That night Rhea found Declan on their fire escape with a beer, looking at the alley as if it might reveal a second career path among the dumpsters. She climbed out with a blanket and sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder.
"Nadine offered me a media training session," Rhea said. "Apparently I say 'hydrology' too much for television."
"Hydrology is sexy."
"To about four people."
"I'm one of them."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Sable asked if you understand trees. I said you understand stubbornness. Then you showed up and proved both."
"I almost didn't come. I was afraid of looking like a mascot."
"You looked like a husband. Mascots don't scrape their knuckles."
They sat until the beer went warm and the alley lights buzzed. Below them someone laughed and someone slammed a car door. Waterbury continued its untheatrical life. Declan said, "I keep waiting for the moment when staying feels like winning instead of forfeiting."
"Maybe it won't feel like winning. Maybe it will feel like marriage. Winning is a sports metaphor. We are not a tournament."
"Tell that to Brenna's binder."
"I did. She sent me a crying-laughing emoji and a link to Warwick senior yoga. Progress is strange."
In the middle of that week Arlo asked them, while steaming milk, whether they wanted the Wednesday special dedicated to anyone in particular. "I can write 'to hard decisions' on the board," he offered.
"Please don't," Declan said.
"To continuing," Rhea suggested.
Arlo wrote TO CONTINUING in block letters and underlined it twice. A stranger asked what it meant. Arlo said, "Ask the corner booth if you want theology. I only do coffee."
They were not always kind to each other in the middle weeks.
One evening Rhea came home late and Declan had already eaten, left her plate in the fridge with a note that said Soup. Microwave 2 min. The note was practical and somehow sharp. She microwaved the soup, ate standing up, and said, "You could have waited."
"I was hungry and you weren't here."