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Chloe Mitchell-Beale wiggled in her car seat, a huge smile on her face as she loudly sang along to one of her guilty pleasure songs: Katy Perry’s ‘California Girls” . Beca and the girls might affectionally mock her about her bubble gum pop tastes but seriously, the song was a bop:
California girls
We're unforgettable
Daisy Dukes
Bikinis on top
Sun-kissed skin
So hot
We'll melt your popsicle
As she belted those words out with gusto, she couldn’t help but think of her own California girl and her usual beach attire of cut off jean shorts and bikini top. Damn, Beca might be in her fifties, but her body was still rockin’ as h-e-lllllllllllll.
It had been a good, no scratch that, great day. She’d taught her first full yoga class as a part time yoga instructor. Being a semi-retired vet she’d decided she needed something to keep the old mind and body limber. Plus Beca had said it would be good for her to find something to keep her busy and away from the clinic. As her wise wife pointed out, C.C. needed space to put her own stamp on the place. Her little squish was as wise as Grogu, truly she was.
She’d rocked it in class today. Not that yoga was competitive or anything, but she’d held poses the twenty year olds in her class couldn’t match. Her scorpion handstand had her students in awe. Chloe had heard a couple of the girls call her “Yoga Mother.”
Yeah she still had it.
She checked her hair in the rear view mirror and fluffed it out. She needed to make an appointment to get a colour touch up. She hadn’t fallen into the LA trap of injectables, but she was still vain enough to want to keep the red for as long as possible.
She smiled as she remembered Beca’s response to the first strands of white Chloe had shown. When Chloe asked if Beca had noticed, her wife had froze then started babbling something about it being Chloe’s frosting on top. Because cupcakes. Sweet. Delicious. Like Chloe. Who she loved. And her white streaks. Oh goddess save me. I meant…
Chloe had let her ramble adorably for a bit before letting her off the hook.
Seriously how’d she get so lucky in the spouse department.
She hadn’t been able to get a hold of Beca on the drive home, but she knew her wife was probably ears deep in the new project she was consulting on. Beca’s retirement was turning out to be even less successful than Chloe’s. She was working on almost as many projects as she had been when she was still officially working. Everyone wanted a consult with the “producer whose sound shaped the music scene for the last twenty years” (Variety Magazine Article. “In Mitchell We Trust”).
And seriously, who was Chloe to deny the world the awesome music her wife helped make?
She had managed to get Beca to block time off for a trip to Boston next month. Both moms wanted to visit their two East Coast daughters. Toni and her brood seemed to have adjusted to life in Beantown no problem which didn’t surprise Chloe a jot.
You could drop Toni in the middle of the Sahara desert and check in a week later to find out she’d created a thriving resort oasis with all the amenities. She was just that organized and driven.
Chloe was a little concerned about Bella and Ellie if she was being honest. Two type-A academics with a new baby on top of their busy careers. She’d heard the stress in Ellie’s voice in the last couple of Zoom calls. And Toni had let her mothers know that the new moms could use a little reinforcement. She’d been doing as much as she could but felt it needed a mother’s touch, not a bossy sister’s.
Or as she actually said. “Ellie’s being a cranky twat and Bella’s enabling her. Get your wizened asses out here pronto and help fix this mess. Oh, and we’d love to see you too. Bye bitches. “
And with that she hung up, leaving no doubt in both Beca and Chloe’s mind that they needed to fly the friendly skies to provide some maternal support.
Chloe smiled as recalled Beca grumbling about “if you name a child after constellations, you’re just asking for a spacy baby. It’s science” before texting the travel consultant at the label to book their flight.
Yes she might be retired but rank or in this case reputation has its privileges.
Still helping them make hits. Still on the corporate health plan and with access to the corporate services.
The redhead slowed down as she turned into their driveway, glancing quickly at the passenger seat where her precious cargo sat.
A bag with a double chocolate brownie for her sweet tooth of a wife, who’d been pretty good about sticking to her diet this last week.
Chloe knew this because she’d checked all the hidey-holes where Beca hid the snacks she thought Chloe didn’t know about and found out the contents were at almost the exact same levels as when she checked two weeks ago.
The cardboard drink tray held an iced Americano for Beca, an Almond Latte for Chloe and a puppacino for Stella.
The other woman.
Chloe and That Dog had reached a kind of détente over the last couple of months.
The vet was now allowed to scratch behind Stella’s ears, and, in Chloe’s professional judgement, she was just a skritch or two away from getting full on the back, belly rubbing, consent.
Stella might be stubborn, but Chloe had decades dealing with the most stubborn being she’d ever run into.
One Beca Eloise Mitchell. Wife. Mother. Olympic gold medal heel digger inner.
Balancing the drinks, Chloe deftly kicked the car door shut and walked up to the front door with a bounce in her step.
All was quiet when she entered the home.
Chloe still felt a slight twinge of sadness at how empty their nest felt.
She was happy her children all had successful lives of their own but damn it did she miss them sometimes.
“Beca?” she called out, waiting for a response.
Nothing. Except… maybe.
A whine from the kitchen.
A very sad whine.
“Stella, girl, where’s Mommy?” Chloe raised her voice but still no sign of Beca.
She walked into the kitchen and as soon as Stella caught sight of her, she started kicking up a storm in her crate. Not a normal “Get me out of this prison, you redheaded bitch” ruckus but a panicked, “throw herself at the bars” frenzy.
“Okay girl, okay, let’s try and calm down. I’m going to let you out and we’ll find the love of your life” Chloe used her most calming tone, a sound that had soothed an ex Special Forces Belgian Malinois that had burst through a door Chloe, and two terrified vet techs had been hiding behind. Her voice calmed the animal down before anyone got chomped and Chloe even got hand licks from the formerly irate patient.
One of the techs had quit the next day, however.
Stella was not having any of Chloe’s bullshit today.
She wanted out. NOW.
The dog burst out of the crate the second Chloe unlatched it and headed towards to sliding door to the backyard, barking her head off. When she reached the glass she started scrabbling it, trying to burrow through to the outside.
Deciding finding her wayward wife could wait, the redhead opted to find out what was driving Stella looney tunes.
Pushing the door open, she followed the frantic mutt out into the garden and around the side of the house. Where she stopped dead at the sight before her.
There, lying pinned under a ladder, looking very worse for wear with a leg that was bent in a direction human legs were never meant to go in, was her missing wife.
Stella was licking Beca’s face like she was a giant puppacino herself.
Beca was weakly trying to push the dog off and managed to get out a very pathetic “Hi Chloe”.
Chloe’s training kicked into gear. For the umpteenth time since she become attached to the walking disaster she called her wife.
She grabbed Stella by the collar and wrestled the struggling animal back inside and into her crate, ignoring her howls of protest.
Then she rushed back to examine the scene.
“You’re hurt. Why are you always hurt?” This wasn’t said in an accusing tone. More of a worried tone.
Beca tried to shrug her shoulders and instead grimaced in pain.
“Stella’s favourite ball was on the roof. So I thought I’d get it for her. Maybe check the eavestroughs as well.”
Chloe froze and stared into her love’s increasingly pale face. “So you’d thought you’d get a ladder and climb up on the roof by yourself. With no help and no one else being home for …. a tennis ball we got from Dollar General for 99 cents. And then you plummeted to the ground, avoiding breaking your neck it seems but instead fracturing your leg. Is that the size of it?”
Beca looked sheepish. Pale and sheepish.
“Well when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound like a well thought out plan. ” Her silver hair was plastered to her forehead by sweat and she grimaced as she moved slightly.
“I think my leg might be broken, Chlo. I heard a snap. And it feels … weird.”
Chloe took a deep breath. “You think it might be broken? Becs, it is definitely broken. Compound fracture most likely.’
“Could you fix it?” Beca looked hopeful for a moment. “You’re an awesome vet.”
Chloe looked at her like she’d sprouted an extra head.
“Can I fix what looks like a shattered tibia and who knows what else? With what we have lying around the house? You want me to wrap it in paper towel? Duct tape it?” The timbre of Chloe’s voice rose with each word out of her mouth.
Beca winced. “Not so loud, Chloe. Please. I have an owie”
Chloe let out a loud huff and dialed 911.
“Yes this is Chloe Mitchell-Beale. Can we get an ambulance to…”
Beca started to protest. “Aww not an ambulance Chloe. They’re so mean to me at the hospital. They still call me “Nailgun” and it’s been years.”
The redhead held up a finger in a hushing gesture and glared at her wife.
After completing the call, she took started composing a text.
YogaMother: Your idiot mother has fallen off the roof Broken tibia at least Were going to hospital Ambulance on way Please text your sisters & meet us there
DocCC🦜🦜🦜: On it mama she’ll be okay see you soon Love ya much
Chloe sat down on the ground beside Beca, looking at her with concern.
“Before you ask, I’m not moving the ladder. You might have a spinal cord injury.”
Beca nodded, not saying a word.
The redhead let out a sigh. Everything was organized. The ambulance was coming. C.C. was letting her sisters know and would meet them there. Now all they had to do was wait.
She’d done all she could.
Suddenly, without warning, Chloe burst into tears. Loud, heaving tears that wracked her body. “You….can’t…leave…me… you…could…have…died…you idiot…I need your…dumb…ass…here…I…can’t…do…life…without…you” . Each word came out in a shuddering tone as the redhead sobbed.
Beca looked horrified, her own pain temporarily forgotten as she watched her wife breakdown, something she’s only see happen twice before.
“Chloe...Chlo…I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, babe. I’m gonna get better. I’m gonna do better. Promise.”
Chloe stopped crying and used the heels of hands to rub the tears from her eyes. “You better damn well get better so I can divorce you, you…you…you… butthead.”
Beca looked at Chloe with that look. “Butthead? That’s what you’re going with, butthead?”
Chloe returned Beca’s gaze, sniffling. “Butthead. Poopy, stinky, butthead. I call them as I sees them, Mitchell.”
“Mitchell-Beale, please and thank you. We’re not divorced” Beca snapped back.
“Yet!” Chloe’s reply was just as quick.
Beca let out a laugh, then yelped as her body was jostled. “No being funny. In too much pain”
Chloe, red eyed, messy haired and with a tear streaked face, reached out and took Beca’s hand. “I’ve got you, you disaster. Now we sit and wait.”
Beca was quiet for a moment, reflecting on something that seemed very important.
“Chloe?”
“Yes my love.”
“The eavestroughs were really clean.”
“Beca, don’t make me call Aubrey. She’s been holding onto a draft divorce document since we got married. Just in case.”
“Noted. Love you, Chlo.”
“Love you back, my idiot.”