Picture Imperfect

by Lea Santos

  “Don’t apologize.” Emie adjusted in the chair and grimaced. “Even beached whales need to get out of the house now and then.”

  Paloma flashed a guilty glance at her very pregnant friend. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better than you at this point.”

  Murderers on death row probably felt better than she did right now. “I can’t believe Dee didn’t show. After all this.” She twisted her wrist, then let her hand drop in her lap.

  Ever the logical one, Emie said, “Listen, don’t fly off until you know the circumstances. I’m sure something just came up, sweetie.”

  Paloma spread her arms. “But don’t you see? Something always ‘just comes up.’ Something else is always more important than me and this so-called marriage, and I’m forever forced to give in.”

  Emie quirked her mouth to the side. Paloma didn’t envy her the position of designated sympathizer—nothing could soothe this ache.

  “You want to know the worst part?” Paloma’s self-derisive laugh held no humor. “Last week, she came over and…she kissed me.” She flashed Emie an assessing glance, but read no judgment in her gaze. “And I mean, really kissed me. I’ve spent the last week second-guessing my decision. I had almost convinced myself that Deanne had seen the light, that we might be able to work out this fiasco. I was planning to talk to her after this appointment. I’m pathetic.”

  Emie’s expression shone with encouragement. “Paloma, you still can work it out. If you two clear the air, and—”

  “No.” Paloma stood and hiked her briefcase up on her shoulder. “Whatever stupid romantic thoughts I had are gone. This was it. If she can’t even bother to show when our marriage is on the line, forget it. I don’t need Deanne Vargas, and I refuse to smile and make nice anymore.” She spun and headed for the double doors before Emie recognized the crushing disappointment on her face.

  *

  Deanne hadn’t reached Paloma before running out the door and headed for police headquarters. She must have left early, and she never picked up her cell phone in the car. The home voicemail engaged, and Deanne opened her mouth…but nothing emerged. Paloma would likely misconstrue whatever she said, no matter the explanation, so she’d hung up without speaking. But, as her heels struck the sidewalk leading to police headquarters, she doubted herself. She had a well-developed cop’s gut after eleven years on patrol, and every instinct inside her screamed, “Danger!” But she was here now. Might as well follow through.

  She dragged her wallet out of her back pocket and flashed her badge at the deputy manning the metal detectors before shouldering through the arch. That nagging feeling of doom chased her through the lobby and into the long, wood-paneled hallway, warning her she shouldn’t be here. She should be with Paloma. Too late.

  “Deanne!”

  She whirled back as Sgt. Obermeyer rushed to catch up. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt, a manilla folder clutched beneath her arm.

  Her eyes flashed with annoyance as she neared. “I called your name about five times. Didn’t you hear me?”

  Deanne peered over her shoulder to the austere lobby through which she’d plowed blindly—and apparently deafly—through. “Sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “So, that getting your head together goal is going well, I see,” Obermeyer muttered. She shuffled through the folder and whipped out a form. Her eyes traced the text briefly before she held it out. Deanne hardly spared it a glance before folding it into quarters and shoving it in her back pocket.

  Nora shook her head, peering up at Deanne quizzically. “Are you even ready to take this test?”

  “I’ve studied.” Deanne rubbed her knuckles along her jawline.

  “Vargas, what’s going on?” Nora glanced at her watch, and Deanne followed suit. Still a couple minutes before the test would start, but more than half an hour late for mediation. She toyed with the idea of finding a quiet corner and pulling out her cell phone. But what could she say to Paloma now, after the fact? I made another bad choice? Forgive me, again?

  “Vargas! Damnit.”

  Deanne frowned and shook her head as if to clear the daze. “I’m sorry.” She moved aside to let a group of plainclothes officers pass, then leaned against the wall, blowing a breath out pursed lips. “I think I really screwed up. Epic fail.”

  “Why? What happened?” Obermeyer crossed her arms, the folder dangling from one hand.

  “Paloma scheduled a mediation appointment for us today. I’d forgotten about the test so…after you called, I couldn’t reach her to tell her I couldn’t make it, and now—”

  “Oh, no.” Nora’s face fell. “But the test shouldn’t take you too long. What time’s the appointment?”

  “It was at ten.”

  “Hold up. One sec—you blew it off?” Obermeyer’s eyes grew round with dismay. “You pissed away a chance to—for a stupid promotional test?” She released a short, incredulous laugh. “Did you hear nothing I told you in the office that night?”

  “I heard. I listened. But my brother—” Damn, wrong choice. Ruben had said fight for her, not fight with her. Deanne spread her arms and shrugged, a feeling of utter ineptitude blasting her like pepper spray to the face. “What now?”

  “You have to ask? I should knock you upside the head.” Nora grabbed a fistful of Deanne’s sleeve and propelled her toward the exit without letting go. “Go to your wife, Deanne. Go! The job, promotions—none of it matters more than family—”

  “I know that, but—”

  “No buts,” Nora snapped. “Ever. Never make the mistake of putting the job first.”

  Jesus, Nora was right. Deanne had thought she was putting her family first by putting the job first, but she was wrong. She picked up speed as they reached the metal detectors. They passed through one after the other, leaving the building at a jog. Nora followed her as far as the threshold before stopping. “Good luck!” she called through cupped hands. “You annoying, hardheaded woman!”

  *

  Damned hindsight and its twenty-twenty vision. The very concept irritated the shit out of Deanne. The entire drive from police headquarters to Paloma’s house—their house—Deanne mentally kicked herself. Based on everything Paloma had revealed since the split, all the things that had made her unhappy, how could Deanne have thought for a moment that skipping the mediation appointment would be a wise strategic move? She banged her fist against the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

  By the time she pulled in behind Paloma’s car, desperation had taken hold of Deanne’s brainwaves, and she didn’t even think she’d be able to explain the convoluted thought processes that had led her to make such a colossally wrong decision. But she had to try.

  Blood hammering through her veins, she straightened her shirt, then strode with more confidence than she felt toward the door. Emie’s car, she noted, sat next to Paloma’s, the engine still ticking. That could be bad. Deanne rang the bell twice, then stood back and prayed. Her throat closed when the deadbolt slid home, but it was Emie’s face, not Paloma’s, that peered out. Relief showed in Emie’s eyes, then she eased out, closing the door behind her. “Well,it’s about freaking time.”

  “She’s here, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. I don’t think she’ll talk to you, though. God, what happened, Deanne?”

  “Damnit.” She clenched everything, then released it. “It was…a work issue, but it doesn’t matter. I should’ve blown it off and been there for Paloma.”

  Emie crossed her arms atop her distended belly. Her tone gently chastised, but her eyes looked almost sympathetic. “Maybe not blown it off, but you should’ve tried to make other arrangements, or at least said something to Paloma.”

  But, but, but! Deanne’s mind defended, though logic said her argument sucked. “I called, but…when voicemail picked up, I didn’t have the words. Damnit.” She smoothed her palm down her face. “My excuses sound lame even to me, Emie. I don’t want to waste your time or insult your intelligence by rattling them off. I was an ass.”<
br />
  A wan smile lifted one side of Emie’s mouth, and her tone went wry. “Well, at least you and Pea agree on something. She’s talking about serving custody papers, speaking to you only through lawyers. It’s knee-jerk, honey. I’m trying to calm her and get her to a less reactive place, but—” She shrugged.

  Through Deanne’s haze of worry, she replayed Emie’s words and did a double take. “You aren’t pro-split?”

  Emie socked Dee in the shoulder, but softened it with a wink. “Don’t be a complete bonehead, Deanne. Who else but Pea would put up with an annoying workaholic like you?”

  One half of Deanne’s mouth cooperated with her feeble attempt at a smile. This was good, having Emie on her side. Paloma respected her friends’ input. Deanne needed them to understand how desperately contrite she felt about the appointment, but the only words that came to mind were, “I don’t want anyone but her. Ever.”

  “I know, dummy.” Emie tilted her head to the side. “But I’ll be honest. It doesn’t look good.”

  Deanne cupped her elbows and hunkered down until their eyes were level. “Em, I beg you. Convince her to let me explain. I just want to tell her what was going on in my brain when I made the decision to go to work instead of meeting her. I screwed up. I get it. I don’t expect forgiveness—”

  “Good thing.”

  “I’ll leave her alone for a while, give her some space after this if she’ll just…listen.”

  Emie cast Deanne a dubious look, rolled the idea around in one cheek. “I’ll try. No promises. You know how stubborn she can be.”

  “She’s perfect,” Deanne said.

  Emie sighed. “Give me a sec.” She tossed Deanne a playfully stern glare. “And don’t make any other idiotic decisions while you wait, okay?”

  Deanne pointed down. “I’m frozen to this spot.”

  Emie disappeared into the house, and Dee leaned against the wrought iron railing that edged the small concrete stoop. Frozen was a weak description of how she felt. Numb. Dead, even. She didn’t move. Hardly breathed. She merely waited, trying to clear her mind and praying Paloma would agree to see her.

  After several agonizing minutes, Paloma’s stony face peered around the edge of the door, and Deanne cast up a silent vote of sainthood for Emie. She couldn’t imagine how Emie had convinced Paloma to listen, but she didn’t care.

  Anger flashed beneath the utter disappointment Deanne read in Paloma’s closed expression. “What?” Her tone was pure burning ice.

  Dee pushed off the railing, but words failed her even more dismally than she’d failed Paloma. How in the hell did a woman say the right thing in this situation? What was the right thing? Moistening her lips with a nervous flick of her tongue, she took the plunge. “I made a terrible mistake.” State the obvious. It’s a start.

  Paloma’s hard expression didn’t change one iota.

  Flipping her hands helplessly, she forged on. “Punky, I’ll tell you right now, this won’t sound reasonable to you. But…if you could put yourself into my mindset, just for a minute. Please.” When she didn’t slam the door, as Deanne had expected, she lowered her head, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, measuring her next words.

  “I’ve been ravaged since you left the message about mediation. Shredded. But I planned on being there.” She enunciated slowly. “I really did.”

  Paloma’s lashes fluttered, but she lifted her chin.

  “Then, this morning, Nora called me at Ruben’s. I haven’t mentioned this, but I’ve been studying to take the sergeant’s test for six months. It was today.”

  “Why didn’t you call me on Friday, then?” Her voice sounded croaky and accusatory. She cleared her throat. “I even gave you an out to reschedule.”

  “I didn’t call because I’d forgotten about the test.” She splayed a palm on her chest. “My only thoughts, baby, have been about you and me. I didn’t remember until Nora called me, right about the time I was heading out the door to meet you.”

  “But you didn’t come meet me.” Her words were judge, jury, and executioner, and just like that Deanne was dead woman walking.

  A thick pause ensued. “No. But I called.”

  “There wasn’t a message.”

  “I”—she uttered a sound of disgust—“didn’t know what to say without making you angry.”

  “So you said nothing.” It wasn’t a question. Scorn moved over Paloma’s face. “That’s just perfect. Anything else?”

  “Yes. Remember, think like me.” Deanne finger-combed her hair with frustration. “I chose the test because I got it into my head that agreeing to mediation was as good as telling you I’m okay with the split. Which, for the record, I’m not.”

  Paloma didn’t so much roll her eyes as let them drift heavenward and back down.

  Chagrin spread through Deanne. Clearly, Paloma wasn’t swayed. “I know, it’s stupid. Now I know. But with that in my head, I drove to headquarters instead of meeting you.”

  Paloma’s head jerked to the side in a stiff shrug. “Well, I guess I know what really matters to you, Dee. Not that it wasn’t abundantly clear already.” She started to close the door. “Enjoy your promo—”

  “Wait.” Deanne smacked her palm against the door, urgency pulling her words out faster. “Let me finish. I didn’t take the test, Punky. That’s what I’m telling you. I know it’s too little, too late, and I missed the appointment regardless. But I’m learning. I’m trying—Jesus, baby girl, I am trying so hard. I don’t care if I have to wait until next year to go for the promotion, or if I never get it. I love you. Beyond all reason, beyond everything, I love you.”

  Paloma blinked rapidly, then dropped her gaze. “Is that all?”

  “I love you. That’s not all, that’s a lot.” Deanne waited, but Paloma didn’t look at her. It was her most-dreaded stand-off realized. Deanne on the outside of their life looking in, Paloma’s closed expression saying Deanne would never be welcome inside again. She’d almost decided to admit defeat and walk away, when Paloma’s soft voice stopped her.

  “The thing is, Deanne, it always takes you until after the fact to remember your family. Don’t you see that?”

  Dee’s mouth dropped open, but she couldn’t dispute Paloma’s point. Perception is reality. Nora had reminded her that Paloma’s perspective was the only one that truly mattered this time. It wouldn’t help to explain that her awkward way of showing love was working, taking care of Paloma and the boys. But couldn’t Paloma at least see how desperately Dee wanted to change? To be the kind of partner she needed? She blew out a defeated breath. “I hear you, but—”

  “Because—let me finish.” Paloma paused. “I see us as being last on your priority list. I feel it, too, and it hurts like hell. It’s only a matter of time before the boys start to sense it, and I won’t let that happen.” Her regretful gaze pulled to Deanne’s. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Dee. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

  Remorse and pain clogged Deanne’s throat as she clenched and unclenched her fists, desperate to grasp what was slipping away. She reached for her wife, but Paloma shook her head, and Deanne regretfully folded her fingers back into her palm.

  The raging torment must have shown on Deanne’s face, because Paloma sighed. “Don’t give me that look. I don’t hate you, honey. I never could. But I’m not ready to forgive you for this, either. Can you understand that?”

  “Yes,” she whispered hoarsely. “But I’m not ready to throw in the towel on this marriage. Can you understand that?”

  “I understand that you’re not. You’ll have to keep the faith for both of us on that account, because at this point, Deanne, I don’t see anything but…the end.” She sniffed.

  Deanne’s heart gave one painful thud.

  “I’m sorry you missed the test. I know how important it must’ve been for you.”

  “Nothing is as important as you.”

  Paloma huffed. “Words, Deanne. Pretty, empty words. That’s all you keep giving me, and it’s n
ot enough.” With that, the door snicked shut on their house and in Deanne’s heart.

  *

  Paloma pressed her back against the door and squeezed her eyes shut. “Damn her,” she whispered.

  “Don’t tell me you can’t see how desperately that gal loves you, Pea. She’s wrecked.”

  Emotion twisted and squeezed inside her. “I’ve already told you, Em, sometimes love isn’t enough.”

  Emie brushed back a lock of hair that had tangled to Paloma’s eyelashes. “And I’m telling you, sometimes it is enough, if you can find it in your heart to forgive and move on.” She paused, her face a mask of sympathy and understanding. “Can’t you remember what made you love Deanne in the first place?”

  “Ignorance? Youth?”

  “No.” Emie ticked qualities off on her slim fingers. “She was goal-oriented, a hard worker, dependable. Always went the extra mile. She made you feel secure, you told me—”

  “So?” Emie frowned. “That was then and this is now.”

  “I disagree. Dee may be taking things to extremes these days, but she still goes the extra mile. She’s still that same goal-oriented, dependable hard worker—”

  “Yeah,” Paloma interjected. “But she used to go the extra mile for me, not work. And I don’t feel secure anymore. I feel forgotten. Critical difference.”

  Emie sighed. “Well, Dee seems willing to work on it. Desperate to, actually.”

  Paloma pushed off the door and scuffed into the living room. She flung her body back on the couch. “I thought you were on my side.”

  “I am, dumbass. Which is why I don’t want to see you throw away a life you’ve worked so hard to build, with a woman who is truly your soul mate. No one ever promised it would be easy, this relationship stuff.” Emie spread her arms wide. “Face it, once you’re dating them, women are organically annoying, with us, naturally, being the exceptions to that rule.”

  Paloma laughed, grudgingly.

  “But girlfriends, partners, wives…they have good qualities, too. You just have to ask yourself”—Emie picked up their mugs and headed toward the kitchen—“is it worth it?”