[- Explained -]

I waited until Jenny’s lunch period to try and call her and it went straight to voicemail. I’d texted her after the call from Sara to ask her to call me when she went to lunch, so when she didn’t call I was worried. When I tried Denise’s phone I got the same response – straight to voicemail. I texted her asking if she could call me when she had a moment, now even more worried that I couldn’t get either of them to communicate with me.

To satisfy my own curiosity about Denise’s possible health issues I did what Jenny had done, searched the web for the Temodar drug and what the tumor it treated, glioblastomas. The list of symptoms was long and ranged from headaches to vomiting to seizures to memory loss. I hadn’t heard of Denise having any of those issues via Jen, but it was possible she could be hiding any of those from her. Denise had a history of migraine like headaches, but there was no correlation I found in any research between that and a brain tumor.

There was mention of possible ‘mood or personality’ changes. That wasn’t something I expected to find, but it could explain some of Denise’s behavior of late. The woman I met in college was not the woman I’d been dealing with these past couple months – scorned or disappointed in me ex-wife or not.

Treatment options were limited due to most cases being graded at ‘4’, in regard to severity, upon discovery / diagnosis. Surgery was an option, with the hope of removing as much of the tumor as possible so as to keep it from growing. I read nothing encouraging about the removal process being able to stop the spread of the cancer cells to surrounding healthy brain tissue. The only bright spot to surgery was it reduced the pressure on the brain of the growing tumor and sometimes lessened symptoms.

Radiation therapy and chemotherapy were the next courses of treatment, along with taking the Temodar drug. There were a host of immunotherapy and targeted therapy techniques that could be employed to slow the cancer’s progression after initial treatments were done, but they were focused on quality of life, not necessarily eradication or beating the disease. From all I’d read I wasn’t sure what course of action Denise was going to take or if she’d even consider asking me for help at all or had a plan for Jen, other than that stupid change to her will which wouldn’t hold up in court.

Statistically speaking her chances of beating this type of cancer was less than ten-percent and regardless of how much she’d tried to hurt me lately I didn’t want her to suffer with this disease. There was mention that this kind of cancer wasn’t hereditary, which was a relief to read and something I hadn’t considered – I certainly didn’t want Jen living in fear she might get this form of cancer. I needed to get…

“Hello, this is Brad Styles,” I said nervously answering my cellphone and seeing it was from Jen’s high school.

“Mr. Styles, vice principle North, just calling to inform you Jennifer has left for day after a call we got from her mother, Mrs. Lamb. I generally wouldn’t be calling, but she seemed quite upset, and I thought you should know,” the female voice informed me politely.

“Thank you, I… Well, we got some unfortunate family news and she’s taking it very hard. It’s possible she’ll be out the rest of the week. We’ll get back to you tomorrow to let you know,” I answered.

“Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that. I hope Jennifer is going to be alright…”

[- Switzerland -]

“Hey Brad, come in…”

“Thanks, how’s everyone doing?” I asked Gary.

“As well as can be expected… Denise is in the kitchen,” he said after closing the door and leading me in that direction.

I wasn’t sure what I’d be walking into coming over to Denise’s to check on Jen, but when I saw her she looked as she did the last time I’d seen her – except maybe a little tired and obviously had been crying.

“Hey…,” I said softly when Denise looked my way.

“Not sure I have the energy for this right now,” she replied deadpan and as if my being here annoyed her.

“I just wanted to make sure Jen and you were alright, see if there was anything I could do.”

“We’re still exploring our options,” Gary said, which got him a ‘look’ from Denise and he didn’t say anything more.

“Alright, well the offer stands. Is it alright if I check on Jen?”

“She’s not going with you,” Denise snapped.

“I know, I just want to check in with her,” I replied softly.

“Go ahead,” Gary said placing a hand on my shoulder.

I took that as him encouraging me to go and do what I’d come here for – check on my daughter. I didn’t wait for another volley from Denise and turned to go find Jen. At her room I knock softly, and peeked in the door.

“Hey kiddo…”

When she saw me she jumped up and rushed to get into my arms. The last time she cried this hard, this broken hearted, was when we’d told her we were getting a divorce. I wanted to take this pain from her, but couldn’t and freely shed a few tears with her, while doing my best to try and calm her, and steady my own emotions.

“Look… There’s new medicine and techniques for battling cancers like this coming out every day, all hopes not lost,” I cooed. “Your mom is one tough woman, so you can believe she’s going to fight like hell, okay…”

We stood there a long time without saying anything. Jen would seem to have gotten control of her emotions, but would slip back into sobbing after expressing something depressing or heartbreaking about this whole situation.

“It’s not fair,” she whined finally.

“I know, I know… She’s going to need you to be strong, me too. She’s got a fight to win, so we gotta be there for her, okay…”

We spent the next twenty minutes talking about how we could help her mother and when she seemed talked out I gave her a gentle hug and kissed her forehead. I mentioned I’d told the school she might not be there the rest of the week and to let her mom know if she didn’t want to deal with it tomorrow or the next day.

“You need anything, anything at all, call me – don’t text me – call,” I said looking deep into her eyes.

“I will…”

“Promise?”

“Daaad, I will…,” Jen complained with a weak smile as a parting gift, along with saying, “Love you.”

“Love ya more,” I said and left her to head back to the kitchen.

Denise wasn’t in the kitchen any long, but Gary was when I entered.

“How’s she doing?” he asked when he saw me.

“Better, but she’s hurting. Look, I wasn’t kidding about helping in any way I can. Probably not what Denise wants to hear right now, but yeah… Let me know alright?”

“Sure… I, if you could slow any legal actions you might have planned that might quell some anxiety and stress around here,” Gary suggested.

“I don’t want to do anything legal, but she can’t dictate my life,” I replied as gently as I could.

“I get that, but I think being replaced by your friend right now is troubling her, if that makes any sense.”

“Sara isn’t interested in taking anyone’s place, Gary. Truthfully as Jen ages we’re going to become less her parents and more her trusted advisors. Sara and Jen are friends, but there’s respect also and a trust being built between them. I wish Denise could see that Sara isn’t a threat to her always being Jen’s mom,” I tried saying, but the ‘complaint’ in what I’d rambled was maybe a little obvious.

“Your friend, Sara, isn’t a typical woman Brad, you have to know that. Denise’s feelings on who your friend really is can’t be something you haven’t experienced from others,” he stated a little too smugly for my liking.

“What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

“Do I need to spell it out? Born male and masquerading as a woman, I mean come on… No one would care if you were gay, but a…,” he stopped speaking when Jen appeared at the entrance to the kitchen.

I looked over at her, then back to Gary, before saying, “How about we just focus on Denise getting better, supporting her through whatever treatment option she’s going to take?”

I was fuming and had Jen not shown up would have ripped into him. What few shreds of respect I had for this guy were now completely gone. Was Denise’s attitude of late coming directly from him?

“Agreed, and with that in mind we’ll need Jen around, so call your lawyer off,” he replied sounding mildly annoyed now.

Fuck you Gary! Is this shit all just a game to you?!

“What are you two talking about?” Jen asked.

It was obvious this asshole was all about throwing me under the bus in front of Jen, but I needed to keep her from seeing that.

“Nothing honey… Just talking about supporting your mom,” I stated.

“Are you filing for a change or something in the divorce thing?” Jen asked.

Fuck!

“Everyone uses the legal system Jen, your parents are no different and we’ll do what we think is best to protect you,” I said trying to add reason to the idea of legal actions being something that might happen.

“Like why? Why are you guys doing this again?”

“To protect you, sweetie...”

“Your dad wants full custody Jenny, that’s what this is about,” Gary said calmly.

“Dad?”

“I think your dad was just about to leave, Jenny,” Gary said taking a step in my direction as if he were going to show me out forcibly.

“We’ll talk this weekend Jen,” I said getting an arm around her in a half-hug. “Nothing to worry about, promise…”

“You’re not going away with Sara?” she asked surprised.

“No, another time,” I said turning for the front door.

“But, what about the ring?” she asked.

Augh! Not the slip I needed from her right now…

[- Honesty -]

I made it back to the office in time to work with three different clients regarding their accounts and projected income in retirement based on their projected expenses they calculated and gave me. All three left satisfied with my presentations and hopeful their savings would last well into their nineties with a continued strategic investment in the market. These couples weren’t typical, so I was riding a bit of a high as my work day came to an end.

When the last of those meetings was done I checked my phone for any messages, there were two.

Jen: I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m so sorry Dad.

Me: No worries, it’s not an engagement ring or anything. Your mom know?

Jen: Yes (*sad face emoji*)

Me: It’ll be fine.

Jen: Am I going to be living with you?

Me: Nothing is changing. Don’t worry about any of that right now. We’ll talk Friday night.

The other message I’d received was from Sara and was a reply to my message I’d sent before going over to Denise’s house.

Me: Jen didn’t do so good after talking to her mom about that drug. Went home from school, I’m going over there. Ping you later.

Sara: Sorry, hope that goes well. Home late?

I hit the ‘Call’ icon when I got in my car and it was Bluetooth connected to my phone after starting it.

“Hey…”

“Hey yourself… Want me to pick something up for dinner?” I asked.

“Gotcha covered, just come home,” Sara replied.

“I’m heading that way now.”

When I entered my condo I could smell sweetness and cooked bacon in the air. In the kitchen was a mess, a couple pans on the stove – one empty and the other with scrambled eggs in it, a bowl with what I assumed was pancake batter, and I could see the oven light was on. I wasted no time getting my arms around Sara, getting a much needed kiss and affirmation she was there for me, and her hugging me was desperately needed after what I’d gone through earlier today.

“Breakfast for dinner?” I asked.

“I can’t cook much else, though I’d failed that first time trying to cook you pancakes,” she said smiling, letting me go to get our plates situated with food. “How’s Jenny?”

“Little broken up, but I assured her we were going to make it through this.”

“Denise?” she asked tentatively.

“About the same, but I got shit on by Gary.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were in the kitchen and talking, then Jen popped in and he told her I was pursuing legal actions.”

“Good grief, what an ass-hat,” she complained.

“Yeah, pretty sure Denise’s attitude and behavior is being initiated through him. He said she’s afraid you’re looking to replace her as Jen’s mom or something to that effect,” I complained.

“Wait, did Jen hear that? That’s not… No, I’m… I don’t want to take anything away from Denise!”

“I know… No, Jen hadn’t caught that part of our conversation thankfully. And I explained what I thought our role was in Jen’s life anyway, I mean hell – she’s going to be making her own choices soon, so he’s just being a fucking idiot…”

I felt bad about cussing, but this whole situation had my blood boiling.

“Of course she’s going to make her own choices and the ‘adults’ in her life will be mentors. I mean, my mom has always been my sounding board after I went off to college and through my transition.”

“I told him we’re all destined to be exactly that, think I used the word ‘advisors’, but he’s so dense he probably doesn’t get it,” I complained.

“Anything else?” she asked while loading a plate for me with a couple pancakes, bacon, and eggs. I watched her set it down on the kitchen island, and go grab some milk from the refrigerator.

My hesitation to answer that wasn’t missed, and a raised brow was given to my lack of a response. Augh!

“Gary made some comment about me being gay and you being a man masquerading as a woman,” I replied sheepishly.

“I’m a woman, always have been, and always will be. His opinion on anything involving me is irrelevant,” she stated, maybe a little forcefully while setting her plate of food down and sitting on the barstool next to me. “You know what I’m going to say next…”

“If it concerns any of this stuff being brought on by you and whatever else, I can handle it – promise,” I said taking her hand, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Not the point,” she whispered.

“I know, but we each bring stuff to this relationship, and we’re working it out right?”

“I don’t like the scales are a little tipped… Don’t you think?”

“Because of the crazy I bring, yeah…”

“Haha, not funny, Bradley.”

“Ooooh, I like it when you talk dirty to me,” I said, chuckling because of the look she was giving me.

“You’re a dork… My dork and I love you… I mean love your, you know, like style…,” she said but tried to switch the words up as if embarrassed for having slipped. She turned her attention to the plate of food in front of her, moving the scrambled eggs around absently on her plate with her fork.

Two months into this relationship and given all we’ve gone through, all she’d done to flip my life around from just living it to really feeling alive, yeah – ‘love’ was something I was feeling for her and I was happy to hear she felt what we had was elevated to that level.

“Funny thing about love is it generally goes both ways, and I’m not opposed to saying that’s how I feel about you, being with you. I love you too, Sara, I hope you know that…”

[---]

Last night had been liberating. Not just because there was amazing sex involved, but because we each understood the gravity of the four letter word we’d shared at dinner – even though it might have slipped out by accident. Tears were eventually shed after the declarations. We both knew that’s what we were feeling for one another and it felt good we were past that pebble in our collective shoe and were marching onward with more comfort in step now.

My morning routine beckoned at its usual witching hour and afterwards we shared a shower that may have involved a ‘happy ending’ for both of us. Later to arrive at the café than usual, coffees in hand, we began our usual research and studying routines, until…

“That’s interesting,” Sara said reading a text on her phone she’d just received.

“What?”

“My mom just texted me asking us to dinner Sunday evening.”

“Okay… Is that a bad thing?” I asked smiling.

“No, but… Okay, so I might have told her we’d made a declaration last night,” she began saying but I butted in.

“Ooooh, a declaration? I hope you didn’t provide any details about the specific amount of noises we were making during that declaration.”

I was promptly kicked under the table, though not as forcefully as she could have kicked me.

“You’re no comedian, you know that, right?”

I shrugged my reply, but couldn’t help but chuckle also.

“Are you okay with meeting my mom?” she asked with more concern than I’d expected from her given the events of the last twelve-ish hours and the ‘L’ word being shared.

“Of course I am. From what you’ve told me she seems to be a very wise woman, just like the one sitting across from me,” I replied taking one of her hands and seeing her blushing at my reply.

She was quiet for a moment and I was beginning to worry my joking had gone too far or something else wasn’t sitting right with her. Was meeting her mom going to be a problem?

“I don’t think you understand how something as simple as…,” she stopped speaking to grab the napkin under coffee cup and used it to dab her eyes.

I panicked, “Hey… I’m sorry, I was just…”

She held up a hand to slow my roll.

“You really don’t get it do you? You have consistently told me or said things to me that validate me, me as a person, as a woman, it’s…”

She looked down, the napkin was now pressed into her eye sockets and she was doing her best to not sob, but losing that battle.

I got up quickly to switch chairs so I could be next to her, and got an arm around her.

“I guess I don’t get it, but I’m happy to be doing that for you, alright? Hey, can you look at me, please?” I asked and waited a few seconds for her to do that without crying some more. “I love you, okay… I can’t promise I’m going to say the right things to you every time, but you and Jenny mean everything to me and I’m going to do my best to make both the women in my life happy.”

[- Walls -]

“Hear her out, Brad,” Sara said softly, placing her hand on my forearm in an attempt to calm an explosive reaction I was sure to have without hearing the full story.

I wasn’t sure that was the best way to move any conversation forward tonight with Jen about her mom or my thoughts on needing to make changes to the decree. I was concerned with Jen’s tone and the attitude I thought she was giving to Sara when I walked into the condo because their conversation in the kitchen sounding strained. Jen was standing across the kitchen island from us with her arms crossed not looking pleased with either of us at the moment.

“I can do that, be reasonable, but we’re going to lose any attitudes,” I said looking at my daughter seriously.

“Mom’s sick, Dad… Like, very sick and if she’s going to get her brain operated on she’ll need me around, but you want to drag her back to court?!” she barked with barely a degree taken off of the attitude I had just asked to be turned off.

“That’s not what I want, but we do need to prepare for your care through when you turn eighteen and if your mom isn’t able too as she’s been doing all these years. We don’t know how your mom is going to respond to any treatment or surgery. She hasn’t shared what she’s doing in regards to surgery, so this is the first I’ve heard of her considering brain surgery. Will she need someone to care for her, absolutely,” I stated and Sara jumped in before I could ramble any further.

“Jenny, if she does do the surgery she’ll be in the hospital for about a week to recover enough to then be moved to a rehab facility. Any brain surgery involves some rehab and relearning things we take for granted. Best case she’s there for a short stay, but it could be longer. And then if she moves on to chemo and radiation treatments that’s going to be a lot for her to deal with.”

“That’s not what she told me was going to happen,” Jen countered, though she had softened her tone and maybe sounded concerned getting that last bit of information from someone who might actually know a little about what was coming since healthcare was Sara’ expertise.

“Okay, well maybe she’s got some other arrangements made? That doesn’t mean your father can ignore your care,” Sara stated.

“Are you doing this because of Gary?” Jen asked.

“No, but you realize he’s not happy about me seeing Sara and your mom’s bought into that. That’s not your mom, never has been, Jen. She’s always been supportive of people and their struggles, you know that.” I sated.

“I know… I know that’s what the mediation was for, right?” she asked softly.

“Before I answer that, tell me what you think of Sara,” I replied.

“You don’t have to do that,” Sara said elbowing me gently, though speaking directly to Jenny.

“No, I think we need to know,” I said looking at Sara, then back to Jen.

“What am I supposed to say?” Jen asked.

“The truth, what you feel,” I replied.

“I like Sara, she’s a good person, and I think she’s good for you,” was her reply after a short pause.

“What about for you? Do you think Sara is good enough to be around you?” I asked.

“Of course! Really, Dad?” Jen whined.

“Would you be surprised if I told you we loved each other?” I asked.

That got me a snap of Sara’s head in my periphery looking my way, but I didn’t bother to look at her.

“No, anyone can see that,” Jen replied and smiled for the first time since I’d walked in.

“Yes, the whole reason for the mediation was because Gary and your mom don’t like the idea I’m seeing Sara and they are worried about her being around you. Is that reasonable?”

“Of course not… Why? What’s their problem?” Jen complained.

“Sara being Trans, maybe your mom is jealous you and Sara will have a relationship that’s different from hers and yours,” I offered.

“She’s always going to be my mom, that’ll never change,” she said quietly.

“You’re right and Sara knows she’s not your mom,” I looked at Sara for the first time since the ‘love’ comment and she nodded I was correct. “We’re adults, we have some life experiences and you’re getting older, so that means you’ll be out on your own soon, college or whatever. Our roles will change to advisors, so mom will be mom and I’ll be your dad, but there won’t be any grounding you or dictating we can do – just advising. Hell, you’ll be considered an adult and doing your own things in less than two years, two years!

“But, until then, my role as you dad is to protect and provide for you, so going after full custody is what I think needs to happen – but I’m open to discussing that with you because I respect your opinion and feelings.”

There was a long pause in the conversation before Jen spoke. I gave her that because I knew she was processing everything. I was happy she’d dropped the attitude and seemed to really hear what I was saying.

“This isn’t fair, Dad… Not to you or mom or Sara…,” she began saying before breaking down in tears.

I got her in my arms and just held her, saying, “I know… I wish your mom wasn’t in this fight kiddo, I promise you we’ll support her as best we can and as much as she’ll allow us, okay…”

[- Mom -]

Thankfully the rest of Friday’s evening went a lot smoother. There were a few more tears shed, but by the time Sara and I went to bed, Jen was on board with my reasoning for filing for a change in custody. Jen had one request, a chance to talk with her mom about it before I filed. I pushed back, but Sara convinced me her request was part of her buying into my plan and it couldn’t hurt given the strength of my position given Denise’s condition, upcoming treatment, and chances of beating this disease.

I gave in, but was wary about what Jen would eventually say to her mom.

Sara spent the night both Friday and Saturday after getting an earful from Jen about leaving when she had said she was going home. Jen wasn’t being a brat about it, but had pointed out the cat was out of the bag, so what was the point of Sara going home if on any other given night she’d be staying anyway. Each of those mornings I accompanied Sara to the café before getting back to Jen – who was sleeping still when I return around 8AM.

Sara had picked up shifts since we weren’t going away this weekend, which gave Jen and I some quality ‘hang-out’ time and a chance to get a birthday present for to give Sara. She had left Sunday afternoon before Sara got home, but had left a card with the pair of booties we’d seen a month ago when shopping for shoes for her autumn formal. I asked how she’d known Sara’s shoe size and was told it was easy – she just looked in my closet for everything she needed to know.

My kid was too damn smart for her own good and I needed to up my parenting game, especially if she was going to be staying with me more if the decree change was approved.

Were the shoes, ‘booties’, a hit? Absolutely! In fact Sara insisted on a FaceTime call to Jen right after opening the box and trying them on so she could see them and she could properly thank her. While Sara was gushing about wearing them tonight to her mom’s for dinner Denise unexpectedly walked through the background of the call and that had the call wrapping up sooner than expected. I can only imagine the grief Jen got because of that, though hoped it wasn’t too crazy.

Sara apologized to me about having made the call and texted Jen an apology too, but I told her there was nothing to apologize for. If Denise had a problem with that it was on her. Their paths were bound to cross eventually, it is what it is and I was done tiptoeing around Denise when it came to my relationship with Sara.

Our drive to Boston’s North End, or as the locals had nicknamed it ages ago - “Little Italy”, Sunday evening took longer than I thought it would. Finding a place to park was difficult, but we lucked out and pulled into a spot a block away from Sara’s mom’s place. She lived in a federal-style row house that looked to have been remodeled recently, though contained the original hardwood flooring and crown molding accents from the 30’s. The home, the neighborhood, spoke to her mom being financially secure and fit all Sara had shared with me about her mom.

Mrs. Connelly was both gracious and a damn good cook. She insisted I call her Carol, but I struggled with that all night. During dinner the conversation had been pleasant and light, but I sensed that I probably could have been more engaging. I did have other things on my mind, namely Jen speaking with her mom about a change in custody.

After dinner we retired to the living room and a couple photo albums were drug out, which Sara complained mildly about.

“Oh don’t give me that, there’s nothing in these Brad hasn’t supposed or wondered about,” Carol chided her daughter.

“Really, mom? Couldn’t we play cards or something?”

“I’d be up for a game of cards,” I said, but added quickly, “After I look through this album.”

The album in my lap contained a mix of pictures of Sara between the ages of eight and twenty-seven, and while some of the younger ones were of her as a young boy I felt like I could see the girl trying to escape. I wondered if others saw that or sensed it.

“Did you have trouble in school? I mean, it looks like you could have been mistaken for a girl with that hair, your posture,” I remarked.

“She did, but it wasn’t until she was fourteen that we had our first ‘Something is wrong with me’ talk,” Carol answered. “Kids can be pretty brutal and I’m just glad she told me she was having troubles dealing with being a boy, but questioning that.”

“And after that point?” I asked, though knew some of those details.

“Getting her the right care made all the difference. The summer she started puberty blockers and began HRT, well, I decided if this was what she needed to be happy we were going to make a fresh start and we moved here. New school, new friends, and everyone knew Sara as who she is now.”

“No one ever found out?” I asked – that wasn’t something that Sara had shared much about with me in her early life.

“Oh my goodness, of course, but thankfully her school – a private school – was pretty supportive and strict with those who wanted to be idiots. Sara didn’t participate in gym class,” Carol began saying but Sara interrupted her.

“Thankfully, I’m not sporty at all,” she said with a little uncomfortable giggle.

I gave her a look that said I didn’t buy that statement given how ‘physical’ we could be together and had been. Her eyes widened as if to warn me off from making any cracks.

“No she wasn’t, but you did run for a while. I think I’ve got some medals and trophies from some 5K and 10K events you entered,” Carol said, standing, and then asking if we were ready for dessert.

When Carol left us, Sara asked, “You okay? We can leave if you want.”

“No, I’m good, just Jen having to deal with Denise has me a little worried. I’m sorry babe, this isn’t the way I wanted your birthday dinner to go or the entire weekend. We should have been in a BnB,” I complained.

“We can do that another time, it’s really not something I’m concerned about, and I’ve had a good birthday, other than having to work – which I probably should have just kept to the plan to be off this weekend. Look, I know you’ve been stressed,” she said taking my hand, “And, well, thank you for tonight, for agreeing to meet my mom on short notice. She can be a little much…”

“She’s awesome… I’m happy we did this and I got to hear some stories and see pictures of you as a kid – which is pretty neat.”

“That doesn’t bother you, seeing or hearing about my life before becoming the real me?” Sara asked concerned.

“No, of course not… I feel like you’ve let me in and told me everything I need to know.”

“I told you I didn’t have anything to hide from you, but you realize some of this stuff is difficult for me, right? Like, reliving parts of my childhood that weren’t so pretty, those left some pretty significant scars.”

I closed the photo album and set it on the coffee table, “I’d never discount any of that… I just appreciate you’d let me in, to see all of you, those things that make you the woman I love,” I said leaning over to kiss her just as Carol had reentered the living room.

“Oh, if you two need a moment,” she said smiling as both of us were quick to make it appear there was no PDA going on while she’d been away.

“Mooom…,” Sara complained and my heart melted a bit because she’d sounded a lot like my own daughter’s complaining tone to me.

“I think I like you two together,” Carol said setting a tray down with three plates with slices of cheese cake on each and what looks like some kind of blueberry topping.

“Really mom?” Sara complained again.

Yup, exactly like my daughter gives it to me, I thought smiling.

[- Ring -]

On our way back to the condo Sara and I talked a bit more about how the evening had unfolded. One thing she’d mentioned was that her mother shared a couple years ago that the summer she began puberty blockers she knew that would end the existence of her son. She’d mourned the loss, but was happy to have her daughter willing to live a full life and more comfortable in her own skin.

I hadn’t considered anything like that, the mourning, but it made complete sense. I’m not sure what losing Jen would do to me, so I think I got how that might have affected her mom. I’d give up anything for her to just grow up happy and was glad Sara had that kind of support from her family.

I also learned that not everything leading up to the woman Sara was today had been all rainbows and lollypops. Her mom’s parents and sister’s side of the family was accepting, but her father’s wasn’t at all. Her dad had passed a while ago and it was only because her mom had a good job within the Port of Boston as a VP of logistics with good benefits that her transition was so easily supported.

She explained most Trans folk struggled to pay for care or HRT or even surgeries to keep the dysphoria demons at bay. I figured it wasn’t cheap to transition, but had no idea how lucky she had it compared with the majority of Trans men and women out there. She touched briefly on the president elects rhetoric and what that was going to mean to the Trans community, ending with the opinion he wasn’t what this country needed and it was going to cost people’s lives.

In my condo, with the clock ticking on this birthday, and us needing to get up early for work – we didn’t waste time getting undressed and into the shower. It was fun and I was certainly aroused, but the focus in my mind was getting to bed to advance any mutual arousal relief we had built up in the shower.

I knew her routine for preparing involved a lubrication step she generally did out of sight. I was a little surprised when she followed me straight from drying off to bed without lingering behind to prepare. Dang it! Did that mean nothing physical tonight?

I climbed into bed wondering if that was it and I should just get up and get her present, when she climbed into bed. That’s when I noticed the bottle of lube in her hand. She was naked as I was, but had a wicked smile on her face as she climbed over me and straddled me.

“Okay…,” I queried, with a hopeful smile.

She said nothing as she tilted the bottle at her breasts and dribbled a few drops, reaching down for my hand to encourage me to rub those drops around. Between my doing that and her making very pleasant noises while I caressed her breasts, pulling at slippery nipples - she was loading her hand with lube and after capping the bottle shut she wrapped a slippery hand coated in lube around my very erect cock.

HOLY FUCK!

Slippery breasts and cock lead to us to eventually being out of breath and holding each other as we were coming down from our collective highs.

In my ear she whispered, “Happy birthday to me…”

I squeezed her a little tighter, replying, “I got you something, let me get a towel first…”

She sat up, “The shoes though… I thought…”

“Those were something Jenny wanted to get you. Hang tight, I’ll be right back…”

I grabbed a towel from the bathroom closet and gave it to her, and then went to my closet to get her gift. I returned with the little box, turned the bedside lamp on, and handed her the box.

She looked surprised and maybe wondering if there was a bigger meaning to the box that obviously contained a ring, but was usually delivered without a certain question attached. When I just smiled back at her she slowly opened it…

“Oh my God! It’s… Oh God! How did you know?!” She exclaimed.

“I was clued in by Jen and when we went shopping for your shoes, she saw it and insisted you’d like it because we’ve seen you wearing some earrings and a pendant that are similar.”

“Braaaad…,” she began and leaned over to kiss me. “I love it… My mom’s family is originally from Ireland and I just love Celtic knot jewelry.”

“I hope it fits… Jenny said she’d gotten you to try on one of her rings and we had this sized up one to a 5.5, I think…”

I watched her try it on the ring-finger of her right hand, it slide right on and it seemed to fit perfectly. She was studying it, smiling, and looked up at me.

“You’re too good to me…,” she croaked, pulling me into a hug.

“Think it’s the other way around,” I countered.

“Are we going steady now?” She asked with a little giggle.

“I certainly hope it’s that and more…”

[- Agreements -]

Denise: Do you have time today I could stop by your office today?

I’d received that text shortly after the markets opened and after my morning exchange of ‘Hey’ texts with Jen. I’d asked her how her mom was and got from her that they’d talked, without Gary around, and it had went well. No details were shared which was frustrating.

She said she was going to school today. There wasn’t enough in our exchange to clue me into what Denise wanted with me this morning, in person. For a second I considered reaching out to Lance for advice, but decided this probably meeting was a clarification meeting of what I’d talked to Jen about regarding custody, so skipped making that call.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, after greeting Denise in the lobby of our offices and escorting her into my office.

“Today, it’s been a good day, so far,” Denise replied.

“Can I ask what you’re planning to do treatment wise?” I asked that gently and from a place of genuine concern on my part.

“That’s partly why I’m here, to settle some things with you amicably before I start trying to beat this shit.”

Her tone wasn’t edgy or containing any of that annoyance I’d experienced last week directed at me. That was a good sign, but it was early and I’d seen her flip the script on me in a nanosecond, so wasn’t counting on this not getting contentious. She had a treatment plan and I was going to reiterate I was going to be there to help as much as I could.

“You know all I want is you to beat this and for us to focus on what’s best for Jen. She’s an amazing young woman and that’s mostly due to you being her mom, which will never change and no one wants that to change,” I offered kindly.

“I understand all that, Brad. Jenny assures me your friend has no interest in taking my place, which I have a hard time believing,” she countered.

“Why would she? Why do you think she’d want to do that?”

“To be in your good graces, fulfill some fantasy about ‘motherhood’ they all seem to have, to be a vindictive bitch… I don’t know this person, Brad, and you having them around Jenny is confusing because they’re life isn’t exactly the norm and this relationship seems so unlike you.”

‘Friend’, ‘They’, ‘Them’, and ‘They’re’ – at least she wasn’t misgendering Sara. She’d labeled her offhandedly as a ‘bitch’, so that was some progress, right? Wouldn’t it just be easier to say her damn name? I had a thought for second this was a mistake – agreeing to meet with her without Lance here or someone else sitting in on this – after processing her last statement. Should I pause this? What did she mean by that crack ‘so unlike you’?

“None of those thoughts you have about Sara – who isn’t a ‘they’ or ‘them’—are remotely some hidden motivation of hers or some design to get in my good graces.”

“Why is he with you then?” she asked.

I shook my head after cringing inside, but held my temper, replying, “She is with me for me, and I’d appreciate you dropping this idea you’ve got that I’m with a man or I’m gay or Sara isn’t a woman to her core. And before you go all biological crap on me, I’m not going to put up with this from you, her name is Sara and ‘she / her’ will do, or we’re done here, please...”

I’m sure I sounded as though I was pleading, but there was an element of ‘Beware I’m nearing my breaking point’ in what I’d just said.

Denise was studying me, possibly gauging after all these years and all those fights we’d had about me being an absent husband or father if she could still push me around.

“Fair enough, I’m sorry…”

I wasn’t sure I heard that correctly, but quickly eked out, “Thank you…”

“I’ll try to do better, but I’m not completely comfortable with your friend being allowed around Jenny. It might be what you want, but I get the right as her mother, to be leery and skeptical of people she’s in contact with. You understand that, right?”

“I do, and I’m as protective of Jen as you are and wouldn’t knowingly put her in harm’s way. You know that, so let’s leave Sara and Gary out of this conversation for a moment and get back to what’s best for Jen.”

”Why do you think you should have full custody?” Denise asked.

“Until I found out about Gary’s DUI and you threatening Sara, I didn’t have any thought of going that route. She’ll be eighteen in less than two years, and none of this decree stuff will mean a thing after that—except for my picking up the tab for college—which I’m totally fine with.

“Then you had your will changed to name Gary as her guardian if you passed before she was eighteen? The chances that would be honored in court are minuscule, and Lance can’t believe you paid to have that done or pushed for that. Was it Gary that sparked that?”

“Doesn’t matter…”

“I think it does… Money? If you pass, does he want to keep collecting the support I pay you? That’s the only thing that explains him pushing that. Is Jen being a meal ticket his motivation?” I asked, full-on complaining evident in my tone.

“Of course not… He cares for her and I’d want him in her life if I die,” she protested.

I paused to let that idea sink in a little more before replying, “If your wish is, should you pass, that he not be kept from her, I’d allow him to see her, just not unsupervised. I’m sorry, but if you pass this split in custody ends, all of it ends. You understand that, right? Your lawyer has explained that’s how it works 99.999% of the time, right?”

She nodded. And I was relieved he wasn’t filling her head with bullshit and that Gary had some legal footing he could sue me or get something over on me if she passed.

“You’ve got some major treatment options to get through, right? So what are we doing to make this easier on you and protect Jen’s interests?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“I talked with Jen about flipping our custody agreement around because it's going to be a rough couple of months for you if you do the brain surgery route first. Jen said she was okay with that, but wanted to talk with you first. I wouldn’t ask for supervised visits or anything like that, just so you know. I’m assuming your talk went well enough and that that’s why you’re here this morning.”

She nodded.

“I’d like to offer she’ll be with you on weekends, until that’s not possible or only Gary is available to keep tabs on her, and I’d get her during the week – just a straight swap in physical custody. We’d leave the spousal support alone because you did sacrifice to get my business off the ground and I owe you that, but we’d need to have the child support cut to two days worth instead of five as it is today.

“And Jen can come over at any time – just like you’ve allowed her to come over to my place since the divorce was finalized. I’d never keep her from you and I appreciate you’ve never kept her from me – though tried that with that last mediation we went through,” I said with a slight chuckle.

She nodded again as if she agreed with all I’d said. She looked tired to me all of a sudden, maybe defeated. I was worried about her, this wasn’t the fire breathing ex-wife I was used to dealing with.

“We can call Lance and talk this out with him now. He can get it put together, and sent over to Wayne if you want…”

“No, just do it and have him pass it on to Wayne,” she conceded.

“You’ll beat this, and I will have him put something in this change that says we’ll flip this back to the way it was when you’re back on your feet,” I said trying to be encouraging.

“I think you know what my odds are for beating this, Brad… I appreciate you saying all that, but realistically this will probably be our last legal battle. Thankfully,” she chuckled.

“I’m hoping it’s not,” I said smiling. “I’ll miss you trying to beat up on me.”

She smiled, stood, and made her way to my office door. I joined her and felt like I needed to hug her, so I did.

“Jenny and I are here for you; don’t ever doubt that…” I whispered while holding her.

I felt her tighten her arms around me, huff a defeated breath, and let loose of me before she walked out of my office.

::: --- :::

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Rachel M. Moore