[Recap: While trying to get his wife pregnant, Aidan has come up with a game to spice up their love life. It appears to be harmless enough, so Rosa reluctantly agrees.]
THE THRILL OF IT
Anthony makes the hand sign for drinks from across the rooftop. Rosa responds with a head shake. The music is loud, bass pumping into the night; Rosa looks up at the stars. Everyone around her is drunk, bodies gyrating to the beat. The crowd is mid-twenties, dressed in short skirts, ripped jeans, tank-tops, tight dresses; showing flesh in the warm summer night. Aidan appears with a beer and a glass of sparkling water. He passes the water to his wife.
"I thought you were off the drink," Rosa shouts in his ear, over the din.
"Just having a couple."
Aidan sips his drink defensively, eyes on the crowd. There is a blonde girl in a tiny, figure-hugging red dress dancing in front of the DJ. Rosa can see all eyes are on her and steals a sidelong glance at her husband: he's noticed the girl too.
"You enjoying yourself?"
Aidan's eyes snap back to his wife.
"Sure. This place is packed. I'm glad Davey got us the invite."
Rosa sips her water. She doesn't say anything.
Davey and Anthony are threading their way back through the crowd, drinks in hand. Theo is trailing behind Ant, carrying an ice bucket with champagne and a fistful of glasses. It's going to be a long night.
"Davis," Aidan says as Davey approaches.
Davey nods, "Aidan. Good to see you out and about. Rosa."
Rosa nods in return. Davey distributes the drinks in his hands but his attention is already back on the girl dancing in the red dress. Rosa watches him watching her. He's good-looking, maybe a year or two older than her, and perennially between girlfriends. She knows he likes to portray himself as a self-made property magnate, but she knows it's all backed up by the money from his late father. He's the kind of guy who knows he's a good catch, she thinks to herself.
They talk and dance and drink for what feels like hours. Aidan nurses his beer, conscious of his wife's eyes on him. Davey is soon off prospecting in the crowd; Theo and Anthony are in high spirits, sharing out the champagne with whoever needs it. It's just like old times, like they'd wound the clock back five years, to when Rosa and Aidan had first met. They'd hit bars and parties like this one every week, dancing until the small hours and then falling into bed in his tiny apartment, drunk and horny, ready to make love until the sun came up.
Rosa knows that it wasn't really like that. There was something about retrospect that edited together all the highlights and left out all the boring parts, all the shit, so that when you remembered it, only then did you realise just what an outrageous life you'd been living. Anthony had been there from the start, on his own at first but then picking up Theo at the end of one wild night where he'd convinced Aidan and Rosa to try a new gay bar in the city. Aidan had said it wasn't going to last, but here they were now, bouncing stories off each other at the table, years down the line.
Everyone was settling down, except Arly. Rosa can see she's keeping an eye out, looking for a body with whom she could end the night on a high, either literally or figuratively. Charlie and Stefan are on the dancefloor, her arms around Stefan's shoulders in some drunken imitation of the Bolero. Rosa wishes she was drinking, wishes she could just throw it all in and lose herself for one night, embrace the fun all her friends are having. Aidan slips up behind her, arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck.
"You can have one, you know. The champagne. Ant got it because he knows that's what you like."
Rosa twists so she can see her husband's face.
"He's getting through it fine without me."
"That's not the point."
Rosa's face creases in momentary irritation.
"Then, Aidan, please tell me what the point actually is?"
Her husband sighs, squeezing her tighter.
"Fun. That's the point. Stress is not good. It doesn't help."
"This," she replies in a quiet voice, resigned, "This isn't helping."
Aidan's hand presses lightly onto her tummy. She can feel the pressure, recalling the feeling of his hands on her in the gym, doubled over, helpless.
"Let's just do another half an hour," Aidan insists. "See how we go."
Rosa shrugs.
"You said that an hour ago."
"Then we can, y'know."
"Can what?"
"It's a long time until sunrise."
---
They go out for brunch, after a late start. Aidan picks the usual coffee shop, just down from their apartment block. The area is full of the same new buildings, cookie-cutter residences for the young up-and-coming demographic, with a coffee shop on each corner and easy access via the bus routes to the city. Today, the place is crowded with people: young couples, some with dogs, twittering to each other about the inconsequential events of the week just ended.
Aidan picks a table outside, next to a couple in their late twenties with a small dog on a red lead under the table. The woman is in tiny denim shorts, showing off her perfect legs. Her boyfriend's hand rests lightly on her knee while they talk. It looks like they looked, Rosa thinks, just a few short years ago: easy, charming, full of possibilities. Minus the designer dog.
The waitress comes over and Aidan asks Rosa what she would like to eat. It's always the same, the menu is laminated and hasn't changed in a year. They put their orders in and settle down to wait, but Rosa needs to get something off her chest. Aidan already suspects this and is eyeing her carefully.
"We said that we were going to lay off the alcohol."
Aidan shifts in his seat. "I know," he says, "But I thought a couple of beers would do no harm. It's all I had all night. No harm done."
"You don't know that. If we're trying, we can't just skip whenever it suits us. We need to maximise our chances."
Aidan holds his hand up. "I know. Okay. You think I don't know?"
Rosa becomes sullen.
"Babe, we've been maximising. The other day in the gym."
"Was two days too early. Last night would have been better, but after getting in at three I was past the point by then."
Aidan is clearly forcing himself to keep calm and not rise to the bait. He responds in a level tone, "Today would equally be fine. If you wanted to."
"I wanted to last night. But not at three."
"You should have said."
"Before I saw you drinking." And eyeing up the girl in the red dress, she adds, to herself.
"Let's not," Aidan says.
They both lean back in their chairs at the same time, unconsciously synchronised. Aidan watches Rosa watching the people walk past. He clears his throat and shifts his chair so that they are touching. Rosa looks up.
"I guess that...."
"What?"
"It's all become a little, uh, forced." Aidan shrugs. "The schedule."
"Well, there's not much I can do about that. It's called a menstrual cycle for a reason."
Rosa is becoming agitated. Aidan wraps her in his arms, trying to head off an argument.
"Don't think this is going to help," Rosa tells him.
"It should."
Aidan pulls her into him. Their faces are close.
"It's supposed to be fun," he says, watching her face closely.
The corners of Rosa's mouth turn down, and she replies, "It doesn't feel very much like fun."
"Maybe that's the problem."
Rosa looks into her husband's eyes and then slowly her head sinks onto his chest.
"No," she says, "That's not the problem. We know the problem. It's me."
Aidan sighs and plants a soft kiss in his wife's hair.
"I wish sometimes I never took the damn test," he says at last.
"Wishes are free. Besides, we needed to know if it was you or me. And now we know it's not you."
Aidan feels his wife shudder in his arms and he knows she's about to start crying, about to spiral into self-hate again.
"Look," he says quickly, "How about we put the fun back in it? Make a game."
"Sure. Like what? Dodge the egg?" Rosa replies sourly.
"Something to lighten the load. So that you don't feel so...."
"Smothered," Rosa concedes. "I feel smothered. Sometimes like I just, uh. Sometimes I feel like I just can't breathe."
Aidan lifts his hands to cradle his wife's pretty face. He can see her eyes are watery, knows that she's trying to hold it all in.
"Then we need to turn up the oxygen. I have an idea for a game. Do you want to hear how it works?"
Rosa's eyes are searching his. She wants to believe that he has the solution, but she knows that he couldn't possibly have found one. They are up against the fundamental constraints of biology: wishful thinking is the last thing she needs.
Eventually, she replies. "Okay. Tell me."
Aidan grins and kisses her.
"It's pretty simple. We find a sport to bet on and...."
Rosa groans, feeling her heart sink.
"No, wait. Please."
Rosa surveys him warily, but remains silent.
"We make a bet on the game," Aidan continues. "Winner gets to pick what happens next. Like, in bed."
"That's so fucking dumb."
She sees how her words goad him, a tiny part of her relishing inflicting a little hurt.
"It's not. It's fun," Aidan rejoins, stubbornly.
"How does it work then? What are the rules? What does the winner get?"
Aidan can read his wife's expression. She's antagonising him; he knows that she's teetering on the brink of another angry outburst, and he's determined not to let that happen.
"So, we both pick something we would like the other person to do, and we both agree that whatever we pick is equivalent. We start out small."
"Like, if I win, you have to wash the dishes for a week?"
"Yes. Uh, no," Aidan struggles, "Uh, I mean it's gotta involve sex. The entire idea is to spice it up."
"Like a rape fantasy in the gym wasn't spicy enough?"
Aidan shakes his head, "No, like that was... sure that was spicy, but I mean... uh."
