When I woke up and looked over, Jess was up and looking at me.  "Hey beautiful," she said, giving me a kiss.

"That's a wake-up call," I smiled.  I had gotten used to her calling me beautiful.  At first, it felt weird and mocking.  Now it felt normal.  "What time is it?"

"9:15."

"How long have you been up?"

"About an hour," she said.

"Why didn't you wake me?  Weren't you bored?"

"I read the paper.  Besides you looked so sexy lying there. “ I was wearing a teal satin nightie with lace around the neckline and hem.  I had put it on the night before when we made love.  “I can't believe you can sleep in that."

 "What's the big deal?"

"No big deal.  I just could never sleep in them.  They always rode up on me."

"They don't bother me at all.  I like the way they feel."

"Really?  Tell me".  She looked surprised.

At first that question made me feel awkward.  Then I decided to own it and say how it really felt.  "I don't know.  I like the way the satin feels.  It's soft.  And the lace tickles.” Then I decided to take a little further. “Especially after we've just made love.  After you've just been inside me..." I said, looking her in the eye.  I sounded ridiculous but I could see her swallow, her Adam's apple bobbing up and down.  I swear I saw little beads of sweat.  It was amazing.  I knew that the man before me was Jess inside, but she was responding like a guy.  Maybe it was biology not psychology.

"You little tease," she said, with a smile.

"And after you pull out, I lay there in my lingerie.  Thinking of you." I was going to vomit.  "And the satin and lace makes me feel..." I paused then decided to get out in front of it. "Sexy.  Feminine.  I'm not weirding you out, am I?"

"No you're not.  You're me now and I'm you." She sat down behind me, so that her legs were on the outside of mine, and she rubbed my shoulders. "It's totally normal you feel that way. You're a girl.  You have girl parts.  "

"It's totally normal?"

"Totally.  It would be weird if you didn't."

"Did you like it?  Or was it just for me?"

"Did I wear it when I was alone? No.  But that doesn't mean I didn't like the way it felt."

"Are you sure it doesn't bother you?"

"Not at all.  I told you. You look incredibly sexy in it."

That made me feel great.  "So did you."

"Thanks.  Weird to picture it now, but thanks."

I took it off and held it up to her.  "Let's see," I giggled.  I was such a girl.  "You still look hot in it."

"Ok, that's it," she said, tickling me.  "Now you're going to get it."

"Stop!  I have to pee," laughing as I got up.

"You have to pee?  You are such a girl," she said, laughing as I walked away.  "Wow," she said.

"What?"

"All the running and Pilates are really paying off.  Your ass and legs are getting really tight.".

"You think?  I feel like I'm still twenty pounds too heavy."

"How much have you lost so far?"

"Sixteen pounds."

"I don't know.  Between that and all the exercise, let's see in 10 or 15. I know what you're thinking but it's hard to tell on yourself.  Every girl has that problem," she said, with a smile.  

She got up and walked to the bathroom.  As I walked past, she grabbed me by the waist. 

 "What?"

"This is not sexual.  I'm just checking your waist." She paused.  "Oh, yeah, it's smaller too.". Her tone was superficially playful but there was a weird undercurrent to it.  Somewhere between confused and irritated.

"What?  What does that mean?"

"Nothing," she said, while she peed.  Was I that loud when I used to?  "I'm really am impressed.  You've done amazing."

"Are you sure it's OK?"

She laughed, "It's great.  If we change back, I get a great body.  In the meantime, I have a hot wife who likes being sexy." I noticed that she used if, not when.
 
I asked, "Mind if I go for a run?"

"You just got up.  Why are you in such a rush?"

"Sorry.  I have brunch with Lori today.  I wanted to clear my head beforehand." I couldn’t stand her. She was nasty and a real Debbie Downer, always complaining about everything and making digs at people.

“She’s not that bad,” she laughed.

“Yes, she is.”

“But, just think, without her, we would never have met.” Which was true. Lori and Jess went to Camp Chenawa together. Lori had grown up in Westchester with Lisa, a friend of mine from Wisconsin. Ten years ago, when I was in law school, Lisa had a party. She invited Lori, who brought Jess. Basic Jewish geography. I believed that, other than because she introduced us, the only reason that they were still friends was inertia. "How about some breakfast beforehand?  I was waiting for you?". She looked at me with sad eyes.

"Oh please...fine.  I'll sit with you.  Maybe get some fruit."

"That's it?"

"I'm eating with Lori.  I can’t eat two meals that close together. Besides, being this sexy takes a lot of work," I said, flicking my hair.  I put on my shorts and sports bra.  

She looked at my chest and said, "Come here."

I laughed and went over.  She cupped my breasts.  "Trying to cop a cheap feel?"

"Yeah. But..yup...you've lost so much and toned up so much that you need new bras.  Smaller ones.  This one's too big.  It's not really supporting you.". I must've looked upset, because she said, "oh g-d.  It's nice to see some Danny in there.  It's a good thing.  If I had to guess, you're a 34c now.  Don't worry.  That's plenty hot for me," she said, cupping them again.  "Now, THAT'S a cheap feel."

I pulled away, "You're all the same," I said, looking for a t shirt.  I found a smaller one.  I had been wearing a large while I ran.  I decided, "I've been working hard.  I should stop hiding it."  I put on a medium with a low neck.  Jess was right.  In this, you could see my new tighter, smaller curves.  I was checking myself out in the mirror, when she said, "you really are such a girl.  Look at you checking yourself out."

"Stop.  You're making me self-conscious."

"Don't be.  I'm just teasing you.  Besides it's OK.  I like that you like checking yourself out.  Every girl likes to do it." I ignored that, putting my phone and keys in a pack.  I didn't like it but one thing about women's shorts - no pockets.

We walked out the door and she took my hand.  I liked her hand enveloping my little one.  "I'm really proud of you," she said.

"Thanks.  For what?"

"The way you've kept at it.  It's not just that you look good.  But you keep going.  You eat right.  You get up every day and work out."

"Thanks.  It makes me feel good.  And I like looking good.  I'm proud of you too."

She tickled my palm with her finger.  "It's a lot easier for me," she said.

"Tell me about it," I sighed.  "But you look really good too". And she did.  You took better care of me than I did.  She drank more water.  Shaved every day and dressed better.  Left to my own devices, I would own ten of the same shirts and pants.

We went to the diner.  She ate a short stack of pancakes.  I had berries and melon and an iced coffee.  Like I said, it took a lot to look this good.

  We finished and I gave Jess a kiss.  "I'll see you later sweetie."

"Bye, gorgeous.  Have fun.  Be safe.". Gorgeous?  

I ran towards Central Park.  We lived on 53rd between 1st and 2nd.  I figured I'd run up to the reservoir, do a couple of laps and run back.  It was maybe 5 or 6 miles in total.  Not a marathon but not too shabby.  I didn't bring my earbuds.  Ever since I became Jess, I never ran with earbuds.  I did it once and felt insecure.  I wanted to make sure that I could hear everything around me.

I was halfway up the loop when this guy started running next to me.  If I drew a line, I was near the Conservatory Garden. He was about 5'10".  Brown hair that was receding.  Brown eyes set too close together.  His nose wasn't big but his nostrils were huge.  And he had a sunken chest.  It was weird.  Since I became Jess, I had a heightened awareness of people's defining features.  I was also more aware of my surroundings.

"Hey," he said.  

I made sure we were near other people.  "Hey."

"You're a runner?"

That was quite an opening line.  I hope that I was better.  I went with, "Nope.  An invisible bear is chasing me.  Has been since my apartment."

He turned around and, jogging backward, started flailing his arms and yelling, "OK. He's gone", he laughed.

"Why thank you", I said, smiling.

He laughed. "You have a great smile.  That's not what I meant though.  I meant do you run regularly?  I just started."

"Good for you."

"You seem really good at it."

"Thanks.  I'm not sure that's true..."

"What made you start"?

Well, for starters, I woke up as my wife one day but I couldn't really say that.  I went with, "I don't know.  I've been doing it since college."  

"So what, five years?"

"You're either a terrible liar or blind.". I laughed.

"Seriously, how old are you?"

"33."

"Really?  You don't look it."

I smiled then looked down.  "Thank you."

"I'm Jordan."

"I'm Jessica". We talked as we ran.  He asked where I went to college and, when I told him, he told me how big a Badger fan he was.  When I said that I was a lawyer, he told me how his favorite uncle was one too.  Then it dawned on me.  He was trying to pick me up.

We ran up to the top of the reservoir, when he said, "So, would you like to go out sometime?"

"I'm flattered but I'm married."

Then he got annoyed.  "You're married?  Where's your ring?". He started running closer to me.

I felt uncomfortable.  "None of your business."

He snarled, "You're lying."

I got upset.  "I'm not.  His name's Dan.  I don't wear my ring because I don't want to lose it," I stammered.  "But I am."

"You should've said something".

I started to ask why, but I felt really uncomfortable.  "Have a good day Jordan.  Bye," I said.  Then I took off and ran as fast as I could as far as I could.  I left the reservoir loop and went on the main one.  It was crowded with bikers and tourists.  It wasn't as much fun to run, but it was what I needed.

I walked in the door and Jess was on the couch.  "How was the run?"

I told her everything.  "I don't get what happened."

"You were flirting with him."

"I was just being nice."

"You may look like a girl and act like a girl, but you still have a lot to learn," she said sadly.  "Guys take everything like you want to sleep with them."

"I didn't," I said.

"No you didn't.  But you weren't like most guys.  I'm glad that you ran away from him and went on the big loop.  In the future, can you stay on the big loop unless I'm with you."

"No.  Yes.  I hate that, y'know?"

"I know," she said, rubbing my back.  "It sucks.  It's not all pretty lingerie," she smiled.

That made me feel a little better.  "Shut up."

"Let me teach you some tricks," she said.  "You have no upper body strength, but girl's legs are stronger.  If someone ever tries something, you use your legs to knock him down.  Then kick him in the balls and run.  Can you do that?"

"Yes," I said.  "I hate that feeling."

"I know.   It sucks.  But thankfully you only got a little scared. He didn’t touch you?  Right?"

"No. Just scared me is all".  She was right.  I would've told her to stay on the big loop too.  To lighten the mood, I said.  "I don't think I can meet Lori today."

She rolled her eyes.  "Nice try.  Go shower."

When I got out of the shower, I went to my closet to pick out an outfit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jess sitting there with her phone next to her. “You know what’s weird,” she asked. “My mom hasn’t called in a while. I wonder what’s up,”

I said, “Isn’t this like your dream?”

“What?”

“She calls. You roll your eyes. You mime shooting yourself. She makes you nuts. And now you’re upset that she doesn’t call?” Her mother made her crazy. She would talk about nothing forever. She would complain about threats, real and imagined. She never had a good word to say about her father. Her reaction surprised me.

“You don’t understand,” she snapped, reaching for her phone.

“OK, OK. Whatever makes you happy. I was just kidding,” I said, as she walked into the living room and closing the bedroom door behind her.

I heard her say, “Hi, mom…no, nothing is wrong…no, I can call even if nothing is wrong.” She sighed, “No mom, I don’t have any news. This was a new addition to her repertoire. Several of her friends were expecting, or had just had, grandchildren. She made sure to let Jess know often. “I just figured we hadn’t spoken in a while. What’s going on there? How’s dad?” That would usually prompt a ten-minute rant about him. “Oh yeah, he’s playing tennis. Oh, well say hi to the Harrises for me. D..Jess is fine. We’re seeing Jon and Samantha tonight. No, mom, everything is fine.” Other than your daughter is now your son and your son-in-law your daughter-in-law. “I just wanted to say hi,” she said, sounding deflated. “Well, I love you. Dad too. Bye,” she said, as I walked into the living room.

He looked upset. I should have been supportive or at least stayed out of it. She was supportive of me. Instead, I said, “That was fast. You must be happy.”

She snapped, “I’m not. I don’t know why you thought I would be.”

I apologized, “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought…”

“I know. I should be happy. I can’t explain it.”

I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“Yeah, OK,” she grumbled.

“It’ll be OK. Let me go figure out what I’m wearing.”

I don’t know why but that must have touched a nerve, because she got nasty. “Why don’t you go do that? Find just the right thing?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means what it means. Go pick something. Let me see. I need to make sure you look OK.”

“I thought I’ve looked good recently. You said so before.”

“Yeah, well, I still want to see,” she snarled.

I didn’t know where that came from, so I tried to lighten the mood. “I want to look nice for my Dan. Be his hot sexy wife.,” I said, kissing her again. I hadn’t done anything that I could tell. I came out wearing a baby blue t shirt and a mid-thigh length white skirt.

“You look fine,” she said, looking down.

“Turn a girl’s head, why don’t you?” I laughed. I was just playing.

“Stop. Just stop. I’m not in the mood.”

“You know what, honey? I’m walking away from this before it gets worse,” I said. It was funny. I was a litigator, but I didn’t like conflict. Especially with Jess. Even if I won, I lost. “Let’s go do our thing. We have dinner with Jon and Sammie later.”

Samantha was a friend of mine from camp. We met when I liked her friend Jill. So, I handled it the only way that was correct. I told my friend Jeremy Glickfeld who told Samantha who told Jill. Jill then told Samantha that she was interested in me, and Samantha told Jeremy who told me.

We went to one dance, when I found out, like generations of men before me, that physical attraction only goes so far when the girl is…

Samantha came over to me at the dance and said, “I knew it wouldn’t work. You’re too smart for her. You read books during rest hour. So do I.” And me, being the average guy, came up with:

“So you’re interested in me?” Like all guys, I assumed the slightest courtesy meant a girl wanted me. I thought about that now and shuddered a little. When I said it then, she rolled her eyes and told me, “No. You’re not my type.” Type? At twelve, I had no idea what my type was other than a girl who let me get to first. Instead, she told me, “we can be friends though. We should be. We’re the smartest ones here.” We had been friends ever since. Like me and Mark, Jess was put off by Samantha at the outset, until she realized that, as she told me, “I would love to see you and Samantha together. You’d kill each other in five minutes. Or she’d come begging me to take you back.”

She relaxed and said, “You’re right. We’re both under stress. I’ll meet you back here later. Have fun,” she laughed, stretching out the word ‘fun.’

“Ha freakin ha ha. Can’t wait. Sure you don’t want to switch?” She was going to play basketball with Mark and his friend Larry, then go somewhere to eat and watch a football game.

She laughed, “Uh, I’d love to, but no I really wouldn’t.”

Lori and I were meeting at Mansion, a diner on 86th and York. It was out of the way but we had become attached to it when Jess used to live up there. It was a warm day. I decided to walk up. I made sure to stay on busy streets.

After a while, I relaxed and found myself checking out myself in the windows. Jess was right. The Pilates and the running were really paying off. My waist did look smaller. My chest and ass did look firmer. With the kitten heel sandals I was wearing, I looked really cute.

I walked past Pookie and Sebastian, a clothing store on 3rd and 79th. There was a pretty off the shoulder lace cocktail dress in the window. I made a note to come back with Lori after brunch. I figured I could wear it to dinner tonight.

I walked in and saw Lori in a booth. “Hey Lor,” I said, brightly, giving her a peck on the cheek

“Look at you,” she said. Not happily. Not derisively. More in a monotone like you’d say, ‘Look at the blue car.’

“Good to see you too. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Since when do we wear skirts to brunch?” She was in jeans and a sweatshirt. She was about 35 pounds overweight, with brown hair and hazel eyes. When she lost weight and put in effort, she was as my grandmother said, “a little zaftig,” but she was …OK. No one you’d turn around for, but not awful. Today, however, was not that day.

“I don’t know. I just felt like it.”

“Well, it’s not you.”

“Whatever. I like it.” I let it go. Well, not really. I was annoyed but decided not to push. “Anyway, what’s going on?”

“Steven and I had a big fight.” This was not going to be good.

“About?”

“He said I’m trying to emasculate him. Can you believe that?” Yes, yes I could. But I couldn’t say that. Well, not in those words exactly, so instead…

“How?”

“What do you mean how? Why does that matter?”

“I just thought maybe we could talk about it. Figure out what happened and see what we can do.”

“Seriously? You’re taking his side.”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side.” Just then, the waitress came over and asked for our orders.

“I’ll have the Orwasher’s French toast stuffed with the cannoli cream and the vanilla glaze.” Among the other things I hated about Lori was her habit of ordering by giving the full name like, “I’ll have the New York strip steak with crimini mushrooms in the port wine reduction.” Jess used to tell me to calm down.

“I’ll have an egg white omelette with swiss and tomato. Rye toast, no, an English muffin. No home fries, please.”

Lori glared at me.

“What?”

“An egg white omelet with swiss and tomato. Rye toast, no, wait an English muffin. And no home fries please,” she said, with a sneer.

“I still don’t get it.”

“I always order the French toast. You get chocolate chip pancakes. We split.”

“I wasn’t in the mood?”

“You just want to make me feel bad.”

“I’m trying to lose weight?” Suddenly, I was upspeaking. “I’ve been doing Pilates. I’ve lost 16 pounds so far.”

“Pilates, huh? Since when do YOU do Pilates?”

“About two months. You haven’t noticed.”

She didn’t say anything except, “let’s see if it lasts.”

“Ouch. Thanks for the support, Lor.”

“What? I know you. We’ll see if it lasts.”

“It’s not about you. It’s about me. Anyway, what about Steven?”

“He says I always try and embarrass him. He said that I call him out in front of other people on the way he eats, the way he dresses and that I always compare him to other people’s husbands and stuff. Can you believe that?”

“Um, can I say something?”

“What,” she said, glaring at me.

“The last time we went out, you said, ‘let’s play a game. Let’s see how long we can go without making noises while we eat.’”

“And? It’s incredibly annoying. You’ve said that.”

“It is,” and it was. “But that’s not it. You called him out in front of another guy.”

“I called him out in front of DAN.”

“What does that mean?” Now, I was intrigued.

“You make fun of Dan all the time in front of us. ‘Dan, tie your shoes.’ ‘Dan, watch where you’re walking. ‘ ‘Dan, we’ve all heard that before.’ ‘I swear I don’t have children because I already have one.’ How is this different?”

“Dan gave it to me the last time I did that. I realized I was wrong.” That was, strictly speaking, not true. I just stewed the entire night and never said anything. “He told me you can’t call out guys in front of other guys and so now I don’t.”

“Whatever…” Jess did this, too. It pissed me off. It was dismissive, like what I had to say wasn’t worth discussion.

“Don’t whatever me. We’ve known each other for like 24 years. I’m trying to help.”

“Uh huh.”

“Seriously, you infantilized him. ‘Let’s see how long WE can go.’ Dan said you should’ve just whispered, ‘can you eat more quietly?’”

“So, Dan knows all now? He’s the king? That’s funny.”

“That’s not it, at all. I am trying to help.” Just then, the waitress brought our food.

“Do you want some?”

“No, thank you,” she said.

We ate in silence. I noticed she was alternating between picking at her food and then scarfing it.

“Um, everything OK, Lor?”

“Fine.” More picking, then scarfing.

“So, the trip from Dan’s company this year is to the Breakers.”

“OK.”

“I’m really excited. I hear it’s beautiful. Didn’t you go there with your parents?”

“Yes.” One word answers. This was going to be fun. “Did you like it?”

“It was fine.”

Fine, if she wanted to be that way, so could I. We sat there for ten minutes. I ate. She would eat, then watch me, then eat again. It was maddening.

“Lori, what do you want from me?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“I don’t want anything from you. I just want to eat my Orwasher’s French Toast.” It’s FRENCH TOAST. Like she had other French toast sitting there from which to choose.

“Fine, I was asking you about the Breakers because I’ve never been. I’m excited for the trip.”

“You hate these trips.”

“No, I don’t.” OK, I sort of did. Lots of jocky bro types competing with each other.

“You hate the Barbies. You hate the dinners. You hate the activities. You hate being” and she air quoted, which also annoyed me, “’on vacation’ with your co-workers.” This was sort of true. Jessica used to complain about being with the people from work. She used to call all the manager’s wives the “Barbies,” which always struck me as judgmental.

“I figured I’d go with an open mind this year?”

“Yeah, OK. I bet I’ll get a call within two days.”

“Why are you so angry with me?”

“Because you’re trying to make me feel bad.”

“How?”

“I take Pilates. Egg whites. I just want to have an open mind. King Dan.”

“I do take Pilates. I like it. I wanted egg whites. Excuse me for having an open mind. And King Dan is your phrase, not mine. It’s not about you. It’s about me. Why can’t I want to try something new?”

“You’re trying to be a Barbie.”

“What?”

“You’re trying to be one of them. But you’re not. You’re us. We always made fun of them. Jill Glatzer and her friends.” Jill Glatzer was a stereotypical JAP. Short, dark curly hair. Good body. Well, she had a good body. Jess showed me pictures on Facebook of a camp reunion and she was one of those women who never worked out and had a good body when she was younger. And then her 30s and a kid hit. Now, she was very overweight.

“I’m not trying to be one of anything. I’m trying to be me.”

“Whatever.” Jess used to do that. It felt like “I have no intelligent response, so I’m going to dismiss you.”

“Lor, I love you. And I don’t judge you. But, if it’s makes you feel better, go ahead.”

We finished the rest of the meal in silence. Normally, Jess and Lori would spend a couple of hours after lunch, shopping and doing g-d knows what. Lori looked at me and said, “I’m going home.”

“You don’t want to hang out? I saw something at Pookie and Sebastian”

“Pookie and Sebastian?” she sneered. “You know nothing there fits me.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to help.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Do you love Steven?”

“Yes. Of course,” she said, in a forced manner.

“Then, why not try to see things from his side?”

“He’s annoying.”

“They’re all annoying. We,” and I smiled, “are annoying. That’s how it works.”

She glared at me. “How about I tell you about you and Dan?”

“What about us?” I said, steeling myself.

“You’re condescending as hell to him. He’s passive aggressive. Everyone looks at you like ‘I don’t get them.’”

“Who’s everyone?”

“Everyone.”

I pointed to a homeless guy. “Him? He has an opinion?”

“You know what I mean.”

“And so do you. Y’know what, Lor? Let’s walk away now. You’re upset at me over g-d knows what, and now you’re attacking me. I’ve known you for 24 years…”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’d like to know you for 25. And today has gone bad since I walked in. And now I’m walking out.” And I walked away.

“Jessica….”

I just waved. I was angry. And upset. I walked to Barnes and Noble and tried to focus on a book but couldn’t. So, I went to the magazine section and started flipping through magazines. I saw an In Style with Zoeey Deschanel on the cover. Jess always parted her hair in the middle. I don’t know why but I decided I needed a change and thought ‘maybe I’ll try bangs.’ OK, I was becoming such a girl.

I called Jess’ hairstylist and luckily she had an appointment an hour later, so I decided to walk down.

I walked past Pookie and Sebastian again. The dress called to me, so I went in. “Hi,” I said to the salesgirl. “The dress in the window. Do you have it in a 10?”

She brought one over and I tried it on. I came out and she said, “THAT is swimming on you. Let’s try an eight.”

I tried it on and it fit perfectly. My shoulders looked amazing. It fell to mid-thigh. I kept looking at myself in the mirror from side to side. I was a size eight! A month and a half ago, I was a twelve. And now I’m an eight!

The clerk said, “That looks amazing. What made you think you were a ten?”

I blushed and said, “I’m sorry. I’ve been working out a lot lately. I’ve lost sixteen pounds. I’ve been working out. But…”

She filled in, “I know. The mind takes a while to catch up to the body. We’ve all been there. You should be proud. You look terrific and you’ve earned it. Show it off.”

She was smart. I left not only with the dress, but a couple of really cute tops. Yes, I said cute tops. See, I paid attention.

Anthropologie was on the way down. I walked in and found the dress. “Excuse me,” I said to the clerk, “but do you have this in an eight?” I was owning it.

I tried it on and I felt…pretty. It was long and flowing and showed off just enough of my shoulders to be flirty. G-d help me, but I liked it. I liked feeling feminine. I bought it, along with the velvet peasant dress. It was an A-line and a raspberry floral print. It had blue piping around the neck and waist It was mid-thigh and it buttoned at the neck to just below my collarbone. I tried it on and it was, for a lack of better word, flowy. I kept looking at it on the website and knew I’d love it. I did.

I left feeling on top of the world. I had put Lori out of my mind and was having a great day regardless. I went to Caryn, the stylist. Jess had been going to her for years.

“Ohmigawd, look at you. You look amazing.”

“Why, thank you.” It was nice to get a compliment, especially after brunch.

“Dan must be all over you.”

“Stop.”

“So, what are we doing today?”

“How do you think I’d look with bangs?”

She held her finger to my brow, and said, “Cute. With the weight loss, I think you’d look cute. Maybe try layering too.”

I didn’t know what layering was but I knew Jess had been going to her for years and trusted her. So I said, “Sure. Layering sounds great.”

When she was finished, I looked, not to brag, adorable. My whole face looked different. I may have been imagining it but I swear more guys gave me the once over. I made sure not to flirt. I also noticed women looking me up and down. I couldn’t wait to show Jess when she got home.

I got home and was looking at myself in the mirror. I loved my new look but something was missing. Then I thought, “This haircut is drawing attention to my eyes. I have nice eyes. They need to pop.” The fact that I thought that scared me. Then I thought, “I always noticed women’s eyes. I guess I never thought about the process before.” I wiped off my eyeliner and started playing. I used a darker eyeliner and a little more mascara. And guess what? My eyes popped.

I was trying on the cocktail dress again when Jess came in. “Hey, honey, I’m home.” How clichéd.

“I’m in here,” I said.

She walked in.

“How do I look?”

“Wow,” she said flatly.

“Wow? That’s what I get?”

“No, you look amazing. It’s just…” and he stared at the floor.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be staring at the floor.”

“What did you do to your hair? Your eyes?”

“I decided to get a haircut. I thought bangs would look cute. And Caryn suggested layering. I think it’s cute. Don’t you?”

“Cute?”

“Yes, cute?”

“And your eyes?”

“I came home and thought the haircut draws attention to my eyes. So I wanted them to pop. I don’t look like a raccoon or a slut, do I?”

“What?” She looked horrified.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

I sat down next to her. “Try.”

“It’s complicated.”

“You don’t like the outfit? The makeup? I can change.”

“I could never wear that,” she said.

“You’d look ridiculous in it.” I laughed.

“No. I could never wear it. When I was Jessica. And you knew what I meant.” And she started to cry. I felt awful seeing her cry.

“I was kidding,” I said, sitting next to her.

She moved away. “I’M NOT!” She sobbed, “I look at you and I feel like you’re slapping me in the face.”

“What?” I didn’t understand.

“My husband is standing here wearing a pretty dress and is talking about bangs and his eyes popping…I feel…lost.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m losing my identity. I mean I lost myself and now I’m losing you.” Then she was sobbing.

“You’re not losing me. We’re still us. We’re just a different version. But I’ll take everything off. I won’t wear makeup. I’ll wear pants. I just thought it was pretty and you’d like it“.

“That’s just it,” she said, gasping. “I’m floundering and you’re just perfect. You get it. You’ve adapted.”

I laughed, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, you wanted to lose weight. So you lost weight.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s easier as a guy…”

“Tell me about it. I have the wind burns to prove it,” I said, smiling.

“And look at you. That dress is perfect. It works perfectly on you.”

“It works on you too. I mean it will, if we change back. Now you’d just stretch it.”

“It works for you, not me,” she said, smiling.

“It works on me, but not you? Even though we’re the same person. I don’t get it”

“t’s your style, not mine.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“You’re you and I’m me. And I love you for that. That dress is you. I can’t explain it. You were an English major. That’s an English major dress.”

“An English major dress? That is so lame.”

She laughed, “Anyway. It’s like you’re totally cool with this.”

“I wouldn’t say that I’m cool with it. We’re in Holland. And I think it’s control. I’ve lost everything I had too. Plus I get to be smaller and weaker and treated like a second class citizen and a piece of meat on top of it. I don’t even want to start on this morning. What can I control? Whether I exercise. How I look. What I wear. That’s it. I’m sorry if my style bothers you. Tell you what? You shop for me from now on. I’ll return this.”

“No you won’t,” she said, smiling. “That dress is you. You are that dress. You have a great sense of style.”

“Seriously though, what’s wrong?”

“My day sucked.”

I started to say, “Mine too,” but stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Everything.”

“Meaning? Be a little more specific,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. She had stubble. It tickled.

“It started with my mother.”

“But it was a short conversation?”

“I know. That’s it. I hate listening to her ramble on and bad mouth my father, but now that she didn’t do it, I miss it. Like you don’t know what you have until it’s gone? You know?”

“I mean, not really on the one hand, but I guess I get it. It’s what you’re used to, I suppose.”

“Yeah. And basketball sucked.”

“Why? What happened?”

“So we go to Riverside and we’re playing three on three and I suck. I can’t hit a shot. Do you usually?”

“I mean, I’m not in the NBA, but for a thirty-three year-old Jewish guy, I’m above average. Slightly”.

“Well, I can’t hit any shots, and they start making fun of my form.”

“Let me see.”

“What?”

“Show me your stroke.”

She reached over for my thigh. “Ha ha. You know what I mean.” I mean I wanted that stroke, but not now.

She stood up and mimicked her shot. It was all pushing from the chest, like a girl.

I put my head in my hands, “Oh G-d. That’s awful. You look like a girl. If we change back, I hope they don’t remember.” That was the first time I ever thought ‘if,’ not ‘when.’

She got frustrated. “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

I stood up and showed her. I tried to show her, but “Stupid boobs. Getting in my way.”

She laughed, “Boy I shoot like I have them, and you shoot like you don’t. Anyway, then one of the guys fouled me…”

“OK, did you bleed?”

“No. So what?”

“No blood no foul. So what happened?”

“One of them banged into me and knocked me to the ground, and I said, ‘You had to do that?’” I said.

“You had to do that,” I said, in a sing songy voice.

She got annoyed. “That’s what he did too. Then he said, ‘Can’t handle it? Get off the court, pussy,” which we pissed me off. So I said, “Fuck you. Want a piece of me?”

“Have you been watching bad 80s movies again?” I said. “Then what?”

“We got into a fight.”

“A fight fight? Or a Jewboy pushing fight?”

She looked at the ground, “Well, I thought it was a fight.”

“Anyway, next time, just say, when he fouls you, ‘that the best you got?’ or ‘you foul like you play’ or something like that?”

“See I don’t know that.”

“We both got that today.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to compare.”

“I know. There’s just some shit you learn. How was lunch?”

“The Badgers won.” I had graduated from Wisconsin and told Jess from the beginning that, if we were going to date, Wisconsin football was a prerequisite. I taught her everything she needed to know about football.

“Cool. I missed it.”

“Well, you were getting your hair done,” she said, with a smile.

I started to get annoyed, but said, “You may just roll out of bed, but this,” I said, waving my hand up and down, “takes work. How was lunch?”

“It was great. We just watched the game and ate. That is great. I can eat wings and nachos and no one has to analyze, and hear everyone else, analyze how many calories and how they could never eat it and how the weight would never come off. There are some good things about being a guy. How was Lori?”

“Torture.” I related the whole story. “I mean, first, there’s the ordering…”

“Orwasher’s cinnamon raisin challah French toast with the cannoli cream filling and the vanilla glaze…OK, I know it’s annoying but what else?”

When I told her the Steven saga, she said, “oh g-d. You can’t do that.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“I know. She didn’t want help. She wanted validation.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“And she pushed me to order pancakes.”

“And you stuck with egg whites. Good for you. I don’t think I could have.”

“It’s the control thing. I wasn’t going to let her sabotage me. I like the way I look and feel.”

“Good for you. And you look absolutely amazing. Where did you get that?”

“Pookie and Sebastian…”

She smiled. “Pookie and Sebastian. I can see that.” I let that go. “What made you decide on bangs?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Promise.”

“After I left Lori, I went to Barnes and Noble I was so frustrated that I couldn’t focus on a book. So I went to the magazines and saw Zoeey Deschanel on one. I thought it would look cute.”

“Great call. You look adorable. Prettier than Zoeey Deschanel. They are perfect for you.”

I blushed, “Really?”

“Really. And your eyes?”

“Seriously? You like them.”

“Yeah, I do. You look beautiful. What made you do that?”

“I looked at myself and thought I had pretty eyes and the bangs drew attention to them, so why not see how it looked?”

She shook her head. “When you want control, you take control. Did you buy anything else?”

“I did.”

“Let me guess. Anthropologie?”

I blushed, “Yes. Want to see?”

“Of course.”

I took off the dress and hung it up carefully. I tried on the velvet dress. I gave a twirl. “How does it look?”

“Another great choice. What size is it?”

“An eight. Can you believe it?”

She smiled. “You go girl! I can’t remember the last time I was an eight.”

“Is that OK? I didn’t mean to wave it in your face.”

“Waving what? You’ve worked hard. So have I. I’m at 210.”

I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “And I’m proud of you too.”

“Thanks. That dress is terrific. What else?”

I tried on the maxi dress. I don’t know why, but I blushed.

“Wow.”

“Good wow or bad wow?”

“Good wow. Is that THE dress?”

“Yes,” I said, still blushing.

“I see why you loved it so much. That dress is so you. It is demure and feminine. You look like a princess. Sorry, does that bother you?”
I answered honestly. “No. Does that bother you?”

She smiled. “I wouldn’t have said it if it did. It’s gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. You’re not just a princess. You’re my princess.”

“Stop…” I didn’t want her to stop though. “So, I was thinking of the lace dress for tonight.”

“Hmmm. It may be a little much for dinner with Jon and Sammie. Go with the velvet. It shows off all your hard work and I want Jon to be jealous,” she said, grinning. “You really like Anthropologie, huh?”

“Yes. Does that bother you?”

“No. I just had no idea you liked such feminine things. How come you never said anything before?

“I always liked what you wore. It wasn’t my place to say anything. Besides, you would have ripped my head off.”

She smiled, “True.”

“But, you’re OK with me?”

“Like I said, those dresses are you. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said, giving her a deep kiss.

We met our friends Jon and Samantha at the restaurant. Jon and Sammie lived in Brooklyn, Windsor Terrace, so it always took a little more effort to get together. We met at Miramar, a seafood and steak place on the water in Battery Park City. It was close to half way between us. I wore the velvet dress with a pair of blue sandals with beading on the straps and a 2” heel. I wore Jess’ diamond flower earrings and a mother of pearl Alhambra pendant that I bought her at Van Cleef and Arpels. I dabbed on a little perfume.

“Are you sure I look OK?”

She squeezed my hand. “You look gorgeous. And it’s Jon and Sammie.”

When we got to the restaurant, Sammie came over and gave me a big hug and kiss. “Oh my g-d, Jess, you look positively amazing. Doesn’t she, Jon?” Jon smiled and nodded. I realized what her type was. Someone who didn’t talk too much. “How much have you lost?”

“Sixteen pounds. I want to lose another twenty.”

“Oh my god no! You’ll be gaunt.”

“Let’s see.”

“I love that dress. Is it new?”

“Yes, I bought it today. At Anthropologie.”

“Well, it looks perfect. I love it.” Sammie was about 5’7” with black hair and green eyes. She was usually about 135 lbs. I felt like a bitch, but she looked a little puffy today. She was wearing a green sheath with low black heels which was unusual. She wore flats most of the time but, if we went to dinner, it was usually 3” heels. Jon was about 6’3” so Sammie said she wore heels so she ‘didn’t look like she was in a hole next to him.’ “Also, I love the bangs. They are so perfect on you. Don’t you think so, guys?”

Jon looked confused. Jess said, “Like Zoeey Deschanel. But prettier.”

“Nice move Dan,” Jon said.

“Thank you,” I said, “You look amazing. Did you do something with your makeup? You look beautiful.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Of course. Subbies rule.” The subbies were the bunk she was in when we met.

“And boys drool,” she said, finishing the chant that they used that whole summer. 12 year old me found that annoying. 33 year old me figured it made sense.

We sat down at the table and chatted about work for a while. I told Sammie about Lori and she shook her head, “Why are you still friends with her?”

I parroted Jess. “She’s not that bad…”

“She’s trying to sabotage you. But it’s your call. But, whatever you do, don’t let her do that. You are doing great!” That was one of the reasons I loved Sammie. No matter what, she was always your cheerleader. She wouldn’t hesitate to tell you if she thought you were wrong or being a jackass (she used that one a lot with me), but she was always right next to you when you needed her. “Pilates? I’ve never tried it.”

“You should totally come with me. It’s amazing.”

What she said next surprised me, “I need to get permission…” Sammie never asked permission from anyone. My father called her, with pure affection, Sammie the Bull. He told Jon that he was in for it.

“Permission? From who?”

She smiled, “My obstetrician…” I felt like a total jerk for thinking she looked puffy.

I paused. “Oh..My..G-d! Seriously?” She nodded. I cupped my hands over my mouth. “That is so amazing. Mazel tov!” Jess and I got up and gave her and Jon big hugs and kisses. I involuntarily teared up. The words spilled out. “So, how far along are you? How are you feeling? Have you had a sonogram yet? Do you know what it is? No, probably not…”

Everyone laughed. “Calm down, Jessie,” Sammie said. “Let me speak.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so happy for you. You look beautiful.” My hands were together.

“Thanks. Now to answer your questions, three months. The morning sickness has passed, although I still can’t stand the smell of melon. We’ve had a sonogram. Everything,” and she knocked on the table, “is fine. And no we don’t know. Not yet at least.”

Jon said, “I don’t know that we want to know.” Sammie gave him a look that said, ‘you don’t. I do.’ They’d know. I knew my Sammie.

I teared up. “I’m sorry. I am so happy. I’m going to be an aunt,” I blurted out, hugging her again. I just felt the need to hug her. Jess looked at me and smiled. “Sorry, that was forward of me.”

Sammie gave me a look. “Are you kidding? You better be Aunt Jessica.”

I smiled. “You can’t stop me. You’re having a baby.” I had no idea why I was so excited over this. I mean she was my friend forever. And they were the first of my friends to have one. And they seemed really happy. But I was just so overwhelmingly, inexplicably happy. “So have you started looking at baby stuff?”

Jess laughed. “That’s my Jess. Focusing on the important stuff.”

Sammie laughed, “Dan, stop. That’s our Jessica. We were going to go tomorrow.”

Jon said, “You can take my place if you want. Be the scouting party for me.”

Sammie said, “Do you want to?”

I felt a real desire to go. “If you want me.”

“I want no one else.”

“Is that OK, Dan?”

Jess smiled. “Of course. Wanna watch the Giants, Jon?”

Jon moved his hands up and down, like scales. “Cribs..football..cribs…football.”

The rest of dinner went by in a blur. Sammie and I talked about the baby and how she was feeling. She wasn’t sure when she’d go back to work. She said that she knew that she wanted to. She was a producer on “Good Morning America,” with a focus on consumer affairs.

She asked me a question that threw me. “Do you think you will?”

“I will what?”

“Go back when you have a baby.”

“Um, do you know something I don’t?”

“I mean obviously you’re going to have a baby.”

“I’m surprised to hear you of all people say that.”

“That’s not what I meant. No one has to. Most people who do shouldn’t.” That was classic Sammie. Right and to the point. “But you love kids and would be amazing. Wouldn’t she Dan?”

Jess smiled. “I think so.” I paused. I suddenly pictured being pregnant. Me as Jess, not Jess as Jess. And I wasn’t sure what I felt.

I went with, “we’ve only been married five years. We haven’t been to Spain yet.” That’s what I came up with? Spain?

“So go to Spain,” she said. “But you’ll be great.”

“Thanks, Sammie. So will you.”

We finished dinner. We walked along for a little bit when Sammie said, “I apologize. But I’m really tired. Jess, I’ll see you tomorrow at noon? Bye Bye Baby on 25th?”

“Boy, you’d think you were knocked up or something,” I said, giving her a hug and kiss. I leaned down and said to her stomach, “Sorry about that, baby.”

We walked into the apartment.

"They seem really happy. I'm so happy for them," I said.

"Really?  You wouldn't know...you were so cute," Jess said.  "The," and she mimicked the hands over the mouth. "And the squeaking and the babbling questions.  You were adorable."

"I am sooo embarrassed.  The whole restaurant must think I'm such a dork..." I said, as I took off my shoes and then the dress.

"They think you're a girl who was happy for her friend...Aunt Jessica."

"Stop.  I feel ridiculous enough."

"Don't," she said, kissing my neck.  "You smell great."

"Dior."

She smiled.  "Good choice.  I like it."

"That's why I wear it.  What did she mean by obviously?  And why were you egging her on?"

"I wasn't egging her on."

"You were smiling."

"Uh huh..."

"What do you think she meant?"

"I don't think she meant anything by it.  She just assumed we were going to have kids.  It's not a secret that you like them.  Everyone always told me how you'd be a great dad.  So it's logical you'd be a great mom," she said, looking bemused.

"She's never said that before."

"She was never pregnant before?"

"If she had been, do you think she would've said it to Dan?  Like obviously you're having kids, you'd be a great dad?"

"Don't take it so personally.  She meant it as a compliment.  You would be a great mom," she said, kissing my neck again.

"So would you."

"Maybe.  I wonder sometimes."

"Does it bother you?  Sammie being pregnant?"

"No, why should it?"

"I don't know. Maybe it made you think.  Made me think."

She put her hand on mine.  "It's their time.  When it's ours, it'll be ours.". Then, she surprised me, "Are you OK with it?  I saw you touching your stomach through dinner.  Were you thinking about it?"

"Yes," I said, looking down.  "Were you?"

Now she looked down. "Not about me, no.'

"I''m embarrassed."

"Don't be.  Like I said before, you're a girl with girl parts.  And girl hormones.  It's OK."

I didn't ask whether she ever thought about it before.  I didn't want to know the answer.  It was enough that I knew mine.  I started to tear up.

She kissed me again, gently.  "I'm going to keep saying it.  I love you, no matter how you look.  Whether you look like me or you look like you," she said, wiping my tears

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"If I lost my hair?"

"If you lost your hair."

"If I gained fifty pounds?"

"If you gained fifty pounds."

"Together", I said with a smile.

"But then you'd be a bald fat woman." I swatted him.  "I have a reputation, you know."

Then she leaned over and kissed me on the neck.  I turned around and we kissed.  She unhooked my bra and had me lie down.  She began by kissing my collarbone.  Then she started sucking my nipples, which she usually did.  Then she started gently kissing my stomach, which she usually didn't.  Her stubble tickled and I liked the way I felt.  When she kissed my thighs, I moaned and said, "Now please.."

"Ride 'em cowgirl?". This was our joke for girl on top.  Since I became Jess, I understood why she liked it sometimes.  It was fun being in control.

"No.  You on top".

She put on a condom.  I knew that was the right thing to do but part of me wondered what happened if it broke.  What that would mean.  While we were having sex, a fleeting thought crossed my mind.  I pictured her sperm meeting my egg and I smiled.  I swear I saw the same look cross her face right before she came.

"That was great," she said, rolling off me.  She started kissing my belly again.  "This doesn't bother you, does it?"

"Not at all."

"Good," she said, smiling. 

“You really were so cute tonight.”

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically.

“I mean it.”

“What were you thinking about tonight?”

“They’ll do great. They seem really happy. They must be scared. I’d be scared.”

“Nothing else? What about when she said ‘obviously you’re having a baby?’” There. I put it out there. Jess and I had talked about it. We knew we wanted kids, sometimes. I won’t lie. I liked kids. I loved my nephew Tuck. Jess said people always looked at her like, ‘why won’t you give Dan a kid?’

“She was just talking.”

“You smiled.”

“And?”

“What did that mean?”

“It was funny. Your look was priceless. And ‘we’ve never been to Spain’? I had no idea you wanted to go to Spain.”

“Nothing else?”

“I mean I guess, when I saw you there, looking pretty and gushing over a baby,” she paused, which worried me, “a thought crossed into my head of,” and she stopped. “ I’m sorry. Is that weird?”

“A little. I think I had the same thought. Does that scare you?”

“No. I have to tell you something. When you were talking to her about everything, you kept touching your stomach.”

“Meaning?”

“You were thinking about it, weren’t you?”

“Maybe.” I started to cry. “I’m sorry.”

She looked genuinely surprised. “For what?”

“We will never be the same. Will we? If we change back, you’re going to divorce me,” I bawled. I felt ashamed.

She looked shocked. “Why would you ever say that?”

“You’ll never be able to look at me. You’ll want a real man.”

“I want YOU. I wanted YOU then. And I want YOU now. And I’ll want YOU if we change. I love YOU. A real man can be romantic and love kids. You know how many people have told me how lucky I’d be to have you as a…parent with me? And they’re right. More important - will you be OK?”

“With what?”

“I..nothing.” I knew what she was thinking. Would I be OK if she got pregnant?

I thought about it for a second, “Yes. I’d be thrilled. We’d be having a baby. Our baby. Would you…”

She interrupted me and smiled. “Yes. You’d be so cute. I can totally see you with a little baby bump,” she said, kissing my stomach. “You’d probably be better at it than me.”

“Stop. You’d be amazing.”

“We’ll see someday, I guess,” she said, kissing me.

I fell asleep and had the weirdest dream.  I was pregnant but it was me Dan, not me Jessica.  But the weird thing was that no one thought it was strange.  My sister talked about what was happening to me.  Sammie was excited that "we were going to be mommies together.". People gave up seats for me on the train.  My breasts swelled and my legs hurt.  And it was perfectly normal.

I woke up the next morning. I had put on a pink nightie after we made love.

Jess smiled, “Look at you. Pretty in pink. I don’t remember you putting that on?”

“That’s because you fell asleep,” I laughed.

She lowered her voice, “Uh, sorry. Seriously though, you look amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you OK?”

I knew what she meant. “Yeah. I am. I guess whatever will be, will be. How about you?”

“I am. I’m sorry if I went somewhere…”

“You didn’t go there alone. Are you OK? With me?”

“Of course. I’ll keep saying it. I love you, no matter who you are. I liked my basketball playing, football watching Dan. And I love my pretty feminine Jess. And I’ll never hold either against you.”

I kissed her. “I love you too”. I still wasn’t sure I fully believed her.

We went to eat breakfast before I went to meet Sammie. I was getting dressed. I put on one of the tops I bought at Pookie and Sebastian. It was a light grey acrylic v neck with an open shoulder and laces at the end of the sleeves. I was putting on a pair of jeans when Jess called me over.

She stuck her hand in the waistband. “Those are too big on you,” she said, reaching into the top of her closet. “Put these on.” They were skinny jeans. Size eight. They fit perfectly.

“Up there is my skinny pile,” she laughed. “Every girl has one. You should know where it is. I think you need to go shopping.”

“I can’t believe I heard myself say that.”

She laughed. “You need new clothes. I noticed it the other day. Your work stuff is starting to look frumpy.”

“Frumpy?” I mock pouted. “Seriously? Cool. Can’t I get stuff taken in?”

“It’s harder to cut women’s clothes like that. Depending on when you and Sammie get done, maybe we’ll go shopping. Find stuff that works for you and me, in case we change back.” I didn’t even have to ask what she meant. I put on a pair of her black Sam Edelman boots and put in her diamond studs. I then put on a long 3 strand blue quartz and lapis necklace. “You look beautiful,” she said. “That looks so much better on you than me.”

“Aren’t we the same person?”

“You know…” I knew what she meant.

After breakfast, we took the F to cab to 23rd and 6th. While we were waiting for the train, she said, “I love you, Jess.”

“I love you too, Dan. What brought that on?”

“I’m looking at you and I just realized how much I love you. You’re sweet and adorable and I love you. I’m lucky to have you.”

I blushed, “Thank you. I’m not sure what brought it on but I’ll certainly take it. I’m lucky too.”
We met Jon and Sammie at 23rd and 6th. Jess and Jon went to look for a bar. “Call when you’re done,” Jon said.

Sammie said, “I’m so excited for this. Is that weird?”

I smiled, “No! I’m excited too.” And I was. And I didn’t know why. We walked arm in arm, the way that women can and men (well, straight men) can’t. It felt good. We started talking. “So, how’s Jon doing with it?”

“He’s great. I think he was scared. He kept singing that old 80s song. You know, ‘you may find yourself living a shack…You may say to yourself, ‘my g-d, what have I done?’”

“Once in a Lifetime by the Talking Heads,” I said.

“How did you know that?” Well, somewhere in here, I’m a guy. “My dad used to play it in the car,” I lied. “How is he now?”

“He really is great. He’s totally there. Comes to all the appointments.”

“How about you? How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. I’m excited. I’m scared. I mean, this is for real. This is adulthood. Everyone keeps telling me it’s the hardest job you’ll ever have. They say you’ll love it but what if the baby comes and I don’t like it?” I couldn’t imagine Jess and Jon were talking about the same thing.

“Stop. You’ll love it. And you’ll be great. I mean, come on, Laura,” my older sister, “did it. And Tuck seems fine. I mean, other than having Laura and Jeremy as parents.”

“Luckily he has a great aunt,” she said, pulling me a little closer. “You’ll help me, right? You’ll come to Brooklyn if I need you, right? I mean since my mom’s in Florida, right?”

“Of course I will. Whenever you need me, I’m there. How is Ruth doing?”

“You know. She’s thrilled. She keeps asking for pictures. But she keeps with all the old wives’ tales. ‘Don’t lift your hands over your head.’ ‘Don’t go running.’ When I told her that I was going to tell you, she said, ‘why are you telling so soon,’ and then she spat three times,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“She’s just nervous,” I said. “You’re not supposed to lift your arms?”

“Apparently. I’m sorry about last night.”

“For what?”

“For saying obviously.”

“I didn’t think twice about it. I knew what you meant. It just threw me. I mean here I am losing all this weight and you want me to get fat….”

She laughed. “I mean you would be an amazing mother.”

I blushed, “Thank you. I’m not so sure,” thinking, ‘I don’t know what I’m going to be when the time comes.’

“Please. You are the sweetest girl I know. Do you guys ever talk about it? Is there a problem? Can you?”

I was amazed at how women could ask each other that. Guys would never acknowledge the problem. “There are no problems as far as I know. We’ve talked about it. We were talking about it last night actually…thanks.”

“Sorry,” she laughed.

“It’s fine,” I smiled.

“And?”

I blushed and said, “We’ll see. Can I ask you something? What does it feel like?”

She smiled, “At first, it’s weird. Your period doesn’t come and you take the test and you find out. And it’s like there’s this thing inside of you. And it’s scary. You have this thing in you. And you get sick and you’re tired. But now, it’s like there’s a person inside of me. A little person inside of me. My little person,” she said, tearing up. “Sorry, that was so lame.”

I teared up too. “It’s not lame,” I said, touching my stomach. “It sounds amazing. Do you feel anything yet?”

“Like kicking? No? Not for a couple of months. But, I definitely feel something.”

“Would it be weird if I touched your belly? I mean that’s weird.”

She smiled, “It isn’t weird Jess. I love you.”

I touched her belly and leaned down, “Hi Baby. I’m your aunt Jessica. That other aunt, Mitchell’s wife, she’s not as cool an aunt as me. I love you, little baby.”

Sammie laughed, “You are soooo gay, Jessie. Cute but gay.”

We went into a bunch of stores and started looking at cribs.

“What do you think of this one?”

It was dark wood. “I don’t know. It seems dark. A baby’s room should be bright. What about this one? With the neutral one, you can do anything. It works no matter what.”

“Interesting.”

I saw a wall border of teddy bears and trains. “This is so cute,” I squealed, not knowing where that came from. “What do you think?”

“That IS cute. If I have a boy, definitely.”

“And look at this.” It was a wall border of a little pink and yellow bunnies. From the depths of my memory, I remembered a book I had when I was little. It was called ‘Purple Rabbit.’ It was designed to teach you colors. “If you have a girl, you have to have this. I will buy it and come into your place and put it up if I have to. With these,” I said, holding up a little velvet party dress and shoes. I had no idea what was getting into me.

She smiled. “You are SO ready.” I must’ve looked surprised. “And so much more fun than Jon.
He’d be looking at his phone.”

“So would Dan.”

Sammie was trying out a glider, when a little boy, who looked to be about 16 months, came toddling by. I guessed sixteen months because he was running with that stiff legged drunken stagger toddlers just learning to walk had. He ran into my legs and looked up at me, like he was about to cry.

I bent down and offered my hand. “Ka-Boom,” I said. He started to laugh. “Ka-Boom. Ka-Boom. Ka-Boom.” He giggled with that pure laugh that little kids had. “You like that, huh?”

Just then, a very pregnant woman came up. “Liam! You can’t run away from mommy like that. I’m sorry miss.” I looked at her belly and started thinking.

“No apologies necessary. Liam just went ka-Boom!” He giggled and I giggled along with him.

She looked at me. “Irish twins,” she said, with a smile. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Um, you’ll get done with toilet training fast?”

She laughed, “Thanks. Liam say bye bye to the nice lady.”

He smiled and waved his little hand. My heart melted. “Bye bye Liam.”

Sammie got up from the glider. “I hope I’m as good as you.”

“Stop…”

We were leaving the store when I saw a baby in a little fleece outfit. It was white and had little ears, so the baby looked like a little lamb. “Oh my g-d, he is so cute. A little lamb. Oh, I am definitely getting that for you.” Sammie and the mom exchanged glances and smiled.

She gave my hand a squeeze. “Thank you for coming Jessie.”

“Please. Stop. I wouldn’t have missed it.” I don’t know why but Lori came into my mind. “Can I ask you a question? And I need you to be honest.”

She laughed, “have I ever not been?”

“Jeremy Glickman.” Jeremy was the guy who asked Sammie to ask Jill if she liked me. I had no idea whether the name would mean anything under the current circumstances but figured it was worth a shot.

“We were 13! And I still maintain I was right,” she said, laughing. Jackpot. “Seriously, though, what?”

“Do Dan and I make sense? As a couple?”

“Where did that come from? Is everything OK? Did he do something? Is that why you got bothered yesterday?”

“No, it’s not that. Nothing’s wrong. It’s something Lori said.”

She looked annoyed. “You have got to be kidding me. We’re really going there?” I was tearing up when she said, “OK, OK. What did the fat bitch say?” I relayed the whole story.

“So she’s pissed at how good you look and then you try and offer some constructive criticism and she turns it back on you and you believe her? Come on.”

“I guess it triggered something in me. Like if somewhere in the back of your mind, if you wonder something and someone says something about that, you start to think about it. You still haven’t answered. Do we make sense?”

“Yes. You make sense. Are you perfect all the time? No. But are Jon and I? No. Come on. You and I are better than that. We’ve known forever that relationships take work. Dan’s annoying sometimes. And you can be harsh sometimes. But, no, I never thought that you two were wrong for each other. How long have you known me? Don’t you think I would’ve said something? Do you really think I would tell you to have a baby, even joking, if I thought that? After what I grew up with?” Her parents were divorced when she was 7.

“Thanks. Sorry.”

She hugged me. “You never have to apologize for asking me for help.” I was really beginning to love the way women comforted each other. “But, when will you realize Lori is toxic? Don’t you understand? She can’t be happy for you. She needs you to wallow with her. Don’t.”

“I won’t. You’re right. Thanks.”

“Please. Can I ask you something? What’s up?”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.” Other than the obvious. Which was starting to feel less wrong.

“Oh no. I didn’t mean something’s wrong. You just seem so much happier lately. You were adorable yesterday.”

“I was embarrassing…”

“No you weren’t. You were my friend. But it’s not just that. It was the outfit. You looked like you.”

“Who do I usually look like? Dan?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I meant that the outfit was so cute and girly. And I love the bangs. Everyone knows Jess the lawyer. I know the Jess that’s here today. That, inside tough lawyer Jess is sweet pretty Jess. And now you’re letting it out. It’s great.”

I felt conflicted. On the one hand, did Sammie see Dan that way? Had she always? Is that what she meant by “not her type”? On the other hand, I started wondering if old Dan was fake and this was reality.