They just lay there, staring at the clouds, watching the giraffes and ice cream cones and amorphous blobs of white fluff drift along. They didn't have much to say.
They never really liked each other. They got stuck together for the same reason all sixteen year olds get stuck together. Esmerelda, they named her. An odd name for a new baby born in Utah, but most sixteen year olds don't think of intelligent names.
The couple was still together after all these years, despite the shared animosity. To their credit, whether right or wrong, they believed a child should have two parents; believed it strongly enough to shut up and pretend to love each other. In public, they had everyone fooled, especially Esmeralda (since she was the main target), into thinking they were in love. They like each other fine, they could get along, but in private they rarely talked.
It’s not hard to pretend to love someone if you have a good enough reason, or unwavering beliefs. The parents had separate beds (at least publicly) because of his back problems. He really did have back problems, though separate beds didn't actually do anything special to relieve his pain. Not sharing your bed with your spouse isn't too rare, people like to sleep alone sometimes. Every once in a while they had sex, early on at least. Regret gathered in the air every time they tried, and eventually it won out over their hormones. It brought out bad memories, and they weren't very good at it anyway.
They had been lying there long enough. It was time to get up, time to move on. They placed a kiss with their hands on her grave, feeling her name etched in the stone, trying to touch her one last time. They looked up from Esmeralda’s grave and into each others eyes, then they turned and went their separate ways, forcing back smiles as they wept.