Chiti leaned back, too, and looked down at her body beneath the rippling water. Her face, which before had been content, grew slack. Sadness spread through her features; it was like watching a cloud cast its shadow over a great, wide field. Chiti put a hand wearily across her eyes.
“What is it?” asked Avery.
Instinctively, she raised a hand to cup her left breast. It was a habit she’d had since adolescence to soothe herself, an act so unconscious, she often had to stop herself from doing it during stressful client meetings at work. Beneath her wet fingertips, her heartbeat quickened.
“I hate that I care,” said Chiti. “I hate that it bothers me so much.”
So this was it. The moment of reckoning. Chiti knew about the smoking, the stealing, everything. Avery squeezed her left breast. But beneath the fear, there was relief too. She could stop, with Chiti’s help she could stop.
“Look, I’m embarrassed, but I’m glad you know…” she began.
Chiti looked up at her from beneath her hand.
“You’ve noticed too?” She frowned. “Of course you have.”
This was not what she had been expecting. She searched Chiti’s face.
“Noticed what?”
“I’ve gained weight.”
“What?”
Avery’s jaw unclenched with relief. Or disappointment. Or both.
“You don’t have to pretend to be surprised,” exclaimed Chiti. “Look at me!”
Avery looked at her wife, really looked at her, for the first time in a long time. Two long legs like tapered candlesticks. The soft, dark trail of hair beneath her belly button. How many times had Avery traced that winding path? She looked at Chiti’s elegant, narrow hands dipping into the water like cranes. The deep, glossy pink of her painted nails. And yes, if she was honest, her stomach was rounder than when she had first met her, her thighs thicker. But it only made her look more sensual, more womanly.
Avery glanced down at her own pale, flat stomach and felt, as she often did, the lack of loveliness in her when compared to Chiti. Avery was not unattractive, but she was no Venus, she knew that. Her tattoos added some intrigue, at least. The best she could say about herself was that she was neat looking. A symmetrical face and economical body; square shoulders, narrow hips, sturdy legs. A body that, to her mind, was about as sensual as a cereal box.
Of course, growing up with a sister who looked like Lucky, Avery had been in proximity to beauty most of her life. But unlike Lucky, whose seraphic good looks complicated and concealed the darkness within her, Chiti looked exactly like who she was. She was soft and burnished, graceful and robust. She was beautiful the way nature is beautiful, eternally.
“Okay, stop looking at me,” said Chiti.
She slung an arm across her chest and laughed self-consciously. Avery grabbed for her hand.
“You’re perfect, Chiti.” Chiti frowned and Avery hurried to correct herself. “I know we’re not meant to use that word because women use perfectionism as a form of self-harm blah blah. It’s just—to me you are. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.” Was this true? Hadn’t she just been sitting here listing Chiti’s faults? “You know I don’t care what you weigh,” she added. This, at least, was entirely true.
“I care! I don’t like that I care, but I do. My trousers cut into me when I’m sitting in session. Look! Look at these incriminating marks all over me.”
“We’ll get you new pants.”
“But these are my favorite.”
“The silk YSL ones?”
Chiti nodded.
“I’ll buy you another pair,” said Avery.
“They were vintage,” Chiti said sadly. She slapped the water in front of her. “I am not going to be one of those people who only wears elasticated pants. God help me if I become one of those people!”
“No one’s going to make you wear elasticated pants.”
Chiti let out a little moan.
“I’m almost forty. When did that happen?”
“Forty is young.”
Chiti looked at her.
“Thirty-four is young.”
“I’m thirty-three.”
Chiti flicked water at her.
“Even worse!” She picked up the soap and lathered it into her hands. “I thought if my body ever felt unrecognizable to me it would be because I was having a baby. I wasn’t prepared for this…rounding into middle age.”
Avery stiffened. Chiti had frozen her eggs shortly after they met, a decision that had seemingly taken the pressure off this type of observation. But it couldn’t forever. Avery had always known she didn’t want to carry a child, while Chiti knew that she did. Because Chiti was older and Avery wanted to focus on her career, freezing had seemed like the sensible option. But Chiti didn’t want to be an old mother. She had started to talk more seriously about finding a donor last year, an idea Avery never overtly rejected, but certainly didn’t encourage. Then Nicky died and they had not spoken about anything related to their future, let alone something as life-altering as a child, since.
“I’m too hot,” Avery said. “I’m overheating.” In one movement, she hauled herself out of the tub and stepped onto the freezing bathroom floor with a gasp. “I knew we should have got those floor heaters installed.”
She hopped onto the bath mat and wrapped herself in a towel, watching as Chiti carefully rinsed the soapsuds off her shoulders and chest. When she was finished, Avery opened a large towel and shuffled over. Chiti stepped out of the tub and let Avery wrap her in it. They stood marooned on the tiny island of bath mat as Avery rubbed Chiti’s arms to warm her up.
“Have you changed your mind?” Chiti asked quietly. “About the baby?”
