try to control their partner. I don't want that for either of us. I want us to grow together, even if it's in different directions, because we know we'll always work to come back together."
"Are you hinting you want an open relationship?" Daniel asks. It's playful, but it doesn't hit right either.
Because it means something deeper than that.
And I see that. I feel it.
That drive to grow, to never get in someone's way.
That's something I had once but lost along the way. Something I want back.
"I won't lie," he says. "I'm open to it. But it's not about sex with other people. It's about a mindset of creating enough room to explore the world, ourselves, our interests. Separately and together."
"Maybe just threesomes," Cynthia jokes.
Amara shakes her head. "You too?"
Cynthia shrugs. "Sorry. These guys bring it out of me."
The mood in the room lightens. Turns to teenage giggles. Threesomes are a silly subject, after all.
"What do you think, Ivy?" Cynthia asks. "Do you think he's talking about sex?"
"Sex isn't separate from a relationship," I say.
"It's a part of it. Sure, we bring unique…
issues to the table when it comes to sex, but I've never seen a couple who had a great relationship except for sex.
It's always a problem elsewhere that shows up there.
Or a… good thing, I guess. A desire to explore the world and explore your sexuality, maybe.
" I look to Romeo, and I try to make my voice as loving as possible, as if I'm lost in this vision of our future.
"I've seen a lot of relationships over the years.
They come in all varieties. Some that seem strange to me.
But they work because two people work at it.
Monogamy isn't the only way to show you trust someone.
Isn't sharing a bank account just as intimate? "
Amara nods that is true. Then she catches herself nodding and shakes her head. "You kids today… I can't keep up."
Romeo chuckles. "Not everything is about sex."
"I like your idea of marriage," I say. "That's what I want too. Someone who wants to grow with me. Not another half, but another whole."
Cynthia nods.
Everyone does, actually.
My shoulders fall in relief. A tear wells in my eyes. I don't know why I'm crying. I'm only talking about abstract ideas of marriage. Not why mine failed. Not if I can ever be happy again.
Romeo reaches out and squeezes my hand. And this time, I give in completely, falling into him, wrapping my arms around him.
One perfect moment.
And then Amara's question reminds me exactly what game we're playing here.
"Take this one upstairs," she says. "What's something you haven't told your partner that you feel you should?"