Madrid Joel Fishbane (bio) In the autumn, Brooklyn stopped saying if and began saying since. "If we don't have kids, do you want to live in Spain?" became "Since we're not having kids, I think we should renew our passports." The change was gradual and August noticed there was a liminal period when she switched back and forth, just as she did with new books. There were always a pair on her nightstand competing for her attention like squabbling pets. When they had started dating, she was reading Gone Girl and War and Peace, and August had charted each book's progress, watching the bookmarks march their way through the pages with the intensity of a man watching the home team. Let's go, Tolstoy, let's go! He had nothing against Gillian Flynn, who he had met on a literary panel a few months before. But he was pleased when Brooklyn discarded Flynn and read Tolstoy right to the end; he was pleased when since won out over if too. The shift began at a birthday party that July, when they sat in the heat, ensconced in lawn furniture and watching Cinderella give lessons on how to be a queen. Beside him, Brooklyn bristled. Cinderella's mother, Elowyn, had been prescribing conventional gender roles from the moment her babies were born. Fraternal twins, they had been swaddled in blue and pink, as was seen in their very first picture, uploaded to Instagram within minutes of their arrival. It was the first shot in a war Elowyn didn't know she was fighting. As the months sped by, August would look up from his laptop to find Brooklyn standing over him ready to report on the latest scandal. Blue booties! Pink dolls! Her face was always flushed and her sable eyes began to dance. She was stunning in her rage and he imagined her standing before the ecclesiastical court arguing over the grave injustice of the kitchen playset. Her gifts for the twins were Trojan Horses carefully designed to sabotage Elowyn's philosophies. This year, she had bought them chemistry sets. August didn't dare tell Brooklyn he thought the battle was hopeless. He loved her for her lost causes. "Which one's yours?" asked a partygoer, a woman whose name he had already forgotten. She nodded towards the children, who were learning to make tiaras out of colored paper. "None," said Brooklyn. "I used to be Elowyn's roommate." "Ah!" said the woman and she turned to her wife who was half-asleep. "This is that childless couple. The roommate and her writer." "We're not childless," said Brooklyn. Uh-oh, thought August. The woman brightened. "Oh! Is your kid at camp?" [End Page 116] "We don't have a kid," said Brooklyn. They were in the depths of the afternoon and the birthday party had fallen on a sweltering day. The sun, yellow as yolk, had produced a sticky haze. But they were safe back here, in the paradise shade of Elowyn's elms. At the other end of the yard, the children were topping themselves with paper crowns. Elowyn's husband floated nearby, his cellphone poised to capture the moment. Elowyn poured sparkling wine into someone's biodegradable cup. She wore a checkered dress and beneath the hem August could still spot the golden edges of her marathon legs. Last year, she had qualified for the races in both Boston and New York. "You said you weren't childless," said the woman. Lorna. That was it. She had called her wife Dot. Brooklyn launched into it. "In the phrase childless couple, you are defining us by the absence of a thing, as if we're incomplete. We aren't incomplete. In fact, we're very content. Aren't we, August?" August, having lived through similar conversations for weeks, had been waiting for his cue. "Perfectly and forever," he said. "Isn't this just a question of semantics?" said Lorna. "Words matter. We're not a childless couple. We're just a couple. Period." "The lady doth protest too much," said Dot. The couple sniggered and Brooklyn's lip turned inward, as it...