I suppose I expected Joey to show up at Alastair’s house on Hidalgo Avenue in the Silver Lake section of Los Angeles wearing a white coat, stethoscope dangling as she moved, just as she appeared when I first set eyes on her in an urgent care center in North Boston that cold week before Christmas. Of course, I had just seen her the night before at The Palm with her new beau, my pro basketball player stepson, Eliot. And she was wearing an outfit befitting the beautiful girlfriend of a professional athlete these days. Black leather jacket, crop tee with the Lakers logo in rhinestones, black skinny jeans, and 5 inch heels! Do doctors wear this when they go out on the town? I guess in Hollywood they do.

When I answered the door, Joey stood in an oversized cream-colored blazer, plain white tee, and somewhat baggy jeans (she was wearing sensible flats!).

“Sorry I’m a little late—”

“Nonsense. You’re a doctor. It’s not a clock-in, clock-out 9 to 5 job. Let me take your jacket. The air conditioner isn’t working that well. I don’t think Alastair’s used it in a few years.”

“Actually I got here in plenty of time. I thought you were staying in the big house. No one answered the doorbell. I must have stood there for fifteen minutes. Stupid of me not to remember that you said you were staying in the guest house.”

“Sit on the sofa. It’s more comfy than it looks. Alastair wanted me to stay with him.” I must have blushed. “But, we’re not…that way. I mean, we’re very close, don’t misunderstand. We’ve been intimate.” I blushed again. “Anyway, I told Alastair in no uncertain terms that I viewed this temporary stay in LA as a business assignment. He’s hired me to write my life story as a mini-series for GlobalNet—”

“Yes, Alastair filled me in while you and Eliot were deep in conversation last night.”

“Well, Eliot is my stepson and I haven’t seen him since he got traded from the Knicks in January…”

“That wasn’t a complaint, Joanne. Eliot loves you as much as Emily, he told me. It’s a shame…”

“Shame? Why?”

“Women like you and me can’t have our own children. From what Eliot tells me, you’ve been a great mother to him.”

“That’s nice of him to say that. I love him dearly as well. Do sit down. I’ll get us an aperitif. Have you ever had a spritz?”

“What’s a spritz? she asked cautiously…” I laughed. Suddenly I felt like a chic housewife in a ‘60s TV sitcom.

“It’s…” Counting with my fingers. “…1/3 prosecco, 1/3 Campari, and 1/3 sparkling water. Your mother taught me the recipe, oh, over 30 years ago—”

“That’s the first time you’ve mentioned my mother. I can see why now. Alastair’s quite an impressive catch.”

“He’s a nice man. And I’ve known him for over 25 years. We worked together at FOX.” There was an awkward silence. “We’re having Cobb Salad for dinner. You’re not vegan are you? You know if you are, I can just remove the bacon and chicken from your portion.”

“No, I’m quite carnivorous and intend to stay that way. Cobb Salad sounds great. Mom never taught me much cooking. I guess mothers usually don’t expect their sons to learn how to cook.”

“My mother did and I was male in body until my thirties. She thought everyone should learn to be self-sufficient that way.”

“Even if mom wanted to teach me, she wouldn’t have had the time. Both my parents, being doctors, rarely had the free time to teach me the finer arts of survival.”

“That’s sad.” I handed her a glass of spritz and sat back down on the easy chair across from the sofa. “Elizabeth sacrificed a great deal to become a doctor. She dedicated herself to her profession. I’m sure she did a lot of good as a pediatrician and bettered the lives of countless children. She was always brilliant.”

“I guess she tried to be the best mother she could, given the circumstances. This is pretty tasty. Did you and mom drink a lot?”

“Is that a subtle swipe at a Gen Xer from a Millennial?”

“My dad drank a fair amount, especially in the years before their divorce. I suppose they broke up because of my…situation.”

“Don’t blame yourself…ever! You are not the reason they split. If your father were much of a father, he’d have been supportive and loving instead of essentially rejecting his own daughter. As a pediatrician, he should know you can’t go around blaming the patient.”

“I wish you had been my mother.” The last statement lay there like a boulder in the middle of a roadway. I didn’t know what to say in response. I sipped my spritz to stall for time.

“It’s funny, I hate driving. Born and raised in New York City, you know. Took mass transit everywhere. They run the trains 24 hours a day. Did you know that? Well, here I am in LA and Alastair expects me to get around by myself. He travels almost half the time. Not always on business. He’s spent every other weekend in New York with me since February.” I paused to gauge Joey’s reaction. She had none. I continued, acting a little ditzy for effect. “So he gave me the keys to his Audi…it’s a red convertible, 2011 I think he said. It was a birthday gift for his ex. She barely put a thousand miles on that car. He wants me to know the streets like the back of my hand. Easy for him to say—”

“I know. I’ve been here since January and the only route I’m dead sure of is getting onto Sunset Boulevard north to get to work at the hospital. If I could afford it, I’d ditch my car and just uber it.” She took a final sip of her spritz.

“So I strap myself in, with the top down, wrap my hair in a kerchief, wearing my Audrey Hepburn sunglasses, and proceed to drive north on Glendale. Alastair told me there’s a Whole Foods around here. He’s got nothing in his refrigerator. Typical single man, right? He’s such a teaser too. Said I’ll cause traffic accidents driving around dressed like that in an open car. He’s such a darling.”

“When I get to Whole Foods, I’m flabbergasted at the prices. I mean $2.89 for a simple quart of milk? Okay, it’s organic but…really? So I decide to try Trader Joe’s on Hyperion. Terrible what happened there a few years ago. Remember that? Well, anyway, their prices were more reasonable. Mission accomplished, I drove straight home. So I stocked the refrigerator here and put some things in Alastair’s next door. Tomorrow, I think I’ll drive south on Sunset all the way to Echo Park. I’ll probably pass your hospital. I’ll wave as I drive by.” I giggled.but stopped when I realized Joey hadn’t really been listening.

“Actually, you could have been my father as well. I don’t think my mother ever got over the irony of having a transgender child.” I was silent. “You must hate her a great deal. I don’t blame you. I hate her sometimes too. Like when she sent me away to live with my grandparents after I had the surgery. Just for three months she said.”

“This was when you were 18?” I found an opening to say something, insignificant as it was.

“Yeah, I had it done at the first opportunity. The week after I graduated from high school. It took 8 weeks for me to heal enough to get out of the house. I didn’t even dare go to the mall. I was more worried about the pain of having to face kids I knew than the pain in my newly reconfigured body. I guess mom thought sending me to DC to stay with my grands would get me back to normal life. My mom’s older sister and my cousins lived in DC too. She had taken over the emergency pediatric clinic at Tufts after daddy abruptly resigned. I’m sure it was too much for her, 12 hour days at the clinic and coming home to a shellshocked child too scared to go outside.”

Standing up, I took her empty glass and motioned to the dinner table. “Let’s eat. We can continue the conversation over dinner…if you want to. I don’t want to invade your privacy.”

“Telling you all of this seems therapeutic. As if I was talking to my counselor back in the years before I transitioned. Despite everything, we really are strangers, aren’t we? You can listen to me in a professional, detached manner.”

“I hope you can think of me as a friend not a professional stranger with a mere clinical interest in you.”

“Thank you, Joanne, I do. Given your feelings about mom—”

“Let’s talk about you, okay?” I placed the diinner plate in front of her. “Dig in. It’s one of my best dishes. Alastair liked it. Then again, what could he say?” I laughed.

During our dinner and late into the evening until she left because her shift started at 8 the next morning, she started to tell me what transpired after she left Boston ostensibly to spend three months living with her grandparents in Washington, D.C.

When I told my mom that I’d rather take the Amtrak down to Gran’s in Washington, she hesitated responding for a long minute.

“But that’s an 8 hour ride, Joey. The plane takes less than 2 hours, “ she noted as I was putting my new girl clothes into my new black leather backpack.

“Don’t shove things in there! They’ll get terribly wrinkled. I don’t know why you don’t like the Samsonite case with the wheels I bought for you. I even found one in pink—”

“Mom, I’m not dragging around a pink suitcase behind me like some blonde bimbo from a Hollywood rom-com. And I can stretch out on the train, go from car to car, or read stuff on my kindle. Maybe even watch the scenery go by. I don’t like flying. You know that, mom.”

She drove me to South Station in Boston to catch the 10:22 train to DC and watched me walk all the way until I disappeared up the ramp through the entrance. I’m sure we were both tearing up but, proudly stoic, “I turned my face into the wind” and took the first determined strides on the path of my secret mission.

I had researched all the details for weeks. When the train made its scheduled stop in New York at Penn Station in just under four hours, I knew which subway to take to reach Morningside Heights. I had planned to purchase a Metrocard online before leaving home but that wasn’t possible. New York City didn’t have the technical capability to sell Metrocards online. What a nuisance! So I waited on line to use one of the vending machines. The backpack was heavy and the straps were cutting into my shoulders as I scanned the choices on the screen. Finally, after I heard some grumbles behind me, I selected the 7-day card. There goes $30 I’ll never get back.

Twenty minutes later I climbed up the steps of the West 116th Street & Broadway subway stop and emerged into the warm afternoon sunshine of an early September day. I walked through the Columbia University campus to reach Amsterdam Avenue. On the corner of Amsterdam and 114th Street stood the goal of my quest. A non-descript apartment building, only six stories tall, not quite a classic brownstone. But first, I took my cell phone out to call Gran.

“Hello?”

“Gran, it’s me, Joey.”

“Sweetie, is there a problem? Are you calling from the train? You sound like you’re outdoors.”

“Yeah, well, I took a detour, Gran. I’m in New York City. I’m going through with the plan I told you and Grandad about—”

“No, Joey, your mother will be worried about you. What’ll I tell her if she calls?”

“Tell her I’m staying with my friend Julia for a couple of days. She knows Julia started Columbia this week. Tell her I did it on a whim but I’ll be in DC by the weekend.”

“Do you have money, dear?”

“You can be under 35 and have a credit card, Gran. Anyway, I just wanted to confirm with you. Grandad doesn’t have to pick me up at Union Station.”

“The old fool is out playing golf right now. I’ll tell him when he waddles back in later this afternoon. Be safe, honey. New York is a dangerous place for a young girl alone—”

“Thanks, Gran. For calling me a girl…”

“But you are, sweetie. You were always my beautiful granddaughter. It took a while for everyone to realize what I knew when I first held you in my arms as a little baby. You had your mother’s eyes and her crooked little smile. So sweet—”

“Gotta go, Gran. Love you. Bye.” I crossed the street and with deliberate steps walked into the vestibule and scanned the buzzers searching for Joanne Prentiss’ apartment. The door swung open and startled me. Standing behind me, towering above me, was a lanky African American boy about my age, wearing a Columbia warm-up suit and sneakers, switching a basketball from one hand to the other.

“Can I help you?”

“Do you know what apartment Joanne Prentiss is in? I don’t see her name here.”

“Yeah, she’s my mother.” That threw me for a loop. Were we talking about the same person? It wasn’t possible for her to have a child. And an African American one to boot.

“Maybe I made a mistake. The Joanne Prentiss I’m looking for is married to someone…” I took a quick look at my cell phone. “someone named Emily Bradshaw?”

“Yeah, that’s my other mother. I’m Eliot Bradshaw, their son.”

“Is Joanne at home?”

“Nah, you just missed her. She left on a business trip to Chicago this morning. Could be gone for two, three weeks. She’s a cable TV executive. But, do you want to see Emily? Maybe she can help you. Whatever it is you need from Joanne…”

“Maybe. I’m here. Might as well. I just came down from Boston like an hour ago. I thought I could just see her and then stay with a friend overnight. She’s in one of the dorms.”

“Let’s go. Mom’s in her office right now. I’ll walk you over and get you through with my ID. Then I’ve got to head over to the gym for practice. I’m a captain on the team this year. Can I carry your backpack for you. It looks a little heavy.”

“It’s okay. I can handle it. I’m staying with my grands for three months. Pretty much everything I own is packed in there.” I laughed as we crossed the street and entered the campus. “What’s it like having two mothers?”

“Don’t have anything to compare it to. My biological father – Mr. Bradshaw – left us when I was a toddler and Joanne’s been with us since I was 7 so…I don’t know. It’s kind of normal for me, I guess. What about you? You got the stereotypical mom/dad setup?”

“My parents are divorced. Dad lives in Seattle now. It’s just me and mom working the south forty.”

“You farmers?”

“I’m just joking. I’ve got a weird sense of humor. You’ll have to forgive me. My mind works in mysterious ways.”

“You sound like some of my friends here at Columbia. I’m lost sometimes when they talk.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating. I couldn’t get into Columbia like you. My grades wouldn’t pass muster. I’m going to Amherst in January. Kind of a clerical reason I’m starting late.”

“Me? I’m just a jock. I’m good at hoops. Really, I’m a legacy admission. Courtesy of Joanne. She and her father both went to Columbia.”

“Not at the same time hopefully.” There was a pause before Eliot laughed.

“Here’s Hamilton Hall. Mom’s office is on the second floor. I’ll get you in with my ID.”

At the elevator, Eliot bade his farewells and dribbled his basketball past the security guard, who shook his head but then high-fived him on the way out.

Her office door was open. I rapped on the door and she peered up from her desk. A pleasant looking woman with her brown hair in a tight, almost shag cut, looking like a sitcom mom more than a college professor.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“Hi, Professor Bradshaw? I’m Jocelyn Petry. I came to the city really looking for Joanne Prentiss but your son told me she just left town. My mother was an old acquaintance of hers. Dr. Elizabeth Greene Petry—”

“Oh my lord. No. Can’t be. But you’re a boy. I mean Elizabeth had a son. Didn’t she? Are you another child. Is Joey your brother?” she spluttered in shock. “Sit down, please. Let me look at you.” She stood up and stood over me as I sat down, her face full of surprise and confusion.

“It’s a little complicated. Yes, I’m her son. But I’m her daughter now. Does that make sense?”

“You’re transgender? Have you had the surgery?”

“About three months ago. When I turned 18.” She started to laugh and turned away toward the window.

“Excuse me for laughing. It’s not funny. But such cosmic irony. There is a God, after all.”

I started to get up and leave. “I’ll go now. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No, please. Forgive me. Please, sit down. You have nothing to do with what happened between your mom and Joanne 25 years ago. I’m just finding it difficult to digest.” She turned back to the window. “How can I help you? Joanne’s in Chicago. She’ll be there for a good two weeks.”

“I’m leaving for Washington, probably in a couple of days, myself. My mom thought I’d adjust better if I lived with my grandparents for a while. You know, because I wouldn’t be constantly reminded of my past self. Everyone would just accept me as a girl. I hadn’t expected Joanne wouldn’t be home. I…I just wanted to meet her. To talk to her about what we have in common. Mom’s been fine, very supportive. But she can’t know what it’s like to suddenly transition. Joanne would know, obviously.”

“Joanne could tell you a few things about your mother you wouldn’t want to hear. Listen, you’re welcome to stay with my son and me until you leave for DC. I assume you didn’t tell your mom you were coming to see Joanne.”

“No, but my grands know and they’re behind me 100%. It’s something I felt I needed to do. And she could really give me some great advice.”

“Look, I’ve got a class in fifteen minutes. Sit in on it and afterwards you can come home with me. We’ll have dinner and I can answer any questions you might have after dinner. Okay?”

“Sure. What’s the class about?”

“The Lake Poets. English Romantic poets from the early 19th century. Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southey. Today we’re concentrating on Wordsworth’s sister Dorothy, who was unpublished during her lifetime but was quite a poet in her own right.”

“Ugh. I’ll just sit in the back and read something on my kindle.”

“Not a liberal arts prospect, huh?”

“I’m planning on pre-med. I’d like to be a doctor—”

“Like both your parents. Well, it’s a useful profession. Does your mother still paint?”

“She doesn’t have time.”

---

After dinner, Emily told me what you had told her about your transitional years, your relationship with my mother, and she recounted her life with you, first in a civil union and then a same-sex marriage just that past July when it became legal in New York State. She extended an open invitation to me to visit again when you were home. She went to call your hotel room in Chicago. I stopped her and asked her not to tell you that I had been to see you. I figured there wasn’t any magical advice you could impart to me to make my transition smoother. We were all individuals with many things in common but many other things in divergence as well. She acquiesced but sincerely wanted to have me visit again.

I called my friend Julia who had just begun her freshman year at Columbia. I had already arranged to stay overnight with her in her dorm room in Carman Hall. She was excited to view the “new” me, not having seen me since our high school graduation. Her roommate had already found a boy to play with and wasn’t expected back until morning at the earliest. Julia said she’d meet me in the lobby and gave me directions to Carman Hall.

Emily made me promise to stay an extra day in the city. Eliot’s team had a pre-season scrimmage with Fordham University the evening of the day after next and family and friends of the players were welcome to attend. Eliot told me I just had to watch him shoot his silky smooth three-pointers. I was warmed by their immediate acceptance of me. So, I agreed to stay until Thursday. Eliot walked me over to Carman Hall, a short distance away in a corner of the campus.

The look on Julia’s face when she saw me in the lobby was priceless. A mixture of surprise, shock, and tenderness. We rode up the elevator in decorous silence, as there were three other students in the car. She did trade smirks with me. We burst into her dorm room, laughing so hard we had to hold our aching sides, and fell chockablock onto her bed. Then, as if a switch were flicked, she erupted in tears and hugged me tightly.

“Shhh, Julie, shhh. Why the tears? Aren’t you happy for me?”

“I’ve lost you. Lost you forever!” she shouted through the congestion caused by her tears.

“I’m here, Julie. We’re best friends forever.”

“When you didn’t ask me to go to the senior prom…I knew it was over. Things would never be the same between us—”

“But, Julie, you’ve known about me for years, all the way back in elementary school. I was never fully a boy. I even told you that straight out. Remember the Halloween party when my dad wouldn’t let me wear that mermaid costume. I cried on your shoulder for hours. You said it didn’t mean anything to you. You loved me no matter what.”

“We were little kids, barely tweens. We’re practically adults now. I’ve lost you. You’re a woman, Joey. You’ll start dating men. Like that guy who came in with you. What is he some kind of jock? Football? Basketball? I don’t have what you’ll want from now on.”

“He’s the son of a family friend. His mother teaches in the college. And, yes, he’s on the basketball team. But I’m not interested in him that way. It’s nothing like the way I feel about you.”

I stroked her face and wiped away her tears with my fingers, leaned down and gently kissed her. It was the first kiss we had ever shared. In all the years we had known each other and been each other’s best friend, this was our first kiss. Soon the sobs turned to whimpers and sniffles, finally she closed her eyes, exhausted from the emotions shooting through us. We slept though the night in a tight embrace. Ironically, we had never slept together when I was nominally male. Although I certainly dreamed about it all through high school. That’s what’s so confusing. We’re stuck on labels. Julia didn’t accept the notion that we could still be romantically involved after I transitioned. My feelings for her hadn’t changed. My heart still skipped a beat when I saw her big eyes and sideways smile. She felt differently.

---

Julia got up from the table in the dining hall as we finished our lunch. She had the version of a hamburger they served there, I just had a green salad. Of course, I swiped some of her fries. She looked at her watch and squeaked.

“I’m late! I’ve got Contemporary Civilization in Schermerhorn and it started five minutes ago! Good thing I’ve got sneakers on. Gotta fly!” She stopped and turned around. “You know what the worst thing is? You’re prettier than me now. Grrrr!” She ran off.

I took our trays and went to dump them in the trash bin when someone whistled. I turned around and saw Eliot sitting with the tallest group of boys I’d ever encountered. It was the boy next to Eliot who had whistled. They were all smiling except Eliot, who was shrugging his shoulders.

“You gonna just walk by loverboy like that. So cold, girl.”

“Don’t mind them, Joey. They get a kick out of teasing me.”

“Like you don’t deserve it? We’ve never seen you with a girl, man. You never bring one to the game. Just your mommy.” They all cackled and the guy who whistled punched Eliot in the shoulder.

“Two mommies!” shouted one of the the other boys to a wave of laughter. “One to hold each hand if he has a bad game.”

“C’mon fellas, cut the comedy. Sorry, Joey.”

“Well, I’m coming to your “scrimmage” tonight.”

“Where you been all this time if you and E are like tight? We’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m what you call his “hometown honey.” We didn’t go to the same high school and, anyway, I’m a year younger. But Eliot is my boo, don’t you know?”

“I don’t believe you guys. You probably don’t even know each other.”

I leaned over and planted a big wet kiss on Eliot’s surprised lips, my left hand caressing his curly coils in tight little circles. He kissed me back and our lips made a bold smacking sound. The whistler whistled again, this time in amazement. The boys started clapping and cheering.

I stood up, backing away, I blew Eliot a kiss. “See you tonight, sweetie. Bye, boys.” I tried to swing my hips as I left the dining hall. They were still murmuring when I reverted to my normal gait halfway down the hallway.

---

Columbia easily trounced Fordham in their scrimmage that night. Emily was justly proud of her son’s performance. He pulled off a triple double: 18 points, 10 rebounds and 11 assists. He was the star of the game. We waited outside of their locker room after the game. The other players nodded to Emily as they walked past. A few of the players even whistled at me. One of them, arm in arm with his girlfriend, told us that Eliot would be out in a few minutes. The coach was in a meeting with the two team captains, one of whom was Eliot. When Eliot bopped out of the coach’s office, a wide smile on his face, he grabbed both of us and enveloped us in his enormous wingspan.

“Coach said there were two NBA scouts at the game tonight! And they asked him about me. They like my game.”

“You’re only a sophomore, Eliot. You promised me and Joanne you’d get your degree first.”

“Yeah, but I might go first round in the draft!”

“Not if you don’t declare yourself eligible, Bradshaw.” The coach slapped him on the back and nodded at Emily. “Listen to your mother. You’re not a hardship case. Grow up a little before you turn pro. A college degree can come in handy if your career ends due to injury or you don’t cut it in the NBA. Shit happens. Sorry, Mrs. Bradshaw.”

“Coach, take a pic of me and my best gals.” He handed his iPhone to Coach Mantle.

As we walked home from Levien Gym, I hung back with Eliot as Emily preceded us. I looked up at Eliot who was happily pantomiming his jump shot and announcing “swish” as his imaginary shot plunged through the net.

“You know, thanks for making the guys think you’re my girlfriend. They were ragging on me pretty bad today.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend? You must be Big Man on Campus, literally.”

“Naw, don’t have time for a girlfriend. I work on my game. I’m what the coach calls a gym rat. I want to go to the league, you know.”

“Somehow I don’t believe that. I’ll tell you my secret if you’ll tell me yours. I’m sure there’s a girl somewhere in your past. Maybe she broke your heart?”

He stopped and looked down at me. Emily was moving farther and farther away, oblivious to the stragglers. “Okay. You first. What’s your secret?”

“I was born a boy. I just had my surgery three months ago. There, I’m sure you’re shocked.”

“Naw, Mom told me. You’re not upset she did, are you?”

“No, I’m not trying to hide it. It’s just not necessary to shout it from the rooftops, you know. So what’s your secret. Come on, we agreed.”

“I’m gay. That’s why they never saw me with a girl. Maybe with your display today, they’ll cut me some slack for a while.”

“Eliot, this is the 21st century. Being gay shouldn’t be a stigma.”

“Tell that to a bunch of teenage jocks.”

“They shouldn’t be allowed to harass you. Have you told your mother or Joanne?”

“They don’t know. I’ve never come out to them. And I’d appreciate it if you keep it under your hat. I’ll tell them when I’m ready.”

“Hey, kids! It’s getting chilly out here. Let’s move it. How’s about some hot chocolate at home?”

I patted Eliot’s arm in reassurance I’d keep his secret and we trotted to catch up with Emily.

---

“What? Wait a minute! Eliot told you he’s gay?”

“I thought you knew. I assumed he got around to coming out to you in the intervening years. I guess Emily passed without ever finding out but I was sure you knew.”

“No, he never told me. And I never suspected. Some mother I turned out to be, huh?”

“I’ve gotta scoot. Early shift tomorrow. Game 2’s tomorrow night. Are you and Alastair coming?”

“Alastair is headed out to Vancouver and then Toronto to check on some productions currently shooting. Could be a 10 day trip. I’m used to seeing him every other week anyway. But I’m there, won’t be square…Should I bring it up with Eliot?”

“My opinion? No, he’ll tell you when he’s ready. I’m acting as his arm candy so the media won’t besiege him with rumors.”

“Why haven’t I heard these rumors? Oh, well. Good night, Joey. We have to get together real soon to continue your saga. You’re giving me an idea that Alastair might or might not like. But whatever, we’ll see.”

“Later in the week then, Joanne. Do you do any other delicious dishes?”

“How does Penne Vodka with shrimp sound?”

“Be honest. You and mom used to drink a lot, didn’t you?”