[- Sparks -]

Me: Jen is going to the movies with Aaron Temple from down the street. I’ve talked to Paula, Aaron’s mom, and she’s aware.

Denise: I know the Temple’s. Is she meeting him there?

Me: Yes, driving herself, then after the movie Jen is coming back here to get her stuff and heading home. I’ll have her ping you when she’s on her way.

Denise: And when she gets to the movie and leaves there also.

Me: I’ll pass that on.

Denise: OK

I stared at my phone, shocked. No complaints, no unreasonable demands, and no mention of Sara. This was starting out to be a good…

“What did Mom say?”

I looked up to see Jen dressed as nicely as she’d looked for dinner last night when we were out with Sara. You like this boy, don’t you – I thought to myself.

“You look nice…”

“Daaad…,” the oft-repeated complaint from my sixteen-year-old daughter, annoyed at me, floated across the kitchen like a scratch in one of my favorite records.

“She wants you to let her know when you get there and leave.”

“K… Was that it?”

“Yup, all she said.”

“No snarky comments about Sara?” She asked, giving me her ‘don’t lie to me look’.

“No… You want to see?” I asked, reaching in my pocket for my phone.

I wasn’t going to tell her I was as surprised as she was with that exchange or that I had expected it would have gotten uglier as she was assuming.

“Nah… Do you have a second to proof my initial draft for that report?”

“I’m sure it’ll take more than a ‘second,’ but I’ve got time.”

I watched her open her laptop up, maybe scrolling in some application, and set it down in front of a seat at the kitchen island. I sat, began reading, stopped to get a pad of paper and pen, before I sat back down.

“It’s in ‘Mark Up’ mode; you can just type corrections or suggestions,” she said when I looked to be focused on something and positioned my pen to start writing something.

“Oh, okay…”

I got refocused on where I’d left off and typed the word ‘rethink’ in a few places, the word ‘brilliant’ twice, and ‘not a very good argument’ after her last paragraph of summary. All told, ten minutes worth of reading and proofing—with the idea she’d have some minor corrections to do and should be well on her way to a decent grade in my opinion.

I stood to give her the seat I’d been occupying, saying, “Very good, I think you’ve captured the idea of free speech well. You argue the point that TikTok users are using the tool for expression, but I think you’re light on the whole ‘China’ connection and the security concerns.”

“If I told you this entire piece was written by ChatGPT, would you think differently?” She asked, smiling.

“No, but I know it wasn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because there’d be more ‘China-China-China’ focus to the output,” I said, trying to mimic the way the future president liked to say the name of that country like it disgusted him and should others.

I finished my answer to her question with, “I would say AI would have balanced its output of arguments more than you did, and it would have emphasized the dangers of TikTok being a security threat, monitored use by the Chinese, and been a bit sketchy about how/why it collects data from users. I think ten different countries so far have banned its use; you should mention that and maybe contrast that idea to our right to free speech. The US could join that bandwagon—I doubt the company is going to survive the Supreme Court ruling coming up. I know a lot of companies—including my own—don’t allow that app on company-owned devices.”

“Okay, well, I wrote it,” she said, sounding dejected by likely too much adult content in my answer and not taking the bait for a ChatGPT argument with her.

“It’s good, Jen, just needs minor touchup work. Really, balance your arguments, fix a few sentences for clarity, sum it up better, and you’ll ‘ace’ the assignment,” I said, trying to encourage her.

I watched her stare at the screen, save her work, close the laptop, and stand.

“Thanks, Dad… I appreciate the help.”

“No problem, kiddo; we can look at it after the movie or later in the week. You think you might want to get going?” I asked noticing the time.

“Yeah… I’ll text you when I get there, and I’m leaving,” she said, hugging me before heading back to her room.

“Your mom too…”

“I will.”

[---]

I tracked Jen’s journey to the theater and was just about to call her because the little dot on my phone that was her wasn’t moving. At least three minutes it stayed stationary, even after a restart of the app. Eventually the dot began moving, and ten minutes later I got a message from her saying she’d made it, was with Aaron, and there was an accident she had to deal with getting around that caused her to delay getting in touch. I was grinding out a reminder to let her mom know when I received, ‘Pinged Mom’. I replied with, ‘Thank you’.

After Jen had left, I texted Sara asking if she wanted to grab lunch; I still hadn’t gotten a reply after thirty minutes or an indicator she’d seen my text, so I added, ‘Or dinner?’ just to increase my chances of her seeing I’d reached out and I was wanting to get together. Since she had a couple of personal items here, I decided I was going to make room in my closet and one of two dressers I had to see if she’d be interested in expanding her presence beyond the bathroom. Those nights she stayed over, of late, she would show up with an overnight bag with clothes for the next day.

It was time to change that, and I hoped she was interested.

Midway through emptying a couple of drawers, consolidating stuff, or bagging items for donation, I took a quick look at my phone to see if Jen was still where I thought she should be—yup. The movie had another hour, maybe a little more to go, and while I knew she’d text me when she left, I needed to check to set my mind at ease. Why? She’d always been a good kid; why the need to check? I could trust her to be true to her word—right?

Was it Denise’s attitude of late that had me doubting my relationship and trust in Jen? Damn it!

[- Fortifications -]

“Hey Brad, what’s up?”

“Sorry to be calling on the weekend, Lance. Got a second?”

“Call anytime, you know that. Nina just mouthed for me to say ‘Hi’.”

“Hey Nina… We could do this later, tomorrow when you’re in the office,” I offered.

“We’re just about to leave for a Costco run; you’re saving me money by delaying that trip,” he chuckled.

“Well, you own enough of that in your portfolio, so you’re kind of paying into its success with its price of late and, of course, the dividend.”

I heard him speaking to Nina in the background for her to check if they needed bars of hand soap before saying, “Sorry about that; I just remembered we might be low on soap. Okay, what’s up?”

“Got a call at work from Denise at work a few days ago… She was complaining about Sara, and, well, she kind of threatened her.”

“Kind of or did? I know your calls are recorded; can you email me that file?” Lance asked, sounding as if he’d instantly ‘clicked’ into lawyer mode on me, and my friend had taken a back seat.

“I can, and yeah, it was a clear threat she leveled.”

“What’d she say?”

“She doesn’t want Sara around Jen, especially alone. Thinks it’s a temptation or whatever, and if for some reason Sara did do something to Jen, Denise would hunt her down, and it wouldn’t end well,” I recanted as best I could remember her exact words.

“She knows your calls are recorded, right? You did say she called the office…”

“I think she forgot that fact, but I mentioned it to her. Doubt she’ll be calling the office ever again.”

“Alright, get me the file of the call. If it’s as bad as it sounds, then some of that work I did preparing to hit back with our own revision to the decree would be strengthened by that recording. Seriously consider what I told you about your chances for full custody, the reduction of both child support and spousal alimony, and supervised visits—not just because of Gary’s drinking history, but Denise making threats,” he outlined.

His points were all points I wasn’t oblivious to.

“Okay, I can do that, but I worry about Jen and what that change might mean or the stress it would lay on her. I don’t want Denise and my issues spilling over onto her, like back when we did the divorce. Sure, she’s older, but I don’t want her PTSD’ing or anything. I told you she saw a counselor for a little over a year, right? You know what I’m saying?”

“I do, but I’m not seeing Denise’s behavior changing; in fact, if she’s threatening Sara, that’s a bit of an escalation I’m not sure you should be ignoring. Does Sara know?”

“She does. I told her part of what we’d talked about, though I held back saying anything about the threat,” I said, probably sounding guilty about that or unsure I’d made the right decision to not tell her.

“Why not tell her?”

“I’m not sure… Her being Trans hasn’t been easy, and I… Sara’s been so supportive with Jen and me... I guess I don’t want to add to her pressures by highlighting a crazy ex-wife being a part of our relationship because the crazy keeps spilling onto me.”

Lance was slow to reply, “You think you’d lose her?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, my advice in regards to Denise is—what you aren’t changing, you’re choosing. Choose Sara, Brad,” Lance said as if he was speaking to me as my good friend and my lawyer had now taken that back seat.

[---]

Jen: Can I get pizza with Aaron? Right here in the mall, be home after that.

I looked at the app to see where she was, at the pizza place in the mall we’d gone to with Sara. Sneaky kid, already probably sitting at a table, and the pizza was likely already ordered.

Me: Sure, let your mom know what’s up.

Jen: Thanks, Dad!

Me: Say ‘hi’ to Aaron for me.

Jen: Yeah, no! lol

Me: On the road back here by 4—no excuses, AND he walks you to your car—no excuses. Understood?

Jen: K, 4, and to my car. You’re being very reasonable; Sara must be there.

Me: She isn’t, and I’m always reasonable with those who give that back to me.

Jen: I could debate that.

Me: I’d enjoy that.

Jen: JK

I knew JK meant ‘just kidding,’ but I had to look it up a few years ago when she’d texted me that one day after school. These kids used way too many acronyms to communicate.

Me: Yeah, enjoy the pizza.

Jen: Love you.

Me: Never gets old hearing that; love you too.

[- Invite -]

I’d gone back to my room to grab the couple bags of clothing I was going to donate when I heard the buzzer for the door. I hefted the bags and schlepped them to the front door, asking at the speaker who was there.

“Someone who’s missed you. Wanna let me in?”

“I’d very much like that,” I said, buzzing the front door and saying, “See you in a minute…”

I propped the door open and ran back to my room to make sure everything looked presentable. I was nervous about asking her to consider leaving more than just some makeup, shampoo, and other sundries here. When my inspection met my approval, I made it to the kitchen as the front door was closing.

“What’s in the bags?” Sara asked.

“Did some cleaning today, just some clothes to donate. Jen’s at the movie with ‘Aaron,’ the boy from down the street. Think she might like him. Word is he likes her,” I said, getting her in my arms.

“We’re alone?”

“Yeah, for a little bit, maybe an hour… Want to see what I’ve been up to?” I asked.

“Lead on…”

We walked back to my room and into my walk-in closet. I pointed out a section cleared out of about three feet worth where items could be hung up, and after pointing that out, I pulled out two large drawers that were empty.

“Think you could fill these spaces?”

“I might, but what about Denise?” Sara asked.

“What about her? She hasn’t been over here in well over a year, maybe closer to two years, and I don’t care what she thinks or if she knows you’ve got personal items here.”

That wasn’t the response from her I was expecting. I was beginning to worry I’d overstepped or pushed before she was ready to consider having more of a presence here.

Sara was studying me closely, looked to have her question for me reconciled in her mind, and asked, “There was more she complained to you about the other day, wasn’t there?”

I wanted to say, ‘No, of course not…,’ but I didn’t want to lie to her.

“Is it that obvious?”

“No, but your answer tells me my suspicion was correct. Do you want to talk about it?”

Lesson learned—don’t play poker with this woman!

“Sure…”

[- Tightrope -]

We returned to the kitchen, grabbed a couple beers, and sat at the counter next to each other. I began by going back over a few of the things I’d already told her; she listened, and then I shared the last piece of that conversation I’d withheld from her.

“She told me if anything happened to Jen, at your hands, it wouldn’t end well… I jumped down her throat hard through all of that, I promise. Look, I talked to Lance earlier, and I’m sending him the recording of the call, and he’s going to draw up paperwork to go after full custody of Jen and a few other things,” I said as if I were trying to right my original wrong of not telling her the full story.

“Have you talked to Jen about that, her potentially being required to live here full time?” Sara asked softly.

“No, but I think she’d be alright with that.”

“What are the other things you’d go after in the decree?”

“A change in child/spousal support and possibly supervised visitation for both Denise and Gary…”

Sara made a face.

“That’s likely not going to go over very well; I seem to remember you not liking getting hit with a requirement to have a babysitter while Jen was here. You know, I hate that I’m the catalyst for this pain I’ve brought on you and Jen…”

“She can’t dictate who I want to see or be with, Sara,” I complained.

“I realize that, but it puts me in a position I don’t really want to be in, and I’m affecting a lot of change on people, and some of that may not be well received,” she stated, not breaking eye contact.

“She can’t just threaten you; I’m not going to put up with that from her or anyone.”

“You realize, and I’m just guessing here, that whatever her issue is with me is likely because she’s bought into the disinformation spewed by political idiots that spreads like those California wildfires. Fear-mongering is their go-to method of recruiting followers,” she said softly.

“None of that stuff matters to me,” I countered.

“I know, but again, I’m struggling with the price you’re paying for what we’re doing together, and it weighs on me… I’m not going to lie and tell you I won’t try to cling to being here with you; I’m just not sure I can keep doing it,” she said, looking at me with eyes that pleaded for some indication I understood.

“Hey,” I reached out and took her hands. “You’re not getting away from me that easily, well, unless you really want to.” There was a hint of a smile on her face, and my heart buoyed just a little. “I’m pushing back, believe me, and it’s going to hurt. Denise is going to fail at whatever this crusade is that she thinks she’s on right now, and it’s going to be a great lesson—which in my mind is stay in your own damn lane and leave me the hell alone!”

“I hear you; believe me, I do… I realize all of that, but maybe a threat of action would be enough to back her up a little? What if you had Lance contact her lawyer in a friendly warning kind of way to say he’s drawing up papers based on her threat? The guy will let Denise know, and maybe she stews on it a little and reconsiders her pushing. It might be a subtle way to change her behavior.”

“Denise is likely to go ballistic when this drops… I know her; she’s never been one for threats or ultimatums or people trying to guide her in a direction.”

“It’s not an ultimatum, but it would get her attention,” Sara offered.

“Why not just rip the band-aid off quickly?”

“Because showing a shred of decency might play better in the long run – not only with Jen but also with Denise,” she offered, sounding confident in her summation.

We talked a little more, and when I got the text from Jen she was on her way, Sara said she was going to leave.

“Something I said?”

She put a hand to my face. “Of course not; I’m just beat, honestly, and really just want to soak in a tub, light a couple candles, have a glass of wine, and hit the sack early. Tomorrow morning, café, alright?”

“Of course… I… I wish you’d stay,” I said, leaning in to kiss her softly.

“I know, but really I’m running on empty, and that half a beer sapped me. Tomorrow after work let’s do something?” She asked, smiling, giving me a quick peck before standing and taking my hand before making her way to the door with me in tow.

At the door we hugged, there was another nice kiss, and she’d squeezed my ass playfully.

“You’ll consider bringing some stuff over then?” I asked hopefully.

“Count on it…”

[- Countered -]

My morning routine was difficult to get rolling at 4:30 AM. I hadn’t slept all that well because I had worried about Sara for most of the evening. Jen had picked up on my worry after she’d gotten home from the movie and pizza, but I was able to move the conversation to other things, and shortly thereafter she was off to Denise’s place.

At the café, Sara was as vibrant as she always was, which had me wondering if she was overcompensating so as to not worry me or show me she was still concerned about us. I asked subtly, but she assured me everything was fine, even telling me in her trunk there was a small suitcase with some stuff she’d bring over later. In the end I had to accept she was being honest with me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling we weren’t on a solid footing.

“Morning,” I said, catching the time was nearly noon, so that statement was just about in error.

“Hey Brad… So, I reached out to Wayne to confirm the amounts you pay in support were correct. He knew I knew they were already, so he asked what your intentions were, and I told him the truth: you were considering pushing for a change. No details on exactly what we’re doing, but I’m sure the message will get back to Denise that she’s crossed a line. Funny thing, though, he mentioned she’d updated her will and was going to name Gary as Jenny’s guardian should something happen to her,” Lance told me.

“What? That can’t happen, can it?” I complained a little shocked to hear that.

“No, not unless you really screwed something up. If Denise passes, Jenny’s custody would be assigned to her immediate parent. Truthfully, I think he was just posturing, and I’m a bit surprised he thinks he can make a case for that and some judge would sign off on it. I think this guy is bilking Denise with unfounded legal advice.”

“The new administration coming into play, could that give Denise any footing?”

“Possibly, but again—you’d have to really screw something up in your personal life for that to even be a wisp of a possibility.”

[- Partners -]

The rest of the week had gone by in a blur. The markets wanted to have faith that the new president-elect would be good for businesses when he took office—though they seemed to totally ignore his continued craziness revolving around Panama, tariffs, and deportation of millions of immigrants. Did those supporting this guy understand the cost and who was going to be saddled with that debt when all was said and done? Guess kicking the can down the road would be the legacy of this guy's political spending.

The dinner party Lisa and Ken had put together had been pushed a week due to scheduling conflicts by both Ken and Marty. Saturday afternoon Sara had come over with a couple of outfits in tow to get Jen’s help with deciding what to wear tonight. She and Jen spent easily an hour doing girl stuff in my bathroom getting ready once the final outfit had been decided on. I wasn’t allowed to see any of that course, but I heard them laughing and giggling way too much. Have to admit, I liked hearing them getting along.

When I finally did get to see Sara, she was a vision that literally took my breath away.

“Wow Dad, speechless much?” Jenny had joked.

Yeah, I was certainly speechless, and I did blather on and on about how beautiful Sara looked. That was a bit embarrassing, not because Jen was standing there watching it all, but because I’d really put my heart out on my sleeve during that bit of complimenting. When I was done with my gushing over Sara, I suddenly felt underdressed and not worthy of being seen by her side. The dinner was an informal affair, and I’d complained that I should probably put a tie on just to get a tiny bit closer to Sara’s level of perfection but was told to skip it by both girls.

“You two look perfect,” Jen had told us and insisted on getting a picture.

At Ken’s place, the reception by Lisa took a load of my worries away, especially when she’d whispered in my ear that Sara was absolutely beautiful. We were the last couple to arrive, and after introductions and drinks being procured, there was the separation of the sexes—women to the kitchen, men out to the grill. We heard the girls giggling a few times, but I was nervous for Sara and hoped she didn’t think I had abandoned her.

“Anything further on the Denise front?” Marty asked.

“No, there has been radio silence the entire week. Lance hit me up yesterday to say he’d finished all the paperwork,” I told him.

“Still not sure I understand the will designation; she can’t do that crap,” Ken said as he was turning the sizzling steaks on the grill and the flames licked the beautiful cuts of meat.

“That’s what Lance told me,” I replied, taking a pull from my beer.

“Are you going to let him file?” Marty asked.

“Sara and I probably need to talk about that a bit more…,” I conceded, which got me looks from both of them, so I explained her concerns.

“I like her,” Ken said after I’d told him her thoughts on the subject. “She’s not out for blood but will fight if backed into a corner—that’s reasonable, and she’s considering Jenny.”

At the dinner table, all three couples were incredibly relaxed, engaging, and we all laughed a lot. That was likely due to the wine, beer, and alcohol being consumed—but it did help my nerves that everyone was treating Sara like she was an old friend. The conversation flowed without any of the strain I’d thought might be there, given Marty had been an ass when I’d clued him into Sara being Trans.

In the hour it’d taken to eat, not once had the idea that Sara was Trans was brought up organically. I wondered if Lisa had grabbed a few minutes with Marty before we arrived to put her foot down and let him know she wasn’t going to put up with any crap tonight.

“Well, if everyone is done, let’s have the ladies retire to the living room, and us guys will clear the table,” Ken said.

“Fine by me,” Lisa stated, sliding out from the table and encouraging Sara and Marty’s wife Valerie to join her. I watched her kiss Ken quickly and usher the girls out.

The guys made fast work of clearing the table, got to hear the girls laughing a few times about something celebrity-based, we think, and eventually joined them in the living room. Two more hours of conversation ensued, and it was Sara who brought up the first real mention of the Trans topic after Marty had said something about the president elect was going to make it hard for illegal aliens to continue to reside here and how that was going to screw the farming industry.

“He’s after more than immigrants; those who are Trans are going to suffer,” Sara stated.

“How so?” Valerie asked interested.

“Access to gender-affirming care, possibly rolling back secured protections. It could trickle down to legal documents that declare who I am,” she replied.

“I don’t get the motivation,” Lisa stated.

“Smoke and mirrors, give his base something to fear and hate, make false claims like mutilating children’s sex organs so they can propagate the narrative that someone like me is mentally afflicted. It’s sad; I know of three Trans girls who took their lives because they couldn’t get a handle on their gender dysphoria,” Sara said solemnly.

“Is that common?” Ken asked.

“More than you might expect…,” Sara said softly, obviously bothered by sharing that.

“Well, I for one am very sorry there isn’t more understanding of this,” Valerie stated.

After that brief foray into Sara’s and others struggles, the evening came to an end. There were hugs all around, Marty even hugging Sara and telling her it was nice to finally meet her. Yeah, I was a little shocked by that, but didn’t let it show.

When I hugged Lisa goodbye, she whispered, “I really like her, Brad. I think she likes you a lot, so don’t screw it up.”

We both laughed, she kissed my cheek, and I felt like the evening had turned out to be a success. Sara was introduced to my closest friends and they seemed to like her as much as I did.

[---]

The drive back to my place was pleasant, and we held hands for most of it and talked casually about the dinner party and my colleagues. Sara told me she really liked Lisa, and I told her about how during the divorce she’d talked me off the ledge a few times into the wee morning hours.

“I’m glad she was there for you. I get the sense you’re pretty important to both her and Ken.”

“We’re close; they stuck with me when Denise was rallying our friends early on to her side, incessantly dragging me through the mud and generally just being hurtful. I admitted when asked that I was the cause of the divorce, I think people appreciated the truth, but knew I wasn’t the devil she was making me out to be. I don’t ever want to do that again, and I won’t,” I stated.

“You sound pretty sure of yourself. Does that mean marriage isn’t out of the question for you one day, I mean, assuming you find the right person?” she asked thoughtfully.

“No, not out of the question... I’m older and wiser, certainly. How about you? Is marriage something you’d consider?”

“I’ve thought about it certainly; I just need to find the right guy,” she said, leaning over to kiss my cheek before sitting back and placing our hands on my thigh.

At the condo we found Jenny engrossed in some Prime video series, but turned it off to get the scoop on our evening. I watched the two of them slip right back into that girl’s mode and giggle about whatever story or train of thought either of them threw at each other. That is until…

“You staying the night?” Jen asked.

I looked at Sara and grinned, but she stayed focused on Jen.

“I’ve got an early morning; I might actually get in on a couple of surgeries, so I should probably go,” Sara said, sounding a bit like that’s not how she really wanted to reply.

“You’re not leaving because of me, right?” Jen asked, sounding like she felt guilty about Sara leaving.

“No,” she said, taking Jen’s hands, “If I was a few years younger, we’d stay up all night, do our nails, and talk about the boys in our lives. Your dad says you might be interested in someone?”

That got me a sharp, crisp look from my daughter, and I smiled weakly in reply.

“Dad… We just went to a movie,” Jen complained.

“That’s all I said.”

She looked to Sara, who shrugged, which was the equivalent of throwing me under the bus.

“Really?” Jen said, looking at me.

“Okay, I told her you might like Aaron… In my defense, you looked really nice for the movie last weekend, so I assumed, well, you know,” I replied, and that sounded like I was backpedaling.

Sara was smiling, which seemed odd to me, but I figured out soon enough they were both messing with me when Jenny burst out laughing. They’d talked this out earlier I was told and I was set up brilliantly by my daughter – and girlfriend.

“Hahah, very funny, you two,” I complained.

“Can’t you stay?” Jen pleaded. “We can mess with him some more.”

“As fun as that would be, I do need to get going. Thank you for the help this afternoon; I really appreciated your take on this outfit and the help with my hair,” Sara said, gathering Jen in for a hug. “And you… Wanna walk me out?”

“Sure…,” I said liking that these two were getting along so splendidly.

[---]

“She knows…”

“What?”

“She saw the room you made in the closet for me and asked about me spending more time here,” Sara explained.

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth and that I was going to keep more clothing items here for convenience.”

“Did she ask about you moving in or whatever?”

“She did, but I said we were taking it slow. She’s not stupid, Brad. She knows her mom would likely throw a fit if that were to happen…”

“Would you move in if I asked you?”

I had asked that question before thinking it out fully and was kicking myself because the timing probably wasn’t right. I wasn’t drunk; I hadn’t had but two beers all night, but this was something I’d thought about a lot, especially while cleaning out my closet.

“You’re cute, you know that?” Sara said, smiling. “How about we table that until we know what Denise is going to do about you possibly filing for a change in the divorce decree?”

Was she being too logical or realistic with me about my request?

I was about to say something, but she stepped closer, got a finger to my lips to silence me, and said, “I think you know the answer to that question, or at least I hope you do by now. Let’s talk about this after work tomorrow.”

There was a very sensual kiss delivered after that request, and afterwards I agreed we could talk about it tomorrow, but I did make the point of saying I needed to escape feeling like I couldn’t live my life because it might piss Denise off.

“I agree… I don’t want memories keeping you locked in the past or worrying about repeating some mistake with me or walking on eggshells because of me. We can and will adapt to whatever is thrown at us, but let’s see what we’re up against first,” Sara said, hugging me, giving me a quick peck, and getting in her car.

[- Nothing -]

“Still nothing, huh?”

“Yeah, nothing,” was my response to the question.

“And you two have talked this past month?” Lance asked.

“A couple of times a week, which is totally typical, but she has yet to ask me about you drawing up papers for a change to the decree or the threat your reaching out to her lawyer obviously was...”

“Very strange… Did you ask her about the change to her will?”

“No, it… It wouldn’t, like, it didn’t feel right to ask. You said it wouldn’t go anywhere if she passed, so I didn’t press,” I whined my answer and felt like I’d dropped the ball in preparing for Denise’s next crazy offering—though she’d been unusually silent the past month with her crazy. “Besides, Jenny will be eighteen in less than two years, so the point is moot, right?”

“Likely, but I’d sure like to know what’s going on with that or why there wasn’t any pushback. It’s not like her. If we move on the decree, it’s straight to court, no mediation—we let a real sitting judge decide, not some mediator out to make a buck. We’ll show we’ve gone that route twice already; the ruling the last time was in our favor—though they’d withdrawn the attempted change, and we push we want a judgment based on her recent actions,” Lance coached.

All I could think about was how the last thirty-three days had been oddly quiet on the Denise front and how ‘normal’ my life felt of late. Sara was spending more time at my place than not and had agreed to move in once we knew what Denise was really up to. She refused to stay over on weekends when I had Jen, which might have put a little wedge into their relationship—though thankfully they were about the same giddy, giggling girls when together and hadn’t let that become an issue between them.

Life was good, like really good, with Sara around more, and I was well into a new routine that wasn’t so rigid. She’d asked me once whether I was just living or alive. I assured her I wanted to feel alive like this every day, pushed, and challenged to be a better man. Her answer to that had been humorous, but I got the message loud and clear.

“Good, because that’s how I want to live my life… Well, minus the ‘better man’ thing. Been there, done that, and don’t want to revisit that,” she said giggling about the ‘man’ part.

If the last thirty days were any indication, it was entirely possible we could have a future together, and that gave me hope. This weekend we were going away to Cape Elizabeth, Maine, to stay at a bed-and-breakfast inn to celebrate her birthday. It would be our first trip together away, and I had something special planned.

The time away required Denise to agree to keep Jenny for the weekend. When I asked her about that she wasn’t quick to agree, but there really wasn’t that much pushback either.

“You’re going away with your friend?”

“Yes,” I replied, expecting the bomb to explode because I’d cut the red ‘Yes’ wire instead of the blue ‘No’ one.

Shouldn’t have mattered who I was going away with, and if she’d have complained anymore, I’d have mentioned I had taken Jen twice last week because she wasn’t feeling good and Gary was away on business. She’d asked me to do that because she didn’t want Jen getting sick with her semester finals right around the corner. We could be reasonable with each other when we wanted, so I appreciated after her ‘friend’ question she’d agreed without any further complaining.

[- Prescription -]

“Hey you… I was just thinking about you,” I said all cheerily while sitting in my office watching a mild market correction swing to the negative after a good start to the day.

“Hey yourself,” Sara replied.

I got the feeling something was up judging by her tone.

“What’s up?”

“Did Jen talk to you at all this morning?”

“Yeah, the usual ‘Hey Dad – love you’ text I usually get after I text her, why? She say something to you?” I asked, confused.

The two of them texted daily, generally ‘Hey’ and ‘Have a good day’ type stuff. I got those daily also and appreciated that my teenage daughter did that—reached out to stay connected to not only me but also Sara.

“Yeah, but I’m a little worried, she had some questions for me this morning…”

My heart sank.

“Like what? Is something up with her and Aaron?” I asked, knowing I sounded overly worried.

Jen and Aaron had been dating for a couple of weeks now, and my first thought was they’d been intimate and…

“No, but… Okay, just so you know she’s fine, but she asked me about a prescription medication called Temodar. Guess she was looking for something in Denise’s bathroom and came across the bottle, did an internet search, and wanted to confirm why her mom might be taking it.”

“I’ve never heard of it… What’s it for?”

I was both relieved and concerned—Jen didn’t have any immediate problem, wasn’t in any trouble or hurt, but whatever this medication was sounded problematic for Denise if I was picking up how Sara was being gentle about telling me what was going on.

“It’s got only one use that I can tell, and that’s for brain tumors, specifically glioblastomas, which are rapidly growing cancerous tumors. I’m really sorry, Brad…”

“Did you tell Jenny that?” I asked, concerned.

“Initially no, but she’d already researched the use, so her asking was just her trying to confirm what she’d found out…” When I hadn’t processed everything I’d just heard quickly enough, she said, “Maybe you should reach out to her, and then Denise… This weekend might not be a good time for us to get away. I can call and cancel if you want. We can get away some other time, alright?”

I was hearing everything she was saying to me, but my heart was breaking for Jen. I didn’t know what any of this meant for Denise, but I wasn’t cold and heartless enough to wish something like this on her – if in fact this medication’ only use was for a cancerous brain tumor.

“Yeah, alright… I, a… Okay,” I stammered. “Thank you. Let me make some calls, and I’ll get back to you later.”

“Sure… Hey, I’m here for you; don’t forget that…”

“I know… I’ll talk to you in a bit,” I replied before ending the call.

::: --- :::

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Rachel M. Moore