Carol and Sharon were arguing in the kitchen. Kyle was holed in his room with his cheap gamer headphones on and Kero Kero Bonito playing loudly in his ears. Anything to block out the yelling.

Sharon was the loudest but Carol was the one with the clever comebacks. Well, she thought they were clever anyway. What was the topic that tore this household apart? Whose job it was to take out the rubbish.

Karen had tried to calm them down but was now sitting by the kitchen bench with her head in her hands. She eventually stood up and walked to Kyle’s room to confirm something. He was now swearing at a rival player in a game. She saw all the empty cans and dirty clothes on the floor. She went to her bedroom, took out her phone and began her search for babysitters on Friendful Marketplace.

The next day, she told the babysitter all she needed to know and made her way out into the outdoors. The sun dipped her smiling lips in a golden feeling of freedom.

After a moment of glory, the smile faltered a little. What was Karen going to do now?

She began wandering around the suburb, basking in the sun but feeling the dead coldness of boredom in her gut. Her eyes searched everywhere they could for something, anything, to do.

Her icy interior melted upon seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar setting. Frema, clad in plain grey sweats, waved goodbye to a teenage boy wearing a kippah as he got inside a car with a man.

When the car passed Karen, Frema saw her. Frema’s mouth and eyes widened. ‘H-Hello. Fancy seeing you here.’ She placed her hand on a piece of air where she thought the mailbox was, almost tripping over nothing as she continued lowering her hand in search of the mailbox.

Karen blushed on her behalf. ‘Yeah… I’m guessing that was…’

‘My son, yes. So, uh, what are you up to?’

‘Not much. I’ve got the day to myself, but I don’t know exactly what to do with it.’ Karen chuckled awkwardly.

‘Same here.’ Frema’s eyes began to glisten. ‘Would you like to go to the beach together?’

Karen blinked. ‘The beach? Isn’t that a little…’

‘Well, you’ve got nothing to do, right? Ooh, wait, I’m gonna get my camera!’

Before Karen could protest, Frema ran inside her one-story red brick house. Karen waited next to the lush garden, with its vast array of photogenic flowers. The garden stood in stark contrast to the house itself, which was plain and displayed a big crack in the front window.

After a few minutes, Frema came out of her house with a large, age-worn black camera around her neck, two wide-brimmed hats in her hands and a green blazer on her body. Underneath that blazer was a navy blue and white striped top. Her tight denim skirt hugged her curves. Did Karen notice? Is water wet?

Karen looked down at her old, raggedy three-quarter jeans and her loose, slightly holey green t-shirt with the words ‘Follow Your Dreams’ stuck on the chest. 

‘Oh look, we match,’ Frema said. ‘Cute top, by the way.’

Karen grabbed the hem of her top and raised it ever so slightly. ‘This old thing? I didn’t exactly plan on you seeing it.’

‘I know. Still cute.’

Cute. 

That word lodged itself in Karen’s brain and refused to let go.

Karen laughed a little too loud. ‘Let’s go to the beach!’ she yelped as she snatched one of the hats and plopped it on her head. Her eye twitched a little at the hat mussing her hair, but ther corners of her mouth stayed up.

‘We’ll take my car,’ Frema insisted. Karen agreed. After Frema drove it out of the garage, Karen squeezed into it. Her knees were nearly up to her chin sitting in this cramped car, but at least it was clean and smelled like lemons.

While gently putting the camera in the back seat, Frema told her, ‘I’ve got an old MP3 player. Choose any songs you like.’

As she scrolled through the songs, Karen recognised virtually none of them. Some songs appeared to be in foreign languages and others looked like obscure indie rock songs. Frema’s taste looked eclectic, having every genre under the sun. That is, except for pop and popular rock.

Karen eventually settled on an obscure rock album that had a pretty cover. Frema grinned. ‘Good choice.’

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this. The beach? Really, Karen?’

‘Live a little. It’s your day off, right?’

Karen nodded. The car was silent for a moment until Karen spoke. ‘So, uh, your son…’

‘Joshua. He’s spending the rest of the week with his father.’ Frema’s grip on her wheel tightened, her knuckles turning white. Karen felt a slight sting in her chest at the mention of Frema having a male partner. Frema shook her head. ‘Anyway, what are you looking forward to doing at the beach?’

Karen looked up at the car ceiling in thought. ‘I haven’t built a sandcastle in years,’ she said. Frema hummed. Karen tilted her gaze down to her lap. ‘How old am I?’ Frema’s pleasantly unpleasant laughter spilled from her lips like expensive wine.

Throughout the ride to the beach, Frema spoke the most. However, Karen added to the conversation with relative ease. She asked her where she got the camera from and, after receiving the answer (her father), when she got interested in photography.

‘I always wanted to try photography but I only really got into it around last year, after…’

The white knuckles returned. This time, Karen changed the subject and the heavy air quickly lightened.

After an hour or so, they arrived at the car park above the beach. Karen’s hat blew away as soon as she got out of the car. She gasped and ran after it but cool gusts of wind kept pushing it away. When she finally managed to pick it up, she pulled it down until it was tight on her head. Frema laughed again, eliminating any chances of Karen’s cheeks cooling down any time soon.

There was a constant temperature shift on Karen’s skin as the cool sea breeze battled against the blazing sun. The air smelled salty and sounded like giggling children, reminding Karen that she was a grown woman going to the beach without her family. She tried to pull down her hat even further to cover her face but it would not budge.

The two giggled like the kids nearby as they hobbled down the wooden stairs to the beach. Frema raised her arms and drank in the sun before taking her shoes off and running to the shore. Karen gingerly sat down on the sand and watched her splash around.

At one point, she looked up at the sky. It was mostly clear but had a few clouds. The very last time she had gone to the beach with her husband, it was completely clear. She frowned until her gaze returned to Frema. A few clouds would have to do.

Karen began digging into the sand, taking a large sum of it and dropping it next to the hole. She ignored the stares and continued doing this until she had created a makeshift castle. The dry sand frequently slipped through her fingers, but she loved the coarse texture in her hands. It reminded her of the wood shavings she brushed away when building a cubby house with her daughters.

Sharon and Carol, around age seven at the time, had found a book on woodworking at the school library and begged Karen to help them build something. Her husband joined them and, eventually and reluctantly, so did Kyle. The whole family painted the built cubby house and took multiple photos of Sharon and Carol entering through the little door.

At the beach, Karen finally realised she had stopped building the sandcastle and was now absentmindedly playing with the sand. Her face was overtaken by a solemn expression, one that Frema noticed all the way from where the shore met the water. 

The taller woman ran back to Karen and asked if she was having fun. Karen crossed her arms and looked away.

‘I am too old for this after all,’ she said.

Frema knelt down by the sandcastle and inspected it. ‘This is actually pretty good, though.’

Karen, her cheeks rivalling the sun above, lifted her hand to push the sandcastle down. Frema grabbed her hand to stop her. Her hand was warm and soft, contrasting against Karen’s skin, chapped from years of building things with her daughters.

‘Wait, leave it. I want to take a picture.’ Frema ran back to her car to grab the camera. ‘Smile!’

‘I said I’m too old for-’

‘Then quit acting like a child,’ Frema retorted with a glare that immediately softened. ‘Come on, smile for me.’ 

Karen sighed but complied. ‘I’ve never been photogenic.’

Frema looked at the photo she had taken. ‘Well, congratulations, 'cause now you are.’

Karen covered her face. ‘Stop it!’

‘I’m serious.’ Frema showed her the photo, widening Karen’s eyes. Karen turned her head at an angle as if admiring herself in the mirror. ‘I can take a more stylistic photo with you looking in the distance if you want.’

‘No, that’s quite alright.’

Frema sat next to Karen and took some photos of the ocean, then different shots of the crowd of beachgoers. The two talked as she did this, only taking one break for a lunch of fish and chips near the beach. Over time, the crowd weakened as more families left. Even with the sun beginning to set, Karen didn’t ask to head back home.

‘So, what was your son’s name again?’ Karen asked.

‘Joshua. He’s a very sweet boy. I like to think I raised him right. But try telling his father that.’ Frema paused. ‘Never mind. I’ve said too much.’

Did Karen seem like the type not to pry? ‘I’m guessing you two are… divorced?’

Frema nodded with a sigh. She looked into the viewfinder at the ocean like it could transport her anywhere else. The crashing waves were not quite soothing enough to make the conversation easier.

‘Now Younes has custody every day of the week except for Fridays.’

‘But surely they would give custody to the mother.’

‘Well, in the legal system, sure. For the religious divorce, well, I guess I’m just lucky he agreed to divorce me instead of keeping me with him. We made a deal. I get to separate from Younes and see Joshua once a week, so long as I don’t corrupt him.’

Karen’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. ‘Corrupt?’

The camera shook in Frema’s trembling hands. ‘Younes thinks… well, his synagogue thinks… I’m going against the Torah. He’s Orthodox, you see. His particular synagogue doesn’t take too kindly to, uh, gay members.’

Something burst in Karen’s chest, creating an explosion of shock, hope and shame. The sensation was so powerful she had to cough it out.

‘I see. Are you still, uh, Orthodox?’

‘I’m Reform now.’ 

‘Do you like it better?’

Frema lowered her camera at that question. After a long pause, she replied, ‘I miss the Orthodox traditions sometimes. That’s why I keep following kosher even after leaving.’ With a laugh, she added, ‘Some of my Reform Jewish friends give me funny looks about it, but I want to keep that close connection to my faith. It’s not like I had much choice to leave my Orthodox synagogue. I wasn’t welcome there.’

She gulped and held her head in shame. ‘I spent so long being my parents’ perfect little girl that I lost myself. I even picked on a boy in year 7 ‘cause he looked gay, whatever 13-year-old me thought that meant.’ Her laugh was pretty but bitter, a shell of its usual self. ‘And for what? So I could end up a giant lezzo myself? I mean, I didn’t know I was at the time, but I still feel like a hypocrite.’

She kicked the sand in front of her. ‘As soon as I told Younes the truth about me and asked if we could separate, I knew I had to leave my old life behind. You couldn’t make me go through conversion therapy if you dragged me there by my legs. I had to start anew.’ 

Karen, unsure how to respond to that, kept silent. The duo listened to the sounds of the beach and matched their breaths to the crashing waves.

After several minutes, Frema finally spoke. ‘What about you? Did you get divorced?’

Karen bit her lip. ‘He died… wow, I think it’s been almost three years. Cancer. It’s funny you brought up religion since I’m pretty sure God’s against me. Or, at the very least, he owes me big time for taking him away from me.’ Tears pinched her cheeks as they fell down them, turning them red and sore. Frema reached out to comfort her but pulled back before touching her. ‘He should be making my life easier after letting something so horrible happen, but no! He had to leave me to care for my children alone and find a way to keep my finances together without my husband’s income.’

She flailed her hands about. ‘When I see these young people complaining about dealing with shitty customers, I’m like, boo-hoo! Wait till you have to raise three children alone! Wait till you have to feed more mouths than your own! Wait till you have to worry when the prices of groceries go up! Bloody ungrateful pieces of…’ the rest of the words were jumbled under her low-pitched swear fest.

Frema scowled at her. ‘It’s not their fault life hasn’t dealt you the best cards. You don’t know what their lives are like.’

‘It’s got to be easier than mine!’ 

Having finally spilled these thoughts out of her mouth, the cluttered mess in Karen’s mind cleared. ‘I… I’m sorry. Why do you even put up with me? You hated me until…’

‘I wouldn’t say ‘hate’. I was half pissed, half amused.’ Frema leaned back on her hands behind her. ‘But when you complimented my jacket, I didn’t know what to think. All I knew was that I had to learn more about you, about how one person could change their treatment of you on a dime. And I’m glad I tried to learn more.’

Frema’s glorious chuckle returned. ‘I guess it must have been the halo effect or something. I have a feeling I wouldn’t have been so forgiving of your behaviour if you weren’t so cute.’

Karen coughed again. ‘What?’

Frema looked away from her and towards the shore. ‘I said what I said. Don’t worry, I won’t try anything if you’re straight.’

Karen grasped her own shirt in front of her heart. ‘Of course I’m straight! I had a husband!’

‘So did I. I don’t know your life.’

‘A husband who I loved. Genuinely.’

‘Fair enough. There is bisexuality, though.’ Frema nonchalantly placed her hand on Karen’s. Karen had to remind herself to breathe. Of course this had to be happening during a beautiful sunset. Frema’s hand enveloped Karen’s like a warm blanket. ‘Is that a possibility for you?’

Karen couldn’t bring herself to answer. Eventually, she pulled her hand away. ‘Take me home now!’

Frema’s eyes glazed over with an unknown emotion. ‘Fine.’ The two headed back to the car and drove back to their suburb. Karen reluctantly gave her address and allowed Frema to take her home. Aside from that, they did not talk the entire trip home.