Hi, it's been a while since I've posted. I have a new story "Nicole." It's about two cynical New Yorkers who find out that the love you make on your own is the best. I hope you enjoy it.
Miss Jessica
Bridesmaid
by Miss Jessica
"Ohmigod, it’s beautiful," I squealed, looking at Lisa’s hand, "And it’s huge! What is it, two and a half carats?"
"Two seven-five," said Lisa, "and look at the cut and clarity. Jim does good work."
"It really is great. Congratulations," I said, giving her a hug.
"There’s something else Brian. I want you in my wedding party."
"I’d love to," I said, then paused. "But I would think Jim has some other people, like maybe everyone else he knows, that he’d rather have as ushers, don’t you."
Lisa grinned devilishly. "I didn’t say I wanted you to be an usher. I said I wanted you in MY wedding party. As a bridesmaid."
"Come again?"
"You heard me. I want you to be a bridesmaid. You’re my best friend. How could you not be in the bridal party?"
"Um, I don’t think so. Thanks but no thanks."
"Come on. Please? Why won’t you do it? I thought you were my best friend."
"I am. I would do anything for you, you know that."
"Then, why won’t you do it?"
"Number 1...Whatever usher gets stuck walking down with me will be pretty pissed off. I mean, most guys wouldn’t be too cool being part of a male couple. And Jim’s got some real troglodytes for friends. I’d be a splotch on the aisle when they got through with me..."
Lisa grinned. "Brian, you don’t get it. I said that I wanted you as a BRIDESMAID."
The little light went on in my head. "Which brings us to problems 2 and 3. First off, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m a drag queen. Besides that, I doubt we could pull this off."
She rolled her eyes. "We could so do it, and you know it."
"Oh, really? What makes you say that?" I said, crossing my arms.
"Look at you. You’re what 5'6", 135?"
"5'7", thank you and 140."
"Fine. Anyway, how many times have we gone out to eat, and had the waiters say ‘what can I get you ladies?"
"Umm." I said, staring at the floor.
"Also, everytime I go to the deli downstairs, the guy at the counter says, ‘where is your friend? She is such pretty girl, why she no dress like you?’"
"So, some waiters and a Bangladeshi deli owner think I’m a girl. This proves your point how?"
"It’s not just them. You have such delicate features. Long lashes, high cheekbones. No facial or body hair. You’re so pretty. That and your hips are bigger than your waist. Honestly, it’s more like you’re passing as a boy than a girl..."
"Thanks," I interrupted. "I feel so much better now. You’re really selling me on this, you know."
"I’m sorry, Bri. I don’t mean to hurt you. You know that. It’s just that it wouldn’t be the same unless you were in my wedding."
"I know."
"So, you’ll do it?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No," I said flatly.
"I can’t believe you," she said angrily.
"I’m sorry, Lise. I’d do anything for you. I’d give you my last dollar. I’d give you the shirt off my back..."
"So, I’m just asking to do the same for you," she said, with a smile.
"Ha ha. No."
"Fine," she said. "You know what, on second thought, I’m not really up for dinner. Another time," she said, going into her bedroom.
"Come on, Lise. That’s not fair," I pleaded, to a closed door.
The next few days were really unpleasant. I’d call, she wouldn’t answer. I’d leave messages. None of them would be returned. This killed me. Lisa and I had been best friends since the second week of college. I just couldn’t do this for her, and it hurt me that she would shut down over this.
I was sitting at home watching TV one night, when the phone rang. The caller i.d. showed Lisa’s name. "Lise?" I answered anxiously.
"Brian, it’s Jim." Oh shit, I thought.
"Uh, hi, Jim...how’s Lisa doing? She hasn’t returned my calls."
"That’s what this is about. Why don’t you meet me in the lobby in ten minutes? We’ll go get a drink."
This was not good. While Jim and I weren’t sworn enemies, we weren’t exactly friends. I understood why. He was homophobic, and always seemed uncomfortable around me. Lisa loved him and, since I wanted us all to be OK around each other, I learned about sports to try and make peace with him. As a result, he and I had that superficial bond that all guys (OK, all straight guys) had with each other. But, it wasn’t like he invited me out with his friends to watch a game. Not that I expected it - "Hey, guys, this is Lisa’s faggot, Brian."
"Uh, OK, ten minutes it is." He responded by hanging up the phone.
I came downstairs to find Jim waiting. "Hey, Jim."
"Let’s go," he said, with a scowl. We began walking towards Second Avenue. "You know, she’s really upset about this."
"I know, but I just can’t do it."
"She would do anything for you, right?"
"Yes, but..."
"When your mom died, who took a week’s vacation to stay with you?"
"I..."
"I mean, that fucked up my plans too, you know."
"Sorry?"
"And when you came out and your old man went apeshit on you, who had your back?"
I stared at the ground.
"Look, Brian, she’s gone all out for you, and you can’t even do this. I’d have figured you’d be into it."
"I’m gay, not a drag queen. We don’t all get off on dressing like women."
"Whatever. Anyway, this is killing her..."
"I have a lot of issues with this, Jim."
"Like?"
"Number 1, like I told Lisa, I can’t imagine too many of your friends signing up to be part of a male couple, and all in all I’d rather not end up a splotch on the aisle."
"Who says they’ll know?"
"What?"
"Remember, last summer, when you and Lise were going out to her mom’s pool and my friend Dave and I were heading to the Yankee game?"
"Not really, but OK?"
"Anyway, you guys left. And Dave turns to me and says, ‘Who’s Lisa’s friend? She doesn’t have much up top, but she’s cute and has great legs."
"Uh huh. Isn’t Dave the one you say has an IQ of 40?"
"Yeah," he laughed, in what seemed like an eternity. "Nonetheless, he’s still a guy and he knows what a girl looks like."
"Apparently not."
"My point is, no one’ll know."
"Suppose someone finds out. The guy who gets stuck with me will beat me to a pulp."
"I’ll take care of it," he said, with a half smile.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I’ll take care of it, don’t worry."
"So, you are cool with me, a guy, being a bridesmaid? Wearing the dress and everything?"
"It’s fucked up."
"So, why are you pushing me then?"
"Because," he said, stopping to light a cigarette. "Lisa wants you to do this. You’re her best friend. If she wants this, I can deal..."
"OK," I said, "I still don’t think I can pull it off."
He snickered. "You need to get your mirror fixed."
"Thanks, just for that, I’m telling Lisa about that cigarette."
He scowled at me, then laughed. "You want to end up a splotch, you’ll tell her. You all stick together, don’t you?"
"Ha ha," I said. "Just for that, if, and I mean if, I do this, you’re dancing with me at the wedding. I’m gonna get the band to announce how you wanted to, and everything."
He raised an eyebrow. "Tell you what, butt pirate, I’ll make you a deal."
"I’m listening."
"The wedding’s in June. If your Mets have a better record than the Yankees, which as we all know is not going to happen past maybe the second game, I’ll dance with you."
"And, if that overpaid bunch of machines you call a team is better?"
"You and Lisa wait hand and foot for me and my friends at our July 4th party. In French maid uniforms."
I laughed, "You know what, you sick fuck? I think you’re the one who wants me in the dress, not Lisa."
He laughed, and pushed me. "Sorry Brian. I know you’ve wanted me for years, but I like my women to be, well, women."
"You know Jim," I said, with a smile. "Marriage is about compromises. Nobody’s perfect. You have to overlook certain things..."
"Yeah, yeah. That’s enough of this."
"So you’re OK with me doing this...if I decide to, of course." I added quickly.
He rolled his eyes. "Like I had a choice. Like YOU had a choice," he said, with a grin. "You knew how this was going to end up, didn’t you?"
"Shut up. I hate when she does this."
"You’re her friend. Try marrying it."
"Hey, you chose it. You know what, Jim, I have something I need to take care of. Raincheck on the drink?"
"Sure," he said. "Make her apologize, at least, for freezing you out."
Half an hour later, I knocked on Lisa’s door.
"What?" she said, staring at me.
"Let’s talk about this," I said, handing her stack of bridal magazines.
"What are these?"
"Bridal magazines. I’ve taken the liberty of folding down pages of some of the dresses I like. If I decide to do this, of course."
She gave me a big hug and kiss. "Thank you, Bri. I love you. You’re the best."
"I’m serious, Lisa. I don’t think I can pull this off..."
"That’s fair, Bri. I’ll make you a deal."
"What?" I said, as my eyes narrowed.
"You let me make you up and if, after we’re finished, you don’t feel comfortable, it’s done. No questions asked. Deal?"
"Fine," I said, suddenly feeling nauseous.
"OK," she said brightly. "Let’s get to it. Sit down."
I slumped into a chair. "This isn’t going to work."
"Shhh," she said. "We have a deal. Just relax and enjoy it."
"If I had a dollar for every time I heard that..."
"Skank," she said, laughing.
"I wish."
With that, she began applying lipsticks and eyeliners and all sorts of things to my face. "You know," she said. "You’re going to have to do this yourself soon. I won’t be able to do this everyday."
"I won’t have to learn anything, Lise."
"We’ll see."
After what seemed to be an eternity, she said "Voila. Turn around."
I looked into the mirror, and my jaw dropped at my reflection. If I do say so myself, I was one attractive, if not downright gorgeous, babe.
"Well?"
"Uh..."
"I’m right, aren’t I?"
"Uh...maybe."
She jumped up and down, squealing, "This is going to be sooo much fun."
"Oh, yeah. OK, the face is there. The body’s still a guy’s, though. A little short up top."
"That is why, I took the liberty of ordering a few things. Strip!"
"What?!"
"Strip naked."
"Excuse me."
"I need to check some things."
"Like?"
"Your measurements."
"Ooh, look at you, Laura Ingalls Wilder. Are you going to make the dresses?"
"Ha ha, Bri. We need to see where you are, so we can know where you’ll be by the wedding. So strip already."
"Turn around," I said, blushing.
"Please," she said. "It’s just us girls here."
"Turn around."
She rolled her eyes. "Do you do this with dates? That would explain your dry spell."
"For someone who wants me to do something, you have an interest way about you," I said, taking off my clothes. "I’m done."
Lisa took out a tape measure. "Chest - 36". Like I thought."
"Why were you thinking about my chest?"
She ignored me. "Waist 28". Hips 31." We’ll need you at 24" by the wedding. Wait here."
"Like I’m going somehwere."
She went into her bedroom, and came out with a bag. She opened it, and pulled out two flesh colored blobs.
"What are these?"
"Breast forms. C cup."
"Excuse me?"
"You yourself said you were short up top," she said, applying something to them. She went behind me and started pressing them to my chest. "Oooh baby," she said, as she went behind me and started fondling my "breasts."
I slapped her hand away playfully. "I am sorry, Lisa. But I don’t do girl-on-girl. Strictly men, thank you. Wait a minute...what did you just do?"
"I glued your breasts on. Let you get used to them."
"What the hell am I supposed to do? I have work, you know."
"Please," she said, taking something else from the bag.. "You’re a computer consultant. You work from home. You’ve said it yourself, noone ever sees you." She pulled out a corset from the bag.
"No way. This will show through my dress."
"No, it won’t."
"How?" I said, putting it on.
"Because the wedding is six months off, and you’re going to start with it now. That and you and I are going on strict diets and workout regimens starting today," she said, tugging on the corset.
"Gack, that’s too tight." I gasped.
"I want your waist at 24 inches by the wedding. Although, maybe not. I don’t want to be overshadowed by my bridesmaids."
"Then, you shouldn’t have chosen such a babe."
"Oh, jeez, I made a mistake, didn’t I," she said, laughing. Next she pulled out a lacy black bra that clasped in the front. Again, she went behind me and began putting it on. "Mmmm, please baby. I want you," she whispered in my ear.
"I’ve told you time and again, I’m not that kind of girl."
"That is because noone ever asks."
"Bitch..."
"Now for the piece de resistance," she said pulling out a strange contraption.
"What the hell is that?"
"A gaff, I think they call it."
"What is a gaff?"
"Prevents those unsightly bulges..."
"Excuse me."
"Tucks little Brian up to give you a flat front."
"What is up with you?"
"I researched all of this before I asked you."
"Thorough, aren’t we?"
"Yes, sweet cheeks. Put in on."
After I did, she took out a garment bag. "Now, for the piece de resistance," she said, unzipping it. "What every girl needs. The little black dress," she announced, pulling out what was, in fact, a very short black dress.
I put it on, and it came to about 4" above my knee.
"Look at yourself," she said, pointing to her full length mirror. "Tell me that anyone will think you are anything but a hot babe. In fact, I may need to keep Jim away from you."
"Alas, he is taken," I said, laughing. "You’re right, though," and I began to cry.
She sat me on the bed. "What’s wrong, sweetie?"
"This is a little too off-putting for me, Lise. I mean, I’ve heard the cracks my whole life. And this just proves them all right," I said through sobs.
"Fuck them, Brian. Fuck the homophobes. Just relax and go with the flow. You are who you are. And who you are is the best person I know."
"Thank you," I said, sniffling. "You’re the best."
"No, you are. Thank you for doing this. I apologize for freezing you out the past few days."
"It’s OK. You were hurting."
"Still...what made you come over here with the bridal magazines?"
"Jim."
"Excuse me?"
"He called me, and we went for a walk..."
"And?"
"He called me out on this. Told me what a good friend you were, and how I should do this for you."
"Wow."
"You’re lucky Lise. Most guys wouldn’t be OK with this."
"I know. I’m not going to tell him that though. Have to keep the upper hand."
"Oh, one thing, though..."
"What?"
"You better hope the Mets have a better record than the Yankees come the wedding."
"Why?" she said, staring at me.
"Uh, Jim and I kind of made a bet."
"Which was..."
"If the Mets are doing better, he dances with me at the wedding. Complete with announcement from the band and everything..."
"Oh god," she said, bracing herself. "I can only imagine what happens if they’re worse..."
"Uh, youandIhavetowaitonhimandhisfriendsatyour4thparty.InFrenchMaiduniforms," I said, as fast as I could.
She laughed. "He needs help. He really does. Anyway, look at you, you need a new name."
"Why?"
"How can I call you Brian? What do you want to be."
"This is still a little overwhelming."
"Well, then..." she said, pulling out her cellphone. "Hi. Mom, it’s me. I’m here with Brian. Yeah, he agreed. But we need a name. Nah, he’s still a little freaked...What? That works...please, if I tell him why, the princess will start crying again...Bye."
"What was that about?"
"How do you feel about Jessica?"
"Where did that come from?"
"My mother said you’re like a sister to me, and if she had another daughter, she would have named her Jessica and...Oh god, I told her you’d cry," she said, watching me tear up. "OK, that’s enough," she said.
"What," I said, wiping my eyes.
"Girl school is in session. First lesson, heels..."
[to be continued.]
Lisa reached under the bed, and pulled out a shoe box. "Put these on," she said, handing me a pair of black 2 ½" pumps. I didn’t know they were pumps then, but have since learned more than I ever expected. "How do you know these will fit," I asked.
"Because," she said, "I looked at your shoes one night. You’re a mens 7 ½, which makes you a women’s 9 or 9 ½. We’re the same size, although I bought these for you on line."
"Thorough, aren’t you," I said. "What would you have done with all this stuff if I said no?"
She laughed. "Like THAT was going to happen. Put them on and stand up."
I put them out. "Ouch," I said. "These toes hurt. They’re too pointy."
"You’ll get used to the pain."
"Again, if I had a dollar..."
"You’d have two dollars."
"Bitch."
"Stand up, Bri..I mean Jessica."
I stood up and wobbled. It was a strange sensation. Up higher, and yet somehow pitched forward.
"Walk," she commanded. I began to wobble, like a newborn colt. Then my ankle twisted and I fell down.
"Ow. These hurt. Can’t I wear flat shoes?"
"Look at these dresses you’ve picked out. Are any of the models wearing flats? Besides, how will you dance with your usher?"
"That’s not happening."
"We’ll see," she said, with a half smile. "Try again. This time, stand up straight. It’ll help. Wait a minute," she said, walking over to her CD player. "This’ll get you in the mood." Suddennly, En Vogue’s "Never Gonna Get It" started playing.
I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Lise, this is ridiculous."
"Please," she said. "You used to love this song in college. You could do the moves, too, as I recall."
"Once. I was drunk."
"Free your mind..." she started singing.
"Fine," I laughed. "I’ll do it. If you’ll stop singing." With that, I stood up again, as straight as I could, and began walking.
"Now, pretend like you’re on a tightrope. One foot in front of the other."
I did as told, and began wobbling. "Keep going," Lisa encouraged. "Don’t move your arms so much. Women don’t wave their arms when they walk."
I walked down the hall. The song switched. Now, it was "It’s Raining Men."
"What’s with the CD? Opening a gay bar?"
"This gets me in the mood. Makes me feel empowered."
"Empowered? Are we running a seminar here?"
"Shut up. It gets me excited before Jim and I go out. Just let your body move with the music."
I started giggling, but decided to follow her advice. Damn, if she wasn’t right. I felt more confident in the heels, much to my chagrin. Next came "Milkshake."
"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard," Lisa sang.
"Stop it," I said.
"You’re doing great. Your ass is already starting to shake. Now, when you get to the end, turn."
I reached the end of the hall, went to turn, and fell into the wall. "Let’s stop, please..." I begged.
"Come on, girl. You need to do this. Or else, how will we go out?"
I turned white. "We are not going out!"
"Um, how will you be a bridesmaid, if you won’t leave here? Come on, you’ll get it. You’ll be walking like a model in no time."
"Just what I wanted to hear, thanks."
"Come on."
I got up, and started walking again. I kept picturing the imaginary tightrope. ‘Left foot in front of right, right in front of left...’ We kept doing turns around the apartment. "You’re doing terrific," Lisa kept saying. "Are you sure you’ve never done this before?"
"Stop. You know how anxious I am about this."
"Sorry, Bri..Jessica....I have to watch myself. Can I tell you again how much I love you for doing this?"
"You’re welcome."
We kept at it, trying higher and higher heel heights. I was walking towards Lisa in a pair of 4" Manolo slingbacks, when I heard a wolf whistle.
"Damn Brian," I heard Jim say. "You keep shaking that ass, and I’m going to get the fire extinguisher."
I turned bright red, and fell down.
"Well, that kills the mood," he laughed, offering me his hand.
"How long have you been there," I spluttered, while he and Lisa laughed hysterically.
"Two minutes, relax. Do you want me to go?"
"No, it’s okay. I think I’ll go."
"Wait," Lisa said. "You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I knew he was there."
"Thanks," I said, angrily. "What the hell’s going on here? Is this some sort of sick joke?"
"No, Jess...and remember to call him that, Jim, his name’s Jessica now..."
"Uh huh," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Anyway, Jess, there’s no other motive here. It’s what I said, and no more."
"Fine...now what?"
"First, Jim is leaving..."
"Oh come on, I’m tired..."
"Go to Flanagan’s on 2nd. I’ll call when we’re done."
"Please?"
"I’ll make it worth your while...." she said, as Jim left skid marks.
"I totally didn’t expect him..."
"Uh huh, Lise. I’m feeling very uncomfortable, you know."
"Relax. Besides, now we’re going to do something easier...sitting."
"I’ve been sitting since I was a baby."
"Ha ha," she said. "I mean, sitting in a skirt. Now sit."
I sat down, unconsciously smoothing my skirt beneath me.
"Good. How did you know to do that?"
"Do what?"
"Smooth your skirt out before you sit."
"Did I do that? I must have seen my mom and sister do it, I guess."
"Good, good. Prevents it from wrinkling and riding up. Ahem.." she said, pointing at my lap. "Cross your legs. Be a lady."
I turned red. "Sorry."
"Put your legs together, or cross them at the ankles. That one drives guys wild. I don’t know why."
"Drives guys wild, huh? THAT I’ll try."
"Slut..."
"I’m learning from the best."
"OK," she said, "Let’s get you out of that black dress. We need to keep it fresh."
"What will I wear?"
"Thankfully, we’re close to the same size. So put these on," she said, handing me a baby blue sweater and black skirt. "This will give you something to wear, while we go shopping."
"OK," I started to say, "Oh no! No no no no! I’m not...I can’t...why are you doing this to me?"
"Noone will know..."
"Look, this is too much too soon," I said. "I agreed to do this, but you can’t just throw me to the sharks."
"It won’t be that bad."
"No, Lisa. I need to do this on my own schedule. I’m not comfortable. That’s it."
"OK, OK, Jess. You’re right. I’ll loan you some of my stuff. When you feel comfortable, we’ll go out. One thing, though..."
"What?" I said, suspiciously.
"I need to go to Victoria’s Secret for you. You’ll need your own underwear. Borrowing mine is out of the question.
I giggled. "That is kind of skeevy. Besides, I’ve never wanted to get in your panties."
She giggled back. "You wish you could."
"Thanks, but no thanks. Anyway, you really have to let me do this on my own time. When I’m ready, and I have no idea when that will be so don’t push, I’ll do it. That’s it. I’m still overwhelmed."
Lisa put her arm around me. "I can respect that. I really can. You do what you want, when you want it."
"Thank you. By the way, is there any solvent to get these things off?" I asked, holding my ‘breasts.’
"Why? Don’t tell me you’re chickening out..."
"No, but I would like to shower at some point, and can’t imagine they’re supposed to stay on 24/7 for six months..."
"Oh yeah," she said, reaching into the never-ending bag that was the source of all my troubles. "Here it is," she said, handing me two small bottles. "This is the solvent, and this is the glue."
"Can I ask you a question...actually, two."
"Uh huh," she said, warily.
"Don’t worry, I’m not backing out...yet. First, why do I need to do this for six months? Why can’t we just start this in like March or April? I mean I’d go on the diet for the full time. I just don’t get the corset and the dresses and everything. It’s a little ridiculous, no?"
"No, it’s not. I thought about that. I knew how uncomfortable you’d be, and I figured the more time you had, the better you’d be at it. Second, we’re going to start on all the wedding planning soon, and I want you totally involved..."
"And I can’t do that as a guy?"
"Well, I guess...but I wanted my best friend AND my bridesmaid there. Besides, there’s dress fittings and all that guys usually aren’t at."
"Come on, I’ve dated wedding plannners. They do all that stuff. Dressed like guys."
"I know, I just thought..." she said, with downcast eyes.
"Relax, relax. I’m not backing out. I just have questions. I’m entitled to answers."
"True. What’s question #2?"
"You say we’re going on workout regimens. How am I supposed to work out in drag? It’s not like I can go to the gym like this."
"Hmmm," she said, "I hadn’t thought about that."
"So, I can go in my usual work out clothes, without the gals here?"
"Let me think about it."
"If you want a fat bridesmaid, that’s your problem," I said, twirling and kicking up one heel coquettishly.
Lisa laughed, "See, you’re getting into it already."
I stopped. "It’s one thing in here. It’s another out there. I’m already on society’s shit list, as is. If I’m found like this, I’ll be dead and the cops won’t even look for the killer, do you understand that?"
"I know you’re freaked, Brian. I do. I wouldn’t do anything that put you in danger, you know that."
"I know. I just don’t think that you fully understand what it’s like."
"You take your time. If you have any problems at all, we’ll call this over. I promise. I want my best friend alive and OK more than a perfect wedding."
I smiled. "More than the Vera Wang dress and the Pierre?"
"Even that."
"Wow, I’m honored."
"Look, Bri..Jess, I have to remember that, you go to back to your place, and I’ll be over in a while with stuff for you."
"OK."
"Relax. And, in the meantime," she said, handing me both pairs of heels, "practice. You can’t walk into a wall everytime a hot guy checks you out. Otherwise, you’ll be perpetually bruised. Because whether you like it or not, you are one hot babe."
"I know."
"Oh really, Miss Thing? You best keep your hands off of my man," she said, doing the ‘Rikki Lake’ head move, with accompanying hand motions.
"Don’t worry. He’s already told me he likes women without penises."
Lisa laughed. "He is so unwilling to compromise."
"He also told me something else strange."
"What?"
"When I asked whether the usher who was paired with me would be OK, he said, ‘I’ll take care of it.’ I asked what that meant, and he said, ‘It means I’ll take care of it.’ What does that mean?"
Lisa gave the same half smile as Jim. "It means he’ll take care of it."
"What does that mean? Tell me. Come on."
"Goodbye," she said, walking out the door. "Let yourself out."
I scratched my head. Something was up, and I didn’t know what. Anyway, I figured my only choice was to go back to my place. I opened the door a crack, and peeked outside. "Good," I thought, "noone’s around." I snuck into the hall, and decided to take the stairs up the two flights rather than using the elevator. I figured that way I’d be safe.
I began walking up the stairs. That was a stupid idea. About two steps up, I twisted my ankle. "Stupid heels," I thought, taking them off. "I should never have done this." Anyway, I took off the shoes and limped up the two flights. I opened the stairwell door, and looked around. "Good, noone here either."
I opened the door to my apartment and sat down. I massaged my ankle. It hurt like hell. I also had to go the bathroom. I got up and walked in. After I was done, I washed my hands and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, and then I cried. "Look at yourself, Brian. You’re some kind of freak," I thought. "A pathetic weak little freak. Look at you. Makeup, tits and a dick. You’re the lowest of the low. You’re everything they’ve always said. Noone will want anything to do with you." I went into my bedroom, buried my head in the pillow and just bawled. Forty-five minutes later, my doorbell rang. I dragged myself off the bed. "Who is it?"
"Lisa," she said, brightly. "I bought you some presents."
"Go away. Leave them by the door," I said, sniffling.
"What’s the matter, Bri?"
"Just go. Leave everything by the door."
"Come on, open up."
"No."
"I’m not leaving unless you open up."
I opened the door a crack. "Just give me everything."
She pushed the door open and wedged herself in. "Just take a look...holy shit, what’s wrong?"
"Nothing...everything...nothing. Never mind."
"You’re really freaked, aren’t you?"
"Look at me, Lisa. I’m a joke. I’m a little queer with tits. I’m pathetic."
"That’s enough," she said sternly. "You are NOT a freak, and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I am not a freak, I do not associate with freaks, so just stop it."
"Do you know what my father would say if he saw me?"
"Fuck him."
"You know what," I said angrily. "I’m sorry if I’m scared. I’m sorry I’m not jumping up and down and doing twirls. But I’m scared. How would you feel if your whole life was crystallized at once, and you realized how fucked up you were? How would it feel," and then I started bawling again.
"I’m sorry, Jess. I really am. You’re right. I didn’t realize how scary this could be. Maybe subconsciously that’s why I asked for six months. So you could adjust. I really can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. Whatever you need to feel comfortable, I’ll do it," she said, fumbling around for words. "Please. I’m really sorry for what I said."
I sniffled, "You should be."
"You’re right."
"What’s in the bags?"
"Well," she said with a grin. "This is your underwear. Ten pairs. Five bras. If you want more, you have to go get it yourself."
I opened the first pair, and pulled out a red lace thong. "Oh, you bitch," I said, laughing.
"I told you if you let me go myself...don’t worry, there’s some cotton ones in there. I just had to get those. Just to see your reaction."
"What’s in the other bag?"
"Skirts. Tops. Some other clothes and makeup for you. For whenenver you decide to go out. Also some issues of Vogue, Elle, In Style, etc. Get an idea of what works for you."
"Uh huh. What works for me is men’s clothes"
"Whatever," she said, ignoring me completely. She reached into her wallet, and handed me a credit card with my name, well ‘Jessica Rosen’ on it.
"What’s this?"
"$1,500 debit card. You use this whenever and wherever you want. Buy clothes, whatever. Do it on your own time."
"Uh huh."
"Do you want to be alone, Jess? If you want me to hang around, I will. If not, not."
"Yeah, I think I’d like to be alone, if you don’t mind."
"Not at all. Tell you what, I won’t even call. You call me when you’re ready, OK?"
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
"Not as much as me," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "By the way, wash your face. Your makeup is a complete mess."
I washed my face and then went into my bedroom, took off the corset and put a t-shirt on. It stretched over my chest so much that it left a little strip of stomach showing. Now I looked my old college roommate’s girlfriend. "Wonderful," I thought. "Just wonderful."
I climbed into bed and passed out. That night, I had the most bizarre dream. I know it sounds cliched, but I did. I was outside dressed in a floral print dress. Noone noticed at first, then suddenly a little kid shouted, "That’s a boy!" Suddenly everyone on the street was jeering and catcalling me. No matter where I went, I couldn’t escape it. Suddenly, a man came out of nowhere. He looked like one of the 2xist underwear models. He scooped me up in his arms and said, "Don’t worry. I’ll protect you." Then he gave me a long passionate kiss. The next thing I knew I was in a wedding gown, and he was taking me across a threshold. He pulled off my dress, so I was just wearing a bra, panties, garters and stockings. He pulled down my panties and my penis was gone. Then he looked at me and said, "You’re not the woman I married," and left. I was left standing there, looking confused when...
My alarm went off. I woke up with a start. I looked in the mirror. My college roommate’s girlfriend looked back. I went into the kitchen and made some coffee. "OK," I thought. "Let’s just do some work, that’ll take my mind off of it." I spent the next three days immersing myself in work. I never left the house. I had food delivered, which I barely touched. I never even went onto my terrace. I figured avoidance was the only way to deal. My clients, however, were happy. Projects were getting finished at a rapid rate. Nothing like severe sublimation and denial to move a project along.
By the afternoon of day three, I was getting cabin fever. I decided to look at what Lisa had left me. I pulled out a black silk skirt and red sweater. I put everything on. "Not bad. Not bad at all," I thought. "Let’s see if she left me any flat shoes." Sure enough, there were black flat shoes. "OK," I thought, "This isn’t so bad." Analytical mind that I am, I decided the next step was makeup. "Let’s go online. Someone has to have make-up tips." Sure enough, the web has everything. I found several websites that helped me learn everything from daytime to evening. I spent the next several hours, applying and reapplying makeup. By the end, I was quite good if I do say so myself. I was also, quite frankly, a little put off by how quickly I adapted. But, I chose to use sublimation and denial yet again. You’d be surprised how well that works. One thing was wrong however. My hair.
"Shit," I thought. "Everything looks good, but this is a mess. I have to figure this out." I started thumbing through all the magazines. Suddenly, in In Style, I saw a picture of Keira Knightley. She had this shortish kind of haircut that looked like I could pull it off. The caption said, "Styled by Bumble and Bumble, NYC." I figured, "What the hell? Let’s see if they have any openings." I picked up the phone.
"Bumble and Bumble."
"Hi," I said, "I’d like to make an appointment for a haircut. I don’t suppose you have any openings..."
"Actually," the receptionist said brightly. "We have a 10 AM cancellation with Robert tomorrow. You’re in luck. Otherwise, it’s a month. Have you ever been here before?"
"Uh, no."
"What’s your name?"
I drew a deep breath. "Uh, Jessica. Jessica Rosen."
"Well, uh Jessica" she said, with a giggle. "We’ll see you at 10 tomorrow. You’ll love Robert, he’s fabulous.’
"I, uh, can’t wait," I said.
I slept like shit that night. I tossed and turned. No dreams though. I woke up at 8:00 AM the next day. "Oh, jeez," I thought. "Do I really want to do this? Not really, but let’s give it a go." I went and got dressed in the red sweater and skirt, and put on my makeup. I pulled my hair into a scrunchie that was in the bag. What I saw in the mirror both excited and unnerved me. I put my keys, money and debit card in the purse Lisa had oh so thoughtfully left for me. I drew a deep breath and went outside. I debated taking the train or a cab. On the one hand, the train is much more anonymous. On the other hand, if I’m caught, I’m dead. Cab it was.
I hailed a cab. "57th and Park, please."
"OK, miss."
"Miss," I thought. "That’s good."
We pulled up to Bumble and Bumble, and I paid the cabbie. "Thank you."
"May I say, miss, that they cannot do anything to make you more beautiful."
I blushed. "Uh, thank you. You’ve just made my day." "More than you know," I thought.
I went in. "Hi, I have a 10 AM appointment with Robert. Jessica Rosen."
"Of course," she said. "Put on a robe and have a seat. He’ll be right out."
I went in and changed. I pulled the robe tight, so that noone could see the breast forms.
I sat and read the In Style I had brought with me, when all of a sudden a man who made me seem butch came swishing in. "You must be Jessica. Robert. What are we doing today?"
"Hi, Robert. Uh, Jessica Rosen. Nice to meet you. I think I’d like something like this," showing him the picture of Keira Knightely.
"Ooh, Keira. Fabulous. That would look stunning on you. Come, come. Are we doing highlights, as well?"
"What do you think?"
"No, not yet. Sit," he said, leading me to a shampoo chair. "Darling," he said to the shampoo girl. "Shampoo her and bring her to me. I leaned back in the chair and the warm water began caressing my head. The girl began rubbing shampoo and then conditioner in my hair. "Mmmm, that feels so good."
The girl laughed. "Boy, someone needs a little something something."
I laughed. "True enough. But, even so, this feels good."
"Thank you, miss. Come let’s go to Robert." We walked over. "Here she is," she said, giggling.
"So, sit. So the Keira cut, yes?" he said, lifting my hands with his fingers.
"Exactly."
He began snipping and cutting. About halfway through, he said, out of nowhere, "So, what’s your name?"
"Uh, we covered this. Jessica Rosen."
"Oh, please, princess. Your real name."
I turned blank white. "How did you know?"
"Please , queen. It takes one to know one."
"Oh my god, did the shampoo girl read me? That’s why she giggled. I’m doomed."
"Oh, don’t worry. That little slut can’t walk and chew gum. If she figured you out, every shampoo girl and receptionist here would’ve come by to take a look. Anyway, what’s your name?"
"Brian. How did you figure me out?"
"A couple of tips. First, get used to saying your girl name. You pause too much. Second, the makeup was flawless, you’ve been practicing, good girl. But the robe was too tight. Also, the hair was rat’s nest. Any real girl with flawless makeup coming here would NOT be caught dead with her hair in a scrunchie. But, don’t worry, noone could read you. And, when I’m done, you’ll be beating the straight boys off with a stick."
I grinned. "Oooh, that sounds like fun."
"I like you girl," he said, laughing. "So what’s the story? Why are you here?"
I told him the whole story. When I finished, he blew out a breath. "Damn, you are one good friend, Miss Jessica. That’s a lot of her to ask."
"Tell me about it. So what do you think "I’ll take care of it" means?"
"I was thinking about that. I don’t know. Something’s up though. And that friend of yours is in on it. Get even with her though. Use up that debit card. Anyway, take a look. I’m done."
I stared in the mirror. I was dumbfounded. "Ohmigod, Robert, it’s gorgeous."
"No, you are."
I started tearing up. "Oh stop it," he said. "Your makeup will run. Now go pay."
I paid, put on my sweater and came back. I slipped my hand into his front pocket with his tip, and gave a little squeeze. "This is for you."
"Oh, please," he said, rolling his eyes. "Sorry, but I like my men manly, Miss Jessica."
I folded my arms, in mock exasperation. "I just can’t win. The first man says you’re too manly. The second one says you’re too queeny..."
"OK, Goldicocks. You’ll find the one that’s just right."
I gave him a peck on the cheek and left. "Let’s hope so. I’ll keep you posted."
I decided to give the debit card a whirl. I still felt uncomfortable and scared, but decided to try. If I got caught, this would be over. I was walking on Lex, when I passed Ann Taylor. I saw a floral print dress in the window. It was the dress from the dream. I must’ve walked past it a hundred times and it must’ve been burned into my subconscious. I walked in.
"May I help you, miss?" said the salesgirl.
"Uh, yes. I’m looking for the dress in the window. The floral print. Size 8."
"Of course, follow me."
We found the rack. "Here you are. The fitting room’s over there. Can I show you anything else?"
"Do you have any suggestions?"
"With your complexion, I’d go with pale pastels. Pink, baby blue. Tell you what, go try on the dress and I’ll bring you things."
"Uh, that’s great." I drew a deep breath. Into the belly of the beast. I went in. The other women going in and out didn’t even give me a second look. Well, nothing beyond the usual once over women give each other. I went into the fitting room and tried on the dress. I couldn’t believe it. I looked so cute. I gave a little twirl. I heard the saleswoman say, "Let me see." I came out tentatively.
"That is adorable," she said.
"You think?"
"Absolutely. Someone is just going to eat you up."
I blushed. "I don’t think so."
"Don’t be so modest. Try these on," she said, handing me all manner of tops, skirts and dresses.
As I went to pay, she said, "Do you wear pants often?"
"Yes, why?"
"You shouldn’t. You have a figure that was made for skirts. I would kill for your legs."
I blushed. "I bet you say that to all of your commissions."
She laughed, "But I don’t always mean it."
I left the store $550 lighter. I spent the rest of the day, going from store to store. When I got home, I went upstairs and called Lisa. "Hi, Lise!’
"Oh, Bri. Thank god. I was beginning to worry."
"I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Let’s go to dinner. Your treat."
"Very cute. When?"
"Come over in fifteen minutes?"
"Sure."
I went into the bedroom, put on my new floral print dress and fixed my make up. Then, the doorbell rang. "Come in," I said, "Door’s open."
I walked out. Lisa’s jaw dropped, "Brian?"
{to be continued}
“Jessica,” I said with a smile. “What do you think?” I said, twirling around.
“Wha...huh...what?” she stammered.
“I assume, despite your inarticulation, that you want to know what’s going on.”
“Do you think so?” she said, sarcastically. “When I left here the another day, you were totally freaked out and now look. Explain.”
“I was totally freaked out. I cried, I bawled. I had nightmares. I spent the first three days burying myself in work. I worked eighteen hour days to avoid dealing with this. I never left the house.”
“I figured. So what happened?”
“By the end of day 3, I had cabin fever. I was losing it. I don’t know what possessed me, but I started going through everything you left. Maybe it was like looking under the bed to confront the monster.”
“Uh huh...I still don’t get it. I mean your make-up is flawless, your hair is gorgeous, and I know that’s not one of my outfits, so I’m still missing something.”
“Well, you know me. I’m a perfectionist. If I was going to do this, I was going to do this right. So, first I started to look on-line for make-up tips. I wanted to learn everything. Day, evening, formal, informal, the whole 9 yards.”
“Well, it shows. You can do mine anytime you like. That doesn’t explain the hair. You certainly couldn’t do that yourself.”
“Oh no, Robert did it.”
“Who’s Robert?” she asked uncertainly.
“My stylist at Bumble and Bumble. He says I look gorgeous.”
“Bumble and Bumble,” she said incredulously. “Not only are you a perfectionist, you’re a little JAP, too,” she said, with a laugh.
“I’ve learned from the best...you.”
“Ha ha. What made you choose Bumble & Bumble?”
I handed her the In Style. “Look,” I said, flipping to Keira. I felt like we were on a first name basis now.
“I thought this looked familiar. You look adorable...no, hot. You look incredibly hot, Miss Jessica.”
“Why, thank you. And, by the way, my milkshake does bring all the boys to the yard.”
She laughed, “I don’t know if I like my new girlfriend, too much competition.”
“Oh, please,” I said, grabbing her left hand. “Look at this. You are off the market.”
She dropped her head. “True, such a shame, we could’ve done some major damage.”
“You’d still make a fine wingman.”
“Ha ha. OK. What’s really going on here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, did you have some kind of revelation? The clothes, makeup, hair OK. You’re you. You’re a perfectionist, so of course you’d try and look the role. But, what’s with the attitude? You were a blubbering nightmare the other day. Now, you’re a completely different person. What’s up? Seriously, no little jokes.’
“I don’t know. I’m still scared. I mean, I still live in fear of being found out. So, I don’t know, maybe subconsciously, I’ve figured if I play the role to perfection, I won’t get caught.”
“If you act out there like you just did in here, no one will find you out without looking under your skirt. So, if you keep your legs closed like a lady, you’ll be OK,” she said, with a leer.
“Oh poo,” I mock pouted. “I was so looking forward to some straight boys.”
“Well, at least, I don’t have to worry about you getting knocked up before the wedding, you little slut,” she giggled. “Anyway, that dress is absolutely perfect for you. Where did it come from? Like I said, it’s not one of mine.”
“Ann Taylor, on Madison.”
“Really,” she said, arching her eyebrow. “How did you know the right size?”
“I went into the dressing room and tried it on. How else would I know?" Her jaw dropped. “You went into the dressing room. YOU? You who were afraid to go outside the other day are now trying on clothes in public; talk about confronting your fears, little Miss Jessica.”
“First off, it was a separate room, not one of those bullpen deals. Second, it was like two in the afternoon, so I figured no one would be there. Third, if I felt in anyway like the saleswoman knew something was up, I would’ve been out of there like a shot. But she didn’t, because she told me I had a perfect figure for skirts and she kept bringing me stuff to try on...”
“Wait a minute,” she interrupted. “How much stuff did you try on?”
“I don’t know. 5-10 outfits. There.”
“How many places did you go to?”
“A whole bunch. Once she didn’t read me, it actually became kind of fun. Like being an actor or something.”
“How much did you buy?”
“You’ll have to fill up my debit card again. There’s maybe $100 left. A girl has to look her best.”
She laughed, “Ohmigod, you little princess. This is going to be sooo much fun, you’ll see. Let me see what you bought.”
I went into the bedroom, and came out wearing a black skirt and baby blue top, with a pair of black 3" heels. “Very nice. Very demure. Next.”
Next were a pink skirt, white top, pink cardigan and 3" pink heels. “Oooh. Look at you; Very Bree. One problem - Has anyone told you you’re Jewish, not a WASP?”
“Oh, please. I have the perfect coloring for this.”
“Perfect coloring? Now, you’re worrying me.”
“Relax. Just my perfectionism, and the saleswoman.”
“Remember, she’s just out for commission. Did you buy all of Ann Taylor?”
“Wait. I’ll show you my other stuff.”
I came out with another delicate floral print skirt and white sweater. “What do you think?”
“You look great. But remember, girls are made of sugar and spice. And, girlfriend, you need more spice.”
I arched my eyebrow. “Just wait a minute. I’ve been doing my homework.”
I came out wearing a black tank top that said “Bomb Shell,” a black leather mini, fishnets and 4" black Manolo spikes. “Well?”
Lisa’s jaw dropped and then she started laughing. “OK, Miss Thing. That’s a little over the top, no? I mean, all you need is a whip...”
“Wait a minute, and I’ll get it.”
“Boy, I am learning all about you today. We need to get your shrink here. This is like intro to Pysch all over again.”
“So, what do you think?”
“I think you’re actually starting to loosen up. That outfit, for example, screams loose."
“That,” I said, with eyelashes batting, “is exactly what I’m going for.”
“I’ve created a monster. Hey, wait a minute,” she said, pointing at my feet. “Where did you get those?”
“I took them from your place.”
“Uh huh. Am I going to have come over here every day and get my clothes back?”
“We’ll see. I may have to buy more, as my size drops. Which brings me back to an old question - how am I going to work out?”
“I’ve thought about that. Maybe we can get a visitor’s pass in your new name?”
“I’ve thought about that too. But there’s two problems - #1, they’ll need I.D. and #2, where do I change? I mean, I am a knockout, but there’s still the problem of my little friend...”
“Hmmm. I hadn’t thought about that...I guess you’ll have to go as a guy,” she sighed.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll work out up the block, so I can come home and get dressed quickly. I won’t be Brian any longer than necessary, OK?”
“OK. OK. ”
“Very funny, Lise.”
“Anyway,” she said. “Let’s get you out of that skank outfit and into something normal, so we can get dinner.”
“Sure, can we go to Cabana on 60th?”
“Why? In the mood for pan-Latin?”
“Kind of, also, I saw the most gorgeous 3" black boots in Jimmy Choo that I want to pick up...”
She slapped her forehead. “Bri..Jess..whoever you are, you’re really starting to scare me.”
______________________________________________________________________
We went into my bedroom. Lisa gaped at the bags on my bed. "Whoa. Bebe, Ann Taylor, Scoop NYC. When you go, you go all the way, don't you?"
"A girl, even a temporary one, has to look her best."
"I'll say it again - you are really beginning to worry me. You are just taking to this too well and too quickly."
I gave her a peck on the cheek. "Don't worry. This is truly temporary. I like who I am. I'm doing this for you, remember." I held up a black knee length leather skirt and black turtleneck. "So, how's this? Does it work with the heels?"
"That is much better." I began stripping off my clothes. "What are you doing?" Lisa said.
"Getting dressed and undressed?"
"I see that. But, four days ago, you refused to get undressed in front of me and now, it's perfectly normal."
"I'm going to have to do this at some point in a public or semi-public place. I may as well get used to it. Now, how do I look?" I asked, giving a twirl.
"Absolutely beautiful. No, wait, radiant. Jess, you are stunning."
I blushed. "Let's get going. I want to get to Jimmy Choo before they close. Let me just touch up my face."
Lisa whistled. "You do that perfectly. When you take on a project, you take it on one hundred percent."
"It's my father's one useful piece of advice, the bastard. Do something right or don't do it. I'm sure he'd love to see how I put his advice to work."
We left the apartment and went to Jimmy Choo's. I bought the boots, and Lisa bought me a pair of 3" pink slides. She said they'd go great with my "little Miss Junior League" outfit.
We walked into Cabana. Well, actually Lisa walked and I sashayed. I don't know why, but I just felt like doing it. It paid off. I felt every set of eyes staring at me. Men ogled me, and women glared. I have no idea why, but it felt great. Lisa came back from the hostess desk. "She said it would be ten to fifteen minutes. Do you want to wait at the bar?"
"Sure," I said. "I'm tired from spending your money. I could use a mojito."
Lisa laughed. "The way you're acting, it's like your Jim's revenge on me for being me to him."
I sat up on a bar stool, and crossed my legs at the ankles, just like my teacher said. Well, that and I still had something standing in my way of crossing them any higher. I could feel someone looking at me. I looked up and saw the most stunning Black man I had ever seen looking at me. I looked at him, then quickly looked down and then up.
"Why, Miss Jessica," Lisa said. "I do believe you are flirting with that man at the other end of the bar."
"He is absolutely stunning."
"And," she said, warily "very straight looking. Be careful. Something tells me he wouldn't be too happy to find out your little secret."
"Relax, mom, it's just flirting," I said, as the Black god and a friend walked over.
He held out his hand. "Jeffrey Walker."
"Jessica Rosen. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Walker."
"Call me Jeff."
His friend stuck out his hand to Lisa. "Todd Bernstein or, as is more appropriate, wingman."
Lisa smiled. "Lisa Wasserman. I'm engaged."
"Me too," said Todd. "I truly am the wingman. I'm just here to distract you so Jeff can work his magic."
"Well, Miss Rosen," said Jeff, looking me over. "What about you? Has someone already swept you off your feet, or will I have that pleasure."
I gave him the once-over. "Does that line work often?"
"I don't know. Does it?"
I picked up his tie and ran it through my fingers slowly. "We'll see."
Todd looked at Lisa. "Your friend really has to learn how to open up. She's so pretty, but that shyness is just awful."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "I know. We've been working on it. But Jeff needs to work on his self-esteem. He'll find it much easier to meet women if he does."
"Can I interest you ladies in joining us?"
"I'm certainly interested," I said, "if it's OK with Lisa."
"Far be it from me to stop what's shaping up to be a very interesting evening."
Todd went over to the hostess. "She can seat four, but it will be close quarters, if that's OK."
"Fine by me," said Lisa. "Just don't try anything funny," she said, with a laugh.
"I spent last Saturday registering. The last thing I want right now is to get near any woman," he said, with a laugh.
Jeff rolled his eyes. "Maybe we should just get a table for two and let these boring married types talk to each other."
I brushed his arm. "There'll be plenty of time for that later, if I so choose. Relax."
Lisa choked on her drink, and we all turned. "Sorry," she said. "Wrong pipe. Right, Jessica? Wrong pipe?"
"OK. OK. So long as you're OK."
Jeff turned to her. "Don't worry. I don't bite."
"Oh poo," I said.
Todd turned red. "I keep saying it. Get past the shyness."
The waitress took us to a very close booth for four. I sat across from Jeff, and Lisa from Todd. They fell into a conversation about places to look at for the wedding, places to avoid and all that sort of thing. Jeff and I started talking about work. He and Todd were investment bankers for CSFB. They traded derivatives.
"They're a bit hard to understand," he said. "If you're not interested, I'm sure we can find something to talk about."
"Actually, I helped develop Amex's proprietary trading system. I'm actually somewhat conversant in the terminology, although I don't follow the derivatives markets closely."
"You helped develop the system?"
"Yes. I'm a computer consultant."
"Really," Todd piped up. "You don't look anything like our IT consultants. First off, they're all male. Second, they're all named Kumar or Ivan. You must have had your pick of guys in college."
Lisa interjected, "Not really. Jessica's really just come into her own. If you went to college with her, you wouldn't even recognize her." I gave her a kick.
"Give me your card," said Todd. "I know some people in IT who can make it worth your while."
"Thanks," I said, caught off guard, "but I'm really swamped lately. I wish I, uh, could handle the work, but I have, uh, too much as is. But, uh, thanks."
"Relax," said Jeff, taking my hand as I felt a jolt. "No one's forcing you to take work," he said, massaging my inner wrist with his fingers. It felt so good that I felt like melting into the booth.
"Mmmm, Jeff," I said, secretly massaging his leg with my foot. "Aren't you being just a little forward?"
"Am I?"
"OK, a little premature. And premature is never a good thing."
"That's never my problem, rest assured. I can keep this going for hours, if you can." I thought Todd and Lisa were going to vomit. Todd started simulating a bad bass line.
Jeff turned to him. "What's that about?"
"I figured if I was going to sit through a porno, I'd have the appropriate background music."
Lisa chimed in, "I never believed these letters were true..."
Todd turned to her. "Quoting 'Forum?' Why, it's such a shame we're both engaged. If you like the Yankees, we'll run away together, catering hall deposits be damned."
"Won't your fiancee mind?"
"Nah. At this point, I'm an afterthought to her big party."
"That's not true. Who else can we blame for your mother if you're not there."
The waitress brought dinner. "Thank god," said Jeff. "Now Todd will have something to keep his mouth busy."
"Keeping his mouth busy, huh? And, what do you like to do to keep yours busy? I mean, do your female friends usually approve of what you do?"
He didn't flinch. "Actually, they usually like what I do. They let me know, multiple times."
Lisa took my arm. "Excuse us," she said. "Jess, can you come with me to the ladies' room?"
"Excuse me. Lisa needs help."
We went into the ladies' room, and she hissed at me. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Flirting. I'm letting go, like you said."
"Buying shoes is one thing. But that is something else. I don't talk that way with Jim."
"What's the big deal?"
"Look, all it takes is one misplaced hand of his, and you'll be beaten to a bloody pulp. Look, I'm all in favor of a little harmless fun but you're crossing the line."
I turned to her and snapped. "Don't worry. It's talk, just talk. Would I love to see what he's got in his pants? Absolutely. Am I going to put myself at risk? No. But thanks for your trust in me. You know what? Fuck you. You put me in this position, tell me to go with flow and, when I do, you think I'm a fucking idiot. Thanks a hell of a lot," I said, walking to the door.
"Wait, Jess, I'm sorry."
"You should be."
"It's just, I don't know, it's like you're my little sister and you're just finding out about boys and I don't want you to get hurt. But, unlike a real little sister, you have something that could get you in real trouble. I'm sorry," she said, reaching out with tears in her eyes.
"It's OK," I said, hugging her. But I'm not a kid. I'm 34. I've been screwed in relationships before."
"Yeah, but never like this."
"Don't worry, Lise. I have it under control."
We went back to the table. Jeff and Todd stood up. "I was beginning to worry," said Jeff. "What took so long?"
"Oh, you know girls," said Lisa.
We started eating again. As much as I wanted not to do so, I toned down the flirting for Lisa's sake. We started talking about families.
"I bet your parents must be very proud of you, Jess," said Todd. "I mean, you're beautiful and successful."
"Not exactly. My mother's dead and let's just say I'm not what my father wanted."
"Really? How is that possible? Or is he one of those assholes who only wanted a son?"
"Something like that," I said, exchanging sideways glances with Lisa.
"Well," said Jeff. "If I ever get the chance to meet him, I'll set him straight."
I smiled, and touched his hand. "Hold up there, Tiger. Who said anything about meeting anyone's parents?"
"Touche, Jessica," he laughed. He had the most sexy laugh. I wanted to rip off his clothes right there, but realized Lisa was right. It killed me.
The waitress brought the check. Lisa said, "How much do I owe you?"
Jeff and Todd both laughed. "Thanks to Jessica, we talked about work. Therefore, thank CSFB. The meal's on the derivatives desk."
"What an evening," I said. "Charming company, and a free meal. How lucky can we get?"
"That's up to you," Jeff said, taking my hand.
I arched my eyebrows, and started running my fingernail on his wrist. "Oh, really?"
Lisa coughed. "Ahem, I hate to break up you two, but remember Jess, you have to help me with the..uh..engagement party. Remember?" she said pointedly.
I glared at her, but saw the same look I saw in the bathroom. "Oh yeah. That's right. I'm sorry, Jeff. Raincheck?"
"Sure," he said. "I'm a little disappointed, as I'm sure are you. But let me have your number, and I'll give you a call."
"Tell you what," I said, leaning in to give him a kiss. "Give me your number and I'll call you."
Todd and Lisa laughed loudly. "Oh shit," said Todd. "The player gets played. This is going to be fun tomorrow at work."
"Oh yeah?" Jeff retorted. "Try it, and I'll tell everyone about your little discussion tonight about which place settings you preferred."
Jeff leaned in and gave me a deep kiss. "Just a little preview. Goodnight, ladies. Jessica, you will call, of course." Damn Lisa. Why couldn't I follow through on this?
We stood there for what seemed like forever. Lisa broke the silence. "Asking for his number? Nice save, kiddo."
"You know, because of you, I won't be able to sleep tonight. Did you see how gorgeous he was? And that kiss? My god, I can only imagine what he'd be like."
"Imagine is right. I hate to burst your bubble, but you don't have the bubble he wants to burst, if you get my meaning."
"A girl can dream, can't she?"
"Don't worry, Jess. Your needs will be taken care of."
"OK," I said. "First Jim, now you. What the hell does that mean?"
"Good things come to those who wait. And haste makes waste."
{to be continued. Please post comments.}
In what wins the “Bad Timing” award, my psychiatrist was on vacation for the first two weeks of my new adventure. I was completely lost. When I started this, I figured I’d dress when I saw Lisa and otherwise would stay me. Yet, I found myself getting lost. I’d forget my name when I spoke to clients. I’d spend twenty minutes in the morning trying to decide what to wear, and not because I was trying to decide which of my new outfits to wear. Rather, it was because I couldn’t decide who I was. I know a lot of people would love to be able to switch but, believe me, when you have to do it, it’s no picnic.
On the other hand, my agony caused me to stop eating. I lost nine pounds in two weeks, and my waist dropped 2". But then, on the other hand, I now was, without the corset, 36", 26", 31". I was starting to get curves and I still wasn’t sure that this was what I wanted. It didn’t help that more and more people assumed I was a woman. For example, I went to the gym dressed in my usual workout clothes and handed the attendant my i.d.
“Brian,” he said. “That’s an unusual name.”
“Not really. I know a lot of Brians.”
“Yeah, me too. But I never met a girl Brian. That a family name or something?”
“Something like that.”
“Anyway, enjoy your workout, Miss Rosen. By the way, if you don’t mind me saying so, your picture doesn’t do you justice.”
I blushed and stared at the floor. “Uh, thanks.”
When my shrink’s vacation was over, I alternated between utter joy that she was coming back, since I needed to talk to someone and Lisa was hardly objective, and utter fear. I spent the entire morning before my appointment agonizing over whether to go as Brian or Jessica. I have no idea what possessed me, but I decided to go as Jessica. I knew I was opening myself to severe scrutiny, but yet I felt oddly compelled to do it. Maybe I was facing yet another monster.
I made sure I arrived just before my appointment, since I really didn’t want to have to deal with her receptionist. I wore a white top, green silk skirt with a pink floral print and pink 3" heels. Julia came into the waiting room, and did a double take. When she figured out it was me, she said, with a bemused smile, “Come in.” We sat down opposite each other.
“Hmmm,” she said.
“You didn’t say my name out there. You always do.” I said.
“Well, I think this is a little unusual, don’t you, Brian?”
“OK, I admit this must seem a little strange.”
“Well, is there a particular reason you’ve chosen to come dressed this way?”
“In drag?”
“I wouldn’t have chosen that term. I usually associate it with somewhat more flamboyant attire. You’ve clearly chosen to try and pass as a woman. Would you care to explain why?”
And, with that, I went through the entire story of how this came to be, even the whole Jeffrey incident. When I finished, she said, “Hmmm, that’s all very interesting. Why don’t you tell me why you did this?”
“I did. Jessica asked me to be a bridesmaid, and I agreed.”
“We’ll cover that. But, as you said, the wedding is six months off and yet here you are, dressed immaculately. Why do you think that is?”
“I told you. Lisa said she wanted me to get used to it before the wedding.”
“I understand that. But that’s a little simplistic, Brian. Clearly, something compelled you to do this. You could’ve easily said no to her or, at a minimum, not agreed to effectively live as a woman for six months. Friend or no friend, that’s a little extreme. Do you think you’d like to become a woman?” she asked, rolling her pencil between her fingers.
I rolled my eyes. “Quite frankly, Julia. I’m a little surprised and disappointed with that question. I’d expect that from Jim, not from an experienced practitioner.”
“Interesting attempt at deflecting the question, Brian, but you haven’t answered. Or have you?”
“No, I haven’t. And the answer is ‘no, I do not want to become a woman.’ I did this as a favor for someone who’s always been there for me. That’s it.”
“Do you think there might be another reason?”
“No, I don’t. But clearly you do,” I said testily, “so why don’t you share it?”
“What do you think my reason would be?” she said, in that manner that all shrinks have in turning the question back on you.
“How should I know? Reappropriating the symbols of the oppressors?”
“Interesting. I’m not sure I follow.”
“I read it somewhere. It’s when an oppressed minority subverts the stereotypes that the majority has put upon it. Like blacks calling each other ‘nigger...’”
“I’m aware of what the term means, Brian,” she interrupted. “But, I’m not sure I follow in your case.”
“Look at how I’m dressed. Society sees gay men as women, so I’m taking on the trappings of womanhood to subvert society.”
“You’ve always been very good at jargon, Brian. But, in this case, I think you and I both know that it’s inappropriate here.”
“Oh really,” I said, rolling my eyes. “How so?”
“If you were truly interested, consciously or not, in, quote ‘reappropriating the symbols of your oppressors’ unquote, you’ve chosen an interesting way of doing it.”
“Now, I don’t follow.”
“Look at how you’re dressed. Your makeup is subtly flawless. Your clothes are immaculate. Very feminine yet entirely appropriate, although I think, quite frankly, you’ll find yourself tiring of heels after you have to go up and down stairs enough. You are entirely passable.”
“So, how does this disprove my theory?”
“How do you think it does?” she said, with a sly smile.
“For once, Julia, answer a question with an answer, not a question.”
“Calm down, Brian. It was a small joke. I think my response to your claim of going ‘in drag’ answers the question.”
“I sill don’t get it.”
“If you were truly interested in flaunting your sexuality, you’d be dressed in a way to call attention to yourself. Much more flamboyantly, a la the drag queens in the meatpacking district. You would trying to caricature femininity to make a statement. Instead, you’re dressed like the average woman on the street. Therefore, I think that there’s another agenda other than subverting society at play here.”
I clapped slowly. “Very interesting, and all on the fly. I’ve already told you my agenda. I’m doing a favor for my best friend, that’s it. What did Freud say, ‘sometimes a cigar is just a cigar?’ This is just a cigar, Julia.”
Now, she rolled her eyes. “OK, Brian. I see your point,” she said. “Yet, you’ve clearly chosen to embrace the role, as it were. I mean, your makeup, hair and clothes are flawless. Did Lisa pick these out for you?”
“No.”
“Did someone else?”
“No, I did.”
“Interesting. Did she do your makeup?”
“No, she has to work everyday.”
“Did she teach you?”
“No, I taught myself. Oh great, now what do you have to say?”
“Really? You are really quite talented. It’s flawless. Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t want to look like a clown,” I said huffily. “A job worth doing is a job worth doing right.”
“That’s your father’s saying, isn’t it?”
“Oh god, now we’re going to start covering my father. I thought Freud was fairly discredited.”
“Let’s keep to the topic, Brian.”
“Yes, it is his saying. And?” I said, defensively.
“Well, we’ve certainly covered his response to your coming out. Do you think your doing this is somehow revenge?”
“How?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know. Like I was always this total disappointment and somehow by taking his advice and applying it to this, it was like getting even with him?”
“That’s a possibility, no?”
“I guess. I mean, no matter what I did right, I was a disappointment. I mean, I graduated magna cum laude and he still thought of me as a little pansy. And, we both know what he did when I came out. Yeah, maybe, this is some kind of revenge.” My voice started getting louder. “Like, ‘I’m going to be the biggest, queerest little faggot you ever saw, dad, fuck you. How do you like me now, huh?” I said, with increasing ferocity. “I mean, look at this, I’m a beautiful woman, here’s your ultimate worst nightmare, you dickhead. I dress like a girl and men fuck me. I mean, I don’t even do the fucking. I get fucked. Hard. I’m a catcher, not even a pitcher. And I like it. And I suck dick and I like it. I like a mouth full of cum. I like swallowing. How’s your little boy now? I give it one hundred percent like you always said.” I stopped. “Wow. That’s pretty fucked up. Is that what they call a catharsis? I thought stuff like that only happened in movies.”
“Does it feel better?”
“Oddly, yes. It’s funny. Like I said, I told Lisa that I tried the clothes and makeup to try and face the monster under the bed. Well, I guess I figured out who the monster is.”
“That’s good. But, it’s really only part of the puzzle. Why do you think you agreed to do this?”
“Haven’t we been covering that for the entire session?”
“On one level, albeit a fairly deep one. But you and your father haven’t spoken in twelve years. There’s not a real likelihood that he’d ever see you like this. Something else compelled you to do this.”
“Are we going to start talking about my mom now?”
“Do you want to?”
“Not really.”
“Do you think this is somehow related to her?”
“Since you’ve been away for two weeks, I’ve had to parse this on my own and, no, I don’t think it has anything to do with her.”
“Then, why do you think you chose to come dressed today?”
“Because, it’s been a big deal for the past two weeks. I thought I should show you.”
“Are you looking for approval?”
“Are you now my mommy?” I sneered.
“I didn’t say that Brian. But, it’s interesting that you did. Like you’re trying to show me what you can do, or is what you did?”
“What does THAT mean?”
“Well, what did you expect my response would be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Praise? Critcism?”
“Do you have a problem with this? What do you think?”
“I’m not here to judge you Brian. I reserve criticism only for patients engaged in behavior harmful to themselves or others.”
“Does this fall into that category?”
“Should it? Do you feel as though you’re harming yourself or others?”
“Others, no. Me, I’m not so sure.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. I’m just very conflicted. Like I don’t know who I am anymore. On the one hand, I like me as me. On the other hand, this,” I said, waving my hand up and down, “gives me a weirdly heightened sense of reality.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t know. I’ve become much more aware of my surroundings since I started.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know. Fear? Like if I let down my guard, I’ll be found out and beat to a pulp.”
“I’d like you to try something this week. If and when you’re dressed, try to just be in the moment. Don’t think about. Just be.”
“Easier said that done, Julia.”
“Just try.”
“I’ll try.”
“Let’s talk about Lisa. Why did you do this?”
“I told you,” I said with exasperation. “Lisa’s always been there for me, so now I’m there for her.”
“Has she always been there for you?”
“Uh, yeah. I mean she took a week when my mom died, and she totally helped me when my dad exploded when I came out.”
“But, has she always been there for you? Has she been there for you during your relationships?”
“There haven’t been a lot of those.”
“Well, has she been there when there have been?”
“I don’t know. I guess.”
“You guess? Well, have she and Jim ever gone out with you and a boyfriend?”
“Um, let me think about it,” I said, with a pause. “I don’t think so. But I think Jim would be uncomfortable.”
“Hmmm. Has she ever said that?”
I suddenly felt the need to stare at the print in my skirt. “No.”
“Does she ever talk to you about sex?”
“We talk about guys.”
“I don’t mean checking guys out on the street. I mean, does she ever talk to you about yourself as a sexual being?”
“Do you talk to your friends that way? I mean, do other people who aren’t shrinks talk about themselves as ‘sexual beings?” I said sarcastically. “Come on.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she asked, “Have you ever talked about her relationship with Jim?”
“In detail. Nauseating detail.”
“Has she ever reciprocated?”
“No, you know what, I don’t think so. But, then again, I don’t know if I’ve ever tried.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think she would have a tough time dealing with you as a gay man?”
I laughed. “I think that cat’s out of the bag, don’t you?”
“I don’t mean as some kind of camp figure. I mean as a sexual equal.”
“That’s a little much, don’t you think? Again ‘sexual equal,’ ‘sexual being.’ I don’t think anyone thinks about their friends that way. But, anyway, she was the first person I came out to, and she has always been totally cool. You’re being unfair.”
“Am I? You’re not answering my question.”
“I don’t know. Like I said, maybe I haven’t tried.”
“Why? Are you afraid she’d reject you if you were somehow more sexual? Do you think that would scare her?”
I looked at my nails, then played with the hem of my skirt. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Then, why did you agree to do this? Do you think is a way of somehow gaining her acceptance?”
“Like what, I’m no longer a gay man, but another woman? Isn’t that kind of pat?”
“Is it? What about the whole incident in the restaurant?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, you flaunted your sexuality in front of her, although in a more societally acceptable way?”
“I don’t understand. Societally acceptable way?”
“Yes, by embracing the outward trappings of a female, you could actively pursue a man in her presence.”
“Huh. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“And, yet, you said that she responded extremely negatively to you doing this.”
I sat up. “She was just looking out for me. I mean, if he had found out, I would’ve been beaten to a pulp. I mean, do you really believe that he would’ve been all, ‘Hey, you’re a guy! Cool!’?”
“Clearly, no, Brian. But it’s not as though she got upset because you were leaving with him, but rather simply because you were flirting, albeit in, quite frankly, an over-the-top manner. Do you flirt that way with guys when you’re not dressed this way?”
“No, not really. I always feel awkward.”
“So, I return to my original question. Does this feel more comfortable for you?”
“Sort of. I mean, it’s like a costume. Or like I’m an actor playing a role. It’s not me.”
She looked at her clock. “I’m sorry, Brian. But session’s over. We’ll have to continue this next week. Think about what we’ve talked about.”
“Oh boy. Fun, fun, fun.”
“Brian,” she said, in an annoyed tone.
“Sorry. See you next week.”
“See you next week. Again, I must compliment you on your look. You look adorable.”
“Thanks mommy,” I said flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I left Julia feeling hollow and confused. Lisa had always been a good friend to me. I mean, I didn't think of her as a sexual being either. She was my best friend. It's not like she, Jim and I went out together. I saw Jim because he lived with her, and we all lived in the same building. I mean, Lisa was as comfortable with my sexuality as anyone.
Or was she? Was Julia right? Was I just the adult equivalent of the "fat friend?" The one who hung around with the pretty girls when they had just been dumped, but who was jettisoned when a guy was in the picture. Maybe Julia was on to something. Maybe, I needed to assert myself as me, rather than doing what Lisa wanted. If she couldn't handle it, then maybe we weren't as good friends as I thought.
When Friday night came around, I decided I was going out, as me. Not as Jessica, me. I got dressed up in my gayest clothes - my tight tank top, my tight Diesel jeans and my boots.
I heard a knock on my door. When I opened it, there was Lisa.
"I just wanted to know what you were up to. I haven't seen you in a while." she said. "Uh, going somewhere?"
"Yeah, I'm going out. Is that a problem?" I said indignantly.
"No," she said warily. "Just curious. Where are you going?"
"The Boy's Room. OK with you?" I said angrily.
"Uh, sounds great" she said. "You go girl."
"What does THAT mean? I'm sorry I'm not dressed for you tonight, but you know what? I need to be me," I said angrily.
"Who said anything about any of that?" she asked timidly. "I was kidding. Calm down."
"I am calm," I said. "I need some time to be me, not who you want me to be!"
"OK, OK," she said, sounding hurt. "Go hook up. Have a gang bang. Whatever. I don't know what I did, but I apologize."
"Look," I said, impatiently. "I'd like to get going."
"So go," she said. "I'd like to know what's gotten into you, but you clearly are 'on the rag' today, so I won't bother."
"What the hell does THAT mean? I'm a guy, you know, despite what you think."
Now Lisa got angry. "Look BRIAN," she spat. "I know what you are and I thought I knew who you are. I don't know what the hell has or hasn't crawled up your ass, but tell you what. When you get off whatever the fuck you're on and want to act like a human being, forget my friend but just a human being, you call me," she said, walking out of the room.
"Good," I thought. "My night's free." I went to the Boy's Room that night. I tried to play predator, and hit on everyone I saw who was even remotely attractive. You know you're in trouble when you can't get laid at a gay bar at 2 AM. One guy turned to his friend and said, "Oooh, look, Miss Bottom's getting all macho." That really killed it for me. Maybe my heart wasn't in it. If it was possible, I felt even worse and even more confused. I went home and stared at the television until I fell asleep.
At 11 AM Saturday, I called Lisa. Jim picked up. "Hello?"
"Hey Jim, it's Brian. Is Lisa there?"
"Why? You wanna rip her new one?"
"I guess she said something."
"Go figure. Her best friend craps all over her, and she says something. Women, who understands them?" he said, sarcastically.
"I deserve that. Can I speak to her?"
"I don't know. Are you going to be you, or the Manhole?"
"You know a little too much about some things," I tried to joke.
"I'm not in the mood for jokes," he said coldly. "I've told you before. She loves you, and you trip out. Quite frankly, I don't know why she does it or what the hell's up with you. I just know that she is my number one priority, and if she keeps getting upset, you'll feel it. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes. She's lucky to have you."
"That's the first sensible thing you've said in the past twelve hours. I'll see if she wants to talk, but again remember - if she gets upset, I get upset. If I get upset, you get...well, let's see what you get," he said ominously. "Hey Lise, Act Up boy is on the phone."
"What?" she said coldly.
"Um, can we talk?"
"Can we?"
"I'd like to do face-to-face."
"Are you going to attack me again? I have things to do, and that doesn't fit into my plans, BRIAN," she said, saying my name like a curse.
"I just want to talk. If you don't, call me when you do."
"I'll be downstairs in five minutes," she said with a sigh.
She came over. "What happened to you last night?"
"Look, Lise. I'm sorry about how I said what I said."
She tensed up. "How you said what you said? What does that mean?"
"I mean I'm sorry I attacked you. I've been feeling lost lately. Like I don't know who I am."
"And that means you attack me, why? Oh wait, Julia's back, isn't she?"
"Let's not get into that, OK? Let's keep on the subject. I've been feeling lost, like Jessica was replacing Brian. Like I was being made a girl to satisfy your needs."
"What?"
"Like you're uncomfortable with me being gay, so this is your way of dealing with it. By trying to change me."
"Excuse me?" she said, with eyes bulging. "I'm uncomfortable with you being gay? That would actually be hilarious if I didn't think you believed it. Explain to me how I'm uncomfortable," she said, crossing her arms in front of her.
"Have we ever talked about my relationships?"
"What relationships?"
"I've had relationships."
"What do you mean, 'talk about them?' I'd like to understand the nature of the charges."
"You never asked me what these guys were like, how our sex life was..."
She held her hand up. "Do YOU ever ask me about my sex life?"
"You tell me, and I listen."
"I tell you that Jim won't leave me alone. We don't talk about Jim's prowess. Do you want to, because I will?"
"No."
"Are we supposed to? Did Julia say we should?" she said mockingly.
"Leave her out of it. Anyway, we've never once gone out as couples, you, me, Jim and whomever I was with."
"Did you ever ask?"
"I'm pretty sure I did."
"I'm pretty sure you didn't. I would've liked to, as long as we're talking. That you never did is your own problem, not mine, Bri."
"You yelled at me about Jeff."
"We're back on that? Look, I'm sorry I yelled, but I didn't want you beat to a pulp. Also, quite frankly, you were acting ridiculous."
"I can't assert my sexuality? Does it bother you when I do?" I said quickly, so as to be able to get the words out.
"OK," she said. "That is clearly Julia. What does that mean? If Jennifer was acting like that, I'd call her on it. Am I uncomfortable with her sexuality too? Maybe I'm just sexually repressed. Why don't we see if Julia can fit me in? I've clearly got issues," she said.
"I just feel like you used Jessica to somehow mask your discomfort with my being gay," I mumbled.
"That hurts. After sixteen years of what I thought until last night was being best friends, that hurts." she said. "I am not uncomfortable with you being gay. We are, or is it were, friends. Maybe you never felt comfortable talking about sex or bringing your boyfriends over, but I didn't. Anybody you love, I'll love. I mean that. I'm not your family. I won't reject you. But you need to ask yourself, 'Am I comfortable with me?' Maybe you aren't. Maybe Jessica triggers all sorts of things in you that you've been avoiding. If you don't want to deal, I'm not going to make you. Until last night, you actually seemed to be getting comfortable as Jessica..."
"Not this again. I don't want to be a woman," I said. "I like being a guy. I'm doing it for you."
She rolled her eyes. "And I appreciate that. As I was saying, you seemed to be getting comfortable. If you don't want to do it, don't do it. I'll survive. I won't lie. It hurts. But I'll live. I really just want you to be happy. But I can't make you happy. You need to do that yourself."
"Thanks Oprah," I joked.
"Shut up," she said, with a smile. "I'm serious. You need to do what makes you happy. Do you want to get brunch?"
"Sure," I said. "Let me get dressed. Come in the bedroom."
"So," she said sarcastically. "Did you get you laid? And I mean that in the most supportive way."
"Yeah, yeah. I deserved that."
"Did you?"
"I tried."
"You didn't. After all that, and you didn't even get laid. Good, you deserved it." Then she started laughing.
"Anyway, what should I wear?"
"Oh no, Brian. I am so not going there. Whatever I say, you'll tell Julia and she'll say I'm stifling your sexuality or something like that. I am so not going there. Wait," she said. "Where's last night's outfit? I am willing to go out with an out and proud gay man. I am a proud member of PFLAG."
"Having fun? Would you like to invite Jim to join in?"
"Jim actually blamed me. Said all this girl stuff is making you hormonal."
"Remind me to thank him," I said dryly.
"Tell you what. You put on what you want. I'll wait in the living room."
I agonized for ten minutes. Lisa called in, "Boy, you really are Jim's revenge on me. What's taking so long?"
I came out wearing a gray sweater, black wool skirt, gray tights and a pair of black boots with a 2" heel. "Let's go."
"So you decided to go with Jessica," she said. "I didn't pressure you, right?"
"No. That's what I felt like being. Today. Tomorrow I may feel differently. OK?"
"Boy, whether you like it or not, you are becoming such a girl."
"I'm serious."
"I know," she said quietly. "I love you Brian. Whatever you want, I want. Just be happy, OK?"
"OK, OK," I said. "Emotional time is over. EJ's?" I asked brightly. "I need french toast."
"That'll probably reject you too," she joked.
"You're stifling my sexuality," I shot back.
"You know, I'm calling Julia for rebuttal time. You are nuts. Let me call Jim and see if he wants to join us."
Jim came down and looked at me. "Damn," he said. "I was hoping for last night's outfit. It's a bird, it's a plane, it's Superfag!"
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," I said. "You want me."
"Maybe that shrink of yours can prescribe some heavy-duty meds, because you are nuts," he said. "I've told you. I'm taken," he said, grabbing Lisa by the waist.
"I wouldn't take you even if you asked," I joked.
"You so want me, fudge packer," he said. "Who wouldn't?"
Lisa raised her hand. "As amusing as this is, could you two stop?"
Jim grabbed me by the waist. "I think she's getting jealous."
"I think so. Do you think she'll be my bridesmaid?"
Lisa laughed. "You know what? You deserve each other. He's an imbecile and you're nuts, Jess."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I won't bore you with the day-by-day recitation of my life. January turned to February and February to March. I took Julia's advice and just let myself be "in the moment" as Jessica. Don't get me wrong. I was still on guard, since however comfortable I was getting, society was not. But being "in the moment" really helped. I stopped constantly worrying and just did what I wanted. I was much more productive with my work. My billing was up 25% over the past year. I had always done well, but now I was really making money. Unfortunately, Jessica was consuming more and more of it. By March, I was down to 123 pounds and a 24" waist. My abs were as flat as ever and I was, quite frankly, hot. I began to spend more time dressed as Jessica, since it allowed me to show off my new body. I liked getting the once over from guys who, if they were gay, wouldn’t have given Brian a second look. Julia had a great time with that.
“So, you like when guys look at you?”
“Yes,” I sighed. “Yes I do. Who wouldn’t?”
“And you find yourself getting dressed in sexier and sexier outfits?”
“Yes. I enjoy it. It’s not like I get a lot of attention as Brian.”
“Hmmm,” she said. “Do you feel like you put the same effort into Brian as you do into Jessica?”
“I don’t understand.”
“How much did you work out as Brian?”
“I don’t know. 4 times a week.”
“And as Jessica?”
“Maybe one more time.”
“Do you do anything else?”
“Not really.”
“Really? I couldn’t help but notice your abs seem very toned lately.”
“Do you often look at your patients’ abs, Julia?”
She rolled her eyes. “Only those that cross-dress and wear belly Ts, Brian.”
“Touche. OK, so I do situps too. And probably eat healthier.”
“OK, so you work out more and eat healthier, and wear sexy outfits. But, yet, you maintain that this is quote, “all for Lisa.” unquote.”
“Yes.”
“If you met someone else doing this, what would your response be?”
“I don’t know. I can’t read minds.”
“Fine, Brian.”
“What does that mean? And don’t say “what do you think it means?” I hate that.”
“OK, Brian. I’ve said it before. You seem more at peace this way. You seem to truly have embraced this part of your personality.”
“It’s fun. It’s fun to walk around without feeling like society’s looking down on you. But that doesn’t mean I want to do it full time.”
“If you could, would you?”
“No. Once the wedding is over, so is Jessica.”
She kept rolling her eyes. It was like therapy at the Caesars’ Palace slots room. “So you’ve invested in all these clothes and makeup for four months.”
“Yes.”
“Really? How much have you spent?”
I stared at the floor. “I don’t know.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, given your personality, I doubt that you can’t give me a very close estimate.”
“I don’t know. $4,000 more or less.”
"Has Lisa reimbursed you for that?"
"No. I haven't asked. I'm sure she would."
"But you haven't asked."
"No."
"So you've spent four thousand dollars for something that will be over in June."
"Uh huh. And?"
"That's quite a lot. What do you suppose you'll do with all of these clothes once you're done?'
"I don't know. Donate them to charity?"
"Very altruistic of you, Brian. In fact, this whole process reeks of altruism. First, you do this solely for Lisa. And then, at the end, you give away the clothes to charity. It's almost like a cleansing ritual. Or like you've martyred yourself for the good of the world," she said sarcastically.
"Fine, Julia. I find this really helpful. I come to work on my problems, and you mock me. Maybe, you just don't understand doing for someone else. I did this for Lisa. I've said it time and again. And, at the end of the day, I'll give my clothes to Dress for Success. Help some poor women get a leg up. That's it."
"OK, Brian. I just think you need to decide if that's what you want. If you do, that's great. I'm just suggesting that maybe you need to examine what it is you want, not what's good for everyone else."
"I have, Julia. But, I understand your point."
"That's all I'm going for, Brian. You've spent your life worrying about everyone else. Enjoy yourself."
"Yup. Got it."
"And with that terse reply, I'm afraid time is up. I'll see you next week."
I left Julia feeling like I had for the past several weeks. Like she couldn't understand that this was finite. Yes, it was fun to play dress-up and take on a different role. But, life wasn't that simple. It's not like my clients would take to me dressing in drag. It could be fun once in a while. But, you know what? Putting on make-up every day was time consuming. Julia was right the first time - heels do hurt after a while. And keeping your legs closed was annoying. Other than that, I just didn't know. No, I knew. Jessica was like summer vacation. Fun while it lasted, but it had to come to an end. Right?
Anyway, one Saturday, Lisa and I were shopping in Barney's. She had gone off to find something and I was browsing in the Prada department. I was dressed in a peasant blouse, knee length paisley skirt and boots.
"Brian?" I heard someone say. I turned around to face Melissa D'Amico, the CTO of one of my clients.
"I'm sorry," I said, hoping this would pass. "You must be mistaken."
She didn't flinch. "Either you're Brian Rosen or his identical twin sister. Which is it?"
"His twin sister?" My tone must have tipped her off. She pounced
"I knew it. I knew something was up at our meeting last week."
"Oh god. What do you mean?"
"Tisha," her secretary, "noticed a couple of months ago that you had that new haircut. I didn't think anything of it. Then, last week, she said, 'I swear he's getting curves. And he's wearing your black pinstripe suit.' Then, when you left to go to the bathroom, I looked. It said 'Banana Republic, Size 8.' 'You bitch,' I thought, 'I'm a 10.'" Then she laughed.
"Oh god. I'm so sorry, Melissa. It won't happen again," I pleaded.
"Relax, Brian. You bring projects in ahead of time and on or under budget. As far as I'm concerned, you could wear a tutu."
"Thanks, I think."
"Also," she laughed. "I work in an office with guys who consider Star Trek crew shirts de riguer office apparel. I have one guy who dresses like a Jedi Knight. Quite frankly, men's or women's suits, you dress incredibly professionally. Although, I must say, lose the tie next time and roll the cuffs up over the jacket sleeve. With a string of pearls, you will be the picture of girl power."
"Thanks a lot, Melissa." I said sarcastically. "Besides what about Raj and Danny," the company's CEOs. "They would not be too thrilled about this."
"Don't worry about Raj and Danny. Number 1, with the road show for the IPO coming up, they don't know what day it is, much less what you're wearing. Number 2, as far as Raj is concerned, you've walked on water ever since you debugged the Bank of America software at the 11th hour last year. In fact, he said I have carte blanche to get you on full-time. What will it take? The IPO will make you rich."
"Thanks, but no thanks. I cashed out in the 90s and have more than enough. I have no interest in working for one company anymore. Tell you what though. I'll take shares in lieu of my fee for the next six months."
"Done."
"What about Danny? What would he think?"
"Danny," she said, laughing. "Let's just say, unless you're Queen Amidala, he wouldn't notice you."
"So, I'm not fired?"
"No. In fact, if I let you go, I'd be following you out the door. You are too valuable to let something like that outfit get in the way. Although it is a little trippy for me."
"Ha ha. So, Tisha noticed first?"
"Yeah. She asked and I quote, 'so is Brian getting off the down low, and becoming a girl?'"
"Oh god."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Are you?"
"That question is out of line, Melissa."
"I think we're a little past indignation, don't you? I mean I found you dressed in a skirt shopping in Barney's. In addition, you've started to get curves and you've got that very cute, but very feminine, haircut. I think the time for feigning incomprehension is past, sweetie."
"Fair enough."
"So answer the question."
"No. I'm not getting a sex change. What do you think of me?"
"I just thought that, well, you know..."
"No. What?"
"Well, I mean you are gay..."
"Come on, Melissa," I sighed. "I expect that from Tisha, but not you."
"You're right. But, the outfit, the haircut, the curves...what's up?"
And with that, I told her the whole story. When I finished, she had the same reaction as everyone else. She whistled and said, "Wow. That's pretty amazing. That's a lot to ask."
"Tell me about it."
"But you've never done this before. Really?"
"Really."
With that, as if on cue, Lisa showed back up. When she saw Melissa, she stopped. "Oh, hey, Jess. Who's your friend?" she said a little too brightly.
"It's OK, Lise. She knows. Melissa, Lisa Wasserman, the bride. Lisa, Melissa D'Amico." They shook hands. "Melissa's the CTO of Excelsior, the client I've told you about. The integrated video-audio streaming software for corporate development."
Lisa turned to Melissa, and said, "I have to apologize. Even dressed like this, he's such a geek. He thinks he's explaining things to me, and forgets I don't have a CS degree."
Melissa laughed. "Understood. I have to say, you have one hell of a friend here. I don't know too many guys, even gay ones, who would do this."
Lisa smiled, "I know. He's truly the best."
I blushed, as Melissa went on. "Did you do his makeup? It's flawless."
"No. He's done it himself from the beginning."
Melissa turned to me. "I thought you never did this before, you liar."
"He's not lying. I've known him since freshman year. If he had done it, I'd know. Nope, this is just Brian being Brian."
"I don't understand."
"When he decided to do this, he started researching it on the Net. Practiced every style of makeup for two days until he found the right one."
"That's our Brian. Nothing if not thorough to the point of OCD."
I coughed loudly. "Ahem, I AM standing here."
They looked at me, and then started again. "I do have one bone to pick with you, Lisa."
"What?"
"You let him go out dressed like Woodstock."
Lisa laughed. "I tried to stop him. He's usually much better. Very Ann Taylor. Very classic."
Melissa looked me over. "I could see that. Let's find him some more outfits that work better. Then we're burning that one."
"Boy," I said. "I think I'll go rob a bank."
"What?" they both said.
"I must be invisible. So, I may as well use it."
They went back to ignoring me. "I see him in a nice pencil skirt and cropped sweater," said Melissa. "Show off those curves he has. That and those legs."
"You know, this is making me a little nervous, Melissa. I mean we do work together. This is a little too personal."
She put her arm around me. "Relax, Brian. What happens in Barney’s stays in Barney’s. This is just fun. Like I said before, no one is letting you go. In fact, I'll fight anyone who tries to poach you, so just relax."
Lisa interjected. "He worries too much. Even after three and a half months, he's still afraid. Look at him. He's beautiful and sexy. And he still thinks everyone's coming after him. I like the pencil skirt idea, by the way."
"Have you seen his Banana Republic suit? I told him next time to ditch the tie for some pearls."
"Oh, I know. With a pair of low heels, he would be so stunning. I'm also thinking a cream colored suit, with a blue blouse."
"The boys would eat him up. Although I’d love to see him in more skirts. He was made to wear skirts."
I coughed again, rather loudly.
Melissa briefly glanced at me and said, “OK, Brian. I know. Skirts would be a little too much now.”
“Now?”
“We’ll see.”
“No, we won’t. There is nothing to see. After the wedding, this is done.”
Melissa and Lisa looked at each other and smiled. Then Lisa said, "This is soooo much fun, Melissa. I love having someone else to play Barbie with."
Melissa laughed. "I forgot how much fun that could be."
I spent the rest of the afternoon with the two of them dragging me around, and making me try on outfits. Every time I put on a skirt, Melissa would whistle and say, “You need to wear more skirts, girl. You are just fabulous in skirts.” Then once she “accidentally” dropped her pocketbook. When I went to pick it up, she grabbed my ass. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. It’s so cute. Try it, Lisa.” Then Lisa did it. I felt like such a piece of meat.
In addition, whenever saleswomen asked, they said, "Jess has lost a lot of weight lately. If you knew her before, you wouldn't recognize her." They each, as "consolation," bought me a new outfit. Lisa bought me a pair of leather pants and a sleeveless belly T, along with a black pencil skirt and white blouse. Melissa went classic, and bought me the aforementioned cream colored suit. She told me to wear it to our next meeting with "no tie!"
In addition to torturing me, Lisa got an added benefit. When she told Melissa that she did P.R., Melissa told her that Excelsior was going to need a new firm and she set up a meeting. At Bloomingdale's, Lisa said, "You know what Jessica needs? A sexy little black dress. We have something coming up."
"What?" I said, "What do we have coming up?
"Patience, Jessica. Patience is rewarded." Then the bitch turned to Melissa and whispered something to her. Melissa raised her eyebrows, and they both giggled.
"I don't like this. I don't like this at all."
"Oh, relax, Jess," said Melissa. "It's no fun to ruin a surprise."
"I'm calling Raj," I said feebly. "I'm quitting."
Melissa laughed. "And telling him what? That I kept a secret from you while you were trying on dresses.
I just moaned.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next week, Lisa, her mother, and I set aside for dress shopping. Her other bridesmaid Jennifer couldn’t make it, but she and I had shared ideas on our dresses. Her mother was coming in, and we were going first to Vera Wang and then to Kleinfeld's in Brooklyn. Kleinfeld's is this gigantic discount bridal place in Brooklyn, I found out. You find the dress you want in the city, and then go there to get it cheap.
Lisa called me Friday night. "My mom is coming at 10 AM. We'll get breakfast and go, OK?"
"Does she know what to expect?" I asked, referring to me.
"Let's surprise her," she said, "Wear the pale blue dress, and your blue slides. I'll call you when she gets here."
At 10 AM, Lisa called and I went to her place. I knocked. I heard Lisa say, "Ma, can you get that?"
Her mother opened the door. "May I help you, Miss?" Then she did a double take. "Ohmigod, Brian! Is that you?" she squealed. "You look absolutely adorable."
I gave a twirl. I know it seems like I do that a lot. But there's nothing like the feel of a skirt swirling around your legs. "Do you like, Sandy?"
Lisa came in and said, with a grin, "So, Ma, what do you think?"
"Brian, you are just stunning. This suits you."
I blushed. "Call him Jessica, Mom. I think the yentas at Kleinfeld's will get confused if you call him Brian, no?"
"I'm sorry. Jessica," she gushed. "Lisa told me you changed. But I swear I wouldn't know it was you. You have gorgeous legs. Such a shame you didn't wear skirts before."
Lisa interjected, "And he knows how to work it. Show my mother your walk."
If it was at all possible, I turned redder. "Stop it."
"Come on, Jess. Show her your walk."
I walked, and gave my ass an extra shake. "You know," her mother said, "if she does that at the wedding, no one will notice you, Lisa."
I laughed. "I doubt that. We are going to get Lisa a dress so phenomenal, no one will take their eyes off of her. I've been reading the magazines and have some ideas." Sandy arched an eyebrow.
Lisa smiled. "You know Bri, ma. When he takes on a job, he takes it on. He scares me sometimes. Do you know he taught himself make-up in like two days? It looked that good his first time out."
Her mother gave a low whistle. "I am impressed, Bri...I mean Jessica. You do look good."
"Thank you," I said. "Enough of praising me here. We can continue at breakfast and then in the cab. We need to avoid the crowds."
They both laughed. After breakfast, we met up with Jennifer and went to Vera Wang to look for a wedding dress. Lisa tried on several styles. We rejected the first five. One was too poofy. One had too much beadwork. One made Lisa, who weighed all of 125 pounds, look fat.
Dress number six was a gorgeous sleeveless satin dress. A long, flowing unadorned skirt. Empire waist. The bodice was satin, with a sheer piece from the bustline up.
Her mother began to cry. "You look...just...oh my."
I started to tear up too. "Lisa, that is it. We are not looking anymore. That is absolutely it." I turned to the salesgirl. "Put it aside."
Lisa came over and hugged her mother. "Is it OK, mom?"
She kept crying. "Listen to Jessica," she sobbed.
I gave Lisa a hug. "You look absolutely phenomenal. "
"You really think so?"
"Yes, now take it off, before it gets wrinkled."
The salesgirl put it aside. "We'll be back," said her mother. This was a contingent lie. By that, I mean that we'd be back unless Kleinfeld's had one just like it for less. Then, we wouldn't be. Everyone understood the drill.
As we walked out, Sandy said, "So, Jessica, Jennifer, do you have any ideas for the bridesmaid's dresses?"
"Well, Jennifer and I were talking. We were thinking sleeveless, knee length black or blue."
Sandy laughed. "Gee, Jessica. I don't know whose figure that could flatter."
I blushed and laughed. "Hey, once I was brought in, I wasn't about to wear some sea-foam green poofy thing."
Lisa interjected. "He is such a JAP, ma. I swear, he's Jim's revenge."
Her mother laughed. "Well, you were your father's revenge on me..."
Lisa continued. "There's just one problem, ma."
Her mother sighed. "Allison. I know. I've made it abundantly clear to her that she will do this the way you want, and with a smile on her face, but you know how she is."
Lisa's shoulders slumped. "I know. I know."
“Come on,” I said. “We’ll get her into this. I mean, if I can be made to do it, so can she.”
They both gave me the half-smile that seemed to happen every time I talked about it. “Sure,” said Lisa, with a smirk. “You’re right. Crunchy will get as into it as you.”
“Stop calling your sister Crunchy,” said Sandy.
“But she is,” Lisa whined, as if reverting to age twelve.
“You will treat her nicely and she will, god help me, do this with a smile. Or at least do it and not complain in public.”
“Um, does she know I’m involved?” I asked. Allison and I had a tense relationship. For all the supposed tolerance of Dead Heads, she was extremely intolerant of people who didn’t fit her model. Not that I was gay, but that I actually made money for my work above and beyond the amount needed to buy Phish tickets and pot.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of? Sort of is like sort of pregnant, Lise. Does she or doesn’t she?”
“She knows Jessica is,” said Sandy.
“Doesn’t she wonder who Jessica is?”
Lisa sneered, “Oh yeah. Like she cares about my friends.”
Sandy sighed. “I think she said, ‘Doesn’t she have another little princess who can take my place in this bullshit?’”
Lisa smirked. “Well, I think she’s not only getting a princess, she’s getting a queen.” Then she stuck her tongue out at me.
“You’re just jealous because I’ve lost more weight than you.”
“Anorexia will do that.”
“I never noticed how green your eyes were, Lisa. It’s sad though.”
“That’s enough girls,” laughed Sandy. “When I said you were like a daughter to me, Brian. This is not what I meant.”
I giggled. “Sorry, mom.”
This is went on for a while as we drove to Kleinfeld’s. Lisa found the dress and her mother paid for it. We felt bad for the woman at Vera Wang, but fifty percent off is fifty percent off.
Next we had more fun. We shopped for my dress. First I tried on a black cocktail length sleeveless dress.
“I don’t know,” said Lisa.
“Eh,” said her mother, “I don’t think so. It looks nice. But too many women at the wedding will be wearing something close.”
I tried on several more dresses. My personal favorite was a white beaded backless dress that ended 2" above my knee. I looked damn hot. I strutted out and gave a model’s turn.
“Damn, Jess,” said Lisa. “Did Sharon Stone have a garage sale?”
“Nice try,” said Sandy. “You look very nice, but THAT is not for my daughter’s wedding. A night out at a club, maybe. Not going down the aisle.”
I mock pouted. “Oh, poo. I like it.”
Then Lisa said, “Wait!,” and whispered something to her mother. They both giggled and Sandy turned to the saleswoman. “Put it aside.”
“I thought you said it was inappropriate,” I said warily.
“It is,” said Sandy, with a Mona Lisa smile.
“Then what are you doing?”
“Buying you a present. Can’t I do that?”
“Sure. But where will I wear it?”
“You’ll see.”
I turned to Lisa. “That’s enough. Everyone is in on the joke except me. What’s going on?”
She grinned. “Good things come to those who wait, sweetie.”
“What?!”
“Ride the tide, Jess. Just ride the tide. See what happens.”
“You’re like a bad kung fu movie. What is going on? Sandy, speak.”
“Woof,” she said, with a grin. “I promise, Jess. Be patient. Would Lisa let anything happen to you? Would I?”
My stomach sank. “I see this is getting nowhere.”
Finally, I tried on a light blue sheath, knee length. If I do say so myself, I looked damn good.
Lisa whistled. “I don’t want to be overshadowed,” she laughed.
“If this were in the afternoon, maybe,” Sandy said. “Not for Saturday. Try it in a darker blue, maybe cerulean..”
When I put it on in cerulean, we all agreed that it was the dress, pending Jennifer’s approval. We’d ask Allison, but apparently she said, “Does what I think matter, anyway?” I made a note to see if it came in hemp.
After we finished, the saleswoman said, “Would you like to try it on too, Miss?”
I turned whatever the next shade is past beet red. “Uh..I...uh.”
“Please,” said the saleswoman. “Every girl wants to know what she’ll look like on her wedding day.”
“Yeah, come on, Jessica,” chimed in Lisa and her mother. “We want to see it.”
“Uh, isn’t it bad luck to try on the dress or something?”
The saleswoman laughed. “No, it’s supposed to be bad luck for the groom to see you in it beforehand. But only goyim believe that. What are you afraid of? You will look stunning.”
“You will,” said Sandy, with a devilish grin. “Try it.”
“Come on, Jess,” said Lisa, pushing me towards the dressing room. “Don’t be so lame. She’s an 8,” she said, to the saleswoman.
“Live a little,” said the saleswoman. “Don’t worry so much.”
The next thing I knew I was in the dressing room, with the saleswoman handing me a dress. “What size shoe do you wear?”
“Uh, 9 ½,” I said, blushing.
“Look, darling,” she said. “Just because the expression is blushing bride, don’t take it so literally. I’ll be outside.”
I stared at myself in the mirror. I was alternately horrified and mesmerized. “What am I doing?” I thought. “Now, she has me in a wedding dress. Am I going to be in maternity clothes next? Damn, I look good though.”
The saleswoman gave me a pair of white 4" heels, and I came out of the dressing room. I walked over to the fitting station to an imaginary wedding march.
“Oh my,” said Sandy. “Can I be mother of the bride for you too? You look gorgeous.”
Lisa added, “Oh my, Jessica. You will have to have that dress when the time comes.”
“The time isn’t coming, Lise,” I said, through gritted teeth.
“Don’t say that,” said the saleswoman. “A beautiful girl like you will find someone.”
“Sooner than she thinks,” said Lisa.
“What does that mean?” I said.
“Ride the tide, Jess. Ride the tide.”
In the car home, I turned to Lisa, "What’s going on?"
She smiled. "What do you mean?"
"You know full well what I mean."
"Patience. Just have patience and all will turn out well."
"Enough with the oblique comments. Tell me." I turned to Sandy, "What is going on? I’ve been manipulated long enough."
She shrugged. "Ask Lisa. This is her show."
"Very funny. I want to know, or this is over."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Oh god, she’s at it again. Look, I’ll tell you one thing and that’s it. I don’t want to ruin the surprise."
"Oh gee thanks," I said sarcastically. "Do tell."
"Two weeks."
"What does that mean."
"The resolution comes in two weeks."
"That’s it? That’s bullshit. I need to know more."
"Fourteen days," she said, giggling.
"I need to know more. Sandy?"
"I think you’ll like the surprise."
"I quit. I’m done. If you’re not going to tell me, I’m done."
"So quit," Lisa said. "I’m tired of the drama, Miss Jessica. If you don’t trust me, who needs all of this?"
"Stop. Put yourself in my shoes. There’s all this whispering. Then someone buys you a gorgeous dress. Twice. And then you’re left hanging."
Lisa smirked. "Gorgeous dress, huh? For someone who’s quote ‘only doing this for me until June,’ you’ve developed quite a fashion sense. And quite a wardrobe."
"Stop it."
"All I’m saying is just wait, sweetie. If the surprise is less than fulfilling, you can...pick something, anything, that’s how sure I am."
"Sandy, please," I begged.
"Sorry, Jessica, this is between you girls. I’m staying out of it".
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Everyday I’d ask Lisa, "Please tell me. The suspense is killing me." And everyday she’d say, "Thirteen days." Or "Twelve days." On the upside, however, she stopped sounding like Kane from Kung Fu.
A week after our shopping excursion, I ran into Jim in the bodega around the corner from our building. "Hey Jim," I said. "What’s going on?"
"Oh, hey, Br..Jess," he responded, catching himself before anyone noticed. "What’s up?"
"What’s the big secret?"
"The Mets suck, my little French maid. Oh wait, that’s not a secret," he smirked, as we left the store.
"Very funny. I’ve already picked out a nice slow song."
"I’ve already ordered French maid uniforms. And I’m going to spill lots of shit."
"You just want to see my ass. I’m a little concerned about you, Jim."
"Look, ass wrangler," he laughed. "I’m sorry you’ve fallen in love with me, although it’s understandable..."
"What color is the sky in your world, Jim?"
"Anyway," he said, ignoring me. "I’m not interested, but..." he said, catching himself.
"But what," I pounced. "That’s the secret, isn’t it?"
Jim turned pale for a brief second but quickly regained composure. He was good, I had to admit. "How fucking nuts do you think I am, Brian? You think I’m going to talk? You’ll like it, trust me."
"I’m tired of that, Jim. I think I have a right to know."
"So do I. But, I’ve been sworn to secrecy. But, trust me, I think you’ll like it. And, I’m not Lisa. I think we’ve pretty well established that I don’t do games."
"I guess..."
"Look, it’s a week away. You can hold out until then. I mean, you’re a Met fan. You hold out hope every year that they won’t suck. They always do, but look you still hold out. So, what’s a week? Besides, unlike that, this actually has the hope of turning out good."
"Ha ha. I can’t wait to see that $200 million payroll go down in flames."
"See, that’s the ticket. You’re waiting for that. It won’t happen. But you still wait. So wait another week."
"You suck, Jim, you know that?"
"Sorry, I would tell you, I really would," he said apologetically. "You will, or should at least, like this. Tell you what, you don’t like it, I will wear a Mets jersey and cap for a week..."
"And?"
"And what? That’s not enough."
"You’ll stand by the Stadium on a game day singing, ‘Meet the Mets.’"
"You know what, I am so sure you’ll like this, that I’ll do it. And, if you like it, I won’t even make you do anything."
"Wow, OK, I trust you." I did really trust him. This was not something he would do under threat of death. The cap alone would kill him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So the week passed very slowly. I buried myself in work once again, hoping that sublimation and denial would make things move quickly. They didn’t. On Thursday night, Lisa came over. "OK, Cinderella. Time to pick out an outfit for the big ball."
"Oooh, a big ball. Is it attached to something else big? Is that my surprise."
She rolled her eyes. "We’ll see. Anyway, we need to pick out an outfit for tomorrow’s surprise. Try on the white dress."
"How fancy is this?"
"Just do it," she said, pushing me towards my closet. I put on the dress and a pair of 4" white spikes.
"Hmmm..." she said. "Wait, where did you get those?"
"I bought them a week and a half ago. I needed shoes to go with the dress."
"But, yet, you’re stopping this after the wedding. Uh huh."
"Don’t read more into this than there is. I needed shoes."
"You could borrow mine," she smirked.
"Your feet are too big," I smirked back.
"Bitch."
"Such petty jealousy...tsk, tsk."
She stuck out her tongue. "Turn," she said, twirling her finger in the air. I did. She said, "You look great. But that may be a little over the top for tomorrow. Put on the LBD Melissa and I bought you." I slumped.
"What’s wrong, Bri?"
"I had forgotten about her. I have a meeting next week with her. I’m going to be mortified."
"Oh, stop it. She has nothing but respect for you. She told me so last week."
"So, what are you two best buddies now?"
"No. We had a business meeting about her new project."
"And I came up?"
"Actually, yes. She brought you up. She said, ‘he’s all worried that I’m going to make fun of him, isn’t he?’"
"Oh god," I moaned. "What did you say?"
"‘You know our Brian.’"
"And?"
"She said, and I quote, ‘Tell him enough already. If I had to pick one person to take to my next job, it would be him. Dress or no dress. Although...’"
"Although what?"
"‘Although if I had my way, he’d wear skirts all the time. He has killer legs, the bitch.’"
I laughed. "I do, you know."
"Oh god, you little diva. I am soooo sorry I ever did this. Anyway, the LBD NOW!" she said, clapping her hands.
"Yes, Miss Lisa," I said, slipping it over my head. I put on 3" strappy sandals, and gave a twirl. "Well?"
"Beautiful. That’s what we’re going with."
"What’s my surprise?"
"Nope. Nice try. But nope. Besides, it’s just one more day."
"This better be good."
"And, if it’s not, you get to torture Jim and me. How do you lose?"
"Uh huh," I said, warily.
"See you tomorrow at 7 P.M. at our place."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I did as I was told. The next night, I put on the LBD and arrived at Lisa and Jim’s place at 7 PM sharp. Jim answered the door and whistled, "You look good, Jess." This threw me.
"What’s up, Jim? No comments? No ‘butt monkey,’ no ‘popsicle police’ or ‘tunnel digger?’"
He laughed, and pointed his finger towards Lisa. "She said not tonight. Although I’ll have to remember ‘tunnel digger.’"
"It won’t count now that I came up with it."
"You’re becoming more and more of a woman."
"No, I’m not. This is just until the wedding..."
"Uh huh," he said, rolling his eyes. "Actually," he grinned, "it’s until July 4th, when you and my wife will be serving me and my friends."
"They’ve looked like shit in spring training. So, I’m thinking that after our big dance, I’m going to tell everyone I’m a guy."
"Yeah, OK," he snorted. "The flaw in your plan is that we always look bad in spring training, but do it when it counts. Whereas, you suck in spring training and continue to suck."
"A nice slow song. Maybe ‘Endless Love.’"
"Oops, I dropped my beer. Fifi, Giselle, clean it up."
"Fifi? Giselle? You have some major issues. Maybe you should postpone the wedding and see someone."
Lisa walked into the room. "Jess, you look amazing. What are you two talking about?"
"What else?" Jim said. "Jessica over here is deluding him..I mean, herself that the Mets will actually be better than the Yankees. And I’ve been explaining that she had better get used to that French Maid uniform."
"He’s named us Fifi and Giselle."
"He picked ‘Endless Love.’"
"I’m leaving you two. You should marry each other."
We both laughed. "Jim’s unwilling to compromise."
"I know, I know," he said, "you can’t let every little, and I mean little, thing get in the way of true happiness, right?"
"You know you want me, Jim. Don’t lie."
"Get it out now, you two. You need to be on your best behavior."
"Why?" I said, "What’s going on?"
"The surprise should be here soon. Come into the bedroom and help me finish getting ready."
"I hate you," I said, walking ahead of her.
She gave me the once-over. "And I hate you. You’re too beautiful."
"I know."
We walked into the bedroom. "Have you considered keeping this up after the wedding?"
"Stop. Now. Or I’m going home."
"I’m just saying..."
"Stop."
"You just seem much more confident. And peaceful."
"I’m not. I’m doing this for you. That’s it."
"OK, OK. No one would care, you know."
"Are you delusional? The world just loves guys in dresses."
"Noone knows that you’re guy in a dress. Every guy on the street gives you the once or twice over. You think they know?"
"Look, I don’t want to do it, OK. I miss my old life."
"You miss being ignored by men?"
"Fine, so they don’t ignore me now. I think they’d be a little upset to find what I’ve got down below, don’t you?"
"So you admit you like being this way."
"That’s not what I said. I said that, even if I stayed this way, which I’m not going to, it’d be pointless, since I couldn’t lead a full life."
She smiled. "Mmmm, hmmmm."
"OK, Julia," I said snarkily. "Enough. What’s the surprise?"
"Soon."
Lisa finished putting on her makeup, and said, "Damn, we do look good. Maybe we should ditch
Jim and go out."
"Not until I see the surprise." Just then, like a bad movie, the doorbell rang. "What do you have, a stage manager, Lise?"
She laughed. "This should be the surprise."
Jim called out. "Lise, Jessica, come here."
We came out and there was a good looking guy standing with Jim. About 6'2", 190 pounds, with dark curly hair and blue eyes. Lisa came over and gave him a kiss. "Kenny, how are you? It’s been too long. How’s Paris?" She turned to me. "Kenny’s a lawyer with Clifford Chance. He’s been working in Paris."
"Really? That sounds interesting."
He laughed. "Not really. Great city. Too bad I spend most of my life in an office. I could just as easily be in Tulsa."
"April in Tulsa. I hear it’s lovely." I said. "By the way, since Lisa has clearly not been keeping up on etiquette, I’m Jessica Rosen," I said, sticking out of my hand.
"Kenny Weinberg," he laughed.
"Kenny is one of Jim’s fraternity brothers," said Lisa.
"How do you and Lisa know each other?"
"From college. Best friends since freshman year."
"Lise, I don’t remember ever hearing about Jessica. You think I would have, at least from Jim."
Jim laughed. "She’s lost a lot of weight. She’s like a different person."
I flashed Jim the ‘good save’ look. He continued, "Actually, you and Jess have a lot in common. For example, you’re both Met fans. I thought that, since you both don’t get it, you’d go well together at the wedding."
Kenny punched Jim on the arm. "Putz." He turned to me, "Jim is so pathetic. Rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for Wal-Mart."
"I think the quote is ‘Rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for US Steel," I said.
Kenny whistled. "I know, but US Steel isn’t US Steel anymore. Still, very impressive. She really knows her stuff. Anyway, I always ask him, ‘what’s it like to always expect a World Series, and then fall progressively shorter, like they have since 2000?’"
"I know," I said. "He doesn’t get it."
Jim smirked. "Wow, two delusional losers. You two were made for each other."
"You two have other stuff in common," Lisa chimed in. "For example, Jessica used to work in Paris."
"Really, where?" Kenny asked.
"I worked two years for Price Waterhouse, before the merger. Where do you live?"
"The 7th. On Rue de Grenelle."
I whistled. "The 7th. Nice."
"And you?"
"In the 5th."
"Kind of cliched, don’t you think?"
I folded my arms in front of me. "I was twenty-two, and some of us aren’t big shot lawyers."
He reached and moved my arms down. I felt electricity. "Sorry, I was just teasing. So what do you do?"
"Software development."
"Nice. Beautiful and smart. Still at PWC?"
I blushed. "No, on my own. I found that I don’t like working for other people."
"I’d say the same, but it’s a little harder to do what I do on your own."
"Which is?" I said, giving him the once-over again. "I could get used to him," I thought.
"M & A. Not too many companies hiring solos to handle the big deals."
"I know. I’ve done systems integration stuff when companies merge. There always seem to be too many..sorry, a lot of lawyers on these things."
He laughed. "You were right with too many. Enough shop talk. Favorite restaurant in Paris?"
"This place in the 10th, Le Gigot Fin. Yummy lamb. You?" Over Kenny’s shoulder, I saw Lisa roll her eyes and mouth "Yummy?"
"In the 10th, huh? Interesting neighborhood. You felt safe?"
"It wasn’t so bad. Besides, we went in a group. You haven’t answered my question."
"Coin des Gourmets, in the 5th. Vietnamese-Cambodian-Thai."
"Oooh, I love Thai. If you’re interested, I’d love to go get some with you."
"Sounds like a plan. Favorite Met? And don’t say Ron Darling, because he’s cute."
"Please," I said, rolling my eyes. "He was spectacularly mediocre. My favorite, cliched as it is, is Tom Seaver. Although I have a soft spot for Steve Henderson."
"Hendu, huh? Interesting."
"I don’t know why. I guess I always liked the underdog. Your favorite?"
"Jon Matlack? Why him?"
"Because...never mind, just because," he said, looking down.
"No, why?" I said playfully. "I said Steve Henderson. What could be worse than that?"
"He gave me an autograph when I was seven, at a temple thing." He blushed.
"Don’t blush," I said, touching his arm. "That’s adorable." He briefly gave me a look that said he felt something too. "This is a beautiful suit." I opened the jacket. "Zegna. Nice." I flipped over the tie. "Hermes? Are you sure you’re Jim’s friend?"
"Excuse me," he said, with a smile. "I’ve just met you."
"I’m sorry," I said, "I just can’t believe a friend of Jim’s would actually know Zegna and Hermes, much less wear them. Where did you get everything, Paris?"
He smiled. "We’re not all cavemen like Jim. Tie, yes. The suit I bought it at Barney’s the last time I was in. Let’s see what you’ve got," he said, flipping back the neck of my dress. "Dolce and Gabbana. Very nice."
"Excuse me," I said, turning crimson. "What do you think you’re doing?" Actually, I only wished he’d kept going and unzipped me. But that, unfortunately, was extremely unlikely.
"Turnabout’s fair play," he said, ‘accidentally’ brushing my neck. He had to stop this. Or not.
"OK, you two," Jim said. "Can we go to dinner, or would you two like to be alone?"
"Sorry," said Kenny. "You know Jim can’t let other people talk for more than five minutes."
"I’m sorry dickhead," Jim responded. "But that story about Jon Matlack was soooo cute. You never told me that," he said in baby talk.
"If you ever tell anyone, I’ll tell Lisa about that week in Tijuana."
"What week in Tijuana?" Lisa asked with a smile.
"I’ve never been in TJ," said Jim defensively. "Seriously, Lise, Kenny’s just busting my balls."
Lisa grinned, "I believe you honey," then theatrically mimed "Call me" to Kenny. "OK, everyone, who’s up for York Grill?"
"Sounds good to me," said Jim.
"Burger Heaven’s good to you," said Lisa. Jim then started grunting like an ape and scratching his armpits.
"York Grill is fine."
"What’s York Grill?" Kenny asked. "Although, I’m sure if it’s fine with Jessica, it’s fine with me."
"Thank you," I said. "It’s nice to be listened to. Anyway, it’s upscale American. On York and 90th."
"Should we cab it?" asked Jim.
"Let’s walk," Kenny and I both said, at the same time. "Jinx, buy me a Coke," I giggled.
Lisa made mock-vomiting motions. "That is so cute. Isn’t it, Jim?"
"They are just adorable," he said sarcastically, clapping his hands together.
We went downstairs, and we all started walking together. Then, about five blocks in, Lisa, in a pathetic theatrical display, called Jim to the window of a florist and said, "Jim, come here. I want your opinion on something."
"Huh? Ask Jess. You know I don’t know this shit."
"Get..over...here...NOW!!!" He shrugged his shoulders, and walked over.
"She’s subtle, isn’t she?" I said, moving in closer.
Kenny stiffened. "Look, Jess, don’t take this the wrong way, but..."
My heart sank. "But, what? I’m sorry. I came on too strong." Lisa was right.
"That’s not it at all." I could see Lisa straining to listen in. "It’s just..."
"I was just playing. I didn’t mean anything," I said, apologetically. I wanted to kill myself. "I’m sorry. Really." I started crying. I don’t know why. I felt ridiculous.
"Don’t be sorry. I gave as good as I got. It’s just...jesus, this is difficult," he said, looking down. "Just say it...It’s that...well, I’m...well...I’m gay," he spat out.
"That’s it?" I said, with a smile.
"That’s it? That doesn’t bother you?"
"No. So am I."
"What," he said, his jaw dropping. Then he laughed. "Jim must beg you to let him watch."
I laughed. "I didn’t say I was a lesbian. I said I’m gay."
"I don’t follow."
"I’m gay. I’m a man. I like men. Same as you."
"Sorry, but I find that hard to believe. Look at you."
"Why would lie about that?"
"I don’t know. But there is no way you are a man. Look at you."
"If you kept going with the dress, you could’ve had confirmation."
"Stop it. This is just too strange."
"Lisa, Jim, you can stop listening in. Come over here, Kenny has a question for you."
They walked over. "What’s up?"
Kenny pointed at me. "What’s her real name?"
"Jessica," Lisa answered. "Why?"
"Lisa," I said. "What is my real name? Tell him the truth."
Jim chimed in. "His name’s Brian."
"For real?"
"For real," Lisa said.
"Then, Brian," he virtually spat, "Would you like to explain yourself?"
"Excuse us," Jim said, pulling Lisa away.
"I want to stay."
"No, Lisa, you don’t," he said. I had never seen him put his foot down like that.
As they scurried away like rats from a sinking ship. "What’s going on? They set me up with a drag queen? Or are you pre-op? I don’t do drag queens or pre-ops. Guys like you make me sick. Too embarrassed of who you are."
"You don’t know thing one about me. And I bet you’re out and proud, huh? I’m sure the partners love that. Closet case."
"Don’t talk about what you don’t know. OK," he said mockingly, "if you’re not a drag queen or pre-op, what’s with this?" he said, waving his hand up and down.
"Not that you give a shit," I snarled, " but I’m doing this for Lisa."
"Oh, really?" he said sarcastically. "You seem a little too good at this." He started tapping his foot. "I’m waiting."
"Are you truly interested, or are you just mocking me? I mean, you seem, or should I say seemed, very nice, but really you’re not the only fish in the sea."
"I’m still waiting."
With that, I gave him the whole story. I mean, the whole story. It took fifteen minutes. When I was finished, I was tearing up from embarrassment. All he said, with a smirk, was, "Wow, that was some story."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that it’s some story. Must’ve taken you quite a while to come up with it."
"The truth doesn’t take a while."
"Please, you expect me to believe that you’re only doing this for Lisa? Come on, the walk, the makeup, the D & G."
"What? I’m sorry. I’m in the wedding and I guess you expect me to look like a guy in a dress. Why? So Jim’s friends can kick my ass?"
"OK, fine. The wedding’s two months away. And, yet, you’re dressed to the nines and flitting around like you’re real."
"Look, I told her I’d do it. And a job worth doing is a job worth doing right."
"Please. You’re a little queen and that’s it."
"Fuck you," I said. "Closet cases like you make me sick. Afraid of your own shadows so you dump on everybody else. Go fuck yourself."
"Not very ladylike," he smirked.
I smacked him across the face. "How about that? Ladylike enough for you?"
He rubbed his face. "You need help."
"Tell Lisa I got sick," I said, turning to go home.
"Come on," he said. "We can suffer through dinner."
"Why the hell should I?"
"Tell you what," he said. "I’ll ask Lisa and Jim to confirm your story."
"How magnanimous of you," I said icily. "Quite frankly, I don’t care what you do. I don’t need to prove myself to you or anyone. Besides what’s in it for me? You find out I’m right and then what?"
"My firm has a skybox at Shea. It’s yours. Any game."
"Why should I believe that you could get it?"
"You have no reason to. But what do you have to lose? Even if I’m wrong, you can still lord it over me. Besides, what are you going to do, go home and stew?"
"Fine. Provided the skybox doesn’t include you."
"Please. Like I want to be anywhere with you."
"That’s not what I got before."
"Hard up little femme."
"Stuck up self-hating asshole."
We walked to the restaurant in utter silence. I finally broke the silence. "Does Jim know you’re gay?"
"Of course."
"Jim...Jim and Lisa Jim knows you’re gay."
"Uh huh."
I whistled. "Wow, I find that hard to believe."
"Why?"
"It’s just that Jim never struck me as being that liberal."
"Why?"
"I don’t know. He’s always making cracks. Coming up with new synonyms for being gay. I’m fond of ‘popsicle police.’"
He smiled. "That’s Jim. Actually, when I came out, he was really there for me. I mean a lot of my other friends couldn’t run away fast enough, but he didn’t."
"Wow. I’m amazed. That seems so out of character."
"It’s really not. He’s a straight boy. He’s not going to share his deepest feelings with you."
"OK, OK. What did he say when you told him?"
"Uh, OK," he mimicked Jim’s speech patterns. "You know, if you need something, I got your back. Although you know you can’t have me."
I laughed out loud. "Now that sounds like Jim."
He smirked. I hated that smirk. "There’s a lot you don’t know...Jessica."
"I could say the same...Kenneth," I said, lisping on the "th."
When we got to the restaurant, Jim and Lisa were waiting. "What took you guys so long?" asked Jim, with a sly smirk.
"Lisa," I said, curtly. "Excuse me, but I need your help in the ladies’ room."
"What happened?" she and Jim both asked.
"Lisa...NOW!"
We went into the ladies’ room. I checked to make sure no one was there, and then lit into her. "What the fuck was that about?"
"I’m..uh...guessing that you don’t like your surprise?"
"My surprise, huh? Next time, spare me the surprises. In fact, just spare me."
"What happened? You two were so cute together before."
"Well, he found out I was a guy."
"So? I mean he’s gay."
"I’ve told you this before. If gay life were a prison, drag queens and pre-ops are like child molesters."
"That seems melodramatic. What’s a pre-op again?"
"Pre-operative transsexual. A guy who wants to be a girl and who lives as one."
"Oh...what else did he say?"
"Said I was full of shit. I told him why I was doing this, and all he said was ‘that’s some story.’ And you know what? He’s right. I’m a goddamn freak, Lise. I liked him and now he thinks I’m some kind of freak. I didn’t want to do this and all I’ve gotten is shit for it. You really think he’s going to keep his mouth shut? Maybe next time you’ll get someone to crack my skull. That’d make the night complete."
"Come on, it can’t be that bad."
"Yeah, it can. I used to be gay, now I’m some kind of freak. I can’t have straight guys, unless I start turning tricks on 11th Avenue, and gay guys think I’m shit."
"Enough, Brian. Kenny’s an asshole and you blame yourself. Fuck him. You’re my friend and you did this for me. I know that. Jim knows that. And Kenny will sure as shit know that. Prick. When he came out, everyone except Jim treated him like shit. And then he has the nerve to pull this crap. Fuck him. I’m going to tell him off. Come on," she said angrily. "No one does that to my best friend."
We went back to the table. "Did everything come out OK?" Jim joked.
"Who the fuck do you think you are, Kenny?" Lisa asked.
"Excuse me, Lisa?"
"Did you think he’d keep quiet?"
"I’m guessing not," he said, suddenly nervously playing with his napkin.
"I guess not," she sneered. "You don’t know anything about anything. Instead, you just go after him."
"Um, I just thought..."
"You thought? You thought? I don’t think you thought about anything. You just shot your mouth off."
"Please, you expect me to believe that this is all for you and that he never did it before."
"Jim, is this true?" he said smugly.
"I’ve never seen him in a dress," he said, just before biting into his roll. He chewed and watched the argument like it was a movie.
Kenny’s face fell. "So, this is true?"
"Yes, Kenny, it is," Lisa said angrily. "I’m sorry to tell you it is. No wait, I’m happy to tell you it is. You just shot your mouth off. Quite frankly, I’m disgusted by you. I’d rather you not be at the wedding, much less be in it. But you’re Jim’s friend and I wouldn’t do that to him. Although you certainly don’t deserve Brian."
"Uh, thanks," I added nervously.
"I deserve that. Can I offer an explanation?" Kenny said meekly.
"Is there one to offer?"
"Um, it’s just that...it’s hard for you to understand. People hate gays already, and drag queens make it harder for regular guys."
"Regular guys? That’s classic, Kenny. Regular guys. Please." Lisa snapped. Kenny turned to Jim for help.
"Dude, you’re on your own."
"Thanks. Leave me hanging here."
"Sorry, but you’re wrong. I mean, I’d think you’d all stick together. It’s not like you can afford internal dissension. At least in public, although this wasn’t technically public. Plus after what you went through, I’d think you’d at least give Bri..Jessica the benefit of the doubt. In addition, correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Stonewall started by drag queens? Not that you’re one Brian, but it seems like those in the vanguard have become outcasts. Like we’ll use you to man the barricades, but abandon you when we reach the Promised Land. Maybe that’s the nature of revolutions. But, to paraphrase my old rabbi, I suppose there’s no homophobe like another gay guy."
We all turned in shock towards Jim. "Oh sorry," he said sarcastically. "I forgot I’m the troglodyte who doesn’t know anything. Please continue your high level discussion here," he said, chewing his roll.
"Anyway," Lisa continued. "Are you out at work now?"
"Uh..."
"I thought not. Brian is. But you don’t even have the guts. Instead, you go after someone like Brian who has more class, integrity and courage than you ever will. What would you do for a friend?" Jim began humming ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic.’ Until Lisa kicked his shin under the table.
"I’m really sorry. If you want, I’ll leave," he said, getting up.
"Stay," I said. I don’t know why. Maybe I thought watching him grovel could be fun. Maybe because I didn’t want to subject Jim to a public drubbing from Lisa. More likely, it was because, in spite of everything, I felt really attracted to him.
"Thank you," he said. As dinner progressed, the mood began to lighten. No matter how hard he tried, Lisa still refused to talk to him.
"So, how’re the plans coming along?" he’d ask. "Get a dress?"
"Yes." Lisa would snap. "Do you care? I mean, do you secretly want to wear it? Oh sorry, you’re a ‘regular’ gay."
"Down, girl," I said, with a smile. "He’d look ridiculous." That got me a glare from her.
Instead, he turned his attentions to me. He asked all sorts of questions about my job, the Mets, anything at all to keep the conversation going. I actually began to warm up to him.
After coffee, Lisa turned to me. "Please join me in the ladies’ room."
We went in. "Jim’s going to think you have a bladder condition."
"Stop," she said, putting up her hand. "What are you doing?"
"What am I doing about what?"
"Out there. He craps on you, and you flirt with him."
"We’re talking, not flirting. I was trying to make it less uncomfortable for you and Jim."
"That was pretty well shot when he threw his hissy fit."
"I agree. But, still..."
"Still, what?" she said, with exasperation. "Don’t say it..."
"I’m sorry. I feel something."
"Are you incapable of having a stable relationship with someone who knows who you are and is comfortable with that?"
"That was harsh." Probably true, but harsh. "I’m not saying anything’s going to happen."
"If he asked, you would."
"It’s not the same for me."
"What? Did I miss a memo? Is taking abuse a normal part of gay romance?"
"No...I just...I mean."
"Look," Lisa said. "I know he’s cute. When I first met him, I was disappointed to find out he was gay. But, you saw his true colors before you told him the truth. What does that tell you?"
"My god, Lise," I said. "I want him to fuck me, and you’ve got me at Kleinfeld’s already."
"A ha!" she said, with a grin. "I knew you wanted that dress. Admit it, you like this."
"Christ, Lise, it was a joke...besides, I’m going to Vera Wang...on you." I said, sticking out my tongue. "And wearing a six."
"Bitch," she said.
"Jealous," and we left the bathroom laughing. When we got back to the table, Jim spoke first.
"Everything OK?"
"It’s up to Jessica."
"I’m fine."
Kenny said, "I already paid. I figured that’s the bare minimum, and I mean that, that I could do."
I grabbed his tie, and pulled him towards me. "If I had known that, I’d have had dessert."
He blushed. "I don’t know. That dress doesn’t leave much room for dessert."
"Then I’d have to take it off."
Jim made a mock-gagging noise. "Look, I’m comfortable with you two..to a point."
"Jim’s just upset, because he’s only getting it missionary tonight," said Kenny.
Lisa actually laughed. "Who says he’s getting that?"
"I don’t need this shit," Jim grinned.
"Don’t mock what you ain’t gettin’," I said, with a smile, pulling Kenny closer to me. He actually started to sweat. "Am I making you nervous? Or something else?"
"I..uh.."
I felt under the table. I knew it would work. "Think of the lineup for the ‘79 Mets," I whispered in his ear. Then I kissed the lobe. He turned beet red.
He got up and pulled out my chair. He clearly was trying to think of the entire roster, not just the lineup. I swear I could hear "Doug Flynn...Joel Youngblood...Willie Montanez," coming from his brain.
We all started walking home. As is so often the case, Kenny and Jim ended up ahead of us. Lisa turned to me, "Please don’t do anything."
"About?"
"You know what. I know you’re horny, but please."
"He hasn’t offered and I’m not."
"What if he offers?"
I stared at the ground. "I don’t know. I feel something."
"Oh god, Brian," she said. "Please don’t give him the victory."
"It’s not a victory. It’s sex."
"Have some pride. You’ve lived this long without even knowing him. And it’s not like he’s George Clooney."
I smiled, "Mmmm...now that you couldn’t stop me."
She smiled back, "I wouldn’t try...except to get him for myself."
"What about Jim?"
"Jim wouldn’t mind. He actually once said that I could. Figured he wouldn’t look bad, since he had a woman George Clooney wanted."
"That’s our Jim."
"Anyway, please don’t do anything. At least not yet. You’d look pathetic."
I sighed. "I think this is premature, but OK."
We got back to the apartment and got into the elevator. Lisa and Jim got off first. "Good night," I said. "Talk to you in the morning. Good night Kenny. I guess I’ll see you at the wedding."
"Do you mind if I come up with you?"
"Uh.." Lisa stood behind him, violently flailing her arms and mouthing "NO!" until Jim pulled her in. The door closed.
"What do you want Kenny? To continue your tirade from before now that they’re gone."
"I deserve that," he said, as the door opened on my floor. We both got out.
"Thank you for a...well...an evening that’ll certainly give me something to talk about in therapy," I said, opening my door.
"Me too," he laughed. "Mind if I come in? Just to talk?"
"Not tonight," I said. "I’ve talked enough."
"I’m sorry."
"Uh huh. Are you? I mean, regardless of who I am, you shouldn’t be so judgmental."
"I...uh...yeah, I guess not. Anyway, if I can’t come in, how about brunch tomorrow?"
"Why should I?"
"It’s a free meal."
"True."
"Can I make one request?"
"Maybe. What?"
"Come as Brian. I’d like to meet Brian."
"Fine," I said warily. On the one hand, I resented his attitude. On the other hand, I wanted to be with someone as Brian.
"I’ll pick you up at noon."
"See you then...oh, one last thing," I said, giving him a peck on the lips. "Something to think about," I said with a grin.
He pulled me towards him and gave me a deep kiss that, like Crash Davis said, ‘lasted for three days.’ "Something for you to think about," he said, and he got into the elevator.
That Wednesday, I came into Julia’s office with a huge grin on my face. "So what’s going on?" she said, with a half smile. "You look happy." "I’m in love!" I gushed. "I’m in love!" "Really?" she said drily. "Tell me all about it." "Why do you have be such a buzz kill? I’m in love and happy. That bothers you." "No, it doesn’t, Brian," she said with a sigh. "If you’re in love, I’m happy for you. I’m just curious. Tell me about him." "His name’s Kenny. He was my surprise. He’s a lawyer in Paris. He’s my usher at the wedding. He’s adorable and he’s gay." "And he’s OK with Jessica?" "He understands it’s only until the wedding." "Oh yes, that’s right," she said, rolling her eyes. "It stops after that. I forgot." "Oh god, that again. Despite what you and Lisa think, it’s over June 25." "Of course," she said, writing something on a pad. "That’s why he understands." "Yes, that’s why." "So, he had a problem with you?" I stared at the ground. "With Jessica. Initially, I suppose. But we cleared it up." "Hmmm. What happened? Start from the beginning." "Why? It’s all good now," I said defensively. "So it wasn’t good at the start?" "Thursday night, Lisa told me that I’d get my surprise Friday night, and that I should wear my LBD..." "Your LBD?" "Little Black Dress, sorry. I assumed you’d know what I meant." "I did. I just find the term interesting." I glared. "Sorry, keep going." "Anyway, so I get dressed and then Kenny comes over, and we start flirting. He’s a Met fan too." "That’s terrific. Did he know you were a man?" "No," I said, defensive yet again. "Not initially." "So he thought he was flirting with a woman?" "You’d have to ask him." "So, when did he find out?" "We were walking to the restaurant. York Grill on 90th and York. If you haven’t been there, you should go. It’s..." I started to jabber really quickly. "Keep to the story." "Anyway, Lisa and Jim conspired to leave us alone. And then he told me he’s gay." "And you said." "I told him I was too. At first, he didn’t believe me, but then Jim confirmed it." "And he was OK with that?" "No. Not really," I said, crumpling a tissue in my hands. "He got...kind of...upset." "Meaning?" "He called me a drag queen and a pre-op. Said...never mind." "What did he say?" she demanded. "Said guys like me made him sick." "Guys like you? And what did you do?" "I called him a closet case, and told him that I was doing this for Lisa." "Why did you feel the need to justify yourself?" "I wasn’t justifying. I was telling him the truth." "Why do you care if he knows?" "Because." "Why?" "Because, I don’t want to be stereotyped like that. Besides, he should know this wasn’t my choice." "Everyday, Lisa comes upstairs and forces you to dress like this." I was wearing a white blouse, my black pencil skirt and 3" black Manolo slingbacks. I don’t know why, but slingbacks made me feel powerful. Something about clicking heels on pavement and the open back. "You know the answer to that." "And I bet if I go outside, she’s standing there with a gun. Let me call 911." "I get your point," I said, looking at my nails. "This is until the wedding though, that’s it." "If you say so. Back to Kenny, how do we get from name calling to love? Did he apologize after you told him the story?" "Not immediately, no." "What did he say?" "He..uh...said, ‘that’s some story’. Then we had a fight, and I slapped him." "And yet you went to the restaurant anyway? Why?" "Jim and Lisa were waiting." "Oh," she said theatrically. "Jim and Lisa were waiting. And you couldn’t call her. I mean, your cell phone doesn’t work. Nor does hers. And the restaurant has no phone..." "He bet me his firm’s skybox at Shea that I was lying." "Come on, Brian," she said, exasperatedly. "I don’t know..." I started to sniffle. "I didn’t want to do that to Lisa and Jim." "Do what? Leave them there? Why?" "She’s my friend." "Is she?" "Are we back on that again?" "Let’s see. She has you dress like this for four months. Yells at you when you flirt..." "She didn’t want me to get beat up." "Right. Then, she sets up you for a surprise, that turns out to be more of an ambush..." "She didn’t know." "Really? Do you think she thought Kenny would appreciate Jessica?" "I don’t know that she thought." "Oh, so that it makes it better. What did you do in the restaurant?" "I told her off in the bathroom. Told her that she made me into a freak that no one would want." "Interesting choice of words. Do you feel like a freak?" "We’ve been covering that." "When do you feel more freakish? Now or as Brian?" "You make Brian sound like a different person. I’m Brian. Jessica’s a role." "So, you’re a Method actor?" "I don’t follow." "You haven’t come as Brian in months." "So?" "If it were a role, you’d be out of costume most of the time." "Let’s not go there..." "That’s an interesting way you’re sitting." I looked down and saw myself sitting with my legs tucked under me. "Very feminine." I immediately dropped my legs down and sat with my legs spread. I felt very uncomfortable. "It’s OK. Sit how you feel comfortable." "I feel very uncomfortable right now, regardless," I snarled. I sat with my legs crossed at the ankles. I know, I know. Really masculine. "Please don’t. So tell me what happened next. Did you leave the restaurant?" "No. We went to the table." "Why?" "To, uh, eat?" "Why didn’t you leave?" "I was there already." "Lisa humiliates you and you stay." "She didn’t do it on purpose." "But, you were upset and angry and hurt. And yet you stayed. Why do you think you did that?" "I don’t know..." "Think about it." "I don’t know...I guess I felt like I should. Like if I left, Kenny would win." "And how does he lose by you staying?" "Like he had to suffer with me all night." "Do you think he felt that way?" "I don’t know. I suppose not. He was so sure of himself." "So you stayed to make someone suffer who viewed you as a joke, and you also stayed for a friend who put you up to it?" "What’s your point?’ "And now you tell me you’re in love with the guy who viewed you as a joke? I’m a little confused." "Let me tell the story," I said, twirling my hair on my finger. I related how Kenny confronted Jim and Lisa, and how Lisa told him off. "Interesting." "What do you mean now?" "Lisa’s defense sounds forced, like she was convincing herself." "What would be an appropriate response, Julia?" I said sarcastically. "She defends me and that’s not enough. She knocks him down and that’s not enough. So please tell me what an appropriate response is." "Fair enough. It’s just an opinion. Did he apologize then?" "Sort of." "I’m waiting for love to strike and I haven’t heard anything resembling the conditions for it." "Ha ha." "What did he say then?" "Said guys like me made it hard for ‘regular’ guys like him..." I said, in a half-whisper, half-whimper. "Brian, Brian, Brian. Why did you stay then?" "I dunno. I guess Jim helped." "Jim?" she said, seeming genuinely surprised. "How?" And I told her all about the ‘Stonewall’ speech. "I find that very interesting," she said, laughing. "Yeah, I was kind of surprised too. I didn’t think he was that aware." "Not that. His defense of you." "Me too. I didn’t think he liked me very much." "I question that. He seems much more willing lately to take your side. And that speech actually seems to be made out of genuine affection for you." "I think he appreciates what I’ve done for Lisa." "Much more so than she does." "That’s not true." "Really?" "Come on. He’s not my friend, she is." "He was willing to tell you the surprise, but was stopped. He’s tried to back you up, but either you or Lisa have stopped him." "I just don’t know anything anymore," I mumbled. "That’s OK, Brian. It’s OK to be confused. I am, despite what you seem to think, trying to help you." "How? By sabotaging my happiness?" "I am not trying to quote ‘sabotage your happiness,’ I’m trying to help you. So, tell me when love happened." "Well, after Jim said his piece, Kenny softened up. He apologized. He really paid attention to me all night. Asked me about my job, we talked about baseball..." "Did he apologize?" "Not in so many words." "So, no?" "He was really nice to me..." "Brian, Brian. That’s not an apology. That’s someone trying to make the best of a bad situation." "He paid for dinner?" I said, pleadingly. "So, he buys you dinner and that makes everything OK." "He said it was the least he could do." "Oh, how sweet of him," she said nastily. "Then what happened?" "I pulled him to me and said I would’ve had dessert..." I said, holding my head in my hands. "Oh, Jesus." "Brian, why?" "I felt something for him. It was primal." "Brian, repeat after me, I am not an animal." "Ha ha." "Brian, you felt something so you went to someone who mistreated you and called you a freak." "I am a freak," I said, waving my hand up and down. "You are NOT a freak." "I’m not a woman. And I’m not a man, even among gay men." "That’s enough. You are who you are. You are a kind, caring person. Clothes do not make the man." "What a touching speech," I said sarcastically. "Too bad the world’s not therapy." "Brian, why do you think you get involved with these relationships?" "What do you mean?" "I mean, every relationship you’re in involves someone not accepting you for you are and mistreating you. First, Lisa..." "She doesn’t mistreat me. She’s my friend." "Really? She sets you up for an ambush..." "She didn’t know." "Do you really believe that?" "Yes. I don’t think she’s a sadist." "Fine, do you think she really considered the consequences?" "I..uh..guess not." "Fine. So she does this because she thinks it’ll be fun. If she thought you two would like each other, why didn’t she set you up with him before?" "I dunno. Jim?" "Do you believe that?" "I dunno." "Then, Kenny mistreats you and now you’re in love? Why do you think that is?" "What? What are you going to say, that I’m looking for a man like my father?" "I didn’t say it. You did." "Whatever. That’s ridiculous." "Is it? You wouldn’t be the first abused child to be in an abusive relationship..." "My father disowned me because of who I am. Why would I want that?" "I don’t know. Yet, you seek approval from people unwilling to give it to you on your terms." "I don’t want to be with my father. He’s an asshole. Period." "I think we should explore this." "I don’t." She wrote something down. "When you’re ready. So, I haven’t still heard when you fell in love." "So, we all went back to the building. Kenny rode up in the elevator with me." "Please, don’t tell me..." "No," I said indignantly. "He asked to come in. I said no." "Good. Then what happened?" "He asked to go to brunch on Saturday. With Brian. He said he wanted to meet Brian." "Interesting choice of words. As if Brian were another person." "I am Brian. Brian is me. There is no Jessica. That’s all." "Right," she said dismissively. "After everything that happened, you agreed to go?" "Yes, I thought I’d give him a chance." "So, what happened?" "We went out and it was wonderful. We went to the park, we held hands, we kissed...." "How did he respond to Brian?" "He laughed at first." "Why?" "Well, it’s funny. I went to put on my boy-clothes..." "Boy clothes? Uh huh..." "Clothes...I meant clothes," I said, realizing my huge error. "Anyway, they didn’t fit, because of the weight loss. So, I had to rush to Banana Republic and buy the closest stuff I could find." "Which was?" "A pair of khakis and a blazer. I wore a Polo shirt. It sort of fit." "What did Kenny say when he saw you?" "He laughed. Said I looked like his sister’s Skipper doll. Called me Skipper for a while." "How did it feel to be Brian?" "You make it sound like Brian’s another person. I’m Brian, remember?" "True enough. Fine, how did you feel being dressed down?" "Fine," I said, looking away. "Brian, be honest." "It felt strange." "How so?" "I don’t know. I felt naked." "Good. In what way?" "Well, first off, I didn’t have my boobs..." "I’ve never heard you use that term." "Fine, breasts. Sorry if boobs offended you." "No, it’s just that’s a term I’ve generally only heard women use." "Don’t go there." She wrote something down. "What else?" "It feels strange to leave the house without makeup. I feel naked." "Oh. Anything else?" "It’s also funny. I felt short." "Why?" "I didn’t have my heels on." She laughed. "Consider yourself lucky on that score. Heels look nice, but early spring in the park is no place for them. The ground’s too soft." "I’ll keep that in mind," I laughed. "So, what do you make of all of this?" "What?" "You don’t feel comfortable as Brian anymore." "It’s not that at all." "What is it then?" "It’s like having a broken leg. When they take the cast off, it feels strange. You feel like you’re missing something." "That’s a specious metaphor, Jesssica." "You’ve never called me that." "I think we need to stop beating around the bush. You need to address your feelings." "I have. Jessica’s for another few months, that’s it." "Really? Like I said before, I haven’t seen Brian for months. And, to take your broken leg analogy to its conclusion, if your broken leg healed, you wouldn’t wear a cast afterwards, no matter unusual it felt to be without one." "Meaning?" "Meaning, you were Brian Saturday. Yet, here you are on Wednesday, dressed as Jessica, why?" "Kenny’s gone. I’m back in the role." "Or the man who won’t accept the real you is gone, so you can go back." "Brian is the real me!" I yelled. "Besides, a real relationship beats playing dress-up." "Is this a real relationship?" "I know it’s only been a few days, but we’ve talked every night. And we e-mail. I’m supposed to go to Paris in a couple of weeks." "That’s not what I meant. Is this a real relationship, when he doesn’t accept who you are?" "He does accept who I am. He loves Brian." "What about Jessica?" "For the last time, Jessica doesn’t exist. She’s a temporary creation. It’s fun to dress up, but that’s it. Brian is me and I am Brian!" "Have you convinced yourself yet?" "There is no convincing to do. I know who I am. Do you? Why is everyone so bent on me being Jessica? Do you have a problem with gay men?" "That’s enough, Jessica." "Stop calling me that." "I think we need to address the issues and I’m quite frankly at a loss as to how to do that." "Then maybe I should stop coming here." "Do you really feel that way?" "No," I said. "I just want to be me." "Who’s me?" "Brian," I said, sniffling. "I want to be Brian. I want to be Brian with Kenny. He makes me feel safe." "How?" "We were walking and he took my hand, and it felt right." "Look, I want you to be in a happy, stable relationship. But you need to figure everything out." "There is nothing to figure out. I’m Brian. I’m a man. I don’t want to be a woman. I want to be with Kenny. ‘Jessica’ is a headache. There is no one who will accept me as ‘Jessica.’" "If there was, would you keep doing this?" "I dunno...maybe," I said, absent-mindedly tucking my legs under me. "They wouldn’t be Kenny, though. Good looking guys don’t want guys like me." "Do you believe that Kenny wants Brian? I find it a little hard to believe that someone who mocked you so mercilessly suddenly found love." "I dunno...all I know is that we had a great time." "I still haven’t heard about love." "We went off on a tangent, remember? Anyway, he picked me up and we went to brunch at Sarabeth’s which..." She smiled and held up her hand. "No restaurant reviews, just the story." I smiled." Excuse me for trying to help. Anyway, we had brunch and we talked. And then we walked in the park. We went to the gardens on 103rd, they’re really starting to bloom...and we just had a great time. We spent hours together. We stopped for ice cream and were playing with each other, when..." "Did anyone comment?" "No. Why would they?" "I didn’t realize the Upper East Side was so tolerant. Two guys usually can’t show affection without someone saying anything." "Umm...." "What?" "I don’t think they knew." "Why do you say that?" "The..uh..waitress called me ‘Miss,’ and the ice cream scooper..and...when we were playing around, this old couple came over and said, ‘We hope you two have as many happy years together as we have.’" "What do you make of that?" "I dunno. I don’t look very manly. That’s not exactly news." "Did you correct anyone?" "No." "Why not?" "Why do it? It would just make people uncomfortable." "People. Or you?" "People. Not me. I’m Brian. I’m also not a five year old who needs to prove himself. I know who I am. Anyway, we had a great time," I said defensively. "Is Kenny out at work?" "No," I said, looking away. "Brian, Brian, Brian. Where do you think this is going? He won’t accept Jessica. But, you think he’s going to show up at a firm party with Brian? Come on. Do you see this long-term?" "First Lisa and now you have me at Kleinfeld’s. It’s a little soon, no?" "Kleinfeld’s?" she said, with a smirk. "It’s a figure of speech," I said angrily. "Is it? I’ve never heard any of my male patients, gay or straight, use it." "OTHER male patients." "Sorry, other male patients. Anyway, do you think he’d come out for you?" "We haven’t exactly gotten there yet. Nor should we." "Why do you think he reacted so strongly to you initially?" "Because drag queens are a sore spot in the gay community, you know that." "Are you a drag queen?" "No. Do you think so?" She sighed. "We’ve covered this. No, I don’t think so. Drag queens are caricatures. You are not a caricature. You may be an incredible facsimile, but you are definitely not a caricature. Did you look like one that first night?" "I don’t think so. I think I looked pretty good. The make up wasn’t overdone. I wasn’t wearing 6" platform shoes or hot pants or anything." "So, why do you think he responded so negatively?" "I think the Talmudic distinctions you drew between drag and facsimile were somewhat lost on him. He responded viscerally to me." "Did you ever talk about it on Saturday?" "No, why would we?" "You had a fight. You each used some pretty nasty language. You slapped him. That’s a big thing not to discuss." "We were having a good time. Why spoil it?" "Do you think a long-term relationship is possible when the parties don’t discuss things?" "I imagine we’ll cover it as some point." "When?" "When the time is right." "Which would be?" "I don’t know." "Did he correct anyone who called you ‘Miss?’" "No. Should he have?" "For someone so uncomfortable with Jessica, I would think he’d want to correct them." "He didn’t want to make them uncomfortable either?" "But you, he would?" "That was the heat of the moment." "And the rest of the evening?" "It got better. He warmed up to me." "Is that it? Or was he just trying to make it less tense?" "If it wasn’t warming up, then he wouldn’t have asked me out to brunch, would he? Wouldn’t he have just called it a night?" "Fair enough. Why did he want Brian then?" "I don’t know. Maybe he realized he liked me, but wanted to see me without the dress. I mean, he’s gay. Did that cross your mind? Maybe some people can get past first impressions." "Are you convinced yet?" I got angry. "Yes," I said sarcastically. "I AM convinced. You’ve never met anyone, disliked them initially but then came to realize they’re OK? Or does that not happen in Julia’s world?" "Brian, Brian, Brian. Yes, to answer your question, I have changed my opinion of people after a first impression. That’s human nature. But, I still reiterate my earlier point. Why would you even give someone who was so cruel to you..." "That’s a little harsh." "How would you describe someone who tells someone else that they make them sick and calls them hard up little femme, and pathetic, and..." "I get your point." "Do you? Because then this person doesn’t even apologize, and yet you stay..." "Um," I started adjusting my skirt. "He got better, and I thought..." "What? That he would somehow change? Do you believe that he thinks any more of you now? Do you think he’s suddenly changed his world view to recognize that femme is acceptable?" "He was nice to me. What about that? And, yes, I think he’s changed his opinion. He’s realized that the clothes are only temporary and that I’m a good person." "But he’s not out. What do you think is going to happen?" I got angry. "I don’t know. I really don’t. But I know I’m having a good time and, for the first time in a long time, I’m with someone. And he makes me feel special. And, so what if we don’t have a cute ‘first meeting’ story? It feels good. If it crashes and burns, it crashes and burns. It won’t be the first time. At least it’s something. It’s not this nether world I’ve been in, where I’m Jessica but can’t really be Jessica..." Julia pounced on that last part. "So you’d like to be Jessica in all facets?" "No," I responded angrily. "My point was, that I can walk around like Jessica and get scoped out and even flirt, but at the end of the night, I’m alone. With Kenny, I don’t end up alone." "So you slept with him?" she sighed. "Yes. I did. It was amazing. We came back to my place and were play fighting, and he scooped me up, threw me on the bed and pinned me...." "Has anyone ever done that to you before?" "What?" "Scooped you up and threw you on the bed?" "No, why?" "I was curious. Did you enjoy it?" "Why? If I say yes, does this mean I want to be a girl too? To be manhandled?" "Do you think it does?" "It was something new. That’s it." "So anything new you like?" "Clearly, no. We’ve talked about this before. I’m a bottom. I like being penetrated. I like giving blow jobs. So, I don’t know, maybe this is just another step in being a bottom.." "Or?" "Or what? Becoming Jessica? Like now I’m some little flirt who wants her man to thr...never mind." "Keep going with that. Initial responses are very telling." "No," I said flatly. "I don’t want to be judged anymore." "I am not judging you. I’m trying to help you. What was going through your mind when he scooped you up?" "Yippee, I’m going to have sex?" "Very cute, Brian. What else?" "I dunno." "Think. Did Jessica enter the picture?" "That’s enough." "Brian," she said, in an annoyed tone. "Just go with it." "I imagined myself in a negligee and heels," I muttered. "What do you think that means?" "That this," I said, waving my hand up and down, "has so fucked me up, that I can’t even have sex anymore without it intruding." "Maybe you’re coming to terms..." I put my hand up. "Stop it already! I’m not coming to terms. I am Brian. I want to be Brian. This is temporary. And whatever happens with Kenny happens. I don’t want to hear anymore about it. He’s not cruel. He was confused." "Have you convinced yourself yet?" "Fuck you Julia. Just fuck you, OK?" "Are you through?" "Yes, I am. I’m sorry I said ‘fuck you,’ but I’m tired of this. Are you trying to help me or pigeonhole me?" "I could ask the same question of you? Do you want help or affirmation?" "I withdraw my apology." "OK. Your responses were, if not appropriate, expected." "What the fuck does that mean?" "What do you think it means?" "I think I’m tired of this." "What else?" "Nothing else," I sighed. "Why do you think you responded so vehemently?" "Because I’m tired. I’m Brian. Everyone’s decided I’m meant to be Jessica. But you know what? I’m the only one with a vote. I like these clothes, I’ll admit that. But, I like my penis more. I’m gay. How many years have I spent dealing with that? That much we’ve established. And, you know what, I would gladly trade a skirt for someone who loves me..." "I agree," Julia interrupted. "But why should you have to trade? Why should you have to give up one thing for another? Especially from someone who can’t commit to you fully?" "Number 1, if I found someone who was willing to tolerate the clothes, there’d be something else wrong. I mean Prince Charming doesn’t exist. He’d be fat, or treat me bad or be bad in bed. This is just fun. It’s not who I am. It’s like saying if I smoked, I shouldn’t be with someone who didn’t like smoking..." Julia rolled her eyes. "This is not like smoking. It’s not unhealthy and, more importantly, smokers don’t adopt other personalities." "Am I schizo now?" "No," she said flatly. "Besides, I’d actually like to explore the commitment issue more." "Why? It’s early in the relationship. There’s nothing to explore." "Why spend time with someone who will never be able to commit to you?" "Never say never." "How old is he?" "35." "Do you think he’s suddenly going to come out at work at 35?" "He could." "What? Your love will make him willing to put his career at risk?" she said sarcastically. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." "You’re out at work. Do you want to spend the rest of your life as "the friend" or "the roommate" or not being known at all?" "This is premature. It’s not like we’re a couple or anything...." "But again, you can’t be Jessica with him, because he doesn’t approve. But you can’t be Brian either. Or for now you can. But what happens if this gets serious? You’ll always be shut out of one part of his life. This is not a ‘real relationship.’ This is someone working out his insecurities on you," she said, ending with a sigh. "I like it better when you just say ‘what do you think it means?’" I smiled nervously. "I’m sorry. I’ve just seen such a change in you the past few months, and I’d hate to see it lost for someone who abused you but then can’t even be fully there." "Abused is too harsh," I said, looking at my skirt. Lisa and Melissa were right. Pencil skirts looked really cute on me. Damn, why did I say that? "He was a little nasty, but only because he was shocked." "That still doesn’t answer the issue of his being closeted." "I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. In the meantime, it’s just sex." "You called it love." "It’s...I don’t know...I just liked the feeling of being with someone." "Just think about it," she said, looking at her watch. "I’m sorry session is over. See you next week." I got up, straightened my skirt and left. I felt depressed. I started in love and ended feeling like I’d been hit. This always seemed to happen to me at Julia’s. Why did she have to ruin my happiness? Why couldn’t she just let things be? I thought about calling Lisa, but realized that, much as it pained me to admit Julia was even a little right, she had her own agenda. What was I going to do?
The saga continues. April in Paris. Romance in the air. Or not.
I know it's been a while, but I hope everyone likes this.
I left Julia feeling frustrated and angry. Angry at Lisa for setting me up for failure. Angry at myself for falling for Kenny. And especially angry at Julia. Why? I don’t know. Maybe because she had to ruin what I thought was a good thing with Kenny. Maybe because she made me rethink sixteen years of friendship with Lisa. Maybe because, I don’t know, she wasn’t entirely wrong. Anyway, I decided to work off my frustrations in the gym. I would’ve gone for a run, but the sky was cloudy and all I needed to cap off my day was getting caught in the rain. I went home and changed into my work-out clothes. I agonized whether to keep my breasts. On the one hand, by keeping them, I thought, I was admitting Julia was right - maybe I did want to be Jessica. On the other hand, why the hell what she or anyone else thought important? If I wanted to be Jessica today and not tomorrow, that was my choice. Besides, I liked being scoped out. I’m sorry, but it’s true. I liked being an object of attention. I know a lot of women resent it and feel like they’re being treated like a piece of meat. And, maybe, I’d be tired of it too. But, it’s not like I ever was one before and for now the novelty was still there. So, I went home and decided to get dressed. I put on my sports bra, belly T and shorts (a little baggy, so as not to show you-know-what, but still cute.)
“Hi, Miss Rosen,” said the desk attendant. “Those workouts are doing great, huh?” he said, ogling me. That felt good.
I smiled. “Stop, Jason.”
“I’m just saying...”
“Thank you,” I laughed. “It’s always nice to hear.”
“Tell my girlfriend that,” he laughed. “I tell her she looks good, she tells me I just want sex.”
“Don’t you?”
He laughed again. “Yeah, but if I don’t compliment her, she gets pissed too. Women...no offense, you’re different.”
“None taken.” Then I thought, “More than you know, Jason.”
I started off lifting weights. Nothing heavy. Had to keep my girlish arms, although I was beginning to wonder why. I was on my second set of lat pulldowns when I heard, “You have good form, but you need to work at it a little more.”
I turned to face a decently built guy. Balding, but still cute and with the kind of build you get from working out regularly, but not “today, I’m doing delts” obsessively. “Does that line work often?” I said, giving him the once-over.
He turned beet red. “I meant your lifting form. You’re a little out of balance and, if you keep doing it that way, you won’t get the full benefit of your workout and may throw out your shoulder.”
“You sound conversant in the topic.”
“I am. I’m a chiropractor. Plus, I used to be a personal trainer. Most people figure that if they do the machines, they’ll do everything right, but they don’t. You naturally favor your stronger side.”
“That makes sense. I do feel stronger when I use my right arm.” Given my love life, my right arm got a regular workout.
“Do you mind if I show you how to do it?”
“Shouldn’t you at least introduce yourself first?” I said coquettishly.
He turned red again. He was so cute in his shyness. “Adam Connolly,” he stammered.
“Jessica Rosen. Relax. I was just playing with you. Sorry.”
He looked down. “It’s OK. I do have to relax. I just didn’t expect someone as beautiful as you to respond that way.”
Now it was my turn to blush. “OK. Stop. Show me what I’m doing wrong.”
“OK, start pulling down the bar.” I started pulling. “Stop.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “You’re pulling down faster on your right side than your left. Go slowly.” I started pulling down again.
“Wow, that feels much better, thanks.”
“You’re, uh, welcome,” he said, walking away. “Have a good workout.”
“Where are you going? What are you, the Lone Ranger? ‘My job is done.’ Unless you’re busy.”
“Not at all. I didn’t want to bother you. I was going to do the Stairmaster.”
“Hang on. I was just going to finish this set, and do that myself.”
“You sure?”
“I don’t bite Adam,” I said, with a smile.
“My bad luck,” he said with a smile. “Sorry. That was inappropriate.”
He was so cute in his shyness. “Adam, it’s called flirting. Besides, I started.”
“Uh, ah, well...” he stammered. I thought he might be the only person who needed to get laid more than me.
“Tell you what, Adam. Let’s pick a harmless topic. Are you a Met fan or a Yankee fan?”
“Yankees. How could anybody be a Met fan? They never get it done. They spend, but they can’t get it done.”
“I’m a Met fan,” I grinned. He made me feel comfortable. He wasn’t trying to prove himself.
“Boy, I can’t get a break, can I?”
“It’s not the end of the world. Besides, you guys haven’t won since 2000.”
“When we beat you.”
“Now, you’re pushing it.” He looked down. “Kidding. Kidding. Adam, please.” I finished my set and we walked over to the Stairmasters.
We started talking. The conversation started off innocuously enough, about work and how we were both lucky to be able to set our own hours. Then it was more baseball and the shows on the TV over the Stairmaster. In thirty minutes, you can range pretty far afield and somehow we ended up on relationships.
“So, are you seeing anyone?” he asked cautiously.
“Not really. I mean I went out on a blind date with this guy last week. We had a great time and I’m supposed to go see him in two weeks...”
“Oh,” he said, looking crestfallen. “All of the good ones are taken.”
“Thanks. That’s really sweet.”
“That’s what I always get. Just before the ‘but as a friend’ speech.”
“Hang on, tiger. What I was going to say is that I don’t know if I should go or not.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think he’ll ever be able to commit fully to a relationship.”
“Kind of premature, no? I mean you’ve been on one date.”
“(A) I’m 34, so I need to think about that. (B) It’s kind of complicated. Besides, if you know that going in, why be with someone? I mean fun’s fun, but I need to be with someone ready to accept me for me.”
“What’s not to accept? You’re smart, beautiful, stand properly on the Stairmaster...”
“Something you always see in personal ads...”
“Anyway, what’s the problem? Why do you think he can’t accept you for you?”
“It’s too complicated. Personal stuff.” I wanted to say something, but knew that this was neither the time nor the place for it. Besides, as nice as he was, there was something I had that probably wasn’t up his alley.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Yes, but no. It’d freak you out.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. For the time being. So, what’s up with you? Seeing anybody?”
“Not now. I was. For two years.”
“What happened?”
“My brother got divorced.”
“And this caused the breakup how?”
“Our relationship was two years of sheer misery, broken up by periods of less misery. I think we were together out of inertia. Anyway, my brother’s divorce was really acrimonious, and I think I looked and said, ‘Do I want to end up there?’ Because that’s where it was going. So I broke it off. It was unpleasant, but a hell of a lot better than it would’ve been if we had been married.”
“That’s actually a really rational response. I think we’d all be better off if more people did what you did.”
“So, what about you? What’s your most recent relationship?”
“They don’t last long enough to talk about.”
“Sex and the City girl, huh? Love ‘em and leave ‘em?” I stared at him. “Sorry, my ex used to watch it. The show sucks, but it seeped into my unconscious.”
“Not exactly. I’ve changed a lot lately. I’m like a different person.”
“Whatever you did, it worked.”
“Thanks, that’s really nice.”
“Nice and sweet. That’s my lot in life.”
“Nice and sweet is good. There comes a point when you no longer want an emotionally unavailable asshole.”
“When?”
“The Monday after I get back,” I said with a smile.
“Is that when we’ll go out?”
“That’s the kind of move that works.”
“Did it? Will you do me the pleasure of having dinner with me?”
“I’m not who you think I am. I’m in a really strange place and...”
“OK. I understand,” he said, looking like a lost puppy. A lost puppy who had just done 40 minutes on the Stairmaster, but a lost puppy nonetheless.
“It’s not that. I just...there’s something...I wouldn’t want to lead you on...” I started to tear up, although god only knows why.
“Wow,” he said. “OK. Either you’re telling the truth or you’re one hell of an actress.”
“It’s true. You are a great guy and I can always use a friend.” I said, getting off the Stairmaster as did he.
“I knew it,” he said, shaking his head. “The ‘just a friend’ speech.”
“Come on Adam,” I pleaded. “That’s not it...”
“Now it’s my turn to tell you to relax,” he grinned. “I’m cool. I’ve been ‘Fresh Kills’ note to non-NYCers - it’s our former garbage dump guy enough to know that I don’t want to be him again. I would like to be your friend though. You seem really cool, despite the whole Met thing..” I punched him in the arm. “Hey! Besides, who knows? Maybe I can use you to pick up other women. You all seem to like guys who are with other girls.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “I can always use friends too. Are you still interested in dinner? I’ll even treat. It’s only fair for the workout tips.”
“A beautiful woman treating ME to dinner? I’ll take that. Can I get the large fries?”
“And the apple pie, if you want. Or we could even go to a place with waiters.”
“You’re just pure class,” he said. “I bet you even use a spoon to eat soup.”
“Depends. What kind?” I said, laughing. I borrowed a pen from the trainer’s desk and wrote down my number. “Call me later to schedule everything,” I said, giving him a peck. I don’t know why I did that, after the whole ‘leading on’ speech. He just seemed like such a nice guy and it felt right.
“Thanks,” he said, blushing. I swear I wondered what he did when he had sex - explode? “I’ll call you later.”
“You better not be lying.”
“This better not be fake,” he said, walking away. I suddenly felt, if not much better, better. I was establishing a life away from all of the bullshit with Kenny and Lisa and Julia. Now, one could argue that Adam thought I was Jessica and thus I was creating my own bullshit. Which wouldn’t be wrong, but at least it was my bullshit. Besides, it’s not like I was leading him on. I made it clear that I wasn’t interested in a date. If he didn’t understand that, it was his problem, right?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I won’t bore you with the next two weeks of my life. I spent most of it working which, as you now know, is how I avoid dealing with things. I know it’s not healthy, but it’s better than getting drunk, I guess. Lisa and I went out occasionally, and it was strained. She was so absorbed with the wedding that she couldn’t recognize that I was upset. I buried myself in work which, as I have said before, is how I avoid dealing with things. Specifically, Lisa things. We saw each other occasionally before I left and talked about the wedding, but it felt hollow, at least to me. She seemed fine, though. I think she decided that, since I was going to Paris to see Kenny, it was all good. Anyway, I was heading to Paris on a Thursday night flight. Wednesday night, I went to pack. It was much harder than I thought it would be. I wanted to pack the clothes I now wore by rote, but knew I shouldn’t. Kenny wouldn’t like them. Besides, I was Brian. Like I told Julia, Lisa, Melissa and everyone else, Jessica was temporary. I wanted to be Brian and Kenny, not Jessica and Kenny. I didn’t need the clothes. They were a prop until the wedding. Even still, it felt strange to leave everything in New York. No matter what I wanted to believe, they had become a part of me. I felt naked if I didn’t have make-up on. I felt short in anything less than a 3" heel. My legs felt constrained in pants. In short, I was a complete mess. So, I packed my breast forms. It just felt right. It made me feel whole and secure. Jeez, breasts making me feel secure. Could it get anymore Freudian? Anyway, about an hour after I finished packing, the phone rang. It was Lisa.
“Hey, Brian! I just wanted to call you before your trip!” she exclaimed.
“Thanks, I just finished packing up.”
“What are you bringing?” she said suggestively.
“What do you mean, what am I bringing? What, like whips and chains?”
She laughed. “Since 9/11, they won’t let you bring those. You know what I mean...who’s going?”
I sighed. “I knew what you meant and wasn’t going to respond. But, to answer your question, Brian is going.” A slight lie, I admit, but I really wasn’t interested in getting into it. She however was.
“Really?” she said, sounding let down.
“Did you expect a different answer?”
“I just thought...”
“Thought what? That I’d go as Jessica? We’ve covered this repeatedly. (A) Kenny made his feelings about Jessica abundantly clear, in your presence I might add and (B) I am not, repeat not, Jessica. I’m Brian. Prior to this, I was. I am currently Brian. After your wedding, I will still be Brian. That’s it.”
“Have you convinced yourself yet?”
“Basta, Lisa. Enough.”
“I just..never mind, let’s not leave this on a down note. Are you excited?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Why? You two had a great time on your date. At least, that’s what Kenny said.”
“One good date does not obviate his behavior, Lise. I mean, I saw his true colors that first night.”
“But, if you’re not into being Jessica, why does it matter?”
“Because...”
“Because why? Because you like being Jessica?”
“That’s not it. No.”
“Then why?”
“Because he was so smug and self-righteous. It’s annoying when anyone does it. When some closet case does it, it’s like a thousand times worse.”
“So, why are you going then?”
“I don’t know. To see which Kenny is the real one? Day One Kenny or Date Kenny?”
“Just go with the flow. Enjoy the weekend and see where it goes. It’d make life easy for me if you two ended up together, but I just want what you want.”
“Uh huh...”
“I really do, Bri. Just have a good time. Call me when you get there, so I know you’re OK.”
“OK, Mom.” I laughed.
“Shut up,” she mock protested. “I just don’t want to have to find someone else to be a bridesmaid. I don’t know any size 6s, you anorexic.”
“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”
“I hate you because you’re mental. Have a good time.”
“Thanks.” And I hung up. Then, the phone rang again. What do people have, radar? This time it was Adam. We had actually spoken a few times since the gym. He was a great guy. I only wished that I could be the woman he thought I was. No, scratch that. That’s not what I meant. Really. I meant that I could make him happy. That being me would make him happy. That’s what I meant.
“Jessica? Hi, it’s Adam.”
“Hey! I’m so glad you called,” I said, sincerely meaning it.
“Cool. Anyway, I wanted to call and wish you a good trip, and to firm up plans for when you get back.”
“Great. How about Wednesday? That’ll give me a chance to recover. What do you want? Remember it’s my treat.”
“I forgot. But, since you reminded me, Le Cirque is always nice. So’s Daniel.”
“Ha ha. Try again.”
“You like Turkish? There’s this place, Beyoglu, on like 82nd and 3rd looks interesting.”
“Sounds great. 7:30?”
“I’ll make the reservation. Do you want to meet there or at your place?”
“I’ll meet you here,” I said, giving the address.
“I can’t wait,” he said happily. “So, excited about the trip?”
“More so apprehensive.”
“Why?”
“Just nervous about what’s going to happen. You know, for all the reasons we’ve talked about.”
“So why are you going?”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“Seems like a lot for some guy.”
“I know. I just feel something and want to see where it goes. I’m sorry, do you mind talking about this? I mean, you know, I mean, is it a problem?”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, Jess. I brought it up. We’re friends, remember? No, I’m not sitting here plotting Kenny’s demise so I can have you.”
“Well, that’s depressing,” I laughed. “Couldn’t you lie a little?”
“OK,” he laughed, “I must have you. And he shall rue taking you from me. That feel better?”
“Yes. Yes it does,” I laughed. “Anyway, I just don’t know what to do.”
“Go. Have a good time. If he’s an asshole, it’s one weekend and write him off. That’s what my dates do.”
“Stop it. You’re a...”
“I know. I know. A great guy. And I’ll find the right woman.”
“Sorry. It is true, though.”
“Thanks. Anyway, have a great trip. Bring me back a souvenir.”
“You got it. I’ll call you when I get back.” We hung up, and I felt all at once happy and sad. Happy because Adam was a really great guy. He was being a friend, with no agenda that I could discern. But sad because he was so open with me, while I was keeping this huge secret from him.
The next night, I went to the airport. It felt strange being dressed in khakis, a shirt and guy’s shoes. I felt like I was playing dress-up. Between that, no make-up and no boobs, I felt like a different person. I know this was who I really was, but it still felt strange. I felt like I was hiding something. I made a note NOT to talk about this with Julia. I had enough on my plate without needing her snide comments. I handed the desk agent my ticket and passport.
“YOU’RE Brian Rosen?” she said, in disbelief.
“Yes,” I said with exasperation. “Is there a problem?”
“No, it’s just that...well...you don’t look like a Brian.”
“What do I look like?” I said, with a touch of sarcasm. Probably not a great idea. She was probably putting me on an FBI watch list as I spoke. Still, I didn’t need her attitude to go with my mixed feelings.
“Never mind,” she said, “Whatever works for you, I say. Enjoy your flight, MR. Rosen.”
“Thanks,” I said, grabbing my ticket.
When I landed in Paris, the customs agent scanned my passport. “Brian Rosen,” he said, pronouncing it “Bree-Anne.”
“Oui.”
“Purpose of your visit, Mademoiselle?”
I hesitated, on ‘Mademoiselle,’ but decided to let it go. “Visiting a friend.”
“Bienvenue,” he said, not lifting his head. “Enjoy your trip.” ‘Mademoiselle,’ I thought. This is going to be an interesting trip. Kenny met me as I left customs processing.
“Hey Skipper,” he said, brightly. He looked gorgeous. I remembered what attracted me in the first place.
“Hey Kenny.” Then we had that awkward moment gay men have when meeting a romantic partner in public. Straights can hug and kiss each other, while we’re left standing awkwardly. We gave each other a ‘man hug,’ when an older man said, “Kiss her you idiot. She travels across an ocean and you give her a hug.”
Kenny smiled. “You heard the man,” and he gave me a deep kiss and spun me around in the air.. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I said, wondering why neither one of us felt the need to correct him. Maybe because we got to do what we could never do in public, except maybe in Chelsea or the Castro. Whatever. We did it and that’s what counted. We chatted about the flight and took a cab back to his place.
“So, what do you want to do today? It’s your choice,” he said, brightly.
“You don’t have to go to work?”
“I should be there, but I told them I had someone coming in. I’ll just be working 23 hour days next week.”
“I’m sorry. I can amuse myself if you need to work.”
He took my hand. I liked this confusion thing. “”I’m sure you could amuse yourself, but you’re only here for the weekend, so I want to spend as much time with you as I can. Besides, I have the Crackberry, if they really need me,” he said, holding up his Blackberry.
This felt good. He was being so nice. Maybe day one Kenny was just scared. “I want to see the Louvre addition. Otherwise, we can just hang around. Go all over. I’m in your hands,” I said, giving him a peck on the lips. I loved that I had to stand on tip-toes to do it. It felt so romantic.
He smiled. “My hands, huh? You’ll regret that, Skipper,” he said grabbing my ass. I think both of us were really enjoying this ‘public affection’ thing.
In the cab on the way back to his place, we fooled around. He nibbled my neck. I played with his thigh. Throughout, the cabbie didn’t bat an eyelash. I don’t know if it was because he thought I was a girl, or because he just didn’t care at all. I know, I know. I was giving in to this closet case. But it felt good. And Jessica was only temporary. That he got upset with her was irrelevant since she had a shelf life of June 25. He paid the driver and we went upstairs. “Voila,” he said, opening the door.
“Wow, nice place!” It was. Two bedrooms. A view of a park. Immaculately furnished, in a mid-century modern yet perfectly masculine style. A hell of lot better than the dump I lived in when I lived in Paris. While it didn’t have a park view, I did have the view of the back of a Moroccan restaurant. Nothing says Paris to me like rotting lamb and couscous. “I love the furniture.”
“It’s home,” he said offhandedly. “The bathroom’s over there, if you want to clean up.”
“Sounds great. Mind if I shower?”
“No problem. I’ll get you a towel.”
I decided to shower and change my clothes. The ones I was wearing were all wrinkled. I got in the shower and let the water run over me. I was soaping myself up, when suddenly I felt Kenny’s arms around me.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” I mock protested.
“You tell me,” he said, nibbling on my neck again. God, it felt good. “I just wanted to make sure you were getting all nice and clean.”
“Thank you for your concern,” I said, turning to face him. I took the soap in my hand and started soaping his chest. “It’s only fair that I do the same...mmmm, do you like this?” He moaned. Clearly, he did. I started soaping his cock. “Mmmm....somebody likes this.” Two somebodies, actually. I was also getting hard. I knelt and started to take him in my mouth.
“Stop,” he said. “Let’s take this to the bed.” He turned off the water, opened the door and scooped me up. He was really big on this. It made me feel strange. No one else had ever done this, and I had been with some big guys before. It felt good. I liked the feeling of powerlessness. But, still, it was kind of unusual. I leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. He threw me on the bed. “Last stop!” he said, laughing. I went to get on all fours. “Stop,” he said. “Get on your back.”
‘My back,’ I thought. ‘Where’s he going with this.’ We fooled around some more. God, he could kiss. I felt tingling all through my body. Then, something really strange happened. “Put your legs on my shoulders,” he commanded.
“If you say so,” I said, flirtatiously. “I mean, where could little old me go? You’re such a big guy. I’m at your mercy. Please don’t hurt me.” I congratulated myself. I now sounded more pathetic than ever. Like the world’s worst porn movie.
“Damn right,” he snarled. Or mock snarled. I really couldn’t tell. It was extremely off-putting. He pulled a tube of K-Y warming gel out of his night stand, and began lubing himself up. “Are you ready, bitch?” ‘Bitch?’ OK, someone needed some help. Big time. But, I forgot all about it as soon as he started penetrating me.
“Oh god!” I moaned. “That feels so good. Keep going. Keep going.” And he pumped harder and harder. “Yes, ohmigod. Don’t stop,” I said, arching my back and bucking my hips in rhythm with him. He and I came simultaneously, and he pulled out.
“Did you like that?” he asked, leaning over to kiss my stomach.
“What do you think?” I smiled.
“I thought you’d like it like that.”
‘Huh,’ I thought. ‘What does that mean?’ What I said was, “Oh, really? Quite full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t hear any complaints,” he said, with a Cheshire Cat grin.
I leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth, “You’re lucky you’re so good, or else I wouldn’t put up with that.” What the hell was wrong with me? I sounded needy and pathetic. Not that he was listening to it. He was just, pardon the pun, eating it all up.
“I could stay here all day, but we really should get going,” he said, rolling over and getting up. “Let’s get dressed. Tell me where you want to go.”
I got up and went over to my suitcase, and started rifling through it. I found the breast forms, and made sure to quickly cover those before Kenny saw them. “I don’t know. Whatever you want.”
“Well,” he said, rolling his eyes, “we’ll hit the Louvre addition, so I don’t have to hear about it anymore, then we’ll just play it by ear, how about that?”
“Sounds great,” I said. “What’s the weather supposed to be?”
“Mid 50s. Take a sweater or jacket.”
“OK,” I said, rifling through my suitcase. I put on a baby blue Polo shirt and jeans. “How’s this? Too wrinkled.”
He smiled. “You look great Skipper. Did you bring a jacket?” ‘Skipper?’ I thought, ‘he’s a little too fixated on that.’
“Yeah, I’ve got a blue blazer in here. I hope it survived the flight.”
“Don’t worry about it. Worst comes to worst, I’ve got a portable clothes steamer.”
“A steamer?” I laughed. “You are soooo queer.”
“Oh really,” he laughed. “That’s high praise from a guy who wears a dress.”
“That’s temporary,” I shot back, a little too stridently. “The steamer’s forever, you homo.”
He picked me up and held me in the air. “Take it back,” he said, with a laugh.
“Put me down, you oaf!”
“No,” he said, coyly.
I started mock-pounding him with my fists. “You are in such trouble,” I said, unable to suppress the giggles.
“Oh please, you girl.”
“Girl, huh?” I said, flirtatiously. “Is that what you want? Jessica back?” I said, regretting it the minute I saw his eyes.
He put me down abruptly. “I thought that was temporary,” he said coldly.
“I was kidding,” I whimpered. “Come on, you know it is.”
“Uh huh.”
“Is this how the weekend’s going to be? Because if it is, I can go.”
He slumped. “I’m sorry Brian. I was out of line.”
“So was I.”
He picked me up again. This was weird. “OK. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”
“Fine. Just put me down, you ape.”
He grunted. “Last stop, bottom floor,” he said, emphasizing the word ‘bottom.’
I slapped his ass. “Don’t get too full of yourself, sweetie.”
He got out the steamer, and started steaming my blazer. “Wow,”I said. “Very good. If the law ever fails, you could be a dry cleaner.”
“I hear there’s a pressing need...”
“That’s awful,” I giggled. “Now I’m really going to go.”
The rest of the afternoon was wonderful. We went to the Louvre, we walked along the Seine, all the touristy stuff. We held hands and no one batted an eyelash. But, something still felt strange. As we walked along the Rue Fauborg St. Honore, I kept sneaking furtive glances at the shop windows. There were so many beautiful clothes, but I couldn’t even look at them, much less try them on. I wanted to be Brian, but still something was missing.
“Earth to Skipper, come in Skipper,” said Kenny, as I was daydreaming. Or day-nightmaring. One or the other, I don’t know which.
“Huh, what?” I said.
He laughed. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“Client stuff,” I lied. “Thinking about a project.”
He put his arms around me. “Let it go. I know it’s hard. But let’s just not think about work today, OK Skipper?” He said, giving me a great kiss.
“Wow. Aren’t you worried?” I whispered.
He smiled. “No one’s even looking, Skipper.”
“What’s with the Skipper stuff?” I asked.
“Does it bother you?” he said defensively.
“No, I just was wondering...”
“I just thought it was a good nickname for you,” he said, somewhat angrily. “I’ll stop.”
“It’s OK,” I said, a little too apologetically. Actually, it wasn’t OK. But I didn’t want to ruin this. What ‘this’ was was another issue entirely. But, I liked being liked. Or at least paid attention to. “I don’t mind at all. What should I call you?” I said.
“Mr. Huge?”
“I don’t like to lie.”
“Ha ha. I haven’t heard any complaints.”
“Would it matter?” I said, grabbing his ass.
“Not really, no,” he said, lifting me in the air. Between this and Skipper, I really wondered about him.
“I’ve got it! You already have your nickname. If I’m Skipper, you must be Ken! Can I dress you up and play with you?” I said, nibbling his ear and playing with his crotch.
“Bad Skipper,” he said, spanking my ass and laughing. I still felt like shit though. I was sitting here flirting pathetically with this closet case who treated me like crap. Julia would tell me just to go, and I should have. But I didn’t. Instead, we walked around some more and went for an early dinner. Once again, the waiter called me ‘Mademoiselle,’ and he said nothing. I overheard a woman look at me and say to her husband, “American women don’t know how to dress. Look at her. Pants and a men’s shirt. She should be in a skirt.” When her husband looked me up and down and said, “With those legs? Of course, she should,” I felt great. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to wear a fitted knit jersey dress with 3" heels and turn every man’s head. But I couldn’t. I knew it was better to me with Kenny than Jessica alone. But I just couldn’t get her out of my head.
The next morning, Kenny woke up about 8:00 AM. I woke up fifteen minutes later to see him getting dressed in a soccer jersey and shorts.
“Hey, where are you going?” I said groggily.
“Go back to sleep,” he said, giving me a peck. “I’ve got a soccer game. I’ll be back by 11.”
“Wait,” I said, getting up. “Let me get dressed. I want to see you play.”
“You don’t have to...”
“I know,” I said. “But I want to. It’ll be fun.”
“If you get bored, you can leave.”
“Thanks for that optimistic outlook,” I said, heading into the bathroom. “Let me wash up and get dressed. Give me fifteen minutes?”
“Sure,” he said. “I’m going to make myself some coffee. You want any?”
“Sounds great,” I said, washing my face and brushing my teeth. I went to get dressed and saw the breast forms. I don’t know what possessed me, but I glued them on. ‘Oh shit,’ I thought. ‘Now what, genius?’ Well, necessity is the mother of invention and this was necessity at its finest. “Kenny,” I yelled. “Do you have a sweatshirt I could borrow?”
“Sure, second drawer.”
I took out an NYU law sweatshirt. It was perfect. It was a XXL, and it smelled like him. I put it on. With my shorts, I looked like every sorority girl at college, wearing her boyfriend’s too big sweatshirt. Even better, it covered my boobs.
“Let’s go,” I said, taking the coffee.
“You look adorable,” he said quizically. “Nice outfit.”
“I’m just going to watch you play soccer. Is this a formal game? Should I put on a tie?”
“Relax. I’m just kidding.”
We went to a local park and he went off to play. I was standing alone, when a woman came over to me. “Not very interesting, no?”
“It’s not so bad.”
“You’re new. It gets old quickly. Catherine,” she said, holding out her hand. She was about 5'7", 125 lbs with brown hair and emerald green eyes. She was the picture of understated elegance and femininity. And clearly French. I knew not only by the accent, but by her clothes She was wearing a green sweater, black wool pants and 2" heels. No American woman would be dressed that way on a Saturday morning. And no French woman would be caught dead in a sweatshirt and shorts. Even to watch her boyfriend play soccer. I felt embarrassed by my outfit.
“Brian,” I said.
“Unusual. Family name?”
“Something like that,” I lied.
“You must be here with Kenny.”
“Actually, yes. How did you know?”
“The NYU Law sweatshirt. Plus, everyone else’s girlfriends have stopped coming.”
“Why are you here then?”
She laughed. “Good question. Actually, I do it for Henri. He likes when I’m here. So I come. I’m surprised to see you.”
“Why?”
“I always assumed Kenny was gay.”
I nearly spat out my coffee. “What?”
“He’s never with a woman. He’s too fastidious for an American. I just thought...nothing personal, it doesn’t bother anyone.”
“Anyone? Who else thinks it?”
“Everyone. Well, everyone’s girlfriends and wives.”
“Huh,” I said. Deep down, I was laughing hysterically. “That’s interesting.”
“Well, anyway, I can’t believe you came. Did he make you?”
“No, I volunteered.”
“Do you live here?”
“No, in New York. I’m just visiting for the weekend.”
“And you came to watch him play soccer. New romance is an amazing thing,” she laughed.
“Something like that,” I laughed. “Besides, it’s not like anything’s open yet. So I figured I’d watch him.” He went to head the ball into the goal and missed it entirely. “He’s not very good, is he?” I asked.
“I think you make him nervous. He’s usually fairly good, for an American. What are you doing for the rest of today?”
“We figured we’d play it by ear. Why?”
“No offense, but interesting outfit.”
“It is 8:15 in the morning,” I protested. “Besides,” I lied. “My luggage is missing. All I had was what was in my carry-on, and this sweatshirt.” I have no idea why I got defensive. Or why I lied. It just came viscerally. Which was frightening.
“Ah,” she said. “Do you need to go shopping, or do you plan to wear that all weekend?”
“I wasn’t planning on wearing much all weekend,” I said slyly.
She rolled her eyes. “New romance again. You will have to eat, you know, and we don’t have delivery here. Besides, they usually go out after the game. Do you want to join them or would you like to go shopping?”
My heart leapt. I knew just the stores I’d want to hit. But, then, I remembered. Kenny would have a fit. Besides, I was Brian. Not Jessica. Brian. I felt nauseous. “Let me check with Kenny. I mean we only have two days together.”
“Of course,” she said. “I understand.”
We watched the game for another hour or so, and talked. She was an official in the Economics Ministry, specializing in relations with the former French colonies. She and Henri had been married for four years. They had no children, and as she said, “I don’t know that I want any. The world is overcrowded and, besides, I like my life. What about you?”
“It’s a bit premature,” I said. “We’ve just met each other. Besides, I work crazy hours,” I semi-lied. I also left out the fact that I was (a) gay and (b) a guy. But, these are petty details.
“Ah,” she said, as Henri and Kenny came over. “Henri, this is Brian. Brian, Henri.”
He took my hand and, if as to play up the stereotype, kissed it and said, “Enchante, mademoiselle.”
Kenny made fake barfing noises, “Having fun, Henri?” he said with a laugh. I noticed he didn’t correct him for ‘mademoiselle,’ though.
“Ah, Kenny, the curable romantic,” Henri said. “Are you enjoying the game? I can’t believe Kenny dragged you out here.”
I laughed. “The game’s really good, other than Kenny’s “header.” Also, he didn’t drag me. I offered.”
Catherine smiled. “New romance,” she sighed. “Anyway, I told Brian how you go out after the game, and I offered to take her shopping. Her luggage is lost, so she needs some new clothes.” Kenny raised an eyebrow, but again said nothing.
“Do you mind, Kenny?”
He shuffled uneasily. “Uh, no. Not at all, if that’s what you want. I mean, I’d like to spend as much time together...”
“Nonsense,” said Catherine. “I’m not kidnapping her, just going shopping. We’ll meet you at the bar at 2:30 P.M. That will give you plenty of time together. Besides, it saves you from getting dragged to the shops, no?”
“I suppose.” He looked extremely uncomfortable. I understood. I didn’t help. I mean, I could’ve said I was a guy at any point during this. But I didn’t. But, the, neither did he. I mean, I wasn’t going to out him to his friends. If he wanted to be closeted, it wasn’t my place to fix things. Right?
“Then, it’s settled. Come on Brian, we’ll get started. Do you want to go like that, or would you prefer to wear something more..ah..appropriate.”
“Uh, whatever you think,” I said, looking at Kenny. His face was now impassive. I was scared. But, if he wanted, he could’ve stopped this at any time. So, if he wasn’t going to, I wouldn’t either.
“You’re about my size. American 6?”
“That’s right.”
“We live two avenues away. I’ll lend you something.”
“Uh, thanks. You sure you’re OK with this, Kenny?”
“Please, don’t worry, Skipper,” he said, with a nauseous smile. “See you at 2:30. Have a good time.”
I kissed him on the lips. “See you at 2:30.”
Catherine and I walked to her apartment and went into her bedroom. “Take a look in the closet. Wear whatever you want.” I opened her closet, and I was in love. Rows of beautiful skirts, dresses and slacks. Not a single sweatshirt or pair of sweats. And the shoes were beautiful. Only two or three pairs of flats. She dressed the way women should dress. Stylish, feminine. Perfect.
“You have immaculate taste,” I called to her.
“Merci,” she said. “Pick something. Let’s get going.”
I picked out a blue and white floral print skirt that came about mid-calf and a baby blue sweater. I looked in the mirror and loved what I saw. I knew, though, that Kenny would be disgusted. And then I felt worse. I mean, I wasn’t Jessica. I was Brian. I wanted to be Brian. With Kenny. And this was the ultimate act of sabotage. But, yet, I felt comfortable too. I was a mess. Julia was going to have a field day.
Catherine came in. “Beautiful. Now you look right. Why cover yourself up with sweatshirts and shorts? Show what you have.”
I blushed. “Thank you.”
“Please,” she said. “You look good. Use it to your advantage.”
“True. Well, lead on, Madame.”
We spent the next several hours shopping. I bought everything from top to bottom. Dresses, skirts, shoes, lingerie. Everything, well everything except pants or anything remotely masculine. I heard Julia’s voice the entire time (“Isn’t that interesting? No pants or even man-tailored shirts. Just dresses, skirts and heels. But, Jessica is only temporary?”), but it wasn’t that. It’s just that Catherine said that I had such a gorgeous figure, I had to dress Parisian not “like some frumpy American housewife,”and I felt it rude to insult her. Yep, that’s it.
Anyway, in Galeries Lafayette just before we had to go meet Kenny and Henri, I saw the most gorgeous sundress. A white bodice with a black and white print mid-calf skirt. I tried it on and it was just perfect. I looked stunning. I decided to wear it out, with a pair of black 3" heels I had just bought.
“Perfect,” said Catherine with a whistle, as I left the dressing room. “Perhaps, I should call ahead and tell Kenny to meet you somewhere. I don’t want to lose Henri.”
I laughed. “Please, compared to you, I’m the ugly duckling. I should have half your style.”
“Ah, style can be learned. Legs can’t. And you have the style. You just need to stop thinking like an American.”
“Fine,” I said with a grin. “Merci. Besides, you needn’t worry about me. Kenny’s enough.”
She half-smiled. “If you say so. Let’s go.”
When we walked into the bar, Henri looked at me and laughed. “My god, look at all those packages. Kenny, you’re lucky she’s just your girlfriend. I mean, she’s beautiful, but with spending like that, you’d be in the poorhouse.”
Kenny just looked me up and down. “Nice outfit,” he said, non-committally.
“What?” I said, under my breath.
“Nothing,”he snarled back.
“Let’s just play this out until it’s time to go.”
Kenny, like all good lawyers, was also a good liar. We spent another a couple of hours with Catherine and Henri, laughing and joking like any normal couple. At about 5 PM, Kenny said, “This has been fun, but I would like some time alone with Brian, so if you don’t mind...”
“New romance,” said Catherine, with a grin. “Try to stop and eat at some point, to keep up your strength.”
“Catherine,” I blushed.
Henri laughed. “Perhaps, we should follow suit? This is one time it would be useful to follow the Americans,” he said, with a leer.
She ignored him. “Please give me your phone number. Next time, I’m in New York...”
I wrote it on a napkin. “I’d love that,” and we kissed on both cheeks. It’s funny. I always thought that was just a TV French thing. Like wearing berets and striped shirts, or riding a bike with a baguette in the basket.
Kenny said nothing in the cab on the way back. We walked in the door and said, “It’s 5:30. Get that off and we can return it.”
“What?”
“The afternoon’s over. You don’t need to do that anymore. So, we’ll take it back. Get your money back.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. We’ll return it.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t. Please clarify, counselor.”
“Real fucking funny, Brian. The day is done. Take that shit off.”
“The day is done, huh? It served its purpose, so let’s take it back.”
“What did you say?”
“You heard me. It served its purpose. I was your “girlfriend” when it suited you, but now it’s done so it goes back.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t work for you. You know what I mean. You could’ve stopped this at any point and told them. But you didn’t.”
“You didn’t either.”
“It’s not my job to out you. Besides, you know what, I’m comfortable with who I am. Can you say the same?”
“Look,” he snarled. “Just take it off...”
“Or what?”
“Just take that shit off,” he said, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Are you going to hit me, you prick. Real fucking tough. You have what, eight inches on me? Or are you hitting yourself, because you’re a piece of shit closet case who can’t deal.”
He kept clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Come on. Try it, big shot. Take one shot and I’ll call the cops. Big fucking tough guy.”
“The cops will laugh at you. Little fucking drag queen gets beat up and you think they care?”
“You think they’ll see a drag queen? Take a look, you pathetic piece of shit. They’ll drag you off. So, try it. Try and hit me. Big macho asshole.”
He blanched. and dropped his hands to his sides “Sorry, but take that shit off.”
“Or what?”
“I knew it. Drag queen.”
“Closet case, and...” I almost told him that everyone thought he was gay, but quite frankly, I didn’t want to put Catherine in an awkward position later on. “From the airport forward, you could’ve told everyone I was a guy. Hell, from our first date forward. But you didn’t. Instead, you reveled in the mistake. Every time someone said ‘mademoiselle.” or used ‘she’ or ‘her’ for me, you didn’t say a word. But, now, behind closed doors, you’re mister big shot. Fuck you.”
“Are you through? You told me that you were just doing this for the wedding. But, my, my, my. Look at all the clothes you bought. Donating it to charity, Tinkerbelle?”
“I’ll wear whatever the fuck I want. You know what, I knew this trip was a mistake. You showed me who you were the first night, you piece of shit. I hope you enjoy the rest of your life picking up rough trade, you scumbag. Maybe one day you’ll grow up.” With that, I went it to the bedroom and packed up my things. “I’ll see myself out.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” he smirked. “Where are you going to stay,”
“Let’s get something straight, Kenneth,” I said, lisping exaggeratedly. “I make more than you. I can afford any room in this city. So don’t worry about me. Go find someone in the park to fuck. Someone where you don’t have to worry about actually behaving like an adult.”
“Brian..” he said.
“No, Kenny. Fuck you. And do me a favor, lose my number.”
“Fine.”
“Fine,” and I slammed the door. I found a cab at the cab stand, and went to stay at the Crillon. Extremely pricey, but I had to prove that I could to Kenny, even if he wasn’t there. Besides, it was one night. I was crying at the check-in desk.
“What’s wrong, Mademoiselle?” asked the clerk.
“Nothing,” I sniffled. “Just...never mind.”
“They are all pigs,” she smiled. “Give them foie gras and they want hamburger.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“Room 413, enjoy your night.”
I got upstairs, and wanted to call someone. I started to dial Lisa, but stopped. I felt like this was somehow her fault. I don’t know exactly why. She had no idea Kenny was going to be like this. But I wouldn’t be here, across an ocean if it wasn’t for her. I wouldn’t be in a dress and heels either. I just felt like she would have nothing useful to say. So I called Adam.
“Hello?”
“Hi Adam, it’s Br..Jessica.” Close call. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, I was just going out to go food shopping. Life on the edge. What happened?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re in Paris. If everything was good, I have to imagine you wouldn’t be calling.”
“Nothing. I mean I don’t want to bother you.”
“It’s no bother. Besides, one day,” he said, doing the world’s worst Brando imitation, “there will come a day when I need a favor...I’ll call you with a problem and then you’ll have to listen. So, I’m not being nice. I’m merely accumulating debt.”
I laughed. “Don’t quit your day job. So, collecting debts, huh?”
“Just tell me.”
I then told him the whole story. Well, obviously, not the whole story. I mean, I left out the whole ‘I’m a guy, dressed like a girl’ part. I just said he acted like an asshole in private about things he laughed about in public. And then I told him about the fists.
“What?” he said angrily. “He did what?”
“He didn’t do anything. It was just a gesture.”
“That piece of shit. You don’t even threaten that shit. I’ll fly there and fucking kill him. Let’s see him try it with a guy.” You don’t even know the half of it, I thought.
“Calm down. I left. I’m at the Crillon, and he can go fuck himself.”
“Damn right, he can. What kind of jackass gives up someone like you?”
“I’m blushing. Stop it.”
“It’s just,” he stammered. “I just don’t see that you did anything so awful.”
“Me either.”
“What are you going to do about the wedding?”
“Nothing I can do. Besides, I walk down the aisle with him, smile in some pictures and that’s it. I can do that for Lisa.”
“You’re a hell of a friend. Most women I know would drop out.”
“You don’t ditch 16 years because of some prick.”
“Mature of you. I’d be out of there.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You think you would, but you’re too good a guy to do that to a friend.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s my lot in life.”
“Stop it. When I get back, we’re getting you a girlfriend.”
He laughed. “Good luck.”
“Stop it, Adam. You’re a great guy.”
“Thank you,” he said. “And you’re great. Someone’s going to snatch you up. I’d offer my friends, but I want to stay friends with you.”
“Thanks. I feel much better.”
“I try.”
“You succeed.”
“Now, I’m blushing. I’ll see you Monday.”
“I can’t wait.”
I ordered room service. I feared the bill, but wasn’t in the mood to go out. When the waiter delivered the food, he looked me up and down, like he couldn’t figure out why I was alone. I smiled and gave him a good tip. I don’t know why, but I decided to try on all my new clothes. I know, I know. For someone who was only doing this as a favor, I was sure having a good time. I put on my little plaid skirt, Mary Janes and white shirt, with my black lace bra peeking through. I started making suggestive poses in the mirror. I honestly don’t know why I bought it, except that Catherine pushed.
When she proposed it, I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t this a little tacky?”
She laughed. “Of course, it is. But all men love it. I think they all want to fuck Catholic school girls.”
“I’m Jewish,” I laughed.
“Trust me. Kenny will love it.” ‘I doubt that,’ I thought.
I was trying on a blue shift, with blue 3" heels, when my phone rang. It was Lisa.
“Where are you?” she yelled. “I was worried.”
“Hello to you too.” I said calmly.
“Where are you?”
“In a hotel.”
“Which one?”
“Why? You obviously found me.”
“Kenny called.”
“Kenny can go fuck himself. In fact, I think that’s the only thing that would make him happy.”
“Come on. What happened?”
“Nothing. I wasted money on plane tickets and, now, a hotel. He’s an asshole, like I initially thought. That’s it.”
“Something happened for you to leave. He said you two had a fight. That you lied.”
“I didn’t do shit.”
“Then, why did he say you did? Tell me, so I know who to believe.”
“What?” I said flatly. “Excuse me...who to believe?”
“You misinterpreted what I said.”
“I imagine I didn’t. You’re going to believe him over me. Your quote ‘best friend of sixteen years,’ unquote. Versus a guy you saw treat me like shit. Nice to know where I stand.”
“That’s not what I meant. I just, I mean...”
“I know what you mean. This is all your fault.”
“Bri,” she started, whimpering.
“Let’s end this conversation now, Lise. Before it gets uglier.”
“Bri, please. I apologize.”
“Whatever,” I said, hanging up.
I laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. What the hell was going on in my life? I have one psycho who treats me like shit, who I knew treated me like shit when I flew six hours to see him. I had another guy, who was great but would lose it if he found out I had a penis. I was sitting a blue dress an ocean away from someone who I thought was my best friend. I was a real prize. I was reveling in my self-loathing, when the phone rang. Guess who?
“Hello,” I said tentatively.
“I’m getting a little tired of this, Brian.”
“Jim...”
“Let me ask you a question. What do I do for a living?”
“You’re an architect. Why do you ask?”
“Do you know why I became an architect, and not a pyschiatrist?”
“No, why?”
“Because I don’t like dealing with emotional crises. Tell me what happened, so I can decide which fag’s ass I’m going to kick. I want to watch the Yankees and I can’t because of you and Kenny.”
“You should be thankful I’m sparing you from the Yankees.”
“I’m not in the mood. What happened?”
I started with the airport, and ‘kiss her, you idiot.’ “So, he doesn’t say anything...”
“Did you expect him to say this is my boyfriend?”
“Well, no...”
“OK. Can I get the Cliffs’ Notes version of this? Not that it’s not interesting...”
“I understand totally,” so I told him about the waiters, Catherine, everything...
“Again, were you expecting something different? Besides, you didn’t say anything...”
“I’m supposed to out him? C’mon, Jim, I expect more from you.”
He laughed. “As well you should. So, how do you end up in a hotel?”
I told him about what happened in the apartment.
“Take that shit off, huh?” he laughed. “You don’t know him, but that’s classic Kenny.”
“What?”
“Uses a situation to his advantage, then shifts when it doesn’t anymore and wonders why everyone didn’t know the game had changed.”
“Thanks for setting me up with him.”
“Lisa did that. Blame her. Oh, wait, you did. Which brings me back to the initial reason for this call.”
“I’m not finished. When I wouldn’t do what he said, he started clenching his fists...”
“What? That is not cool. No women. No weaker guys. Prick. This will be taken care of.”
“Thank you. Don’t ruin your friendship for me.”
“Whatever. You still haven’t told me why Lisa’s all bent.”
“Did she tell you what she said? She said, and I quote, ‘tell me what happened, so I know who to believe.”
“Whoa...”
“Whoa is right. I’m pissed.”
“If you ever repeat this, I’ll kill you. But you’re right. You know that’s not how she meant it.”
“I know. I’m not apologizing though.”
“Think about it. For my sake. You owe me one. Or several.”
“I know, Jim. You’ve been incredibly patient throughout this.”
“I have.”
“Don’t get arrogant.”
“It ain’t arrogance, if you can back it up.” We both laughed. “Can I ask you a question? Why are you there? ”
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not. You want to know why?”
“Why, I ask with trepidation?”
“Because you’re an idiot.”
“Thanks a lot. I shouldn’t ask why, but explain.”
“He treats you like shit here, so you go out with him. Which is bad enough. Then you fly there, on your own dime, which is exponentially more stupid. So, unless there’s some fucked up gay shit I don’t want to know about, you are an idiot. Case closed.”
“You’re a putz, Jim. You know that, right?”
“I do. But that doesn’t make me any less right. One last question...”
“Don’t you want to watch the Yankees?”
“I am. Besides, it’s the fourth inning. I’m fine. Anyway, you keep saying this is temporary. But, you seem to be getting more into it, am I wrong? I mean, buying all the clothes is not a temporary act.”
“Shut up...”
“Whatever works for you. I don’t care. You need to think about that.”
“Thanks, Doctor.”
“If I was your shrink, you’d be cured,” he laughed.
“Of what?”
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever it was, it’d be fixed.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Now, back to the last and worst topic, Lisa. You can’t hang up on her.”
“She doubted me over Kenny, after everything.”
“She didn’t doubt you. She was just confused. You know her, she’s a romantic.”
“So?”
“She keeps thinking you two will work this out.”
“Which two?”
“You and Kenny.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I hope not. If you two hook up again, I don’t want to hear it. Fucking crazy butt monkeys.”
“You want in?” I laughed.
“Not likely, although I know why you want it. If I’m switching teams, it’s not for either of you. Anyway, that’s not what she meant.”
“Lately I don’t know what she means.”
“Me either. But, she’s freaking out again. She loves you.”
“She has a weird way of showing it.”
“Maybe, but she didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Me either.”
“I know,” he sighed. “But make this up with her when you get back. I need peace in my life, and this is not working.”
“I’ll do it for you.”
“Thank you.”
“You need some hope, what with the Yankees and all.”
“The bet still stands, Fifi.”
“Freak,” I said, laughing.
“Homo,” he said, “just take care of this. Besides, I can’t have my French maids all pissed at each other. You’ll drop drinks.”
“You were my first love...”I began singing.
“Can’t sing. Can’t dance. Are you sure you’re gay?”
“Dickhead.”
“Rope smoker.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Just fix this. I drop fifteen gs on a ring, and all I have to show for it is grief.”
“Me too. I’ll do what I can.” And we both hung up. I started to dial Lisa, but decided to hold off until I got back. Sometimes, you need to see someone’s face to understand what they’re thinking. All I knew was I didn’t know anything.
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Another BigCloset TopShelf story. The saga continues. I'm back from Paris, alone and unsure. I find hope. Is it real or false? I need help.
I took the red-eye back Sunday night, and landed at JFK 7:00 AM Monday morning. Quite frankly, since my trip was not quite what I expected, I would’ve left earlier but, when I called Continental, they couldn’t guarantee me a seat. Rather than spending eight hours at De Gaulle, I spent the day wandering the streets, just checking things out. It wasn’t much fun, however. I kept expecting to see Kenny and I just wasn’t in the mood for his shit. Especially since I was dressed in my new pink bohemian skirt, black top and black 2" platform slides. I would’ve worn a nicer shoe but, as Julia had pointed out, walking in 4" heels for an extended period of time loses its appeal very quickly.
Anyway, I cleared customs. I was dressed in my traveling clothes, jacket, khakis and polo shirt, so as not to arouse suspicion. Ironically, I think I probably got more scrutiny that way. This time, the customs agent felt the need to say “Brian Rosen? You’re Brian Rosen?” Unlike the last time, I kept my mouth shut and said, “I know. I know. But, yes, I am. Would you like to see my driver’s license?” I came home to find eight messages on my voice mail. I took a deep breath, figuring this couldn’t be good since I was only gone two days.
First message. “Hi, Brian. It’s Steve Kroenke...” OK, client call. Dodged one bullet.
Second message. “Hi, you’ve been selected to receive a free...” Never has a telemarketer sounded so good.
Third message. “Brian, it’s Kenny. I assume you’re alive. If so, I think you owe me a phone call after the way you behaved...” ‘I owe you a phone call?’ I thought. ‘I. Owe. You? After the way that I behaved? Why? So you can play out some more self-loathing? Or maybe you’ll announce that you’ve come out to all the people who’ve already guessed? Oh yeah, when that happens, the temperature in hell will be a brisk 32. That’s really fucking priceless. Delete this one. Expunge it. Erase it from human history.’ ‘Well, whatever’s next can’t be so bad,’ I thought.
“Hi, Brian. It’s Lisa. Please call me and let me know you made it. I’m worried. So’s Ken...” Note to self, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ “I’ll deal with this at some point,” I sighed to no one in particular. “Not now. Not today. I need to say something, but I want to be calm and formulate it. Not fly off the handle.” ‘Well, what’s next,’ I thought. ‘Dentist saying I need root canal? Audit?’
“Hey, Jessica. It’s Adam.” I grinned from ear to ear. “Wanted to see how you were doing. You were pretty broken up on Saturday, so I just wanted to make sure you were OK. That guy’s an asshole. Anyway,” he said, laughing. “I wanted to make sure we were still on for Tuesday. Since you’re treating, I’ve been starving myself. Be prepared to pay. Call me.” That made me feel great. It was so nice to hear from someone without an agenda. Someone who just liked me. Then I felt like crap. He didn’t like me. He liked Jessica. I was bad as everyone else. I was manipulating someone who didn’t deserve it.
The last three calls were from clients, including Melissa.
After I was done, I unpacked. I stared at all the clothing I bought. I loved all my new outfits, but then I wondered. Why am I doing this? I’m going to stop in June. I certainly don’t need this. But, Dress for Success can use it to help poor women on interviews. But, is a pink and white floral print, spaghetti-strap sundress work clothing? I took off my traveling clothes and slipped it on. I don’t know about work clothes, but I did look cute. It was so light and flirty. I twirled around, loving the way it felt. OK, maybe everyone is right. Maybe I’m deluding myself. Maybe this is what I want. No, wait, Maybe, I bought all of these clothes to piss off Kenny. Like, he liked ‘Mademoiselle’ in public but not in private, so I was forcing his hand. That sounded convincing. Or it did, until I fished out my breast forms and slipped them in. Damn, I looked adorable.
Enough of that. I had work to catch up on. I took it off an put on my work clothes. A buttondown shirt and a pair of khakis. I know it sounds ridiculous on so many levels. Putting aside Jessica, I worked at home. People never understood why I dressed in office clothes to work at home. They also said I could wear whatever I wanted, which was true. But someone how I felt like if you treat it like a real office, you’ll get more done. And I did. Of course, since I was now 36-24-31, I had to wear a woman’s blouse and khakis. Nonetheless, I was dressed for work, and so I sat down to return calls. First call, Melissa.
“Hey, Melissa. It’s Brian.”
“Hey, how are you?” she said brightly. “So, what happened on the trip?”
“Let’s just leave it at nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“Lisa called me and told me part of the story...”
“I said, ‘Let’s just leave it at nothing ventured, nothing gained.’”
“Look, if I’m crossing a line, let me know. She was pretty freaked and...”
“Melissa, off limits. Nothing personal, but I don’t want to go there.”
“If you say so. It’s just that I thought...”
“I understand. If I change my mind, I’ll let you know. But, I’m still processing. Also, while we’re friends, you’re a client, and this is not really something that helps me professionally...”
“And buying skirts in Barney’s does?” she laughed.
“Oh, god. I should’ve held my ground and pretended....”
She interrupted. “Kidding, Brian, kidding. I’ve said it before. You’re the golden gi..you’re golden. I don’t care what or who you do, or what you wear. Speaking of which, buy anything interesting?”
I blushed. “A few things.”
“No more paisley, I hope.”
“I like that skirt.”
“You’re about it. What did you buy?”
“A few skirts. A very cute pink sundress. Some shoes.”
“A quote ‘very cute’ pink sundress? You are such a girly girl, Miss Brian. But this is only until June 25th?”
“Line crossing.”
“I’ll stop on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“I come over for a fashion show. I’m tired of you in pants.”
“Fine. Can we cover work now?”
“If you want, Princess.”
“Line crossing. Sexual harassment, actually.” I laughed.
“Yeah, OK. Call legal,” she sighed. “That should be interesting. Anyway, the project..”
I won’t bore you with work talk. We talked for half an hour, and then worked for another four. You know me, sublimate issues with work. Sublimate, huh? I’ve been seeing Julia for too long.
At 1:30, I took a break and called Adam.
“Dr. Connolly’s office. Gina speaking.”
“May I speak to him please?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Uh..” I paused, almost stumbling over the name. “Jessica Rosen.”
“Oh,” Gina said, her voice brightening. “He’s told me about you. Hold on..”
‘He’s told me about you? Oh god,’ I thought. ‘What does that mean?’ I’m, as a former president once said, in deep doo doo.
“Hey, Jess, how are you?”
“Fine. How about you. How was your weekend?”
“Boring. Uneventful.”
“Better than mine then.”
“Are you OK? You didn’t talk to him again, did you? By the way, the offer still stands. I’ll fly there and kick his ass for you.”
I grinned. “My knight in shining armor. That’s actually the best offer I’ve had in a long time, but it’s not necessary. Appreciated, but not necessary.”
“You’re welcome. Are we still on for tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Me either. I mean, a free meal’s a free meal...”
“Stop it,” I giggled. ‘I am such a loser,’ I thought. ‘I sound like a 16 year old. Girl.’
“Plus, the company’s not so bad...”
“Thank you SO much, Adam. Nice to know where I stand.”
“Wherever you want,” he said. “Sorry, that was rude.”
“Again, Adam, it’s not rude. It’s flirting. Women like that.”
“Sorry. It’s just...”
“You need more confidence. We’ll work on that.”
“That’s what Gina says, too.”
“She’s right. You are one hell of a catch.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled. “I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. We can get a man on the moon. We’ll get a girl on you.”
“Uh, thank you. Sure it can’t be you?”
“Adam,” I sighed. “We’ve covered this. Not me. Someone less fucked up.”
“You’re not fucked up.”
“Thank you. But you deserve better. And I’m going to get her.”
“If you say so. Anyway, 7:30 tomorrow?”
“Meet me here,” and I gave him the address. “You better not stand me up.”
“Me? You better not stand ME up.”
“See you tomorrow,” I giggled. ‘Stop it, you girl,’ I chided myself.
“Done and done.” he laughed.
I got off the phone and tried to focus on work. But I couldn’t. I was focused on Adam. ‘This isn’t right,’ I thought. ‘He’s straight. You’re not. You..are..a...guy. Not much of one. But a guy, nonetheless. So, get back to work. Besides you have bills to pay.’ This worked for about half a minute. ‘OK,’ I thought. ‘Decide what you’re going to wear tomorrow night. If you do that, you’ll be finished and you’ll be able to work.’ I went to my closet and looked around.
First, I tried on a baby doll top, a pair of jeans and my black 3" boots. I looked cute, but decided (a) jeans required me to tuck, which was really unpleasant and (b) I wanted to show off my legs. ‘Show off my legs?’ I thought. ‘Melissa’s right. I am such a girly girl.’
I wanted to wear the sundress, but it was still too cool. Next up, a black spaghetti strapped dress. No, too dressy for a ‘just friends’ dinner. Note to self: Put down Cosmo. Read a trade journal.
Next up, my black cotton wrap around dress and black heels. ‘Hmmm,’ I thought. ‘I look good, but I’m not overdressed.’ I put it aside for future consideration.
I decided it needed to be a skirt or dress. Everyone kept telling me how great my legs were. Why not show them off? ‘OK,’ I thought, ‘you need to stop this. Stop this now. You’re a man...but, Adam’s looking for Jessica. And Jessica likes skirts and dresses. And heels. So, it’s not you. It’s Jessica. It’s the role, not the actor.’
I finally found the perfect outfit. My white t-shirt and a skirt with a cartoon print that ended about 2" above my knees. I put on my black platform slides and twirled. I looked really cute. Friendly but not like I was trying to lead him on. I needed help. Bad. Psychotropic drug bad.
I put the outfit aside. If nothing else, I was able to get back to work. I worked until 6:30 when the phone rang. The caller i.d. read, “Lisa.”
“Hey,” I grunted. “What’s up?”
“You’re alive,” she said sarcastically.
I still wasn’t in the mood for her. “I’m swamped with work. Projects on deadline. Can I call you back.”
“Uh, sure. Are you OK?” she said meekly.
“Yeah, fine. I’ll call you back. It’s just ‘leave for two days and have four days work when you get back,’ you know?”
“Uh sure, Bri. Call me.”
“Uh huh,” I grunted. “Later.”
“Later? OK, speak to you soon.”
I was too absorbed in myself to hear the hurt in her voice. When I thought about it, I thought, ‘Good. Now she knows how it feels.’ Once again, keeping in character, I threw myself into my work. I stopped at 1:30 AM and passed out.
I woke up the next morning at 8:30 and did more work. It was hard to focus, though. I was really looking forward to dinner with Adam. I liked the fact that he knew nothing about the whole Lisa-Kenny-Jim debacle. I mean, he knew about Kenny, but not really. Then, I felt guilty. Again, this poor guy thought I was Jessica. If he knew I was Brian, he would cut me off at the knees, I’m sure. I needed to forget about it. So, guess what I did? If you said, “work,” you made the right call. Other than ten minutes for lunch, I worked through until 6:00 PM, when I stopped to shower. It felt so good to get into a hot shower. I lathered myself up and let the water run over me. I felt my legs and even though I barely had hair (even before I started this), I decided to shave them. I’m not sure why, though. It’s not like Adam was going to run his hands over them. Involuntarily, the image of Adam running his hands over my legs started to get me excited. He kept going up and down, further and further up. I avoided picturing him reaching the point of no return, but he kept going further up my thighs until just before then. Then, I pictured him using his chiropractic skills to give me a massage, and then kissing my neck, and I started to get hard. I decided, to avoid any problems later on, to masturbate. I figured that, if he could get me excited without even being present in any way, who knew what would happen at dinner.
I got out of the shower, attached my breast forms and got dressed. I then put on my make up. Not too much though. While it was evening, this wasn’t a date. We were just friends and a friend wouldn’t get all made up, I decided. After I was finished, I went to my full length mirror. I looked really cute. I gave myself a smile and a little twirl. I loved watching my skirt fly in the air, and hated that I loved it. Since Paris, I was having a hard time determining who I was. On the one hand, unlike Adam, I knew I was a gay man and didn’t hide that from anyone. But, on the other hand, maybe everyone was right. I was playing the role of a woman a little too well. I knew I didn’t want a sex change but I was beginning to wonder what I wanted. Did I want to be Jessica, a she-male Brian or was this just until June 25? I did know one thing for sure. I was giving my self a head ache. I looked at the clock - 7:20. At 7:25, the buzzer rang.
“Hi, Jess. It’s Adam.”
I smiled. “Come on up.” I buzzed him in, and was giddy with expectation. ‘I am so lame,’ I thought. ‘He’s a friend. Who doesn’t know that you have a penis. Calm down, you girl.’
I opened the door. “Wow,” he said, “you look great.”
I blushed. “Thanks.” He, however, didn’t. He was wearing the uniform of the defeated thirty-something straight male in New York. A blue golf shirt, tan Dockers pants - with pleats! - and brown Timberland loafers.
“Uh, nice place,” he said, looking around.
“I know, it’s a mess.” It was. Plus, my decor was, charitably put, Spartan. I had a couch, coffee table and TV. In one corner, I had my computer and files. Other than a Jasper Johns print on the wall, it was pretty much empty. When it came to interior decorating, I was one pathetic queer. I almost got drummed out of the union.
He laughed. “No, it’s just nice to see someplace where you’re not perfect. Actually, I like it. Most girls’ places are too fussy.”
“Adam, I am not perfect. Believe me, I am far from it. Besides, what you call fussy, a woman would call homey. Remember that. Besides, once you’re in, you don’t get a choice in decor anyway.”
He laughed. “Thanks for the heads up. Ready to go?”
“Sure, how is it outside? I haven’t been outside all day.”
“Really?”
“Work. When I get on a project, I get OCD.”
“Are you OK to go now?”
“Don’t even try and back out. I’ve been waiting all day for this.” That sounded pathetic and needy. Both of which, I excelled at.
He grinned slyly. “Really?”
“Shut up,” I said. “How is it out?”
“60s.”
“Let me grab my coat.” I went into the bedroom, put on my denim jacket and ran my fingers through my hair. I couldn’t help it. I looked good.
We left and went downstairs. Unfortunately, of all the lobbies in all the apartments in the world, she had to walk into mine. In other words, we ran into Lisa and Jim.
“She walks! She lives! She has returned!” said Lisa mockingly.
“Ha ha,” I said flaty, “I’ve been busy.”
Jim gave me a sideways glance. “Hey,” he paused momentarily “Jessica.”
“Hi.”
Adam stuck out his hand. “Adam Connolly.”
“Jim Goldberg,” he said, shaking and giving Adam a strange look.
Adam looked at me with a ‘what’s up here?’ look. I held up one hand, in the universal, “don’t worry” mode.
Lisa stuck out her hand. “Since both Jess and Jim are so rude, Lisa Wasserman.”
Adam laughed. “Ah, the bride. Congratulations.”
“I see Jess has acknowledged my existence recently to someone.”
“I’ve been busy. Hey, Jim, Adam’s a Yankee fan.”
Jim laughed. “Maybe you can do something with her.”
“She’s hopeless.”
“Actually,” Jim laughed. “All she has is hope. No likelihood of ever winning. But, hope nonetheless.”
“That’s enough, you two.”
“Where are you two off to?” Lisa said, with a smarmy grin.
“Beyoglu, on 2nd,” I said.
“A date? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not a date. We’re friends,” I said defensively. Adam looked a little disappointed. Jim shot me another sideways glance.
“You never treat me to dinner.”
“(A) I have. (B) You never help me at the gym.”
“So, you two met at the gym,” Jim said.
Adam brightened up. “She was using the machines wrong. I showed her what to do,” he said proudly.
“You showed her, huh?” Jim said, putting an emphasis, infinitesimal but emphasis nonetheless, on her.
“Yes, he did. He used to be a trainer.”
“Cool. Must’ve met a lot of women.”
Lisa punched him. “Jim...”
“What? I can’t live vicariously now?”
Adam laughed. “They have policies on that.”
“Don’t ruin it for me,” Jim laughed. “Lie.”
“OK, it was constant women. Just throwing themselves at you. I barely had energy to do my job. That’s why I stopped training....”
“Thank you.”
“This conversation is degenerating,” I said. “We’ve got to go.”
Lisa smiled. “Call me, and let me know how the non-date went.”
“Me too,” Jim chimed. “I’m curious.”
“Goodbye, you two,” I said.
We started walking. “They seemed nice,” Adam said. “What’s up?”
“What’s up with what?”
“You and Lisa seemed tense around each other.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“They introduced me to Kenny.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, the wound’s still raw. I need to cool down before I deal with her.”
“I understand. Nice skirt, by the way. Milton Canniff?”
“Huh? No, I forget who the designer is, but I know it’s not Milton Canniff. I’ve never heard of him.”
“Not the designer. The cartoons on the skirt. They’re by Milton Canniff. From his comic strip, ‘Terry and the Pirates.’”
I laughed. “Oh, god. You’re not a comic book guy, are you? I have an X-Men, Series 2 in mint condition,” I said, affecting a wheezy voice.
“How do you know comic book guy?”
“I was an engineering major, remember?”
He laughed. “No, I was not comic book guy. I was worse.”
“What could possibly be worse?”
“Cartoon guy.”
“What is cartoon guy, and how is he worse?”
“Comic book guy collects comic books. Cartoon guy knows every comic strip and cartoon ever, and can discuss them at length.”
“OK, so how is it worse?”
“Cartoon guy is lonely. There’s always that group of five or six comic book guys in every school. There’s maybe one or two cartoon guys. And they don’t know each other. Or they don’t know that the other’s one cartoon guy, I mean.”
“That is so sad,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
He turned beet red. “Stop it.”
“It’s cute, Adam. How do you become cartoon guy?”
“I drew all the time when I was a kid. I wanted to be a cartoonist.”
“No kidding.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, that’s really cool. I think it’s cool that you can draw. I can’t draw a bath. Creative people are amazing.” This whole line of discussion was making me fall for him. I needed to stop. Unless he wanted a chick with a dick, this was not happening.
“OK, seriously stop. I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. It’s nice.”
“What about you? What did you want to be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ballerina?”
OK, think fast. Do I agree and play along? No, go another way. “Nice stereotype. Actually no, I guess I wanted to be Steve Wozniak.” Which was true.
“Who?”
“The guy who founded Apple Computer.”
“I thought that was Steve Jobs.”
“Wozniak was the hard-core programmer. He kept in the background more and left after Apple’s first big wave, so no one remembers him much.”
“Interesting,” he said. “I guess you stuck with it. More than me.”
“How did you end up doing this?”
“I don’t know. At some point, somewhere around ninth grade, I gave up the cartooning dream.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he said sadly. “It just stopped being the dream. No reason. Or no good one that I can come up with. I think about though, every once in a while.”
“Why not try now?”
“My mind doesn’t think that way anymore.”
“That’s a cop out. I bet you’re still creative. Lots of people have done it. Gaugin, for one.”
He laughed. “That’s quite a comparison, thank you. It’s not creativity. It’s thinking in four panels. Set up, set up, set up, joke. You have to be in that mindset. Plus, my guess is I wasn’t that funny.”
I touched his arm which, I realized immediately, was a bad signal to send. “I’d like to see your old strips.”
He blushed. “I think they’re at my mom’s. If she didn’t throw them out.”
“Well, if you’d let me, I’d like to see them.”
He kept blushing, then mumbled, “I’ll check next time I’m there.”
I don’t know why, but I felt so comfortable around him. Maybe, it was that he seemed as vulnerable as me. Or maybe it was his sweetness. He was the first person I told the Steve Wozniak story, too. My female friends didn’t understand, and gay guys would’ve thought it was bizarre. It always felt like I should say Elton John or Kim Richards in “Escape from Witch Mountain.” Even when things were good, and I use that term very loosely, with Kenny, I never felt open. I always felt like I was hiding something. But, I felt like I could be myself with Adam. Which is ironic, since I wasn’t. I was Jessica.
I must’ve seemed out of it, because he said, “Penny for your thoughts.”
“Nothing. Just thinking about something.”
“What, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Nothing. Just some work stuff,” I lied.
He smiled, “You’re a workaholic. Tonight, you relax.”
“Deal,” I laughed. Just then, a woman with a bulldog puppy walked past. She, the woman that is, was cute, about 28, dark hair, greenish-brownish eyes, 5'4" and 140 lbs.
Adam bent down. “Hey puppy,” he said, rubbing the puppy’s belly. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl?”
The woman smiled at me. “He’s a keeper. She usually doesn’t like men that much. That tells you something.”
“I know. But, we’re not a couple.”
“Really?”
“Nope. Just friends.”
“Why? Is Ginger,” she said, pointing at the dog, “a bad judge of character?”
“No, it’s me. I’m still in my asshole phase, apparently.” She smiled. Adam was, during all of this, blithely unaware. He kept playing with the dog.
“Hey, Adam. Stand up. Adam, this is?”
“Denise,” she said, with a smile. Adam stood there, looking embarrassed.
“Hi Denise. I’m Jessica,” which came out surprisingly easily, which made me feel uncertain. “Now, Adam, here’s where you introduce yourself.” He blushed. Denise smiled.
“Hi, uh, I’m Adam. This is a great dog.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he stammered. “Um, nice to meet you. Jessica, don’t we have to get to dinner?”
“Where are you headed?” Denise said, throwing me a “boy, he’s shy” look.
“Beyoglu, on 2nd.”
“Ooh, that’s good. Try the doner kebab. Also, they make great hummus.”
“Thanks, Denise. Oh, by the way, since Adam here seems to have lost the power of speech, maybe we could all get together some time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she said, giving me a sly grin. “That’d be fun.” She fished through her bag. “Here’s my card. E-mail me.”
“Great, either Adam or I will do that. Right, Adam?”
“Sure,” he mumbled. “OK. Nice meeting you. Bye, puppy,” he said, as the dog jumped on him.
“Bye,” she said, walking off. “By the way, cute skirt.”
I slapped him on his head.
“Ouch. What’d I do?”
“She was so into you. And you stood there like a statute.”
“Really? She was? You think so?”
“You are so dense. Did she have to hold up a sign? Even that, you’d probably stand there and say, ‘I want to fu...fu...what?”
He laughed. “I’m not that bad, am I?”
“You’re a work in progress. So, you’ll e-mail her, right?”
“Um...”
“Adam, Adam, Adam. You are a great guy. You just need to realize it.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“It’s a compliment. Take it as one.”
“OK. If I’m so great, why aren’t you interested?”
“You really want to be rebound guy?”
He smiled. “No. I guess she was cute.”
“We’re working on you. Fix you up and then sell you.”
He theatrically turned away. “I feel like such a piece of meat.”
“You love it, you big ham,” I said, punching him lightly. I was sending off such mixed signals. I needed to stop. But it felt so natural.
We got to the restaurant and ate dinner. Denise was right. The hummus was delicious. Adam had the doner kebab. I had striped bass. It was great. But, what was really the best was the conversation. We talked about work, our hobbies, our families.
“So, tell me about your family,” I said.
“Not much too say. Generic Irish family. Grew up in Pelham. Mom stayed home, dad’s a VP at Chase. I have two older brothers and a younger sister.”
“That sounds good. Tell me about them.”
“One brother’s a doctor, the other’s a mortgage trader. My sister’s in law school.”
“Wow, that’s quite an accomplished bunch. How do you all get along?”
“OK, I guess. We fought as kids, but who doesn’t?”
“True. What about now?”
“I mean, we see each other every couple of months. Talk every week or so.”
I laughed. “That’s amazing.”
“Why?”
“You all have the right idea.”
“Who’s you all? And the right idea about what?”
“Non-Jews. Jews are on top of each other. Lisa goes to the bathroom, her mom knows. You get to have lives.”
He sighed. “But, you’re much closer. My house, you had a problem, no one really talked about it. My Jewish friends always seemed much closer. You could talk to your parents. Like, I bet you and your family are really close.”
“There’s an exception to every rule,” I said.
“Why? You seem like you’d be on the phone with your mom all the time.”
“I wish. Unfortunately, she’s been dead for eleven years.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
“You couldn’t.”
“Brothers, sisters?”
“One sister. After my mom died, she found Jesus. She moved to Texas with her husband, and we don’t talk much.”
“Why?”
“She’s really rigid. She doesn’t approve of me,” I said, regretting it the minute I said it.
“What’s not to approve of?”
“She’s really into, ‘Men are men. And women are women. And everyone has his or her place. No divergence from the norm.’”
“Wow,” he said. “What’s so bad about you? Like you should be married with four kids and home-schooling?”
“Something like that. My one regret is she has kids that I’ve never met.”
“That’s a shame. You’d be a great aunt, I bet.”
I looked down. “I’d like to try, but it’s not happening.” I started to tear up.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to open a wound.”
“Actually, it feels good, sort of, to talk about it. But, it’s depressing dinner conversation.”
“No, it’s not. I mean, it’s not shits and giggles. But, it’s OK. You’ve listened to me.”
“You’re easy.”
“So are you. What about your father?”
“We don’t speak at all. Let’s just say, he and I don’t see eye-to-eye. The last few times we spoke, we really had it out, so we don’t speak. I’m happier, and I hope he is.”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, your family’s ridiculous. You’re beautiful, successful, kind, sweet and caring....”
Now, it was my turn to blush. “And I stand up straight on the Stairmaster.”
He laughed. “Hey posture’s important. That way, you won’t be one of those hunched over old ladies.”
I blushed. “I don’t think that’s a risk....anyway, enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”
“We have, I thought.”
“Not your family. You. We need to do something about you.”
“What? What’s wrong with me?”
“Well, number one, shyness. Women send out subtle signals, not flares.”
“I know,” he mumbled. “I just hate getting shot down.”
“And, so what if you do? It’s not high school, where you have to face her every day. You move on, her loss.”
“Easier said than done. What else is wrong with me, he says with trepidation” he said, with a smile.
“Since we’re on the topic, your clothes.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“When you sell a car, you clean it up. You’re my used car...”
“That’s so sweet. I prefer pre-owned, thank you. So, what’s wrong?”
“I’m ignoring you. Number one, pleats. Pleats are for fat guys with something to hide. You have a great body, show it. Flat front pants.”
“OK. Flat front pants. What else?”
“The shirt. Are we playing golf?”
“No,” he said, uncertainly.
“Then, why are you wearing a golf shirt?”
“I guess, it’s comfortable is out....”
“Look at what women wear. Do you think heels are comfortable? Or pantyhose?”
“Um, no, I guess.”
“No. We wear them for you.” We? I need help. “So, you can wear a button down shirt, which is not that uncomfortable.”
“Uh huh...boy, this is quite the lesson.”
“It’s not done. Lose the shoes.”
“Can I keep my underwear?”
“Boxers or briefs?”
“Boxer briefs.”
I smiled at the thought of him in just boxer briefs. “They can stay.”
“That was close. Clearly, I need help.”
“You do. And I’m just the person to do it. What are you doing Saturday? Working?”
“Yep. Downside to the job. Sunday OK?”
“It’s a date. To Barney’s.”
“Isn’t that a little gay?”
I almost choked. “Why is stylish gay?”
“You’re in charge, but my ex took me there once. It scared me.”
“Oh, you baby. It’s not Bergdorf Men’s. THAT is gay. But, we’ll build slowly. How about Bloomingdale’s?”
“How about Banana Republic?”
“Where did you get those pants?”
He looked down. “Banana Republic.”
“Bloomingdale’s.”
“You’re in charge.”
“Is that what you like?” I said coyly. Stop it. Just stop it, BRIAN.
“Depends.”
“Adam, Adam, Adam. If I wasn’t so messed up.” I’m serious. Stop it, BRIAN. You are BRIAN. With a B. As in boy. Not much of one, but a penis makes the man.
“I know, I know. Besides, that Denise is much cuter than you...”
“Hey! Take that back!”
“I’m kidding. But, I like the dog.”
“Just what every woman wants to hear,” I said, clutching my hands to my heart.
The rest of the dinner continued on like that. It’s funny. Jerry Seinfeld once said that you don’t make new friends in your 30s, but it seemed like I was. And what made it great was there was no past baggage nor were there external forces. I mean, Melissa and I were friendly enough, but work was the basis, so there would always be certain topics, like my family, that I couldn’t discuss. And even before Jessica, Lisa and I had known each other so long. That’s good, in that you could speak in shorthand, but it’s bad because, on some level, you know too much. She knew too much of my backstory and would interject her own take. Finally, this wasn’t a date. On dates, we all perform a sort of striptease. Show enough to keep them interested, but not so much that they run. Adam was just a friend. And a good one. I only wished I could be honest. But, some things always remain a striptease.
We walked home. We stopped for ice cream.
“Mint chocolate chip,” he ordered.
“Interesting. They say you can tell a lot about someone by the flavor they choose.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, this should be interesting. Do tell me, Miss Jessica, the great psychic...”
“It tells me you like to be different. That you like variety...That...”
“I have two older brothers and the only way I’d get ice cream to myself was to order something no one else liked...”
“You are no fun,” I pouted. Pouting, touching his arm, talking about control. I was acting like such a girl. And the scary thing was I did it reflexively. I was losing it.
“And you, miss?” said the counter clerk.
“Biscotti, please.”
“Biscotti, huh?” he said. He started making crystal ball motions. “You are a woman who likes adventure. Travel. Swarthy men with bad accents...”
I laughed and pushed his cone onto his nose. “You’re right about the swarthy men,” I said, backing away.
He lightly grabbed my arm, and said with a smile. “Oh no you don’t! Not so fast.” He looked into my eyes. ‘Please kiss me,’ I thought. ‘Please don’t kiss me.’ I was confused. Then, he smushed my ice cream onto my nose. “Now, we’re even,” he said with a grin. It broke the tension, but I was a little sad too. I wanted him to kiss me so badly, but I knew it wouldn’t work. One misplaced hand and I was a goner.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“The ice cream. I’ve ruined your makeup.”
“Oh stop, Adam. It was cute. Besides, I started. Any woman who’d get upset about that is a Class A bitch.”
“That’s my ex....”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, it’s OK...”
“I’m all ears...”
“And all legs.”
“Why, Adam? Are you staring at my legs?” I said flirtatiously. I had officially crossed into the abyss.
“I’m your friend. I’m not dead. Can I offer a fashion tip?”
“This should be good.”
“Don’t ever wear pants again. You should always wear skirts.”
I turned bright red. “Thank you,” I mumbled.
“Kenny’s a jackass.”
“Agreed. What about your ex?”
“She would’ve tripped on me if I had pushed ice cream on her nose. Her idea of fun was shopping. Or belittling me.”
“About what?”
“My job. My hair. Everything. I think it made her feel better.”
“And you?”
“It made me feel worse.”
“Why did you put up with her?”
“I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t very successful with women as a kid. So, the first woman to show me attention, I went for. I guess I should’ve seen the signs...”
“Don’t beat yourself up. We all wish we had a time machine. But we don’t. So we move on and try our best in the future. Plus, at least, you didn’t marry her...”
He let out a breath. “Thank god for that.”
We got back to my place. “I had a great time.”
“Me too,” he said, shuffling his foot in a circle. We were in that awkward place, where we didn’t know what to do. I mean, gay guys didn’t really have this problem. Either we had sex, or one or the other (in my case, usually the other) would cut it off. But, straight people seemed much more awkward about this. And, I guess, for the purposes of this interaction, I was a girl. A straight girl.
I leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. “I wanted the ice cream,” I said cutely. I was such a tease, and I resented myself for it.
He blushed. Maybe, he needed to see someone. “Um, ah, um, ah...”
“See you Sunday,” I said.
“Can I speak to you beforehand?”
“I’d be upset if you didn’t. Several times, in fact.”
“I’m going to be a pest.”
“I’m looking forward to that.” I fished in my purse. “Here’s Denise’s card. E-mail her.”
“I don’t know. What do I say?”
“I don’t know. Let’s go out. How’s Ginger? Let’s go Yankees. You’re smart. You’ll come up with something.” That made me feel better. Like I was sending him to someone else.
“Right,” he said, snapping his heels and saluting. “You’re in charge. You speak. I obey.”
“See, you know the secret to a successful relationship already.”
He stuck out his tongue. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Good night. Ask Gina about your shoes. She’ll back me up.”
“Good night, Jessica,” he said. “I’m not listening anymore,” he said, walking away with his fingers in his ears.
I laughed and went upstairs. I felt light as a feather and like I had the weight of the world on me. I was falling for Adam, but couldn’t do anything about it. I never felt more like myself than I did tonight, but it wasn’t me. It was Jessica. The flirting, the pouting, the ice cream. Everything felt natural. From getting dressed to saying, ‘Good night,’ I felt completely relaxed and at peace. I always felt guarded before, like I had to hide. And, with him, I felt free. But, I wasn’t. Because however I felt, I knew he didn’t have the whole story. And there was no way he’d ever accept the real me. Dress or dress. Shoes or no shoes. I was a man. And so was he. And that was that.
Needlessly to say, I barely slept. I’d love to say I had a dream, where he and I lived happily ever after, but I didn’t. Instead, I tossed and turned. I can’t even remember what I dreamt about. I just know I woke up the next morning feeling like I’d been run over by a truck. I poured myself some coffee, and started to work. Coding was therapeutic. There’s a right way and a wrong way, and that was that. Java didn’t look like Unix, but was actually Java. It just was. That’s why I liked programming. No gray areas. No relativism. Just objective truth.
At 11:00 AM, my phone rang. The caller i.d. read, “SGT Design Partners.” I had no idea who that was. I didn’t usually take cold calls, but figured it could be a new client referral.
“Rosen Consulting.”
“Brian, it’s Jim. Or should I say Jessica?”
“Hi, Jim. What’s up? What did I do to her this time?”
“This isn’t about her....”
“Is everything OK? Did something happen?”
“No, relax. Everything’s fine. This is about that guy last night...”
“Adam?”
“Yeah, Adam. We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“About you and him.”
“Um, what about us?”
“What’s the deal with you two?”
“Why are you so concerned?” I said defensively. “I didn’t realize this was any of your business.”
“Fuck you very much, Brian. I’ve watched this whole circus for several months now, and I think I’ve been pretty cool about it, all things considered.”
I felt ashamed. “You have...”
“So, you know what, it is my business.”
“Agreed.”
“So, what’s the deal? Does he know who you are?”
“Does any of us truly know?”
“Cut the fucking comedy. Does he?”
“No.”
“OK, that is un-fucking-acceptable, Brian.”
“Why?” I said, a little too quickly. “We’re just friends.”
“Look,” he said. “I know you were wearing a dress and all, but unless I missed something, you still have a dick, right?”
“And?”
“You know as well as I do. You may be his friend, but he’s not yours...’
“Yes, he is.”
“Come on, think like a guy. The clothes haven’t sapped your brain, have they? He may be your friend, but what I mean is anyone can tell, even dense ol’ me, that he likes you. I mean he wants inside your skirt. Or he thinks he does.”
“He knows we’re just friends, Jim.”
“Let me ask you a question.”
“Shoot.”
“You think, if you said, ‘Adam, I want you,’ he’d say no?’
I moaned. “I know. I know. I don’t know what happened. What do I do?”
“I don’t know. I’d say tell him. But that’ll freak him out, and...”
“What?”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“You really think he’d do something?”
“No, I guess not. But, I think he’s entitled to know.”
“Why are you so concerned about him? You didn’t feel that way about Kenny.”
“I know,” he sighed. “I dropped the ball on that one. I guess I just feel sorry for this guy. Like he looked so happy last night, and he’s part of this big lie. And he doesn’t deserve it.”
“Wow. That’s really sweet of you. So out of character.”
“Bros before hos.”
‘That’s the Jim I know. I know he has a right to know. It’s just...never mind.”
“What?”
“It’s emotional shit. Girly-like.”
“Don’t go to the dark side,” he said, in a Darth Vader voice. “Don’t do it. Nah, seriously, what?”
“Nothing. It’s nice to have a friend.”
“You have friends. Lisa, for one.”
“Things have changed, Jim.”
“She’s still your friend.”
“She is, but this has changed things.”
“Things, or you?”
“Both. Me. Her. Us. Like, we’re addressing shit we never have...sorry, I know you don’t like emotions and feelings.”
“It’s OK. I think you and she both have a lot of shit to deal with. And maybe, for once, you can’t talk to each other. That’s got to be tough.”
“You’re right. It’s sad, but you’re right. You’re also right about Adam. I don’t like it, but you are. It’s just that, with him, I feel comfortable. Like I’m not being judged. Like Kenny, all the politics got in the way. But, now they don’t. Like I can just relax. I haven’t felt that way with Lisa in a while.”
“She can be tough. She does care about you.”
“Does she? Then, why did she do this to me?”
“Do what?”
“Jessica.”
“She didn’t do Jessica to you. She may have handed you the ball. But, you ran with it. More than anyone thought. Maybe more than you did, too. But, what I saw last night, no offense, is not Lisa. It’s you. You chose to do it.”
“Hey, you yourself said I couldn’t say no.”
“Not saying no is one thing. Like you could’ve been in the wedding, but have been Brian the rest of the time. But, I haven’t seen Brian in a long time.”
“I was just being a good friend. This is done June 25.”
“Tell yourself what you want. Quite frankly, believe or it not, I hope whatever you do makes you happy.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Why did she start this? Was it some sort of way of dealing with me.”
“Julia is a quack. We all know it. So should you. I’ve actually given a lot of thought to this. I really don’t think she thought about it. I think she just thought it would be fun.”
“What about Kenny?”
“She has a very simplistic view sometimes. Like gay-gay, hey! I should’ve stopped her, but figured you and he would deal with it in your own way.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Ain’t it though? You have to do what works for you, Brian. Not for me. Not for Lisa. Not for your old man. You. I just think you need to tell Adam, before it gets too deep. He’s an innocent bystander. And a Yankee fan.”
I laughed. “That’s it, isn’t it. Can’t you give me an easy one? Like world peace.”
“Or the Mets winning.”
“Just wait and see.”
“What do I know you, ten years? Just give up already. It’s sad.”
“Ha ha. Thanks, Jim. You know you’re not so bad...”
“I know. Everyone thinks I’m a one dimensional asshole. I’m actually a multi-dimensional asshole.”
“Thanks, Jim.”
“Don’t think this conversation means I won’t make you be a French Maid.”
“You are my...endless love.”
“Later. Do the right thing.”
“I’ll try. This is between you and me, right.”
“You and her have to figure this out. I’m here for both of
Jim was right. I’d discovered over time that he was right about a lot of things. Even so, I couldn’t figure out how to get out of this mess. I got up and went to my closet. I put on a pair of jeans and a tight T-shirt. It sounds ridiculous, but I figured if I dressed the right way, the male way, the gay way, I’d be able to think clearly and find a solution. I looked at myself in the mirror and began to cry. Not just tear up, but bawl like I hadn’t since my mom died. I looked like a fool. I was trying to trick myself. I had lost all sense of who I was. Was I Brian the bottom? Jessica? Some freak condemned to go through life alone and pitied? I went into the bathroom and threw up. Then, I just laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling for an hour.
I was lost for the rest of the day. For once, I couldn’t work. I tried to, but I couldn’t focus. I tried to read, but the words blurred. I just watched TV. I watched the Game Show Channel. “Press Your Luck.” “Match Game.” Anything mindless.
At 5:30 PM, I heard my door unlock. After I pulled myself from the ceiling, I looked over. It was Lisa.
“Knock knock,” I said, nastily.
“Well, look who it is. It’s Brian or it’s Jessica. I don’t know who.” Lisa had a master’s degree in catty. “Whoever you are, you look like shit.”
“Did you come here to be a bitch, or for a reason?”
“Have you been dodging me?”
“I’ve been bus...you know what, I have been avoiding you. I’m pissed. And before I did anything stupid, I thought I’d cool down. Thanks for respecting my space, by the way.”
“I didn’t realize we ‘respected each other’s space.’ But I don’t know a whole lot anymore, I guess.”
“Don’t play the victim. Not this time.”
“I’m not playing the victim. But I am entitled to know why you’re avoiding me.”
“I just wanted to know who to believe....” I said, in a snotty little sing-song voice.
“Oh god, that still? I said I’m sorry. I’ll say it ten times. A thousand. You misunderstood me.”
“You and I both hate that expression, Lisa, come on. I understood you perfectly. You believed Kenny over me. Which is fine. You’re entitled to an opinion, misinformed as it may be. But you can believe who you want. But, I understood you perfectly. Don’t insult me by trying to convince me this had any other meaning.”
“Fine. You’re right. I did believe him...”
“Bitch. You would.”
“Excuse me?” she said angrily. “You’ve made this whole speech about Brian, and being Brian. Then Kenny tells me you come back with an armload of bags wearing a dress. So who should I believe?”
“He’s a closeted freak. I was dressed that way because his friends thought I was a girl. What was I supposed to do, out him? Huh?”
“Oh,” she said sarcastically. “So, his friends made you wear a dress. And buy stuff. Like a ‘cute pink sundress’ I didn’t think the French had it in them.”
“Fuck you. There’s the door. And fuck Melissa too. I guess it’s just work from now on.”
“No, fuck you. I’m not going anywhere. We have to cover this. You wore a dress. You seem to like doing it. So do it. But don’t pretend it’s something else...”
“You made me.”
“Oh, poor little Brian. Poor sad Brian. Poor passive sad little Brian. Everyone makes him do things. Take some responsibility for your life. Don’t always be the victim. You like it. Just admit it. No one cares.”
“So you have no responsibility for this? My life is fucked up beyond recognition, and you bear no responsibility. Nice try, Lisa, but no dice.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ever asked you to be a bridesmaid....”
“Fine,” I snapped. “Done. I’m out. Good luck to you and Jim. Nice to know what you think. I’m sorry I wasted sixteen years of your time. Mazel tov for life. Tell Jim the same.”
She started to cry and then snarled. “Let me finish, and then I’ll be gone. What I was saying was I’m sorry I ever asked you, because of what’s happened. I thought it would be fun. You’d wear a dress, you’d come to my bachelorette party, we’d play with it. Now, look at us, we don’t talk to each other anymore. We talk AT each other. Maybe, we have some nice polite conversations about the wedding, but I feel like you’re angry at me. I don’t know what for. You seem to like being Jessica...”
“Stop it. Stop it NOW!” I yelled.
“Sorry,” she said meekly. “All I was going to say is you seem to like it. If you do, do what makes you happy. If you don’t, then stop. If I started this process and you’re only doing it for me, then we’ll stop it now. I didn’t want a bridesmaid. I wanted my best friend to share my wedding with me as much as possible. But if this is killing that, then this stops now. All in all, I’d like to get my friend back, however he wants it. I understand that they may not be a choice anymore. But, if being out of the wedding would make it better, then quit. Or you’re fired. Whatever. I just don’t want to live like this anymore. It hurts too much...” and she started crying again.
I started to bawl too. “Lisa, I’m scared....”
“Of what?”
“Of everything. Like I don’t know anything anymore. Before all of this, I had a life. It may not have been a great one, but it was what it was. I made a good living, I had a best friend, once in a rare while, I had a boyfriend. I had a nice existence. Now, I feel lost....” and I bawled again.
She came over and held me. “Let it out. What’s lost?”
“Me. Brian. What the hell am I? I flounce around in heels and skirts. Kenny was right...”
“No, he was not right,” she snapped. “He was wrong. And I’m sorry about that too. I shouldn’t have done it, but I didn’t know better. But, once he showed his true colors, I should’ve put my foot down then and there. I should never have let you two go out...”
I smiled weakly. “Let us? Thanks, mom.”
“Shut up! Yes, let you. You were so hard up, you let that asshole crap all over you. So, if being your mom would’ve stopped it, I should’ve been your mom. I blame myself. But, I still want to know what’s going on.”
I started to cry again. “I don’t know. I feel lost.”
She held me and rubbed my back like my mom used to. “You’re a good person. And I love you.”
“One day, you’ll have kids and things will change. And then where will I be?”
“Brian, you’re a good person. You need to do what makes you happy...”
“That’s just it. I don’t know anymore what makes me happy.”
“You looked happy last night. He’s cute.”
“Yeah, but he thinks I’m Jessica.”
“If he likes you....”
“Stop. That’s not true. And you know it.”
She sighed. “I know. I wish it was true, but it’s not. But, you still looked happier yesterday than I’ve seen in a long time.”
“I’m not cutting off my penis.”
“Whoa, hold on, who said anything about that? Other than you, of course.”
“A psych minor doesn’t make you a shrink.”
“Ha ha. All I know is you looked happy. Whatever will make you happy makes me happy. Seriously. And, you know what, Jessica comments are off the table from now on. Whatever you do, you do. I’ll miss her if I never see her again, but I’ll respect that.”
“Thank you. I don’t where she’s going.”
“OK. I won’t miss the paisley though.”
“I like it.”
“You and the store that palmed it off on you,” she said. “OK, what now?”
“I’m sorry if I’ve been distant. You’ve been going through a lot.”
“Don’t apologize. I’ve been planning a party, that’s it. You’ve been dealing with 34 years of shit, your father, society, plus all of human history about men and women and gays and straights. I haven’t been there for you, and I’m sorry. I’ve been caught up in floral arrangements. As Jim would say, ‘they’re flowers. Get some roses and move on.’” Then we both cried.
I stopped first and she said, “Can I ask one thing?”
“Anything. You’re my friend.”
“Can I see the cute pink sun dress?”
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The saga continues. I go shopping with Adam and find something in the bargain...
"If this is, as you say, until June 25th, why do you think you did
it?" Julia said.
We were discussing Kenny and the dress because, I figured, everyone
else who knew had weighed in, so why not she?
"I resented the fact that he was so adamant that it was getting
even?" I said, uncertainly.
"Ah," she said, with her trademark bemused smile. "So, this was
solely to get even. You bought over $1,500 worth of dresses, shoes
and lingerie to get even..."
"Also, Catherine thought I was a girl, and she said I needed to
dress better..."
"So, a complete stranger criticizes your fashion sense and you go
and buy, what was it, a lace bra and panties?"
"I shouldn't have said anything," I muttered.
"Brian, Brian, Brian. I'm just trying to understand. But, that
comment was a little snarky, I'll grant you..."
"Thank you SO much..."
"So, let's continue. Kenny isn't here. How do you explain today's
outfit?"
I was wearing a blue baby-doll top, with pink trim around the top, a
pair of Chip and Pepper jeans with embroidery and a pair of 3" Jimmy
Choo booties. Oh, I was also wearing a pink thong. "What's wrong with
it?"
"Nothing," she smiled. "It's very cute and, need I say it, very
feminine."
"That's inappropriate."
"Why?"
"Because it is. It's biased."
"How so?"
"You're trying to bait me."
"Bait you?"
"Saying it's feminine. You, Lisa, Melissa, you've all been pushing
me about that."
"What did Melissa say?"
"I was talking to Melissa after I got back, and never mind..."
"Come on, Brian..."
"She asked me what I bought, and..." I stopped mid-sentence and
stared at the floor.
"And I told her..."
"Brian..."
"Averycutepinksundress..."
The missile homed in. "A very cute pink sun dress... and what did
she say?"
"She called me a girly girl..."
"And you said..."
"'Stop. Let's talk about work.'"
"How did that make you feel?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Then why did you bring it up?"
"I didn't. You did. You asked me what she said."
"Brian, we don't have to cover this, but ask yourself if you want to."
"I don't know."
"About what?"
"About what it means. About whether I want to talk about it. About
everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything. The outfit. Melissa. The girly girl thing."
"Let's start with the outfit."
"What about it?"
"How would you describe it?"
"A top. Jeans. And booties."
"Booties?" she said with a smile.
"What would you call them?"
"Booties."
"So?"
"That's an interesting thing for you to say."
"Why for me and not you?"
"Why do you think?"
"Stop it. Is this a male/female thing?"
"Is it? 6 months ago, what would you have called them?"
"I'm guessing you're looking for boots."
"You or me?"
"Enough."
"Fair enough. What did you do when Melissa called you a girly girl?
Did you get upset?"
"What's your point?"
"Answer the question, Brian."
"I'm embarrassed..."
"After all these years, you shouldn't be."
"I am."
"No judgments, remember?"
"I tried on the dress...."
"How did it feel?"
"I hate to say it..."
"No judgments..."
"I liked it," I mumbled.
"Go with it. Why?"
"I like the feel of the fabric. I like the way it swirls when I
turn. I like the way it makes my legs look, when I wear it with
heels." I started to whimper. "I am a basket case, Julia."
"Why do you think that?"
"I don't know. Because I like the way the dress feels. Because I
like this outfit. Because I'm wearing Jimmy Choo booties. Jimmy.
Choo. Booties. Do you understand?"
"Keep going. Why do you think that you're first addressing this now?"
"Isn't that what I pay you for?"
"Cute, Brian. What's happened lately?"
"Kenny? Lisa not believing me?"
"And?"
"And what? They're my mother and father?" I said, regretting it the
minute I said it.
"I didn't say that."
"That's not it."
"Then, why did you say it?"
"Because it always seems to come back to that?"
"Brian..."
"I don't know. Never mind. I was wrong."
"Brian..."
"I don't know. I've thought about it. Kenny, I can see. Like he's
rejected my sexuality, so I'm going to throw it in his face?"
"When you won't even see him again...."
"I will. At the wedding."
"And?"
"I dunno."
"Work with it."
"You don't like Jessica, you closeted abusive freak. Or you like her
when it serves your purposes, but not behind closed doors." My voice
got louder. "Well, I am going to be the girliest girl I can be. I'll
wear lacy bras and panties. Pink sun dresses. Heels. I am going to be
sugar and goddamn spice, and every guy is going to want me, and it'll
drive you nuts because you can't handle it... Jeez, this sounds like
that session about my father..."
"Keep going."
"Fine, Kenny's my father. What about Lisa?"
"What about her? What about not saying no when she asked you to be a
bridesmaid?"
"I don't know. I fear rejection? I fear her leaving me like my mom
and sister?" I smiled weakly. "But, then didn't we say that you were
mommy?"
"Brian, I am your therapist. I'm not going to turn you away. Keep
going."
"Um... ah... um. I don't know if I have unconditional love. So, I
didn't say no because I couldn't afford to lose the most important
woman in my life. For the third time. So I did what she wanted. Now
what?"
"Now what what?"
"So, I'm here. Freaking out."
"Come on, we're doing great..."
"I'm a guy, but then there's this other side..."
"What other side?"
"It's... never mind..."
"Keep going."
I started to laugh. Uncontrollably.
"What's so funny?"
I kept laughing. "Brian..."
"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head.
"For?"
"I'm losing it. I really am." I just kept laughing.
"Brian," she said, somewhat angrily.
"It's... no, it's ridiculous."
"BRIAN..."
"I feel like I'm going through puberty..."
"Hmmm. What do you mean?"
"I have all these conflicting feelings... I'm a guy. But, I like
Jessica. I like dresses and heels and makeup and lingerie... Oh
god..." I said, burying my face in my hands.
"What? What is it?"
"I am going through puberty. This time, I'm a thirteen year old girl."
She smiled. "Why do you say that?"
"Listen to me, Julia. I was a boy. Or maybe a tomboy. Now I want to
be pretty, so the boys will like me. What do you call that? Maybe
it's not puberty. Maybe it's a nervous breakdown."
"That's a little extreme. I think this is a good thing."
"How?"
"I mean that you're finally trying to figure out your way. You're
dealing with all of these conflicting feelings..."
"What have I been doing here the past four years then?"
"No, clearly, you've been dealing with things. Your father, your
family, your sexuality..."
"But?"
"I think you're exploring another part of yourself. Your feminine
side, as it were."
I laughed. "I'm a gay man who likes giving blow jobs. I think my
feminine side's pretty strong..."
"Brian. You know what I mean."
"Fine. Now what? I'm in this nether world. Am I a guy? A girl? A
freak? I'm at a loss."
"Why do you have to make a decision?"
"Because, you and I both know that most guys are like Kenny..."
"No, they're not."
"Julia, come on. You and I both know that drag queens..."
"Brian..."
"Look, like it or not, that's a catch-all for guys who dress like
women. But, fine. You know how..." I sighed "cross-dressers are
treated in the gay community. I can wear what I want, but I'll either
be celibate or spend the rest of my life with pseudo-straight guys
who won't be there in full because, like Kenny, they won't be out..."
"Have you convinced yourself yet?"
"Facts are facts. In an ideal world, we could do what we wanted.
But, we can't. So, now, I can't win."
"What would you do in ideal world?"
"Be with Adam. As Jessica. Or Brian as Jessica. But sometimes Brian.
But, if being with a gay guy is a fantasy, Adam is like science
fiction."
"So, things went well on your date with Adam..."
"It wasn't a date, but yes. Actually, yes, but no."
"Explain."
"Things went well with Adam and Jessica. Not Adam and Brian." With
that, I recounted the entire date. From picking out my outfit to Lisa
and Jim to the ice cream. Everything.
"Interesting. It sounds like you really let go. Enjoyed yourself
fully. Just were, without thinking."
"I did. But, now I regret it."
"Why?"
"Because I potentially hurt someone who doesn't deserve it. A really
nice guy."
"How did you hurt him?"
"Because I'm not me with him. I'm Jessica."
"Are you going to tell him?"
"Are you calling for lying?"
"No. But why do you feel the need to tell him?"
"Jim."
"Jim?"
"He called me and told me I had to."
"Why?"
"He said Adam's interested in me and was entitled to know."
"So, he tells you and you obey?"
"Ha fucking ha. No, he said that Adam didn't deserve to be led on
and that he deserved to know. And he's right."
"Why?"
"Adam wants a girlfriend. Besides, Jim's been surprisingly on
target..."
"Yes he has, but why say anything now?"
"I'd rather end things with Adam before it gets too close. Later
rather than sooner equals more pain, no?"
"I suppose. How do you propose to do so?"
Quoting the old Tom Lehrer song 'Wernher von Braun,' "Vonce they go
up, who cares vhere they're down..."
"Brian..."
"I don't know. How should I?"
"I don't know."
"What do I pay you for?"
She smiled. "This is beyond my pay grade Brian. Sorry, but I'm at a
loss..."
"Great...."
"Brian, you need to address this. Just tell him. Just make sure
someone knows when you're going to do it."
I got nervous. "Why? What do you think he'll do. Oh god..."
"Brian, calm down. Does he seem violent?"
"No. Then why did you say that?"
"Because, unfortunately, this is an uncertain situation. And lots of
men, even calm ones, can react inappropriately."
"Inappropriately? What would be wrong to you?"
"Brian, just be careful."
"Thank you, mom but not mom. Partial mom. Muh."
"Very cute, Brian. By the way, that outfit is adorable. The most
feminine yet."
"This? It's jeans."
"That's what it makes so feminine. The baby doll top. The
embroidered jeans. The booties. You're picking and choosing things
that work. Dressing like a real woman. Not someone who pulled the
outfit from the Ann Taylor window."
"Boy, I have great fashion sense for a thirteen year old girl."
"Brian, it's a compliment. It means you're synthesizing the parts of
you. Think about it for next session. Although, I'm amazed that you
still like heels..."
"I'm new at it. And I don't always wear them..."
"Just here? Are you trying to make a point?"
"Julia, you sound defensive," I said with a grin. "No. Not just
here. Just sometimes..."
"Continue," she said, parrying my smile with one of her own.
"Sometimes, I like to wear them. Sometimes, I don't." She kept
smiling. "Do not say something like it's my prerogative."
"I didn't. You did. I'll see you next week."
"I'm coming in jeans and a football jersey."
"Next week, Brian," she said with a smile.
------------------------
Sunday at 11 AM, Adam and I met for brunch. I knew I had to tell
him, but not today. I agonized over what to wear. I wanted to wear
the jeans and the football jersey. I wanted to break him in slowly to
Brian. I tried them on. I looked paradoxically even more girly. Like
a cute little cheerleader who took her jock boyfriend's shirt.
Instead, I wore a white baby doll top, brown knee length bohemian
skirt and gold flats. Light makeup. Just blush and lip gloss. I know.
I know. Another baby doll top and bohemian skirt. But, you know what?
I looked cute. Adam deserved cute. Scratch that. He deserved a cute
girlfriend. And I was going to find him one.
"Hey, Jessica," he said with a big grin, when I got to the
restaurant. "You look great."
"Thanks," I said, kissing him on the cheek. 'Stop sending mixed
signals,' I thought. 'No, wait, it was on the cheek. That's just
being friendly.' "OK," I said, looking him up and down. "This is
slightly better."
"What?" he said. "What's wrong with this. It's Sunday." After all my
agonizing, he was wearing worn jeans, sneakers and yet another golf
shirt. Men. I mean, straight men.
"True. But, those jeans are worn."
"I thought worn was in."
"Worn is in. Ratty is not."
"And the difference would be?" he said, with a smile.
"$125." I said, with a smile.
"Oh...."
"Do you own any other shirts besides golf shirts?"
"T-shirts. Come on, it's Sunday. Can I say something?"
"You just did."
"Seriously..."
"OK."
"I love the way you're dressed."
I blushed. "Adam... thank you."
"No, I mean, the effort you took. The shirt, the skirt... you make
an effort to look good. My ex would've been in a t-shirt and jeans.
You have such... I don't know... grace or something..."
Grace, wonderful. That helps my neuroses. "Stop it, Adam. This is
nothing. It's not like it's an evening gown or something..."
"I know. I just want you... no, sorry, I mean, someone like you. A
girl."
Oh boy, now I was freaking. 'Maintain calm. Make a joke.' "And your
ex was what, asexual?"
"No," he said, laughing. "That's not what I meant. I just meant that
you look like you enjoy girly stuff. I mean it's Sunday morning, and
you're in a skirt. Not sweats."
"So?" I said, a little too defensively.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's a good thing. I like
girls."
Damn. I knew that. "That's good," I lied.
"Sorry, I really meant it as a compliment. I like women who like
being women."
"Barefoot and pregnant?"
"No. OK, I know that sounds sexist. I don't mean subservient. I like
the fact that you're this hotshot computer consultant..."
"Getting better," I said, with a smile.
"I just mean, that you also like skirts and stuff..."
"I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan..." I started singing.
He laughed so loudly that other people turned around. "I can't win.
So, I'll stop."
"Thank you," I laughed. "I have my sweats days, by the way."
"I hope I never see them."
"Really?"
"Unless you're changing the terms of our deal."
"Our deal?"
"Just friends..."
OK, Jim was right. "The deal is still on. So, you'll never see me in
sweats."
"Some other lucky guy will," he said sadly.
"And," I said brightly, trying to change the subject, "some girl
will benefit from my work today."
"Speaking of which, I e-mailed Denise."
"And?"
"We're going out Tuesday."
"Great!"
"We'll see."
"Be optimistic."
"I am. But, cautiously so. I've been on enough bad dates..."
"Haven't we all. But, you have to be positive."
"I will be. This is just you and me."
"True enough. With your charm and the new clothes you'll get today,
she'll be knocked out."
"Hopefully, she'll make the same effort..."
"She will. It's a first date."
"Que sera sera, as my mother likes to say. That, and get married."
"Why do married people push that?"
"Misery loves company. And my mother wants more grandchildren."
"Ah...."
"What about you?"
"I want you to have kids...."
"And you?"
"Won't happen."
"Why?"
"I'm not suited to motherhood." For starters, I had a penis.
"You're such a sweet person."
"I'm nuts."
"No, you're not."
"Trust me, I am. You've seen good... Jessica." Close call there.
"Is bad Jessica really bad? Sorry..."
"Adam, for the umpteenth time, women don't mind flirting. It's not
bad Jessica. It's workaholic neurotic Jessica. A kid needs a...
parent who can be there."
"Sorry if I hit a nerve."
"You didn't. I know what I am." I almost laughed in my own face.
"What about you? I bet you'd be a good dad."
"I hope so."
"We'll get you the right woman, and you'll see."
"Thanks, mom."
"We'll clean you up and sell you off."
"Again, I'm a used car."
"I thought it was 'pre-owned'..."
"Eat..." he said, as our meals came. "I'm feeling worse as we
speak," he said with a smile.
"But, you'll look better, and isn't that what's important."
After brunch, we hit Bloomingdale's. I still pushed Barney's, but I
swear he broke out in hives when I said it, so I gave in. We went
downstairs to the men's department.
"What do you think of this?" I said, holding up a black button down
shirt with blue stripes.
"I dunno..."
"You need an opinion."
"Do I? You lead. I follow. Works for me."
In the midst of this high level colloquy, a saleswoman came over.
Cute. About 5'4", 120 lbs., dark hair and dark eyes. Late 20s.
"Hi, I'm Arianna. How may I help you today?" 'Nice touch,' I
thought. 'How may I help you? Very proactive.'
"Well, Arianna, I'm Jessica and this is Adam. I'm trying to do
something with him."
She looked him up and down. "Good raw material, but I see what
you're saying."
Adam blushed. "Um...."
"And," I said, "he's useless...."
"Aren't they all?"
"I can get stuff off high shelves..."
"Anyway," I said, ignoring him. "I'm working on him and I don't mind
the help."
She picked up a pair of black wool pants. "Go try on these with that
shirt."
"Wool itches," he mumbled.
"What are you, ten?" I said. "It doesn't itch. Besides, 3" heels are
a walk in the park..."
"Then why do you wear them?"
"For you ungrateful imbeciles. Put on the pants. Go," I said,
pointing to the dressing room.
"Polishing him up?" Arianna asked. "Be careful. Someone else'll try
and grab him. He's cute. Rough, but cute."
"Oh, we're not a couple. He's just a friend."
"Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing," I said, with a laugh. "It's me. I like assholes, what can
I say?"
"Hmmm.."
"Interested?"
"Should I be?"
"He really is a great guy. Sweet. Caring."
"And cute."
"Uh huh," I laughed. "Let's see what I can do."
Just then Adam came out of the dressing room in the black shirt and
pants. He looked hot. 'OK,' I thought, 'get him to Arianna before you
do something stupid.'
"Nice," I said. "Very nice."
"Are you going to hang a pine tree from my neck so I don't smell?"
Arianna looked confused. "Inside joke," I said.
"You know there's a sale on six," she said to me, with a smile. "We
have some great tops. Yours is adorable, by the way."
"Thank you. Well, Adam, I hate to leave you, but I leave you in the
capable hands of Arianna here. I'll be back in half an hour..."
"Jess," he pleaded.
I pulled him aside. "She's cute and interested. Don't worry."
"What if she's a freak?"
"Then, call me on my cell. I'm not marrying you off. She is cute, no?"
"Yeah, but I thought you were going to help me."
"I am. I intend to approve everything you buy. I'm also helping you
with women, like you wanted. Go, fly little bird."
"Please..."
"Cell," I said, holding it up. "I'm not abandoning you on the door
step, you baby."
I looked back to see Arianna handing him multiple items. She was
holding his arm. He looked lost. I went upstairs and looked around
for a half hour or so. I was still processing my puberty, so I didn't
buy anything. My cell phone rang. It was Adam.
"Um, we're done down here," he said, in a tired voice.
"And?"
"And what? Arianna kept handing me stuff."
"And, you oaf?"
"And, we'll talk?"
"Good talk or bad talk?"
"Good."
"That's great."
"Just come here..." When I got downstairs, Adam had four bags.
Arianna was grinning from ear to ear.
"My god! What did you buy?"
"I dunno anymore. A lot of pants. Some shirts. A couple of jackets.
Arianna said she was coming to my place to burn my golf shirts."
"Good."
"They're comfortable."
"Fine. You can wear them when no one's around."
Arianna smiled. "He told me what you said about pleats. I agree.
He's got it. He should flaunt it." Adam turned beet red.
"Boy, he's shy, isn't he?" she whispered to me. She turned to him.
"You will look great. Wear the black shirt with the tan wool pants
Thursday..."
"Thursday?" I said.
Adam grinned. "I told her she had to let me take her out to
celebrate my upgrade..."
I smiled. "That's great." And I believed it. Sort of. Another part
of me wanted to be Arianna.
"Thank you," she said. She looked at my hands. "Nothing?"
"I may come back... I was distracted... by work stuff."
"I told you. She's a workaholic."
"Boy, you two covered a lot of ground."
"This and that," she said, with a half smile. "Anyway, Adam, I will
see you Thursday. Jessica, very nice meeting you."
"You too." I went to say "same," but that sounded too manly. What a
laugh. I'm flitting around in a skirt and worried about 'same.'
"Adam," she said. "Excuse us for a second."
"Uh oh," he said. "This can't be good."
"Just go," I said. "Don't worry." He walked a few feet away. "Yes,
Arianna?"
"Thank you. Are you sure you're OK with this?"
"I offered."
"He likes you. He talked a lot about you."
"We're friends. Really. I want my friend to be happy. Just treat him
well. Sorry. That's a little over the top. It's a date."
She smiled. "It's nice that you care."
"I do. He really is a great guy. It really is me, not him."
"OK," she said, then laughed a little. "He's very nervous around
women."
"He is. But, he's really great once you get to know him."
"I'll take your word. I like them that way. I've had enough God's
gifts, if you know what I mean."
I laughed. "I'll coach him before..."
"Thanks again."
"You're welcome." I sighed inwardly. I wanted Adam to be happy. I
really did. But I wanted him happy with me, not Arianna. But then I
realized that wasn't fair either. He wanted Jessica, sure. But he
wanted a woman, not me. If I couldn't be that woman, the least I
could do was get him what he wanted. I walked over to him.
"Nice move, ace. The date line. Very suave."
"I don't know what came over me..."
"Confidence? What have Gina and I been saying to you?"
"I owe it all to you. If you weren't here, nothing would've
happened..."
"For starters, you wouldn't be here. You'd be shopping in the
defeated white guy store..."
"I'm serious, Jessica. Thank you."
"You're welcome. You really like her?"
"Who knows? She seems nice enough. It's just that I did at all.
We'll see what happens. But, like you said, it's not high school. If
it works, great. If not, oh well. But I'm getting into the game."
"That's really great," I said, mustering a smile. Which I also
meant. It's just that I couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't want
him in the game. I wanted it to be me and him. But that wasn't
possible.
"You OK with this?"
"Of course. Why would you say that?"
"You seem bothered by something..."
"Nothing. Just a random Kenny thought."
"Stop. He is an asshole. He screwed up, not you. You're great. He's
not even worth the thought," he said, getting more and more upset.
"Calm down," I said, smiling. "Thank you. It's just hard to shake
sometimes."
"I know. My ex was a bitch, and I agonized over her for a while."
"See?"
"I know. You just really deserve the best. Not him."
"Thank you. Do you mind if we walk for a while? If those packages
aren't too heavy, I mean?"
"I should be OK."
"I just want to window shop."
He smiled. "Oh boy... and we're not even a couple."
We walked up Madison for a while. We walked past Barney's. He
blanched.
"Don't worry. I won't make you go in." I said, punching him.
As we passed by Makola, a store in the low seventies, he turned to
me. "I... never mind."
"What?"
"Nothing..."
"Come on..."
"OK, I'm going to ask you something. If it's too weird, you can say
no. Just don't get upset."
"You're scaring me here, Ad..." I said with a smile. "What?"
"You see that dress?" he said, pointing to a pink and white
sleeveless, knee length floral print dress with a flared skirt.
"Yes?"
"OK, here goes. I'd really love to see you in it."
"What?" I blushed.
"Sorry, that's weird. Don't be angry."
"It's not weird," I said. "I mean, a little bit. But, I'm not upset.
Why that? I'd figure you want a mini or something."
"Boy, full of yourself, aren't you?" he grinned. "I don't know. That
one just fits you somehow. Like it matches the inner you. Sorry, that
sounds extremely gay."
"It doesn't. It's sweet. I mean, no one's ever asked me something
like that. Sure, I'll try it on, if they have my size."
We went in. "May I help you?" said a saleswoman, in her 50s.
"My friend here would like to see me in the dress in the window."
She looked at him, then me, then smiled. "Of course, 8?"
"Yes, please."
She looked through the rack and handed it to me. "The dressing room
is in back, dear. I'll bring you a pair of appropriate shoes. Size 9?"
"Wow, you're good."
She smiled. "Years of practice, dear. Go."
I went into the dressing room, and I tried it on. Adam was right. It
looked right. It's not that it was sexy or anything. It just looked
good. Very pink. Very soft. I could see me on his arm at a Sunday
afternoon wedding. Very feminine. That touched a nerve. I started to
cry.
The saleswoman came in and handed me a pair of 3" heels. "What's
wrong, dear?"
"Nothing," I lied. "For some reason, the dress made me think of my
mom. She died 11 years ago." I paused. "Sorry, it's funny what'll set
you off, isn't it?"
She put her arm around me. "It's OK, sweetie. My mother's been dead
twenty three years and, one day in the supermarket, Vienna Fingers
did it. She loved them and it made me think about her... anyway,
stand up. Dear... what's your name?"
"Jessica."
"Jessica, you look gorgeous in that dress."
"Thank you."
"I also have to tell you that man out there is quite a catch. Not
many men would sit still for this, much less pick out a dress for
you."
"I know. He's just a friend, though?"
"A friend. And he picks out a dress for you. He's certainly doesn't
seem gay..."
'I wish,' I thought. 'No, I don't. Then he'd be Kenny.' I laughed,
"Not quite. Just shy around women. If you told him that you thought
he was, I can only imagine what would happen."
"Jessica, a piece of advice?"
"Uh oh..."
"He likes you. The way he looks at you, it's obvious." I started to
cry again. "What now, sweetie?"
"It's complicated. He deserves better than me."
"I don't know you. Or him. But you seem very nice to me."
I smiled. "Anything to close a sale."
She smiled back. "Telling a 14 that she's an 8 is closing a sale.
This isn't. Go show him."
I wiped my eyes and walked out. Before I could say anything, Adam
said, "Wow, Jess... that looks... right. Made for you."
I blushed. "Adam... stop." He was hitting too close to home.
"You look like Grace Kelly."
'Grace Kelly?' I thought. 'Maybe he is gay.' "Grace Kelly?"
"I know it sounds gay. But did you ever see 'Rear Window?'" The
sales woman listened to this exchange in what could only be called
barely disguised amusement.
"Sure..."
"There was something about Grace Kelly in that movie. She was just
so... something. Like it was hot, but not Cindy Crawford hot..."
"Uh huh... keep going."
"She just was like this ideal woman. I mean she was gorgeous, but I
just remember thinking that her personality too made her this ideal.
Graceful, feminine... like you." He saw me turn white. "I'm sorry,
was that wrong?"
It wasn't. But it was. Like here was therapy all over again. Am I
Brian the gay man? Jessica, his apparent princess? I loved how he
felt. I wanted to be his Grace Kelly. But I couldn't shake the
opposite feeling. The feeling that I lost who I was. That I was a
freak. That when he found out, I'd be even more alone. "No, it
wasn't. I'm just embarrassed by the attention."
"Why?"
"I don't deserve it."
"Stop it. Yes, you do. You're beautiful and nice and..."
I smiled. "Keep going."
"I don't know. Like I said, that dress made me think of you. It's so
pretty and feminine. Like you. Like I see you and I feel better. I'm
sorry if that's wrong. I said it before, I like that you have these
two parts, the computer genius and the girl... OK, I feel stupid."
"Why?"
"I'm spilling my guts in a store. And I picked out a dress. And I
have diarrhea of the mouth."
"Adam, don't feel awkward. I'm glad you feel comfortable around me."
I turned to the saleswoman. "Can I wear this out?"
OK, now I was officially a loser. I bought a dress to impress a guy
who thought I was a girl. Because he liked it. I started to hum
"Wishing and Hoping" to myself. Adam didn't get the joke. The
saleswoman did.
"Of course," she said, smiling. I went to get my credit card in the
dressing room.
"Stop," Adam said. "Let me get it. For all your help today."
"He's buying you clothes..." the saleswoman said.
Adam blushed. "It's just because... because... just let me."
Now I blushed. "Thank you." The only thought that ran through my
mind was that more than him buying me a dress, I wanted him to take
it off me.
"Just return the shoes tomorrow. I wouldn't want to ruin the
outfit." She pulled me aside. "Trust an old lady. He's in love with
you."
That felt like a punch in the stomach. He was in love with me, or at
least had a crush on me. And I was in love with him. But, I felt like
the lowest form of life. I was leading this guy on. I didn't think
he'd do anything if he found out, but I wouldn't blame if he did. I
mean, he'd be well within his rights to do so. He pours his heart to
a girl and she turns out to have lied straight to his face about the
biggest thing possible. Or, if it wasn't the biggest, I was at a loss
as to what was first.
When we left, he turned to me. "I am soooo sorry. I really must've
embarrassed you in there. Going on about Grace Kelly. I can't believe
I said it. I am such a jerk."
"Adam, you are NOT a jerk. It was really sweet. I've never had
anyone say things like that about me before..."
"You deserve to. I'm sorry, but you do."
"I'm far from perfect, trust me."
"I know..."
"You know?" I said, with mock indignation.
He laughed. "It's just, compared to my ex, you are so sweet and
soft. I mean, she would've laughed in my face if I asked her to try
on that dress."
"Adam, she was a bitch and a half. But, she is in the past. There's
someone out there who will appreciate you and your caring and your
effort... maybe Arianna or Denise..."
"Just not you."
"I'm not who you think I am." BIG understatement.
"All I know is that when I see you in that dress, I see someone that
looks right. It's funny. I'd swear if I didn't know any better, you
look like you're walking lighter than before."
"What?"
"You seem even more graceful. Like the rest of the girls walk. You
glide. OK, I have to stop that."
I laughed. "I don't mind. But, yeah, you may want to hold off on
that on a date."
"Damn, where's my Palm Pilot when I need to take notes."
"Ha ha, Adam. Thanks for the dress, by the way."
"It should thank you." I rolled my eyes, so he said, "Hey, I have to
get comments like that out now, before my dates."
I won't bore you anymore with the rest of the walk. We talked about
Arianna and Denise and dating tips. Ironic, huh? Me, giving dating
tips. Right up there with the Billy Joel Driving School. When I got
home, I looked at myself in the mirror. Scratch that, I stared. I had
no idea who was staring back. Here was this girl. This beautiful
girl. And I liked her. I liked her poise, her delicate manner. I
liked the way she exuded femininity. The way she let this other part
of me out I HATE YOU, JULIA!!!! But, I hated her too. She was every
stereotype come to life. The mincing little fag out to seduce
straight men. The drag queen. I never wanted to be someone's 'down
low.' I was out and proud, or at least out, and now I was back in
somehow. I took off the dress and stood there naked. And, then, I did
something I found truly reprehensible. I tucked myself up to see
whether I'd be OK without a penis. And, what was worse was I couldn't
decide. I felt truly alone.
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The final chapter. The wedding day. I hope everyone likes it.
“So, how’re things with Arianna?” Adam and Arianna had been going out for about two months.
“I dunno,” he said, looking somewhat depressed. He and I were hanging out on my couch, watching “Mystic River.” I was wearing a pale pink short sleeved floral print dress. I don’t know, but whenever I was with Adam, I felt pink.
“What’s wrong?”
“I dunno. It’s starting to get serious...”
“And?”
“I’m not sure how I feel. I mean, she’s great and everything, but you know how when you stop dating and start having a relationship, things change...”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, you actually start showing more of your real self...”
“Yes, and?” Oh, yeah, I was a real expert at that. I still hadn’t told him about me.
“Well, like, I’ve noticed some issues...”
“What kind of issues? Like she sips loudly issues, or serious problems?”
“I dunno. I mean, yeah, she licks her fingers when she turns pages which annoys the crap out of me...”
“Adam.....come on, that’s ridiculous. I mean, if it really bothers you, then you know. Don’t stay and think it’ll get better, because it won’t...”
“I know that,” he said, looking downward.
“But, I mean think about what you want and what’s realistic. Everyone’s got bad habits, even you. I mean, there’s no ideal.”
“Yes, there is.”
“Oh, really? And who is that?”
“You.” I felt like I had been hit in the stomach. I started to cry.
He reached over and hugged me. “What’s wrong, Jessica?”
“I...uh...oh...Adam, I’m a horrible person....oh god, I never meant to hurt you in any way...”
“What?”
“Adam, I have something to tell you...but please promise that if you’re really upset, you’ll just leave. That you won’t hurt me....”
He looked shocked. “What? You think that I would ever hurt you? Ow, jeez, Jess, what kind of shit do you think I am? I’m not Kenny...”
“I know. I know. But this is really awful....”
He smiled. “What could it be? What’s so horrible?”
I took a deep breath. “OK, remember you promised.”
He rolled his eyes. “I promise.”
“Here goes. I’m a guy....”
“I know,” he said softly.
“I’m sorry I lied to...what?”
“I said I know.”
“How? How could you know?”
“I mean I didn’t know know. But I was pretty sure...”
“How..what...what gave it away?”
“Honestly?”
“No, lie.”
“It’s a little complicated...”
I smiled. “Like the rest of this is simple.”
“I mean, it’s not the way you look or carry yourself, if that’s what you’re worried about...”
“Adam, I’m really freaked now. Just tell me.”
“I mean, I could never figure out why you had no relationship with your family. I mean, you’re smart, nice, beautiful and you said that you were this disappointment to your father. And that your sister didn’t approve of your life.”
“That was it? I mean lots of people believe in barefoot and pregnant.”
“Also, you had no pictures of you with friends or anything. And the place is very...uh...sparse.”
“What? All women need chintz and tchotckes?”
“No, not just that. Also, I noticed the strange looks from Jim too. Like he couldn’t figure out why I was with you. I mean, I could understand why someone would think you’re too good for me, but not the other way around.”
“Adam, stop. You’re a great guy. Merely by not beating me senseless, you’re great.”
“Jess, I would never. And then there was the whole Kenny thing. I’m guessing he didn’t like you dressed up. That’s a big deal with gay guys, right?”
“Yes. So what did it?”
“I saw a magazine addressed to Brian Rosen, and then it all made sense. Everything.”
I buried my face in my hands. “I am so sorry. If you left and never came back, I’d understand.”
He put his arm around me. “Are you kicking me out? Because I’d rather not go, if you don’t mind.”
“Really?” I sniffled. “I am so sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”
“You should have.”
“I was afraid. I was afraid you would hit me. Or certainly hate me. Both of which would be completely understandable.”
He got annoyed. “Hitting would never be. Neither would hating. You’re my friend. A good friend. Why would I hate you?”
“Because I lied to you. Because I led you on.”
“You didn’t lead me on. You said from the beginning that you only wanted to be friends.”
“But, you liked me more than that.”
He laughed. “Full of ourselves, aren’t we?”
“Adam, very funny. I know you did. And I liked you too.”
“I thought so, but I couldn’t tell..”
“Adam, again. Subtle signals, not flares.”
“I know, I know. Anyway, I just figured you had a reason.”
“You are too good.”
“So are you.”
“So, I don’t understand. If you knew, why did you still call me an ideal? Or am I not anymore, because I’d understand.”
“I don’t know. I mean, now I’m kind of freaked...”
“Why? I mean, I know why. But why?”
He got a little agitated. “You don’t know why...”
I got scared. “Sorry, I just thought...” He was really starting to worry me.
“You know what’s freaking me out? I know you’re a guy, and I still love you. I still look at you and want to be with you. And that scares me. I’m not gay...what the hell’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you...”
He got sarcastic. “Hi, Mom and Dad...this is Jessica. But she’s not. She’s Brian...”
“Adam, calm down....”
He stopped for a second. “I’m just scared...I love you, but I’m scared.” Then, like a bad movie, he grabbed me by the waist and kissed me deeply.
When we broke, he said, “Sorry....”
“Shut up,” I said, standing up on my toes to kiss him. This was getting cheesier by the minute. I started to unbutton his shirt. “Just shut up.” He pulled my dress over my head. I was wearing a white bra and thong. I pulled him toward my bedroom. I reached my hand down his pants. He was rock hard and, from what I could feel, fairly big. Not enormous, but about 7 1/2". Hey, when you’re gay, you learn by feel. “Mmm,” I said, “someone’s enjoying himself.” I gave his balls a little squeeze. “Come on..”
“Jess...Bri...I...uh....”
“What?”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t do this.”
“What?”
“I can’t...this,” he said, clumsily buttoning his shirt.
“What? Why?”
“I’m such a shit...”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am. I love you, and you’re beautiful...and I can’t get past...”
“What?”
“That....you...”
“Have a penis?”
He slumped. “I am such a piece of shit....like I have this great...person, and I can’t...”
“Sleep with him?”
“You must think I’m such crap. What does this say about me?”
“That you’re not gay?”
“What’s the matter with me?”
“You’re not gay. I mean, I wish you were. Believe me, I wish you were more than anything. But, you’re not.” I started to put back on my dress.
“See, that’s it. I look at you, and I see my Grace Kelly. But, then...”
“I take off my clothes, and the illusion is shattered, right?”
He sat down on the couch. “Yeah.” He started to put on his shoes.
“Where are you going?”
“If I were you, I’d kick me out.”
“You’re not me. Do you want to go? Because, I’m not kicking you out. I’d like to talk, if that’s OK.”
“Me too. Can I ask you a question? If it’s too personal, just say so.”
“Let’s see. You just me saw me in a bra and thong. Personal’s kind of past,” I laughed.
“OK, here goes. What are you?”
“Excuse me?” I said, not liking where this was going. “What does THAT mean?”
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong. Are you gay, pre-op, a cross dresser?”
“Pre-op? You seem unusually conversant in the topic.”
“I read the Voice,” he said, with a grin. “So?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No, I really don’t.”
“So, you dress this way and act this way and you don’t know why?”
And with that, I launched into the whole Lisa story. After I finished, he said, “Wow...that’s pretty amazing.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing, I’m just amazed that you’ve only been doing this a few months.”
“Well, I have. Do you think I’m lying.”
“No, no, no. I believe you. I really do, it’s just...”
“What? Just say it.”
“It’s just that you really seem to fit the role.”
“Meaning?” I snapped.
“Meaning,” he said, taking a breath. “that you seem so relaxed and confident. I mean, remember that day in that Makola store...”
“Yes?”
“When you put on the dress, you seemed to stand taller..”
“It was the heels.”
“I’m serious.”
“Sorry.”
“No, I mean, you left and you just seemed so happy. And you’re always so kind and sweet and I mean, if I didn’t actually see your penis, I still wouldn’t believe you’re a guy...”
“Great,” I started to cry.
“I’m sorry. That’d scare me too if I was you. Boy, we’re a pair. A straight guy who’s in love with a gay guy who’s more of a woman than the woman the straight guy’s been sleeping with since the gay guy in a dress pimped him out to her...” We both started to laugh.
“Thanks, Adam. That makes me feel SOOOO much better.”
“No, seriously. What are you?”
“I really don’t know. I mean, when I started this, I was scared. I mean, like it plays into every stereotype of gay men you can think of.”
“I could see that.”
“Yeah, but then...oh god, I feel embarrassed....”
He laughed. “I think we’re both a little past embarrassment, don’t you?”
“True. Anyway, so I was totally tripping. Then, I started going out dressed and men started paying attention to me which is a new thing, you know?”
“I find that hard to believe. I mean, you’re gorgeous.”
“See, that’s the thing. Jessica is gorgeous. Brian is a little 5'7" runt. And Jessica started getting attention and Brian started to like it.”
“It’s funny. You talk like it’s someone else.”
“My shrink says that, too. Sometimes, I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Anyway, I started to like the attention and I really started getting into it.”
He picked up my shoes. “Yeah, I can see that. You have more shoes than Ari does.” He stared at the 3" heel. “Don’t your feet get tired in these?”
“No, surprisingly not. Besides, I look good in them.”
“You really are such a girl. Anyway, so what happened?”
“Anyway, then I met Kenny....”
“Prick.”
“Yes, he is. But, anyway, I started to freak out again. Like I’m a freak and I’d never be in a relationship, because...”
“Cross dressers and pre-ops are at the bottom of the pile. No pun intended.”
“You really know your stuff, Connolly.”
“I told you. I read the Voice.”
“So, I really didn’t know what to do. Like, I wanted to be with Kenny. But, I like Jessica.”
“You really think Kenny was ever going to be a real thing? Come on, he sounds like a closet case.”
“He is. But, you get lonely, you know.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So, I started to think. I’d rather get rid of Jessica and be in a relationship than keep doing it.”
“OK, so where do I fit into this?”
“Then I met you, and you were such a great guy...”
“That you lied to me for two months...sorry, that was harsh.”
“I deserved it.”
“Go on.”
“And you were such a great guy, that I tried to set you up.”
“Assuaging your guilt...”
“Ouch. True, but ouch. Anyway, I started to fall in love with you. I mean, I never told anyone the Steve Wozniak thing. And I really became Jessica, that...never mind.”
“What?”
“This will really skeeve you out.”
“No, it won’t.”
“It will.”
“Just tell me. I mean, I think we can’t really have secrets anymore.”
“I felt like I was going through puberty again. Only this time I was a girl...like I became even girlier than I was already. OK, I shouldn’t have said that.”
He smiled. “It’s OK. That explains the Makola dress.”
“Huh?”
“It was like the epitome of what you’re saying. Like it was this really girly dress, and I wanted to see you in it. Or it, in a ball on the floor...OK, that slipped out.”
I blushed. “Now, I’m embarrassed. Anyway, you made me examine what I wanted. Like I wanted nothing more than to be the girl you wanted. To be with you. I mean, with you.”
“Me too,” he said. “And now?”
“I’m in between. Like I want to be Brian and Jessica at the same time. That makes no sense, does it?”
He smiled. “No, I get it. You ever read Hegel?”
“Huh?”
“The Hegelian dialectic. Thesis, antithesis and synthesis.”
“I’m lost.”
“OK, like the thesis is ‘This is only until June 25th. And the antithesis. ‘I like being Jessica. I want to be a girl. And the synthesis..I like both.’
“Huh, that’s interesting. You’re a smart guy.”
“Thank you. So, now what do you do?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I like being Jessica. I like the clothes. I like getting checked out. It’s fun. That must seem really weird to you.”
“Kind of. But, I mean everyone wants to reinvent themselves sometimes. You’ve just taken it to a whole other level.”
“I guess...”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Jessica’s all well and good and fun. But, what do I about clients? What do I do about my love life, such as it is. Kenny may be a shit, but he’s definitely in the mainstream of gay opinion on this.”
“Somewhere there’s someone,” he said, half-heartedly.
“No, there isn’t. And you know that.”
“I know. Can I ask a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Can I meet Brian?”
“Um, you have...”
“No, I mean, I want to see Brian. Not Jessica telling me she’s Brian. I want to meet Brian. Does that make any sense?”
“Yeah, it does. Give me a few minutes to change.” I went into the bathroom and I washed off my make up. I even took off my nail and toe polish. “Keep your eyes closed.” Then I went it to the bedroom, and took out my breast forms. I combed my hair to the side, and put on a t-shirt and jeans. “OK, open them,” I said, coming back into the living room. He laughed loudly.
“What?”
“Boy, little girl, when you hit puberty, you’re going to be a real heart-breaker.”
“That was cruel.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, laughing. “I can’t help it. You look like a Jessica, not a Brian.”
I started to laugh. “I know. I know. Before I ever started this, people called me miss all the time. Does a hell of a number on your ego, you know?”
“I can imagine.”
“So, where do we go from here?”
“What do you think?”
“I asked you.”
“I dunno. Can we still be friends?”
“I’d like that. You’re not too freaked by me?”
“I’ve been processing this for a while. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still a little confused. But, you’re a real friend, and my father always said that if you had five real friends in your life, you’d be doing OK...and you’ve been a good friend.”
“So have you. Today alone you proved that.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
I looked at the floor. “I don’t see any skid marks, Adam. That’s huge, you know.”
“You don’t drop a friend over this.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Besides, you know what, you’ve introduced me to two women, who I wouldn’t have otherwise met. That’s big.”
I laughed. “But, you said the best part of Denise was her dog. And what about Ari?”
“Hey look, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I’m in the game. And it’s because of you. I can’t give up my shill,” he said, with a big grin.
“Very funny. Putz. So who do you want?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Brian or Jessica. Who do you want as a friend?”
He looked hurt. “I want you. You decide the label. But I want you.”
“You’re unreal, Adam, you know that?”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re too good. I don’t deserve a friend like you. You sure you’re not freaked.”
“Absolutely,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Friends?”
“Friends.” We shook. “So, what’s up with Arianna? It better not just be the finger licking thing.”
“That’s a symptom, not the disease.”
“So, what’s the disease?”
“She’s too into labels. Like ‘get me my Chanel sunglasses.’ Or ‘have you seen my Burberry scarf.’ It’s a scarf. Everything doesn’t need a label. It’s obnoxious, you know?”
I laughed. “That caps it. You are obviously so not gay.”
He laughed. “I’m serious. Like I look at that and I know that if we stayed together, she’s not going to change and I’d come to hate her for it. Like, I don’t blame her. That’s her thing. Not my thing. I don’t get it. It’s just stuff. But, I can’t be with someone like that.”
“So, you know what to do. Sooner beats later.”
“I know. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Waiting doesn’t make it better. Believe me I know about that. Just do it. Otherwise, it’ll only get messier and more painful.”
“I know. How come you didn’t tell me sooner?”
“I dunno. Jim told me I should.”
“Jim? Not Lisa.”
“Jim. He called me. Said you deserved better than that.”
“Tell him thanks. I didn’t think you two were friends.”
“We’re not. But he’s been surprisingly cool and insightful during all of this.”
“Wow. I’d freak if I were him.”
“Me too. So what now?”
What do you mean?”
“I dunno. I mean, what now in the sense of do you want to watch the rest of the movie? But, I probably mean something else too.”
“I’m not really up for the rest of the movie. This has been a lot, you know? I mean, I’m glad it’s all out and everything, but it’s a lot.” He started to put on his shoes.
“Don’t go. I’m glad I finally told you, but on some level I wish I hadn’t. And I’m really sorry I took so long. Please don’t go.”
“I...uh...sorry. I need to go. I’m really spent. I’ll call you later.”
“Adam, I am sorry. If you never wanted to speak me again, I’d understand. It’d kill me, but I’d understand. But don’t tell me you’ll call.”
“Jess...Bri...I just need to get some sleep. Seriously.”
“Friends?” I stuck out my hand.
“Yeah,” he said, reflexively sticking out his hand but not meeting my gaze. “Friends. I will call. I promise.”
I wished I could believe him. I really did. But I didn’t. I felt like I had lost my friend forever. I called Lisa, and said, “What are you up to?”
“We were about to get something to eat. Why?”
“I kind of need to talk.”
“What’s wrong?”
I heard Jim say, “We going or what?”
“It’s Jessica,” she said, which only made me feel a thousand times worse. “Hang on. What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“Adam.”
“What happened?”
“I told him.”
“Oh my god...what happened?”
“Can I come down?”
“Do you want me to come up?”
“No, I’d rather leave the scene of the crime, you know what I mean?”
“I guess so. Of course, come down.”
I went downstairs, still in my t-shirt and jeans. Lisa opened the door, “Hey....oh...oh wow, Bri,” and she hugged me. “Tell me what happened.”
I told her the whole story, and started to sob, “We told each other we loved each other, and I thought we were cool, and then he freaked...”
“He is such a shit. I can’t believe he left.”
Just then, Jim chimed in, “He’s not a shit.”
“Excuse me?” Lisa said, angrily. “Who asked you?”
“No one. But, I’ve earned the right after this whole soap opera of a wedding to say my piece. You want to disregard me, go ahead. But, you both heard me. He’s not a shit. Not by a long shot.”
“He tells her that he loves her, and then leaves, and...”
“Him.”
“What?”
“He told HIM he loves HIM. Whatever’s been going these past few months, Brian is still Brian, last I heard. True?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“So, after two months, the girl Adam thinks he loves tells him that she’s actually a guy, and he gets upset and leaves. He doesn’t lose it. He doesn’t yell or scream or anything. He just feels overwhelmed and probably betrayed, and he left. Seems eminently reasonable.”
“He said he already knew, Jim,” Lisa responded nastily.
“Yeah, he knew. But, like you said, there’s knowing and there’s knowing. And do I need to remind you that I told you like two months ago to tell him and you didn’t. You waited, until he called you, what, his ideal, which by the way is hysterical given how much I know about you, but I digress. So, you shoot his dream to shit and then wonder why it didn’t turn out like a fairy tale. I expect Lisa to expect fairy tales, but I thought you were a little more realistic...”
Lisa interrupted, “When did you tell her to tell him? And what’s that crack supposed to mean?”
“You’re a romantic, sweetie. Kenny and all. But BRIAN is a little more sensible, I thought. Anyway, I told HIM, and let’s not forget pronouns are part of the problem here, right after we met them on the street that time. So, why didn’t you tell him?”
“I figured that once he started dating Arianna, it wasn’t all that urgent,” I mumbled.
“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” he said. “Were you planning on doing this forever?” He laughed. “Didn’t you realize that Arianna was going to try and set you up with someone?”
“Excuse me?” I laughed.
“Yes, Jim, what does that mean?” Lisa said, tapping her toe.
“Yeah, Jim. Explain yourself. Look at her, she’s pissed at you.”
He laughed again. “All girls do that when they’re in a couple. Misery loves company.”
“So does the couch, Jim.”
“I’m kidding. Anyway, how long were you planning on doing this? Forever?”
“I meant to,” I mumbled, looking at the floor.
“You meant to? That’s incredibly weak, Bri. You’re better than that.”
“I know. I got scared.”
“That what? What happened was going to happen? That was the risk you took.”
“Jim, you’re being mean.”
“No, Lise, he isn’t. He’s being honest. Blunt, but he’s right. I made my bed.”
“Look, Bri,” he said. “I hope he comes around. I do. You’ve been beaten up enough with this whole Jessica thing. But it wasn’t only going to get worse. And, I hate to say it, you’ve really gotten lucky with this. It could’ve been worse.”
“Are you saying she deserved this?” Lisa asked accusingly. I couldn’t help but notice that she kept calling me ‘she.’
“No, HE didn’t. He’s a he, Lise? A salami slurping, fudge packing, ass wrangling, dress wearing nancy boy,” he said, flashing me a grin, “but a he nonetheless.”
“Salami slurping?” I said. “Do you stay up at night thinking of these?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes they just come to me, in a vision,” he said, waving his arms in an arc.
“They have meds for that, you know.”
“Meds? What, and miss this?”
“Excuse me,” said Lisa, “what do you mean he or she?”
“You keep calling Brian ‘she.’ But, he’s not.”
“Do I, Bri?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Sorry. I don’t know why.”
“I haven’t helped recently. I’ve been acting girlier, if that’s possible.”
“I’ll stop. I’ve really screwed up your life, haven’t I?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t ask you Jim.”
“You didn’t. I mean you started this, but like Jim said, I took the ball and ran for daylight...”
“I’m not sure I like you two talking behind my back.”
Jim smiled. “Who else can we talk to?”
I smiled. “Exactly. We need to trade war stories. Jim’s a perceptive guy, by the way. I never knew. If I get nothing else out of this, I got that.”
“I’m like an onion,” he said. “Many layers....”
“Why not a parfait?” I said, imitating Eddie Murphy in ‘Shrek.’
“I am an onion...”
“Trust me,” Lisa said. “If you smelled his feet, they ain’t no parfait.”
“And you love me for it, baby,” he said, grabbing her by the waist.
“Shall I leave you two alone?”
Lisa laughed. “Are you OK?”
“Yes. No. I mean, I’m worried about me and Adam, but I can’t do anything but leave him alone, so yeah I’m OK. I won’t kill myself or anything.”
Jim put his arm around me. “You did the right thing. I know it sucks. But you did. I hope he gets past it. You deserve good stuff.”
“Wow, thanks Jim. That was...”
Before I could finish, he interjected, “because the Mets suck and no one likes a mopey maid, Fifi.”
“That’s better,” I said, smiling. “You two go eat. But remember Jim, ‘you’re every breath that I take. Every move I make...”
“Talk to that shrink about changing your meds. You’re clearly delusional.”
“It’s our year. We’re due.”
“We’re due. We’re due. OK. Sure. Whatever. I’ll even let you pick out the color of your uniforms...”
“Good night Brian,” said Lisa. “If you need me, call me.”
“Thanks. Both of you. Go eat.”
A month passed without any sign of Adam. I started to call him a hundred times the first week, but stopped myself, figuring that if he wanted to talk, he’d call. Having said that, I went through the five stages of grief, all in the first week. By the second week, I realized that, sad as it was, our friendship was probably over. I mean it was based on a lie, on some level. I mean, all the emotion sharing we did still didn’t obviate the fact that I had lied to him. I was hurt, but also knew that I was responsible. The wedding started getting closer, and Lisa kept me busy with dress fittings.
We were at the last fitting for the bridesmaid dress one Saturday in May. I had just come out of the dressing room.
Lisa let out a whistle, “Damn, Jess. You look amazing.”
“I know,” I said, with a grin. And I did. It was the blue sheath, that ended about 2" above the knee. My legs looked amazing. And my breasts, such as they were, looked spectacular.
Lisa turned to the seamstress and said, “Can we do anything to make her look dumpier? Some ruffles? Let it out? Something?”
The seamstress was Korean. I don’t think she understood all that well. “Ruffles, yes. OK.”
We only averted disaster when the saleswoman told her, in a nasal Brooklyn whine, “Joke, ha ha, Kim. No ruffles.” The seamstress rolled her eyes, and gave all of us a look that could only be described as abject contempt, the sort shared by orderlies and cab drivers who seem to be saying, “In my country, I was head of surgery. Here I clean bedpans.”
Anyway, I was in the dressing room getting changed back into my black skirt, when my phone rang. “Get that, Lise...”
I heard her pause, then say, “Hello...oh, it’s you. Can I help you? I’ll see if she’s available, although why she would be is beyond me....”
I came out, “Who is it?”
She handed me the phone. “Look at the caller i.d.” It was Adam.
“Hello, Adam,” I said as flatly as possible, but feeling my heart in my throat.
“Hi, uh, Brian,” Adam said, tentatively. “How have you been?”
“Fine. You? Long time no speak,” I sneered. “What’s new.”
“Nothing much...What are you up to?”
“Dress fitting.”
“Oh.”
“Does that bother you? I mean, does it get you all confused?” I didn’t mean to be nasty, but I heard myself and cringed. “So, did you call for a reason?” I said snidely.
“I deserve that.”
“Whatever. Can I help you with something?” Lisa and Jennifer were leaning in. I walked outside.
“Um...I...yeah, oh boy....”
“Just say it.”
“Can we talk?”
“We are.” I was being such a bitch.
“I meant in person.”
“Why? Why now? I mean, it’s been a month.”
“I mean, that’s part of what I want to talk about.”
“Is there something you want to say to me?”
“Not on the phone. What do you want from me?”
“I could ask the same.” I don’t know what had crawled up my ass, but it was lodged there really well.
“Look,” he said, getting irritated. “Can we please get together? Give me five minutes, and then I’ll go if you want.”
“Are you going to run like hell again? Because I don’t need that at this point.”
“Let me explain in person and I’ll leave you alone.”
“Whatever. Fine. I’ll be back around 5. Be there at seven.”
“Thank you.”
“Uh huh.”
“Um, bye, Brian.” It sounded like he choked on Brian.
I hung up and walked back. “Please tell me you are NOT talking to him,” said Lisa.
“It’s complicated, Lise. You know that.”
“What’s going on?” said Jennifer.
“Nothing, Jen,” I said. “Long story.”
“It is NOT a long story. It’s the same story every time. Guy craps on her. She takes him back.”
“You know there’s more,” I snarled.
“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I am so getting tired of this movie.”
“That’s enough, Lisa,” said her mother. She turned to me, “Are you OK with this, honey? I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“Thanks, Sandy. I appreciate that. It’s nice to have a mom again. Sorry if that crossed a line.”
She looked hurt. “Absolutely not. You’re like my third...child. I really want what’s best for you, just like my other girls.”
I looked sideways at her. “Thanks. Maybe this’ll give me closure or something. It’s a shame. He was nice.”
“Just don’t let yourself be hurt.”
I got home at five, and spent two hours agonizing what to wear. I went to put on the cute pink sundress, but decided that would be too confusing. Then I put on sweats and a t-shirt, and looked like I was trying too hard. I tried on ten different outfits, five Jessica, five Brian. Five minutes to six, I finally decided on a white shirt and khakis. No shoes. No breasts. I looked like I was going to work.
At seven on the nose, the buzzer rang. “Hey, it’s Adam..” I buzzed him up.
I opened the door. He had flowers. And some beer “These are for you.”
“Um, thanks,” I said. “Interesting choices.”
“I didn’t know what to do.” He looked me up and down. “You’ve changed your hair.”
“I lightened it for the wedding.” It was now a dark honey color. Robert said it looked amazing, without being too queeny. Which was an interesting thing to say to a guy in a pink baby doll top, skirt and heels, who was getting his hair colored.
“It looks...nice.”
“Thanks,” I said without affect, but feeling incredibly insecure. I put the flowers in water. “Beer?”
“Yeah, please.”
I opened two. “So?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” God, I had spent too much time with Lisa. I was becoming her.
“For everything. For the way I treated you. For leaving suddenly. For not calling. For bringing beer and flowers. For...”
“Fine. So now what?”
“I was a jerk. I ran like a scared rabbit. And I was a pussy who didn’t call for a month...”
“Keep going.”
“You were a great friend, a great person and I ran like a scared rabbit. I wanted to call every day, but I was afraid...”
I snapped. “Afraid of what? Afraid of me? Why? Because I’m gay? Because I’m Jessica, I mean I dress like Jessica? What? Afraid this makes you less of a man, is that it?” I was getting angrier. “Because it doesn’t. Running from it does. ‘Ohmigod,’ I said, in a singsong voice, ‘I’m friends with a gay guy, I must be gay.’ Sorry, but it doesn’t work that way. At least, not for someone secure.”
“Shut up,” he said.
“What?”
“Shut up and let me talk.” He had never been this confident. I was confused. Turned on, but confused.
“Fine. Talk.”
“You know what I was afraid of? You want to know? I’ll tell you. That I still loved you. That I loved you not because of the dress and not in spite of it. Because, even after Brian came out, I still loved you. That I saw someone who made me feel great. That I felt connected to. That I wanted to wake up next to every day. And she...he..that person was a guy. And I didn’t care. But I did care. Because I never felt this way. And, yeah, maybe this makes me shit, but I didn’t know what I’d tell people. But, all I knew is I loved you. And I didn’t want to deal with that. So I ran. And hid. For a month. Like a coward. I didn’t think you’d take my call. But, I decided to risk it. If you told me, if you tell me, to drop dead, I would. But, I needed to say it. And so I did.”
“Is that all?”
“No, it’s not. I’ve been picking up other women for a month...”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“That was mean, really mean.”
“Sorry.”
“I deserved it, I guess. Anyway, I’ve met all these other women, and you know what? They’re not you.”
“We covered that the first night.”
“That is NOT what I meant. They were fine. Great. Some were pretty. Some were nice. Some were smart. But they weren’t you. I didn’t feel any connection. I looked at them and it wasn’t there. And I couldn’t deal. I couldn’t deal with that. I’d spend the rest of my life looking for someone who I loved like you, and I wouldn’t find it...”
“So, you had this epiphany. And it took you a month because....”
“I was scared. That may not be a good reason to you. But it is to me. And, you know what, I’m glad I told you. Because if you told me to go, I’d be upset, but at least I would’ve said my peace. I hope you can forgive me...”
And with that, I jumped into his arms and kissed him. For five minutes. I know. I looked at the clock before we started.
He carried me, hanging off him, into the bedroom. “Ad, before we start, I have a penis.”
He laughed nervously. “Interesting foreplay.”
“No, I have a penis.”
“Um, I know that?”
“And it’s not going anywhere.”
“OK.”
“The last month has taught me that I like me. And that I’m not changing for anyone, not you, not Kenny.”
“Don’t lump me in with him,” he said, angrily.
“I’m not. But I’ve learned I’d rather be alone and be me than start changing for someone. And, me includes all of me, including some parts you didn’t expect. You want me, you get me Brian as well as me Jessica.”
“Me Tarzan?”
“I’m serious. If we’re going to be anything, it’s me as is.”
“I don’t care.”
“I’m not always going to be in a skirt and heels. Sometimes, I’m going to be Brian.”
“You were Brian tonight, right?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m still here, right?”
“Yes.”
“Look, I love you. Not Jessica.”
Now it was my turn to be confused. “Huh?”
“I love who YOU are. I mean I love Jessica. She’s more gorgeous that any woman I’ve ever been with. But that was, if not lust, not love either. I mean beautiful is great, no ever looks at someone and says ‘whoa, dig the personality on her.’ But, I love you. You’re kind, understanding, you don’t judge people...”
“I don’t have the right.”
“No one does, but they do. And you don’t. And I love that. I love the way you care about me. That you tried to help me. You make me a better person. That’s what I want in a...partner. Someone who makes me better, and who I make better, I hope.”
I started to tear up. “You do. But, you really need to think, ‘Am I going to be OK with this for my life?’ I mean, you love kids. And I clearly can’t do that for you. I mean, I don’t want you waking up and hating me someday because I’m me.”
“Look, Jess, Bri, I can’t make that promise. And neither can you. We may wake up one day hating each other for all the usual reasons people hate each other, not because of this. You know it. I know it. All I know is I love you now. I mean, I hope that’s enough. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe I fucked up so bad we’re done. But, I said my piece.”
“Shut up,” I said, smiling. Then we started kissing and undressing each other. I reached for his penis again and started rubbing it.
“Mmmm, someone’s happy.”
“Uh huh,” he said. He looked at my closet. “Put on the plaid skirt and some heels.” He was looking at the school girl skirt I bought in Paris.
“Excuse me?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, you kinky fuck. You want a little school girl, is that it? A slutty school girl? Fine.” I took off my pants, tied my shirt at my midriff and put on the skirt and heels. I sashayed over to the bed. I had no idea what sashaying exactly was, but I was doing my best impression of it. “Is this what you want?” I pushed him backwards. “Lay down.”
“I...uh...”
“Shut up,” I said, pulling down his pants. He was wearing the boxer briefs. He looked even better than I imagined. I pulled his penis out. “Mmmm,” I said. “Get ready for the best blow job you’ve ever had.” I really needed to work on my dialogue. I started going up and down the shaft. “Yum, yum, yum.” Then I tea-bagged him. I know I was in the minority, but I liked balls in my mouth. “Don’t cum...” I said, stopping. “Fuck me, fuck me hard.”
I leaned over the bed, and he started fucking me. I yelped in pain, then pleasure. He grabbed my ass, and started pumping. “I’m going to cum...I’m going to cum.” Why did guys always do that? Lisa and I used to joke that it was like some kind of Miss Manners thing. ‘A polite partner always announces his sexual plans.’ “Oh god...oh god...unh.” We both came and fell onto the bed.
We lay in each other’s arms, like a bad movie.
“Wow,” he said. “That was....amazing.”
“You hesitated. Are you OK with this?”
“I told you I love you. I’m just new at this.”
“At what? Being with a guy?”
He laughed and ran his fingers through my hair. “No, although I am. I’m new at being with someone I love.”
I blushed. “Sorry. I’m just scared that this is a dream.”
“Me too. Let’s stop talking about it and just be it.”
“That’s funny. My shrink always tells me to just be.”
“She’s right.”
“I’ll have to tell her that. Can I ask a question?”
“You just did,” he said, smiling.
“The Catholic school skirt? Come on. That is so cliched.”
“Actually, I’m really not that into it. I mean I went to Catholic school. The skirt lost its appeal in the 11th grade.”
“Really?” I said, playing with his chest hair. “You wouldn’t know from the way you acted. So, what is your fantasy?” I said coyly.
“Cheerleaders.”
“Cheerleaders?”
“Cheerleaders. Not NFL though. High school. College. Something about the skirt and the panties...”
“Dirty old man.”
“You’ll see how dirty I get,” he said, swatting my butt.
“Hey, watch it.” He started tickling me. “Stop it,” I giggled. I was such a girl. “So now what?”
“Hey, give me a minute to rest....”
“No, I mean are you going to run again?”
He started rubbing my back. It felt so good. “No, I’m not.”
“Think about it,” I said, kissing his stomach. “This is going to be some complicated shit for you, Connolly. I’m out. All the people in my life know who Jessica is. How’re you going to explain this to everyone?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning what do you think your parents would do with someone like me?”
“I dunno. If I’m happy, they’d be happy. Confused for sure for a while, but they wouldn’t disown me or anything.”
“Good Catholic family? Really?”
“Talk about stereotypes. No, my mother doesn’t go to Mass everyday. And, no, my father’s not Paddy O’Furniture, getting drunk and beating up blacks with a shillelagh and everything.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought...honestly, I don’t know a whole lot of people who’d be cool with their son being with someone like me.”
“You’re a good person. My dad might have a tough time. My mom would be cool. You dress properly.”
I laughed. “What?”
“My mom is very big on being neat and properly dressed. She always thought my ex was slovenly. Which is much worse than gay in her book. She’d like the fact that you wore a skirt to Sunday brunch. So long as you don’t wear flip flops, she’ll be fine. She hates flip flops. I can hear her now, ‘Is he going to the shower?’”
I laughed. “I’ll remember that, should it ever come to that. Want the rest of your beer?”
“Yeah. Thanks. This has been...I could use a drink.”
“Me too.” I went to the kitchen, and brought back the beer. I took a sip.
“Well, now my mom would be upset.”
“Why?” I laughed.
“You drank beer. Straight from the bottle. ‘A proper lady does not drink beer. Certainly not from the bottle. Even if she has a penis.”
“Ad?”
“Yeah.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” I said, throwing myself on top of him.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Three weeks later, I called Lisa. We had been speaking occasionally, but between the wedding and other things, the conversations had been very short.
“Hey stranger,” she said, laughing. “I was wondering when you’d come up for air.”
“Sorry. I’ve been...busy. Work and all.”
“Work doesn’t interest me. And all does.”
I giggled. “Sorry. I’ve been a bad friend.”
“Please,” she laughed. “You’ve been with me through how many guys? It’s OK. I was wondering if you were going to make it to the wedding.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I look fabulous in my dress. Adam said so.”
“Oh, ADAM said so. Well, then, pick it up off the floor and get it pressed beforehand.”
“Lisa! Please.”
“Oh, you girl. Speaking of which, Melissa said you seem calmer lately. Said you’ve outdone yourself with work.”
“What else did she say?”
“She liked your hair.”
I groaned. “That was a mistake.”
“Oh, please, you baby. She’s fine with it. All she said was, ‘she looks so adorable. I could just eat her up.’”
“Adorable. Her. Great. Just what I need from a client.”
“Stop it. She calls you the golden girl. Said she wouldn’t trade you for a hundred consultants.”
“Golden girl? Oh god.”
“Stop focusing on it. It’s a compliment. Anyway, so what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“I want to introduce you guys formally to Adam.”
“OK. When?”
“You sure?”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean, you and Jim will be OK with this.”
“He’s your boyfriend. It’s important that I get to meet him. Someone has to watch out for you, your taste being what it is.”
“I’m serious.”
“Me too. I’m hurt that you’d think that I wouldn’t want to meet him for real. Or is it that you’re embarrassed of me...”
“Stop it, Lise.”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” she mock-sobbed. “You’re...ashamed..of...me.”
“Ha ha, Lise. That’s not it. I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That you’ll embarrass me. Like this.”
“A-HA! Now, we’ve solved the problem. I’m going to tell him about that time junior year...”
“What time junior year?”
“Oh that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even have to be true.”
“Ha ha. Seriously...”
“Seriously, tell me when and where and we’ll be there.”
“Thursday. 7:45. We’ll meet here. Maybe I’ll cook.”
“Oh god. Is food poisoning really the way you want to go?”
“Bitch.”
“You can bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan...and give him trichinosis.”
Thursday, 7:35, Adam was at my place. I was wearing a baby blue shirt dress and black 2" heels. I liked baby blue. Adam said I looked cute. I wore a lot of pastels and florals with him. Melissa was right. I was such a girly girl.
“Are you sure you’re OK with this, Ad?”
“I love you,” he said. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. Do I look OK?” He was wearing a black shirt and charcoal gray wool pants. Flat front. He looked hot.
“Mmmm,” I said, sticking my hand down his pants. “You look amazing,” I said, standing on tip-toes and kissing his neck.
“Hey, stop it,” he said. “They’ll be here soon.”
“I have a surprise for you later.”
“What?”
“What does surprise mean to you, you doofus?”
“Please?”
“Just trust me. You’ll like it.”
“OK,” he said warily. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get through dinner though.”
“Think of Mo Vaughan naked.”
He laughed. “Now, I’ll be done for the night.”
The doorbell rang ten minutes later. “Hey Lise, hey Jim. Jim, Lisa, you remember Adam. Adam, Jim and Lisa again.”
Jim stuck out his hand. “How’s it going?” he grunted in the universal straight guy greeting. This was good. He looked Adam straight in the eye.
“Good. What’s up?”
“Yankees,” he said, smirking at me. “Ahead of the Mets. As it always is.”
“And always should be,” said Adam.
“That’s right, you’re a Yankee fan,” Jim grinned. “Any luck with this one yet?”
“It’s what I love about her. That sense of hope in the face of all empirical evidence to the contrary. Like the President.”
Lisa laughed. “I don’t know who should be more insulted, Jessica or the President.”
“Hey, I’m not invisible here.”
Jim laughed. “Did she tell you about our bet? Although, given that she has like zero shot of winning, it’s not much of a bet.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “No, what is it?”
“Nothing. It is nothing.”
“Oh, so it’s definitely something then. What?”
“When the Yankees have a better record on June 25...”
“If...a big if.”
Jim laughed derisively, “WHEN...the Yankees have a better record...I have this July 4th party every year...and Jessica and Lisa here will be the French maids there.”
Adam laughed. “French maids? Sweetie, why would you ever make a bet like that?”
Lisa mouthed ‘sweetie? That is so cute.’ Jim showed no emotion whatsoever.
“We’ll see. And when the Mets are better...” Jim started humming the Twilight Zone theme, which I ignored, “Jim has to dance with me at the wedding. To a song of my choice. Which will be ‘Endless Love.’”
“She’s always had a thing for me.”
Adam laughed. “She’s taken.” Again, Jim just laughed. Then Adam turned to Lisa, “So how goes the wedding plans? I hear the final fitting’s next week...”
“Thank you, Adam. It’s so nice that someone,” she said, looking at Jim, “remembers.”
“Am I really necessary? That’s why the rabbi says, ‘do you take this man..’ If I’m not there, someone else’ll step up. Like Dave. Or my brother.”
“Oh boy. That’s a choice. Just for that, I’m substituting Allison.”
“Allison?” said Adam. “I forgot my scorecard. That’s your sister, the...earthy one, right? She even try on the dress yet?”
“Wow, Jess. He’s very attentive. Again, unlike some people I know.”
“Whatever. Got any chips?”
“Top cabinet.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Continue on without me. Please.”
“Anyway, Adam. Yes, she finally took it into Portland to get fixed. And ‘earthy’ is a polite way to describe her.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure she won’t, but I can’t do anything about her. So why worry?”
“Wow. If I didn’t know you were Jewish, I’d say you were Catholic.”
“We invented fatalism before you,” she laughed.
He laughed. “Do you need help with anything? Pick up place cards or something?”
She smiled. “He is amazing, Jess. A keeper.”
Adam blushed. “I know,” I said, kissing him on the cheek.
Jim came back in, crunching some chips. “I miss anything? No? Good.”
“Adam offered to help with wedding stuff.”
“Dude, you’re making me look bad. Anyway, they’re just dating. Wait a while and see how helpful he is. We getting dinner?”
“I made reservations at Calle Ocho on Columbus. That OK with everyone?”
Everyone agreed, and we went to dinner. We had a great time. We talked about work, families, the usual stuff. Adam made sure to hold out my chair. That earned Jim, who plopped himself down, a glare from Lisa. As expected, around dessert, Lisa said, “Excuse me for a moment. Jess?”
“Huh?”
“Jess....”
“Oh yeah.”
As we left, I heard Jim ask Adam, “Did you ever see that Saturday Night sketch, where Tim Kazurinsky and the other guy sneak into the ladies’ room.?”
When Lisa and I were in, she turned to me, “He is amazing. And he is so in love with you.”
“You think?”
“He listens to you. I mean, really listens...”
I blushed. “I really love him. I’m just so afraid that...”
“I know. But, you know what, you just be you. And he won’t go anywhere. Besides, if he hurts you, my mom will kill him...”
“Uh oh. Siccing Sandy...” We both giggled. “You’re happy,” she said. “I’m happy.”
“Thanks. Your opinion means everything to me, you know that. I’m glad we could do this.”
“We always could. They seem to be getting along.”
“They both mock me about the Mets.”
“You know Jim. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t mock you. He’d ignore you.”
“I know. I just want everyone to get along...”
“Don’t be a martyr, Jess. Worry about you for a change.”
“OK, mom.” And we went back to the table.
“Everything OK?” said Adam, getting up. Lisa smiled again. Jim rolled his eyes. “I ordered us a Mayan chocolate ganache cake thing,” he said to me. “If that’s OK.”
Jim made a retching noise, looked at Adam and made an “L” on his forehead. Adam laughed.
“And what did you order US dear?”
“I got a vanilla creme brulee (which he specifically pronounced “Creamy Bruley” to piss off Lisa) and I got you the chocolate cake thing too.”
“The curable romantic strikes again.”
Dessert came. Adam insisted I take the first bite. “Oooh, this is good. Try some Ad,” I said, spooning some into his mouth.
“Oh god,” said Lisa. “New couples...”
“Oooo twy some. No, oooo. I wuv you soooo much,” said Jim.
“They’re just jealous,” I said.
“I thought bitterness and resentment only set in after you’re married,” said Adam.
“Touche,” said Lisa.
“We’ve been together ten years,” said Jim. “Romance fades....just kidding, Lise. I love you as much today as I did when I first met you.” He leaned over and kissed her. Lisa looked shocked.
“I’ve said it before. Everyone thinks I’m a one-dimensional asshole. I have many dimensions.”
“Like a parfait,” I added.
“Onion! I am an onion,” he said.
We finished dinner, and walked down Columbus for a while. Adam and I held hands. It felt good. I think we even made Jim romantic. He took Lisa’s hand.
“What?” she said, staring at him.
“Come on, look at them,” he said. “I’m trying to be nice. Fat lot of good it does.”
Lisa and I were both surprised. She smiled softly, “OK. It’s been a long time.”
Adam dropped us at my place about ten-thirty.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come up?”
“I do. But tomorrow’s my early day. I need to be there at 6:30 and if I come up, I won’t be awake tomorrow,” he said, with a leer. Jim retched again.
“What?” I said. “Is this a brush-off?”
“Not at all. I am that into you...”
“Sex and the City, Adam?” said Lisa. “I would’ve never guessed.”
“Dude,” said Jim, disappointedly.
“Hey, hey, my ex watched that show religiously. She had one TV. It sank in...”
“Uh huh,” said Jim. “I’ll let it pass. This time,” he laughed.
“Anyway, Jess, like I said, I have a really early day. And the 6:30 people are bad enough even with sleep. And I don’t want to sleep here,” he said, smirking at Jim.
“Don’t taunt me, dude. I’m going home to sleep...”
“With that attitude,” said Lisa. “Keep it up. Maybe if you’re good....”
Jim leered. “Thanks dude,” he laughed, shaking Adam’s hand. “Come on Lisa.”
“Good night, Adam,” she said, giving him a kiss. “Call me, Jess.”
“Good night. Very nice finally meeting you for real.” And they left. “I had a good time. They were fun.”
“They liked you. Well, Lisa did. And that’s what matters.”
“Lucky Jim. Am I going to get set up on grown man play dates, like Chris Rock says?”
“You two seemed to hit it off.”
“I think so. He likes you.”
“Really? I never could tell.”
“He said you were smart and a good friend. Said you’d go through a wall for Lisa. Which meant a lot to him.”
“Wow. That’s cool.”
“Don’t say anything, OK? I don’t think that was for public consumption necessarily.”
“Understood. Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”
“I’m sure I do, sweetie. But if I do, I’ll be up all night.”
“Is that so bad?” I said, sticking my hand down his pants again. I needed to calm down.
“It’s not that. I just know that we’ll be up all night going over stuff. And I really need to go home, Jess. I have to be up really early. But, I want you to think about me all night.”
I felt flushed. “No, I want you to think about me. About me putting my lips around your cock. Going slowly up and down the shaft....fingering your balls...and you’re tied to my bed frame.” Adam liked light bondage and S & M. No, not the gimp mask or anything. Just a little tying him up. Or him spanking me. It turns out that under that shy exterior beat the heart of a kinky little bastard.
“Oh, Jess, you are such a tease...”
“I don’t have to tease. If you come in, I’ll do whatever you want. Plus, I have the surprise.”
“I can’t stay.”
“I know. I want you out anyway,” I joked.
“Hey.”
“Kidding, Ad. Get in here.” We kissed some more, and fumbled on to the couch. I took off his shirt and unbuckled his pants. I took off his underwear. He was naked. I was still fully clothed, including my heels. He loved this. Said it turned him on to be so powerless. I smacked him on the ass with his belt, flipped him over and straddled his chest. “So, are you ready for the surprise?”
“Yes. Oh god, yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes please.”
“That’s better,” I said. “Close your eyes.”
“OK.”
I went to the bedroom and changed. “Now open them.” I was standing there in a full cheerleader uniform. White sleeveless top with a big red “A” on it, and Jessica in script over my heart. A little red and blue pleated skirt. Even pom pom socks and white Keds. “Well?”
Suffice it to say, we didn’t get much sleep.
June 24, 2005. 3 P.M. The rehearsal dinner was four hours away. Lisa was, politely, a basket case.
“Goddammit, mom. Where is she?”
“She will be here, Lisa. You know this is hard for her.”
“Hard for her?! Hard?! For?! Her?! This is my wedding, and she can’t get her ass fucking here?”
“Lisa, that’s enough. Stop cursing. Your sister will be here. Her flight was delayed.”
“You know what, if she didn’t want to be here, she didn’t have to be. I didn’t want her. She could’ve stayed in the woods for all I care. I sure as hell didn’t want her in the wedding. I did it for Grandma. That’s it. But, if she screws this up, I will kill her...”
“Lise,” I said. “Relax. I will make sure this gets done. If I have to babysit her the entire time, and wrestle her into the dress, I will do it. Your day will be perfect.”
She laughed. “You wrestle her, huh? Sorry, but you are sugar and spice, and Allison will beat the crap out of you hands down.”
“Jen will help me. Right, Jen?” Jen waved.
Sandy’s cell phone rang. “Yes...yes..we’re at the hotel. The Essex House on Central Park South. I’m sure we could save lots of rain forest for the cost of the room. I’ll send the monkeys hors d’oeuvres. That was a joke. For once, just do this for me, please? Thanks. See you soon...”
“What, mom?”
“Nothing.”
“What? What did she say?”
“She’ll be here. And she’ll behave. That much I can promise you.”
“God help her.”
“Lise, I told you. I’ll take care of her, if need be.”
“Thank you, Jess. What are you going to wear tonight?”
“The LBD you bought me. And my black Manolos. And the necklace Adam bought me.”
“LBD? You amaze me with how girly you are, Miss Brian. Wait. Necklace? What necklace?”
I pulled a diamond pendant out of my top. “This?”
“Very nice,” said Sandy, fingering it. “This sounds serious.”
Lisa laughed. “You can barely pull them apart. It’s nauseating, really.”
“Bridezilla speaks. So bitter.”
“Girls. Please,” said Sandy. “This sounds wonderful. And you two have talked...?”
“Yes. We’ve talked.”
“And.”
“And he bought me this necklace. Enough said?”
“Enough said. Will he be there tonight?”
“A little late, but yes. He has a late appointment today. Some big shot he can’t tell me about. He had to sign a confidentiality agreement. But, he’ll be there.”
“I can’t wait to meet the man who’s made my Brian so happy.”
“You’ll behave yourself, mom?”
“Allison will behave herself,” she said, with a grin. “Mother’s prerogative.” I started to tear up. “I’m sorry, Brian. Did I cross a line?”
“No, not at all. I appreciate it, actually. It’s just...you know.”
“I know, dear. I understand. But, you know you can always talk to me.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m not going to behave myself though,” she said, with a grin.
At 7 P.M., we all met in a hotel ballroom. Lisa had us all wear black dresses. As I planned. I was wearing my little black, spaghetti strapped dress and black 4" open toe Manolos. The dress came in at the waist, and fell about 2" above the knee. I had my hair blown out just before, and was wearing the necklace Adam bought me. For him, I had painted my toes a bright pink. I felt amazing. As I walked through the lobby, I could feel every man’s eyes on me. I know that sounds incredibly arrogant, and maybe I was deluding myself, but I felt great. And I wanted everyone to know it.
I walked into the ballroom. Jim came over. “Hey, Jessica. Looking good.”
“Jessica? No comments? I’m disappointed.”
He smiled. “I’m behaving myself. Besides, I know you saw the standings. We’re one game up. So, I will have ample time to amuse myself on the 4th.”
“There are two games to play. Tonight and tomorrow. So, I’ve been practicing...”
“I’m going to check my silverware after the party. You know how help can be....”
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, our groom specifically wants to dance with...”
“So sad. So delusional. Poor Adam. Speaking of which, where is he?”
“Late appointment...”
“Oh yeah, he told me. Some big hoo-hah.”
“I don’t like that you guys talk unchaperoned...”
“Please, we’ve been wedding widowers. I need to talk to someone, and Dave is, well, Dave. By the way, Kenny is here. Just wanted to give you fair warning.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need any warning. Honestly, whatever. He is who he is. And I’m not who I was. So fuck him. Sorry. I know he’s your friend.”
“Don’t apologize. He pulled some shit. But I know you can handle yourself. Just try not to throw a drink at him or anything.”
“I’ll try,” I said, smiling.
“That’s all I can ask. That and, if you do, throw soda or something. They’re serving top shelf stuff, and I hate to see good alcohol go to waste.”
“You’ve got it. Maybe a Shirley Temple. Sticky and it stains...”
He laughed out loud. “That’s the ticket. You’ve learned well from Lisa, young Skywalker. Oh shit, Lisa’s giving me the eye again. I guess I have to say hello to someone else I don’t know.”
“Just remember. You’re totally irrelevant.”
I started to walk around. I knew all of Lisa’s relatives, but couldn’t very well say hello, dressed as I was. So, I hung out with Jennifer. We were having a drink when Allison came over. She was actually wearing a black dress. When she cleaned herself up, she didn’t look half bad.
“Brian,” she said, with a barely disguised sneer. “You look...pretty.”
“Thank you. So do you. So, Allison, how are you? How’s Oregon?” I said, brightly.
“Fine, thanks. This is ridiculous.”
“What?”
“This whole party. After ten years, they decide to do this. Come on...”
“Allison, just do me a favor. I understand how you feel, but just do this for Lisa. You two used to be close. I remember. Just suck it up for two days, and then you can go back home...”
“You’re the expert on sucking up...”
“Nice, Allison. You don’t have to do anything other than smile and wear the dress. Is that so hard?”
“I suppose not. Clearly you’ve adapted to it.”
“Allison, I’ll ignore that. It was uncalled for. I know I’m not your favorite person, but that was unnecessarily cruel, even for you.”
She softened somewhat. “Fair enough. This is just such...bullshit. The Theater of Lisa. Plus, I have to listen to all my relatives. ‘You look so nice. Why don’t you dress like this more often?’ ‘When will you meet someone?’ ‘So you live in Ah-Ree-Gone. Are there Jews?’ Plus, Lisa doesn’t want me here...”
“Yes, she does,” I lied.
“Brian, don’t lie to me. If you want me to be here, don’t lie. Whatever else, you’ve never been a liar. Although your outfit makes me doubt that.”
“Long story. Anyway, it means a lot to your mom and Grandma. Do it for them. You have family. You may not appreciate it, but you should, you know? Don’t screw it up.”
“Whatever. Tell me where I have to be and I’ll be there.”
“Tomorrow. 10:30. Lisa’s room. You want me to give you a wake up call?”
“Hurricane Sandy will take care of that, I’m sure. Later. I’m going to hide somewhere.”
“Just remember. It means a lot to your grandma.”
“Yeah. Uh huh.”
Jennifer and I were standing together, having a drink when Kenny walked over.
“Kenny,” I said, coolly.
“Hello...Jessica,” he said, giving me the once-over. Hello...?” he said, offering Jennifer his hand.
Jennifer glared at him. “Jennifer Flynn,”she said, with her arms crossed. “So, you’re Kenny.”
“My reputation precedes me,” he said, grinning nervously.
She ignored him, and turned to me. “What do you want here?”
“I can handle this, Jen. Even he wouldn’t try and pull anything,” I said, looking through him.
She looked warily at him, then me. “If you say so...”
I held up my hand and smiled. “Thanks, Jen. But I’ve got it.” She walked away.
“So, how have you been?”
“Fine, Kenny, and you?”
“Fine.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?”
“You’ve changed your hair. But this is only until tomorrow, right?” he smirked.
“Did you come over to be an asshole? Because, quite frankly, I’ve got better things to do.”
He slumped. “I’m sorry. We had a good time and then you disappeared...”
I laughed loudly, so that people turned around. “I didn’t disappear. You acted like an asshole, raised your fists and I left. Period.”
“I was hurt. I felt betrayed.”
“Betrayed? Why?”
“You know why...”
“Do explain again.”
“How you were dressed.”
“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it in front of your friends.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Be honest? Oh wait, sorry, can’t do that. Better to dump it in my lap, right?”
“Look, I’m sorry. We were good together. We could still be. What is you want from me?”
“Kenny, stop. I don’t want anything from you. We weren’t good together, because we were never together. We had one good date that was obliterated by one horrific and expensive weekend for me. That’s it. But, realize that there is no we. There is you. There is me. But there is not nor will there ever be a we. By the way, thank you.”
“Thank you? Why?”
“Your behavior actually made me really take a look at myself...”
“And this is what you saw?” he said sarcastically.
“Actually, yes. You know what? I like me. I like this. And I like Brian. And you know what else?”
“No, what?”
“I’m happy. I was pretty upset after all your shit...”
“My shit? MY shit?”
“Yes, your shit. Your playing along when it served you, and switching gears when it didn’t, rather than being who you are. But then I realized, I’d rather be me alone than give up something just to be with someone.”
He clapped three times slowly. “Bravo...or should I say, brava, for you. That is so touching. Call me when you’re alone and tell me how you feel.”
“I don’t need to. I’d really rather be alone. Because, even with you, I’d be alone.” He raised an eyebrow. “No, Kenny, I would. Because there’d be this huge part of your life I’d be excluded from because you’re not out. So, we wouldn’t be a couple. I’d be some guy you fucked.”
“That’s classy.”
“How would you express it? You’d never take me to a firm function. Because what would you call me, your roommate? Come on.”
“So this,” he said, waving his hand up and down, “is my fault.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Kenny. It’s not about you. It’s about me. And it’s not about fault. I like me. I like this. If you have a problem, have a problem. But, just think, I’m out. You’re not. And as alone as you may think I’ll end up, at least I’ll be real. Some point, you have to get tired of bathroom hook-ups.”
“Thanks for the update. Quite funny coming from a guy in a dress and heels.”
“You wish you had the guts to be out. But you don’t. So you crap on me. That’s too bad. Good luck. I hope you find whatever makes you happy. I really do. I’ll see you Sunday. But right now, I’ve got other things to do.” And I walked away. No crying. No drinks thrown. Nothing. I felt, well, empowered.
Jennifer came over. “Are you OK?”
“Fine,” I laughed. “Have you ever dated someone and then looked back and asked what the fuck you were doing?”
She laughed. “Every date I’ve ever been on.”
“That’s what this was. I don’t know what I ever saw in him.”
“He’s cute?”
“It’s funny. I used to think that, but he seems uglier now.”
“Some people get better looking as you know them. Some get worse. Are you going to be OK walking with him in the wedding party?”
“Please. The question is better directed to him. I look good. No, great. He’s just some guy who’ll make me look better.”
“You are such a diva,” she laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were a girl.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Shut up. You love it. It may freak you out a little. But, look at you, you love the dress and the shoes and the hair.”
I looked down. “It’s fun?”
“It is. And you know it. No one cares if you like it. So just do it. One thing..”
“Yes.”
“I hate your legs. Bitch.” she said with a smile.
About fifteen minutes later, Adam came in. He was wearing a navy suit, with a blue shirt and red tie. As always, flat front pants. He looked good. “Sorry, I’m late,” he said, giving me a kiss. “You look amazing.”
“Please,” I blushed. “No problem. How did everything go?”
“Fine. This...client is a gigantic pain in the ass. But...they...left happy, so maybe it’ll be referral business.”
“Nice eliding the pronouns, Ad.”
He looked serious. “I signed a non-disclosure. I can’t let anything slip.”
“Relax,” I said, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “I know non-disclosures. I wouldn’t think of asking.”
“Thank you.”
“So who is it?” He looked shocked. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”
“Ha ha. So how’s the party?”
“I saw Kenny.”
He looked irritated. “Are you OK? Where is he?’
“I’m fine, Ad. Really. He’s pathetic. I just kick myself that I ever wasted time on him. But, please. I have you.”
He grinned. “Lucky me.”
“No, lucky me.”
“So, where is he?”
“Over there. Tall guy. By the bar.”
“Dark gray suit?”
“Charcoal. Yes. Dark gray...”
He laughed. “Dark gray. I’m a guy, remember?”
I smiled devilishly. “Yes, yes, I do.”
He blushed. “Jess, stop it.”
In a low voice, I said, “Oh, come on. You know you want it. My lips, around your shaft. Up.. Down. Up. down. You’re tied to the bed frame, with my panties. You can’t move...”
“Come on. Stop. I’m getting excited....”
“That’s the idea.”
“Think anyone will notice if we’re missing?” he said, with a smile.
“We have time. Just keep thinking about it.”
“How about instead, I bend you over the bar and start fucking you. In. Out. In. Out. You want to scream, but you can’t...”
Now, it was my turn to blush. “Ad...come on.”
Thankfully, we were saved by Jim and Lisa. “Jesus,” she said, laughing. “What were you two talking about?” She leaned over and gave Lisa a kiss hello.
“Nothing,” we both said. “Work.”
Jim laughed. “I need some of that kind of work.” He stuck his hand out. “How did whatever go?”
“Fine, can’t talk. Even if I could, it’s just another appointment” Adam said. “How’s this?”
“Thrill a minute,” he said. “Whole lot of people I don’t know.” Lisa punched him on the arm. “Hey! Sorry, I’m having a great time.”
“That’s better,” I said. “You’re learning. Like Pavlov’s dogs.”
Adam turned to Lisa. “You look beautiful tonight.”
Lisa smiled. “Thank you for noticing. Jess, you’re training him well.”
He laughed. “I have a mother and a sister. Jess got me broken in. So, how’s everything? Nervous?”
“Not at all. I can’t wait. I’m excited, not nervous.”
“Me too,” said Jim. Everyone looked at him. “What? Then, we get to go on the honeymoon and I don’t have to hear about dresses or shoes or caterers again.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “I saw you talking to Kenny before...are you OK?” Adam grimaced.
“I’m fine,” I laughed. “He may not be. But I am. I have Adam now,” and I gave him a kiss.
Jim smirked. “Get a room, you two.”
“Gladly.”
He turned to Adam. “The Yankees are one up, as I was telling Fifi over there.”
Adam laughed. “Can I pick the uniform?”
“What you two fail to realize is there are two games left. And I have specifically told the band to play ‘Endless Love’ reallllllly slow, so Jim can get the full wonder of me, like he secretly wants.”
He and Adam laughed. “I’ll keep you company when they cart this one off to the looney bin.”
“You were my first love.....” I sang. “You are my......endless.....love.”
Lisa laughed. “I can’t wait until this is over, so I don’t have to listen to either of you.”
We talked about things for a while, when Kenny came over. Jim shot him a ‘don’t be an asshole’ look which he, of course, ignored. I held Adam’s hand.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” he smirked.
Adam stuck out his hand. “Adam Connolly, and you are?”
“Kenny Weinberg.”
Without blinking an eye, Adam said, “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Really?” Kenny looked shocked.
“Yes, you live in Paris, right? Lawyer?”
Kenny was clearly nonplussed. “Uh, yeah...”
“Must be really interesting,” he said happily. “I’ve never lived in another country. Must take a lot of getting used to.” Jim and Lisa were stifling giggles.
“It does...I guess...” Kenny stammered.
“Me, I’m a chiropractor. Not quite like being an international lawyer. But it pays the bills, I always say.” Jim looked like he was going to choke from stifling laughs.
“Sure, um...yeah.” Kenny was clearly getting annoyed. He couldn’t figure out what was going on.
“I guess I should explain,” I interjected. “Adam is my boyfriend. I mean, we’ve been together about a month.”
Lisa pounced. “Together is right. You can’t pull them apart.”
“You don’t mind that I call you my boyfriend, do you sweetie?” I said, ladling on extra sugar.
Adam blushed. “No, I love it.”
Kenny looked disgusted. “You know she’s a guy, right?” Jim looked like he was going to kill him.
Adam, without missing a beat, turned to Lisa and said, “You’re a guy? Wow. I’d never guess. Shouldn’t you be doing this in Massachusetts?” Jim and Lisa burst out laughing.
Jim turned to Lisa and said, “So, THAT’s why you always want the lights out!”
Kenny looked deflated. Adam stared at him. “Yes, I know who Brian is. Some people look inside the package when they get a gift, know what I mean?”
“Whatever,” he mumbled.
Lisa started to say something, and I stopped her. “Don’t be mad at Kenny. Pity him. He just can’t deal with himself. So, he does this. Besides, I have Adam. You’re the gift, sweetie,” I said, and he and I gave each other a deep kiss.
Jim started retching. “OK, that’s enough. No more. Kenny...what is wrong with you?”
“You think this is OK?”
“I think it’s none of your business. You two went out. Then you didn’t. Deal. Don’t deal. But don’t fuck up my fiancee’s party.”
“Jim,” he said. “You don’t understand.”
“I do. We’ve covered this. You don’t like what Brian does. Don’t do it. But, why is it so damn important that you two be on the same page. He doesn’t like you. They’re a couple. Get over it.”
“We’ve been friends a long time, I’d think...”
“What? That I’d take your side? Sorry, not happening. If you two were together and broke up, whatever. Bros before hos. But this is some sort of psychological thing you have. Get some help.” Kenny shook his head, and left.
“Wow, thanks, Jim,” I said. “That was really cool of you to do that. I mean, he’s your friend and all.”
“Please,” he said. “Number 1, that was a dickhead thing to do. Number 2, I like Adam. Number 3, and most important, if I take his side, then you and Lisa would be all pissy and I don’t want pissy maids. Happy help is good help.”
With that, Lisa said, “That’s enough, let’s go say hello to my cousin Stacy. Tell her she looks good. She lost weight.”
“Fat Stacy?” I said.. “Good for her. How much?”
“I don’t know,” Lisa snorted. “Probably three pounds. But we’re all supposed to encourage her. Good bye, you two.”
When they left, I turned to Adam. “Are you OK?”
“With what?”
“With all the Kenny shit.”
“He’s an asshole. I love you. What else is there?”
“I mean, maybe it pointed out things you didn’t want pointed out...”
He looked annoyed. “I told you. I love YOU. Not Jessica. YOU. All of you. I love Brian and Jessica. Don’t get me wrong. I love the way you look tonight in that black dress. And I’m going to love it even more in a ball on the floor of our room, you slut...”
“Adam, come on...please.”
“But nothing that dickhead could ever do would make me love you any less. Although, I still don’t get it. What did you ever see in him?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. All I know is I’m too lucky. I have you.”
“I agree. You are lucky....just kidding, I’m too lucky too. Now, I can’t wait for the 4th. You’re going to wear a pink uniform and 5" heels. And you will wait on me hand and foot. I can get pretty demanding, you know.”
“Stop,” I said, blushing. “I have a secret for you.”
“What?”
“You get the maid’s uniform, even when the Mets win.” With that, he pinched my butt. “Hey!”
“Just practicing, Giselle.”
“Giselle?”
“I like it better. Giselle, get me a drink. Giselle, get me a newspaper. Giselle, service me.”
“Perv. Come on, I have someone I want you to meet.”
“Who?”
“Lisa’s mom.”
“Hurricane Sandy? Do I have to?”
“If you don’t, I’ll be in real trouble.”
We walked over to where she was standing. “Excuse me,” she said to her party. “I have to meet someone.”
We walked a few feet away. “Thank you for rescuing me. My in-law’s friends from Florida. I’ve had enough...so,” she said, looking Adam up and down. “you must be the famous Adam I’ve heard so much about.”
He looked nervous. “Hi, Mrs. Wasserman. I’m Adam Connolly. Mazel tov.”
She smiled. “Mrs. Wasserman is my mother-in-law, may she rest in something resembling peace. Call me Sandy.” She turned me. “You’ve dressed him up nice. He’s cute.”
Adam blushed. “So...are you ready for the big day?”
She laughed. “Relax, Adam. I’m fine, thank you. I’ll be glad when this all goes off.”
“I can imagine. My brother said his mother-in-law couldn’t wait.”
“It’s been a lot of work. But enough about that. Bri..Jessica hasn’t told me nearly enough about you. Tell me.”
“Um, what can I say? I’m a chiropractor with my own practice. I’m from Bronxville. I have two brothers and a sister...”
“Do you love Bri...Jessica.”
Adam blushed and took my hand. “Boy, cut to the chase. But, yes, I do.”
“Are you ever going to pull what you pulled before?”
“Sandy,” I said. “Stop!”
“No, I won’t. You’re one of my children.”
Adam gulped. “I screwed up. I know that. I’m the luckiest guy in the world that she took me back. So, no I won’t.”
“Good,” she smiled, “because if you do, you’ll answer to me, understood?”
Adam laughed. “I’ve heard about you. I don’t want that.”
“You’ve heard about me?” She turned to me and said, “What did you say?”
“Nothing...nothing at all. Just how you were like my mom....”
“So are you two next?”
“Sandy! It’s been a month!”
“See? I am just like your mom. Adam, I’m glad to finally meet you. And after this is done, we’re going out, just the three of us. I have,” and she sighed, “family to deal with here. But don’t think you’re off the hook. When we go out, be prepared.”
Adam laughed, “Uh oh. Am I in trouble?”
“Depends,” Sandy laughed. “Now, excuse me.”
When she left, Adam turned to me. “She really loves you.”
I teared up. “I know. I’m lucky.”
“You OK?”
“Yeah. No. I mean, it’s times like this I miss my family. And I realize they’re not coming back, you know.”
“I know. You have me though. And Lisa’s family. And my family will love you.”
“I don’t know....”
“I’ve told you before. If I love you, they will. Besides, my mother would definitely approve of this outfit. You look like a million bucks. Keep wearing skirts and heels and you’ll always be on her good side,” he smiled. “You want to go outside for a while?”
“Yeah, I’d like that. You’re really too good to me. When am I going to wake up from this dream?”
“Never, I hope. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Saturday morning 11:30 AM. The Mets and Yankees had both lost the previous night, leaving the Yankees one game up. Now I was getting nervous. Anyway, we were all in Lisa’s suite. The hair and make-up people were there. Sandy was there. Jennifer was there. Lisa’s grandmother was there. Except Allison. Allison was not there.
“Where the hell is she?” Lisa screamed. “I told you she’d pull this!”
“Calm down, Lisa,” he mother said. “It’s six hours.”
“That is not the point! She has one thing to do and she can’t even do it. She is a bitch. She’s doing this on purpose.”
“Lisa, calm down,” said her grandmother. “It’s your wedding day.”
“I’m aware of that, Nana!”
“Lisa, apologize.”
“Sorry, Nana. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just...she can’t even do this. But I’m sorry.”
Her grandmother smiled and turned to Sandy, “Like a repeat of your wedding day.”
Sandy laughed. “That’s different. That was Helene. Lisa, relax, I called her. She’ll be here.”
“Why does she have to do this? And don’t tell me it’s difficult on her.”
“I’ll deal with her. Don’t worry. You relax.”
“Lise,” I said, “Can I get you something? Water? Soda? Champagne? Nembutal?”
“Shut up. I’m actually surprised to see you here this early,” she laughed.
I blushed. “Lise, come on....”
“At least I don’t have to worry about you getting knocked up.”
“True. But, to answer your question, I got enough rest. Not too much. Just enough.”
“Are you OK with today? Kenny and all?”
“I wish everyone would stop asking me that. I feel nothing for him. Scratch that. I feel pity. He was a bad date. That’s it. Like I told Jen, he’s just someone walking with me. It’s five minutes. Five minutes when all eyes will be on me, because I will be just so stunning...”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Girly girl, girly girl, girly girl.”
“Don’t hate. Appreciate.”
“I’m serious. Look at you. We’re getting ready and you’re wearing a dress. I’m in sweats. Jen is in sweats. And you, Miss Jessica, are dressed in, I’m sorry, what did you call it, a “really cute pink sundress” and heels. You are the girliest girl I know.”
“Adam likes me in dresses. And I....never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. He likes me in dresses.” I started to tear up.
“Mom, Nana, Jen, could you guys go outside for a minute?”
“They don’t have to.”
“Come on everyone,” Sandy said. “Let’s give them a minute.”
They shut the door. “Jess, what’s wrong?”
“That’s it. Jess. That’s what’s wrong,” I sobbed.
“I’m sorry. I was just kidding with you. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know. It’s me. I think it all just backed up on me. I’m sorry. This is your wedding day. You should be happy. Or nervous. Or pissed at Crunchy. Not worried about me.”
“Please. Brian. Talk to me.”
“You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“No, I won’t. Try me.”
“When you said that, it brought back something I said to Julia.”
“Oh jeez.”
“Stop. It’s just...I can’t.”
“Brian Andrew Rosen, talk!”
“I feel like...like...I’m going through puberty again.”
“Excuse me?”
“Like puberty. Except now I’m a girl. I told Julia this, it’s like I like pretty things and I have a crush and....”
“Are you getting your period? This is a magical time in every young girl’s life....”
“Thanks a hell of a lot.”
“I was kidding. So, you like dresses. They can be fun. And Adam likes you in them. Why wouldn’t he? You’re gorgeous.”
“That’s just it. I know rationally that he knows who I am. I just wonder does he really or does he really want Jessica and one day he’ll wake up and I’ll be alone and Kenny will be right...”
“Stop it right now, young lady! Sorry, I just had to say that. Number 1, I’ve heard Adam call you Brian as well as Jessica, so he knows who you are. Although mostly he calls you sweetie and cutie, which Jim and I want to tell you is just plain nauseating. But anyway, he loves you. Nana saw it too. She said that he loves you absolutely. So don’t worry about that. And Kenny, I won’t even discuss that. He’s not right.”
“Even still, I’m just really scared. I’m sorry to do this to you today. I’m just freaking out. The girly girl thing hit too close to home. I need to stop this before I have a breakdown...”
“Bri, I was kidding. I won’t say it again. You’re my best friend. Please!”
“I’m sorry...I really am...I need to go take a walk...”
“Bri, please don’t go.”
“Lise, I just...I....uh,” and with that I left.
I ran down to my room. I wanted Adam to be there. But he was seeing patients this morning. He didn’t want to, in case he said, “you need something.” He was too good. But I told him that he’d be bored hanging around and he should go to work. Now, I regretted it. I needed him more than ever.
I took off the dress, and put on a t-shirt and shorts. I stared at the mirror. I felt like I did that first night. I had no idea who I was. I looked like Jessica. Even in a t-shirt and shorts, I looked like a girly girl. I just stared and cried. I had lost who I was. I may not have been much as Brian, but I knew who I was. Now I was just some circus freak. “Ladies and Gentlemen! Come and see the boy who looks and acts like a girl! So real you won’t believe your eyes!” I wasn’t wearing any makeup, but I started scrubbing my face. Like Lady Macbeth, out, out, damned Jessica!
Ten minutes later, I heard a knock. “I don’t need housekeeping...”
“It’s Stanley Lachman.” Lisa’s maternal grandfather. I was in shock.
“Mr. Lachman?”
“Brian, open the door please.”
I opened the door. He walked right past me. “Close the door.”
“Um, what’s going on?”
“You tell me. I’m watching TV with Jim and his friends, when Lisa calls all upset. She says you left the bridal suite and she’s worried about you. That you won’t be part of the wedding.”
“You knew I was in the wedding?”
“You didn’t invent the wheel.”
“Sorry?”
“You weren’t the first fagelah. You won’t be the last.”
“Thanks. But, how did you...I mean...how?”
He laughed. “Do you know why I like you, Brian?”
“Um, no...”
“Because everybody else treats me like a child. They talk about me like I’m not in the room. Does Dad want dinner? What’s Dad doing? Like I’m invisible or a moron or something. But, you don’t. You talk to me about work. About sports. About the market. Thanks for that tip by the way...I made a bundle.”
“Don’t share where you got it. That’s about ten SEC violations. So, I’m not sure where this is going...”
“You act like I shouldn’t have known it was you.”
“I’m still lost.”
“You and Lisa have been friends since you started college. You’re always there. I see you more than Allison, with the spotted owls. Then, she’s getting married and you’re no where to be seen. And, lo and behold, here’s her new best friend Jessica. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes.”
“Oh god. Who else figured me out?”
“Relax, Brian. If I didn’t know it was you, I wouldn’t guess. But, I know the whole story. Actually, my nephew Ronnie said ‘who’s the new girl? What I could do with her...”
I rolled my eyes. “Ronnie. No, I don’t think so. Sorry, Mr. Lachman, I didn’t mean...”
He laughed. “Like I said before, you weren’t the first fagelah. You won’t be the last. And you’re right, he’s a putz. I don’t care if you wear a dress. You like it? Go ahead, you look good. But, Ronnie, that’s unforgivable.”
“I’m sorry to have put everyone through this.”
“You’re a good person, Brian. You want to dress like a girl, go ahead. It’s your life...you look surprised.”
“I just didn’t expect...”
“What, that I’d say that? I knew you were gay from the first time I met you. That’s not important to me. You’re a good person. You’re a good friend to my Lisa. That’s what counts. You want to sleep with men, go ahead. Just not Ronnie. Or Stephen (Lisa’s uncle). You should have standards.”
I smiled. “I’m seeing someone.”
“I saw. I heard. Where is he?”
“Work. I told him to go.”
“I want to meet him. Make sure he’s OK.”
“Thanks. You will tonight.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I’m still a little unsure.”
“About what? You go upstairs. You get dressed. You go to the party. You dance. You drink. You go home. Everything else, as the rabbis say, is commentary.”
“I’m just worried...”
“No one knows, Brian. I know. Nana knows. No one else. And if they do, so what? That’s them, not you. Now,” and he laughed, “be a man and put on your dress.”
I laughed. “Can I ask something else?”
“What?”
“How did you end up down here?”
“Well, Lisa calls Jim and can’t breath, she’s crying so hard...”
“Oh boy...”
“Oh boy is right. Anyway, he figures out that you left, and he’s going to come down....by the way, that Kenny made some comment...you two have something?”
“We did. Don’t ask.”
“I won’t. Don’t do it again. He’s a schmuck. Anyway, Jim said he would come down. I told him I would.”
“That must’ve been something.”
“He looked shocked. I told him I knew and would take care of it. He’d give you some pep talk. You don’t need a pep talk. You need sense. And that, despite what my wife thinks, is where I came in. So what are you going to do?”
“Go upstairs and put on my dress, I guess.”
“Good boy. You’re a mensch, Brian.”
“So are you.”
“Don’t let that get around. Let’s go. Any tips for me?”
I laughed. “One day, I’ll get caught and look at me. How long do you think I’d survive in jail? Anyway, I’ll have friends and family shares on a deal coming up. We’ll see what I can do.”
We went to the bridal suite. Mr. Lachman knocked, “Lisa, come to the door. I have a surprise.”
Lisa opened the door. Her eyes were swollen and puffy. “Bri,” and then she hugged me. “I’m so sorry.”
I started to cry too. “No, I am.”
“I’m going back downstairs. Maybe I’ll take a raft from all the tears,” her grandfather said, in mock exasperation.
“Thanks, Mr. Lachman.”
“Stanley. Sixteen years. Stanley. Or Grandpa. Not Mr. Lachman.” Then, he walked away.
We walked into the bedroom and Lisa closed the door.
“Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“I mean, really sure. I don’t want you to do this if you’re not 100%.”
“I am. Besides, what would you do without me?”
“Throw out Kenny. On second thought...but seriously, are you OK? I won’t make anymore girly girl comments.”
“It’s OK. I shouldn’t have freaked out like I did. It was uncalled for.”
“You got scared. Don’t apologize for that.” She looked in the mirror. “Apologize for the fact that my eyes look awful because of you.”
“Sorry, we can take care of that. I have some eye stuff in my makeup bag.”
“Your make up bag? You are such the girly girl. Poor Adam.”
“Ha ha. I learned from the best. I’m sorry, Lise. For everything.”
“Don’t be. I made this mess. If you stopped after tonight, I’d understand.”
“No.”
“No what?”
“I’m not stopping. I told Adam and I’ll tell you. I like this part of me. I like Brian too, don’t get me wrong. But you know what, I like dresses and heels and putting on make up. And I like sports too. And if someone else doesn’t, that’s them, not me. I’m me.”
“How ABC Afterschool Special of you,” she said drily.
“Bitch,” I smiled
“I’m serious. I’m glad you’re happy. I like having both of you around. More clothes for me. On that front, can I borrow the sundress for the honeymoon?”
“Will it fit you?”
She threw a pillow at my head. “You’re right. I might have to have it taken in.” Then we laughed and hugged.
“Now, let’s get you ready,” I said. “This is your day.”
______________________________________________________________________________
The wedding ceremony went off without a hitch. Lisa looked, cliched as it is, radiant. Everyone gasped. I too looked gorgeous. The dress showed off my figure perfectly and, as Adam said, made my legs look ‘more phenomenal, if that was possible.’ Kenny was Kenny.
“You look gorgeous,” he said with a sneer.
“Thank you,” I said, ignoring his tone. “That tux looks good on you. Are vests still in?”
“That was bitchy. But what should I expect from you?”
“Kenny, look. This is not about you and me. It’s about Lisa. And, tangentially, Jim. You don’t have to like me. Or respect me. Or even talk to me. You have to walk down an aisle with me. That’s it. After the ceremony, you don’t have to say another word to me ever again. Something we both can appreciate, I’m sure. But, for now, all you have to do is hold my arm and try not to trip. That’s it. OK?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He said, spitting out his words. “I’ll be fine.” We walked down the aisle uneventfully.
The Yankees lost that afternoon, leaving the Mets a half-game up. The Mets had a game at 5:00 PM. I was truly on pins and needles awaiting the outcome.
At 8 PM, Adam and I were sitting at our table when Jim came over, and held out his hand.
“Mind if I dance wif you date?” he said to Adam, imitating the Dexter Lake Club Scene in Animal House.
“Excuse me?” I said.
“Mets just won.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Tie goes to the runner, you know that. I made the bet. So, here goes.”
“Jim...”
“Adam, tell your girlfriend here it’s rude to insult the groom on his wedding day.”
Adam laughed. “He seems serious. You better go.”
The band finished the song. Jim pointed at the bandleader, who announced, “And, now, our groom has made a special request. He wants to dance with the beautiful Jessica Rosen,” and with that ‘Endless Love’ began playing.
I turned beet red. “Jim, I’m going to kill you.” I turned around and saw Lisa and Adam doubled over in laughter.
“You asked for it,” he said, with a huge grin. “Come on.”
We started to dance. “You didn’t have to do this, Jim.”
“Bet’s a bet.”
“I’m serious. I would never have held you to it.”
“I know. I would have held you though.”
“I know. Believe me I know.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For everything. You went above and beyond, you know?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did. You didn’t have to do this. But you did. You’d do anything for Lisa. I really appreciate that. I love her, but she can be...difficult.”
“That’s an understatement,” I laughed.
“Relay that and die,” he said. “Anyway, I know this has been hard on you and I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I like you, by the way.”
“Huh?”
“Not that way, you deluded butt biter,” he laughed. “I mean, you’re a good...person. I don’t know why you never thought I liked you.”
“I never said that.”
“Yeah, you did. Lise told me.”
“Sorry, I like you too. You’ve been way too cool during all of this. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. Remember, I’m an onion...”
“Parfait.” We both laughed.
“Anyway, you and Adam want to watch a game some time, that’s cool. Or just we can. Unless that dress has made you like Lisa.”
“Shut up. Seriously, thanks.”
“You too. I like Adam, by the way. He’s a good guy. Don’t fuck it up.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. He likes you too.”
“The four of us need to hang out more. He’s better than the other guys Lisa’s friends hang around with.”
The song was coming to its climax. “Hey,” he said, with a grin, “want to piss off Kenny?”
“Gladly, how?”
“Follow my lead.” And with that, he spun me out, then back and then he dipped me.
{The End}
Authors’ Note:
The Yankees and Mets were really tied on June 25, 2005.
All restaurants named herein are real. Calle Ocho is not worth it. Cabana is.
Dress for Success is a real organization that gives poor women clothes for interviews. It has a male equivalent, Career Gear. Please give. It’s a hand up to someone in need.
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It all began at 6:30 AM on October 1, 2001. My alarm went off, and I went to hit the snooze button to catch a few more minutes of sleep.
"Damn," I thought as my arm hit the night stand, rather than the clock. "The clock's always in the same place. How did it move?"
I went to climb out of bed, and go to the bathroom. "Hmmm, why does it seem like the bed got higher? I must be losing it."
I went into the bathroom, and turned on the light.
"Aaagh!" I yelped. Staring back at me was a woman, about 5'6", 125 pounds with dirty blond hair and blue eyes.
A voice called from the bed, "Jessie, is everything OK?"
"Jessie," I thought, "Who the hell is Jessie?" I figured it was better to play along, for now. "Uh, yeah, I just stubbed my toe on the scale. Go back to sleep."
I had no idea what was going on, but figured I might as well start my daily routine - pee, brush teeth, get in shower. I did the first two, and hopped in the shower. The jets of water hit my body, and gave me a sensation like I never had.
"I still don't know what the hell is going on, but damn this feels good," I thought and closed my eyes. I started to soap myself up, running my hands all over my body. On the one hand, I was still freaked out about whatever was happening. On the other hand, how many times does a guy get to run his hands all over a beautiful woman's body with no questions. My reverie was interrupted by a nibble on the neck, and two big hands grabbing my ass. "Hey," I yelled, turning around to face a 6'3" blue eyed, well-built man with dark hair. He looked kind of like Ben Affleck. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Well, you looked like you were having such a good time in there, I figured I'd join you," the mystery man said, and began nibbling my neck and ear again.
"Stop it," I whimpered, "I have to get ready for work." I had no idea who I was, other than 'Jessie,' or what I did for a living, but it sounded convincing.
"C'mon, take a few extra minutes, honey," he said. "You'll like it, I promise," and he began to kiss me and play with my nipples. I didn't want him to do it, but it felt so good. Plus, I had always fantasized about sex in the shower. Granted, I always figured I'd be on the giving, not receiving, end. But, sometimes, you have to make do. I began kissing him back, and running my fingernail along his penis.
"Somebody's enjoying himself," I purred, figuring if life hands you lemons (or takes them away, as the case may be), make lemonade. "Why don't you show me what you can do?"
"I love it when you get into it," he said, with a leer. He began tickling my clit, with the tip of his penis. I let out a series of little yips and began digging my nails into his back.
"Don't stop," I cried, "Please, don't stop." And he complied, putting his shaft in a little bit deeper and pulling it out. Each time, he went a little bit deeper, and pulled it out. My nails dug deeper, and I felt pleasure in the pit of my stomach like I had never felt before. I couldn't speak, only make little noises. He began pumping harder and faster, until...
"Errghhh, aaagh," he grunted. "Oh, God, yes," I moaned, as he and I simultaneously climaxed. He pulled his shaft out, the head dripping with cum. I bent down, licked the head and kissed each testicle. I figured (a) it was the least I could do, and (b) if I was now a woman, in for a penny, in for a pound.
"Now, get out," I giggled. "I have to get ready for work."
I guess some explanation is in order. When I went to bed on September 30, I was Josh Martin, a 33 year old balding, overweight, but not obese, attorney in New York. I was married, unhappily, to Stacy, an advertising executive. We had a minimal sex life and, basically, we tolerated each other. We had no kids and I'm not really sure why we stayed married other than inertia. Now, I had woken up in some bizarre, scary yet oddly pleasant universe. Anyway, I patted myself dry and went to get ready for work. Well, first, I needed to figure out who I was, what I did and where I went to do it. I saw a purse on what I guessed was my dresser and rummaged through it.
"What're you looking for?" asked my shower buddy, as he headed into the bathroom.
'Think fast,' I thought. "My Metrocard," I said, "Oh, here it is." And there it was, along with a business card case and my/Jessie's driver's license. The license read "Jessica R. Silverman, height 5'6", eyes blue (I knew that) and date of birth Nov. 6, 1968." Well, whoever Jessica Silverman was, she and I shared the same birthday. Next, the business card case. Voila, a business card.
"Oh, shit," I thought. The card read, "Jessica R. Silverman, Attorney, Sagman, Bennett, Roberts, Oppenheim, & Taft." Apparently I still worked at the same firm. I hated my job. My boss Jack Oppenheim was a classic jerk whose best compliment, sparingly offered, was "Well, you didn't fuck this up." On the other hand, at least the other parts of this new reality would be familiar. Now, that I knew who I was, sort of, I had to get ready for work. I turned on NY1 to get the weather. They expected a high of 70 degrees, a nice New York Indian Summer day.
Since this was the apartment I fell asleep in, I figured my new clothes would be in what was Stacy's walk-in closet. I opened the closet door and turned on the light.
"Hmmm," I thought, as I looked upon two racks of dresses, skirts and pants, most of which were a lot more feminine than anything Stacy ever wore. She favored pants and sweater sets. "Whoever I am, I have a lot of stuff to choose from." I picked out a black skirt that came about 2 inches above my knee, and a light blue short sleeved sweater. I held them up against myself and looked in the full length mirror on the door.
"Damn, I'm kind of cute. And this will look really cute on me." Where the hell did that second part come from. Anyway, I put them on and admired myself again. Next, I picked up a pair of black shoes with a two inch heel. Damn, I had tiny feet. I walked to my dresser and faced a wide array of lipsticks, blushes and powders. "Oh shit," I thought. "I need to put on make up. How the hell do I that? I mean, clothes are easy, but make up. I'll be pegged immediately."
I picked up a blush, and inexplicably applied it like a pro. The same with lipstick and eyeliner. I have no idea how it happened. Maybe, it was muscle memory. In my old life, I played golf and they said when you finally learned how to swing the club properly, it was because your muscles had memorized what to do. Apparently, I had makeup muscle memory. I then blew out and combed my hair, put a pair of diamond studs in my ears and put on a diamond heart necklace. When I was finished, I stopped to admire myself. What looked back at me was a very cute little blonde. I dreaded getting on the subway to face the looks. OK, I'm lying. I was waiting to see what it would be like.
I went over to 'Ben Affleck.' "Bye, honey," I said, pecking him on the lips. "Have a good day."
"Bye, Jess," he said, with a grin. "Remember, we're going out with Doug and his wife tonight. Before you say anything, I don't want to, either. But, he's my boss." I made a mental note to try and find something telling me who he was and what he did
I walked the subway four blocks to the subway, stopping at Starbucks on the way. When I walked in, the barista who usually grunted at me said, with a big grin, "Hey gorgeous, the usual?"
"You bet," I said with a smile. I knew how a pretty woman could get anything with a smile.
"One skim latte, and a bagel coming up," he said. Shit, I hate skim lattes, but guessed that I didn't maintain this figure on my usual Mochaccino. He handed it to me and, as he did, I lightly touched his hand and said, "Thanks, Dave, you're the best." I didn't realize that a black guy could blush, but he came close. "Hmmm," I thought, "I don't know what's up, but this chick thing could be fun for a while."
Sure enough, as I got on the train, I could see a few guys staring at me over the tops of their newspapers. I picked one, and looked him up and down. As he noticed, I quickly lowered my eyes and smiled. He fumbled with his paper, and I really started to embrace this new me. Unfortunately, all good things must come to end, I thought, as I exited the train and approached my office. I took the elevator up and, with a deep sigh, opened the door to my firm's offices. Marisol, our receptionist, greeted me.
"Oyele, chica, look at you," she said, with a big smile. "That outfit is cute and, oooh, someone looks like she got some this morning. I would too, if I had that Brian."
"Marisol," I shrieked, blushing. "This is an office, people will hear." OK, my apparent husband's name was Brian.
"By the way," she said, "Jack was looking for you." I walked towards my office. Jack's office was two doors closer to the front area, so I couldn't avoid him. As I walked past, I said, "I know you were looking for me, Jack. Give me one second to put my stuff down." "Relax," he said, "Take your time, drink your coffee. Then, come in." "Relax?" I thought. "He's never said relax to me in six years."
I went into my office, and was shocked. My office was, charitably put, uniquely organized. Others in the firm called it a pigsty. Jack called it 'the shithole.' Now, however, it was immaculate. All the files were in the file cabinet, or neatly organized in file boxes. My desk was clear, except for a few pictures. One of me and 'Brian' on our wedding day. The two of us on a sailboat, with my arms wrapped around him. And one of me and several other women, that appeared to date from college since we were all wearing sorority sweatshirts. I turned on my computer, and checked my e-mail. Based on the e-mails, and the document list in Word Perfect, at least I was still working on the same cases. Fifteen minutes later, I steeled myself and went into Jack's office.
"Hi, Jack. I'm finishing the Grantec agreement, and should be..." I began.
"Calm down," he said, smiling. "How was your weekend?"
This was a first. He had never asked about my personal life before, unless you counted, "You getting off that personal call anytime soon, so we can maybe bill some time?"
'Uh, fine," I said hesitantly, "And yours?" He wanted small talk, I'd make small talk.
"Good. Great. Sherry brought the baby over. I love him. His mom drove me nuts, but grandkids make it worthwhile. When are you and Brian going to make it worthwhile for your parents? You'll make some good looking, smart kids, you know."
I was shocked. This was, technically speaking, borderline sexual harassment. I didn't say anything, however, because I was still a little confused about who I was, and was amazed that Jack could be a human being. Instead, I offered, "Thanks, I wasn't in the market for another father, but since you're offering yourself up, can I have fifty bucks?"
He laughed, "Bad enough I gotta take this shit from my own kids, now you."
We discussed some outstanding matters, and I went back to my office to work. I was still totally at sea. I mean, I wasn't thrilled that my whole life had changed, but this one seemed better. I put this out of my mind to get down to work. However nice Jack was now, it was still about the billable hour. An hour later, Marisol buzzed, "Jane Rascoff for you."
I picked up, "Hey, Janey, what's up?" Jane was my fraternity brother Jeff's wife. They were also clients, so I assumed that this had something to do with that.
"Hey, Jessie. Lisa and I were wondering, since the guys were going to be watching the football game Saturday, we could have a girl's day out. Mani-pedi, shopping, the works," she said with a giggle.
"Sure, sounds great," I said. Lisa was my fraternity big brother Dan's wife. She and Janey were tight. Stacy always felt like they excluded her. I was surprised that they invited me, or Jessica, or whoever I was. Then I remembered. Saturday was Michigan-Penn State. I was a loyal U-M alum, and tried not to miss any games, certainly not big ones like this.
"Do you want to maybe watch the game with the guys?" I offered.
Janey laughed. "Since when do you like football? Are you trying to bond with Brian? Besides, they don't really want us there." This was true. I had made the mistake of explaining football to Stacy, as an effort to expand her horizons and help her with the guys at work. She then became obsessed with it, and tried to horn her way into things with the guys.
"Yeah, you're right. I don't know what I was thinking," I said, with a laugh. "We'll all meet at my place and go from there. Girls' day sounds fun." And it did. Part of me always wanted to go with them when they went out on football Saturdays.
"See you Saturday," she said. "Watching football. You crack me up. Bye."
"Bye." I looked at the phone for a second. Apparently 'Brian' is at some level me, since he, Dan and Jeff were all friends. A more successful me, based on the quite honestly good looking wife he has. But, at some level, me. This brought me back to Brian, and who he was, other than a big muscular guy who assaulted me in the shower. I thought maybe my Outlook would help. I scrolled through the listings. 'Silverman, Brian. 555-2143.' I dialed.
"Futures Desk. Sharon speaking," a woman answered. 'Futures,' I thought. 'OK, he didn't answer, so he must be a trader. They make a good living...'
"Hi, Sharon. It's Jessica. How are you?"
"Fine, let me see if I can peel his eyes from the Bloomberg."
"Hey, what's up, Jess? I'm kind of busy. Market's nuts," he grunted. OK, he's a trader.
"Nothing, just wanted to see if we're still going out tonight," I said.
"Yeah, Le Cirque. We'll meet there at 7. Give her," he said sarcastically, referring I assumed to Doug's wife, "time to get in from Scarsdale."
"Oh well," I said, coquettishly, "I was hoping we could get out of it, and maybe try a variation on this morning." What brought that on? What was wrong with me, that I was getting a charge out of turning guys on?
"Damn, Jess," he said, with a leer in his voice, "Now, how I am going to focus on work?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry," I said. "I hate to distract you. I'd hate for you to think of me, lap dancing and rubbing my naked ass all over your crotch. Or maybe wrapping my legs around you, while you fuck me standing up. No, I definitely want you focused on work."
"I hate you," he said, with a laugh. "I don't know what's gotten into you today...."
"Check the scratches on your back, and I think you'll find out what's gotten into me today. Anyway, I'll see you at 7. Love you," and I hung up. I knew exactly what Brian was doing now. Trying to remember the lineup to the 1976 Yankees, or thinking about Dan's hairy ass. I was starting to like this power I had.
I worked until one o'clock, and decided to go for lunch. Usually, I just grabbed a slice of pizza and read my paper. Today, everything seemed more alive. I passed by Saks Fifth Avenue, and looked in the windows. In six years, I don't think I had set foot in Saks except as a short cut from my office to the pizza place when it was raining. Today, however, I decided to see if my new body came with the shopping gene all women had.
First stop, shoes. I don't know why. Maybe it was because Stacy always wore flats, and I, like every other guy, liked heels on a woman. They just looked sexy, and made you realize the differences between men and women. I picked up a pair of what I had once heard Janey call 'strappy sandals' in black, with a three inch heel, and turned them over. $395.00. Damn. Well, this Brian makes a good living. He can afford it.
"Would you like to see those," the salesman said.
"Yes, please." I figured that I never knew when I'd be found out, so "Yeah, sure," would be a sure tip-off. "Could you check my size, though? I'm a little unsure sometimes." He measured my foot. "Seven and a half, miss. Shall I get anything else while I'm in back."
"Yes," I said, picking up a pair of Manolo Blahnik 4" heels, and black boots with a 3" heel. I decided whoever Jessica was, she was going to wear shoes I thought looked good. "These, too." The salesman's eyes lit up. "Can I get you something to drink, miss?" Commission on $1,300 will do that, I suppose.
"No, that's it." I bought the shoes, and decided this was fun. I headed upstairs to the clothes departments. That's somewhat misleading. Saks is something like seven floors. Half of one is devoted to mens, half to kids and another floor is purses. The rest is women's clothes. I was always amazed at the difference and, intrepid anthropologist that I am, decided to explore. I took the escalator up. The second floor was stuff for teenage girls, or women who wanted to dress like them. I skipped it. I never liked when thirty year olds tried to look fifteen. I always wanted to say, "Grow up." I went up another floor. High end party stuff. Maybe some other time, like New Years', if I was still stuck in this body. But, it was lunch and I was on a tight schedule. When the escalator stopped at the fifth floor, I stopped. My eyes were inexplicably drawn to a black dress. It was sleeveless, came to about 3" above the knee and had crisscrossing straps across the back. I always wanted to be with a woman who could wear something like this.
A saleswoman approached, "Would you like to see this?"
"Yes, please."
"What size?"
"Oh, I just lost some weight," I lied. "I'm still a little unsure."
"Whatever you did looks fabulous, dear," she said. "I'd say a six," as she pulled one from the rack. "The fitting room's over there," she said, pointing a finger to a room about ten feet away.
I went in, and tried it on. I had to say, it looked amazing. If I could have slept with myself, I would have. "Let's see it," the saleswoman called out. I walked out, and she let out a whistle. "That looks phenomenal. And I'm not just saying that to make a sale. I've had some women come out, and I've had to diplomatically tell them no."
I blushed. "Thank you."
"Now turn," she commanded, as I gave her a model's turn. "Looks even better in back. The only thing is you can't wear a bra under that, with the straps. Lucky for you, you still have the boobs to do that. You must not have kids yet. Or, if you do, I hate you.'
I was amazed how blunt women could be. I had never met her before, and yet she was discussing my chest. Women always did this. Stacy, Lisa and Janey knew each other ten minutes and were discussing cramps. I had known Dan and Jeff for twelve years, and wouldn't have considered discussing anything similar with them.
"Do you have shoes?" the saleswoman said, stopping my musing.
"I just bought these silver sandals," I responded, taking them out of the box.
"Hmmm, these could work. With those earrings and a platinum or white gold necklace," she said. "Still, I'd go buy a pair of these in black, just in case."
"I don't know," I said. "My husband is going to get upset when he sees these bills." That was so stereotypical. The little wife whose husband was going to complain about the bills. I worked, I made a good salary, who was he to tell me what I could buy? Whoa, chief, calm down. I've been in a woman's body less than one day, and I'm already jumping to conclusions like one.
"Honey," she said. "Put on the dress and the heels, and he won't notice the bills. Besides," she said, taking the platinum Amex I offered her, "if he sends you out with one of these, he won't notice the price tag." I did, however. $600. And I wasn't sure where I was going to wear this.
"One last thing," she said, as she handed me the receipt. "When you wear this dress, bring protection. Or you won't be able to wear it for too much longer, if you catch my drift. By the way, head up to intimates on seven. You can get some more things to distract him, on sale. That," she said, taking a pause, "will make him happy."
She acted like my mom, and mother knows best, so I followed her advice. Another saleswoman about my mom's age materialized, like a commando. Damn, they were quick up here. Men's salesmen let you look around. Not here. Quick strikes. "May I help you?"
"Yes," I said, "I've decided to update all of my things. Bras, panties, lingerie, the works." What the hell? Once you're on, enjoy the ride. I grimaced at the pun, thinking that if I wore some of this, I'd be getting a ride all right.
The intimate commando's eyes lit up at the commission. "Don't tell me your size. Women always think they know, and they're off. Let a pro do it, and you'll be surprised how much better it feels."
"OK," I said, secretly relieved that I didn't have to disclose that I didn't know. "My boobs are in your hands."
She pulled out a tape measure, and wrapped it around me. "34C," she sighed. "What I wouldn't give to be a 34C again."
"You look pretty good, if you ask me," I offered.
"Thanks, honey, but I'm not, what are you 31, 32, anymore."
"32. But I turn 33 next month," I responded, in an effort to mitigate the damage.
"33, huh? Thanks for the effort, but add a few more years to that. Anyway, let's get to work. Are you looking for comfort or sexy?"
"Both," I giggled. "Comfort for day, and well...." What the hell was wrong with me? I was having too much fun. On the other hand, I was getting the wife I always wanted.
"Ooooh," she said, "I like you. This is going to be like having my own Barbie doll." She took my hand, and led me through the department. 25 minutes later, I left with bags full of camisoles, chemises, demi-bras, thongs, teddies, garters and stockings. This little lunch time expedition left me spent. I have no idea how women went back to work after this.
I looked at my watch. Oh shit, it was 1:45. However nice Jack was being, it was still about the billing. I figured I'd better get grab something quick and get back to the office. I stopped at the deli for a salad. I didn't eat salads for lunch normally, but figured (a) have to keep up the charade and (b) I, or Jessica, didn't get this body from eating pizza.
When I got out of the elevator, Marisol looked and said, "Whoa! Look at all that? How much does Brian make anyway?"
I smiled, and said, "Hey, I work too. Remember?" I thought, "OK, this female closeness is getting too close for comfort."
I ran past Jack's office. He looked up and said, "Jesus Christ, look at all that stuff. You and Roz..." Roz was his wife. A very nice woman. Quite frankly, we had no idea why she stayed married to Jack. "And the kicker is, in two weeks you'll tell Brian 'I have nothing to wear.'"
I laughed and said, "You know Jack, this has to be sexual harassment. Don't make me call a lawyer...or worse yet, Roz and Sherry."
He rolled his eyes. "You know, I AM your boss. Go bill something, so I can at least come up with a reason why I tolerate this."
I went back to my desk, and ate my salad. Now that Jack wasn't such a complete jerk, this place wasn't awful. I plowed back into my caseload. Five hours later, it was time to go. I was unsure of whether to bring all the bags to dinner. Checking them seemed like a mean thing to do to the coatcheck girl. On the other hand, if I didn't, we'd have to come back. I took them.
When I got to the restaurant, Brian and a couple I assumed to be Doug and his wife were waiting.
Brian stood up and gave me a kiss. "Whoa! Look at all this. Doug, you're picking up dinner tonight. Apparently, I'm broke."
'Please introduce these people to me,' I thought.
"Honey, you remember Doug and Linda." They were in their mid-forties. Linda was an attractive woman, in that 'soccer mom, thank G-d I have a night off' kind of way. I could feel her giving me the once over back. Women can be so catty.
"Oh yes, hi. How are you? How's everyone doing?" I had no idea if they had kids, so I figured 'everyone' was vague enough.
Linda responded, "Everyone's fine. I was telling Doug and Brian that, when I left, Jason and Caitlin were doing, 'don't touch me...I'm not touching you' routine. I live for these nights out."
'OK, they have two kids,' I thought. I can work with that. Now to figure out their ages. "Do you have any new pictures?"
She took some out of her pocketbook. "These are their new school pictures." They looked about six and eight.
"Oh, they're adorable," I squealed. "What grades are they in again?"
"First and third, I can't believe it. Enough about them though. When are you two going to have kids? We have to do something about that figure of yours. I'm jealous," she said with a smile.
"First my boss, and now you," I said. "Does my mother keep you on retainer? If so, I'll double it if you'll stop."
Dinner went fine. Doug and Brian talked about work. Linda and I discussed my job, her kids, the strain Doug's job took on their sex life. I was amazed. The old me would never had a similar conversation with Stacy's boss' husband. We'd talk about sports and work.
As we left the restaurant and got in a cab, Brian said, "Jeez, what did you buy? We do well, but come on honey..."
I put my finger to his lips. "Tell you what, I'll show you what I bought when we get home. If you don't like it, I'll return it."
When we got home, I went it to the bedroom. "Sit down, honey. When I come out, if you don't like what I bought, it all goes back."
He groaned, "Why do we have to do this? I'm tired."
"Just do it for me. Please?"
I walked out of the bedroom, wearing nothing but a black lace demi-bra, thong and the 4" black heels. "Well, can I keep it?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed me and gave me a deep kiss that lasted for what seemed like five minutes. Then he scooped me in his arms, carrieed me to the bedroom and threw me on the bed. He began by taking off the bra and kissing my nipples. At first I was alarmed, but then I let go and enjoyed it. I whimpered a little, "Honey," I said meekly. Then he pulled down the thong and began licking me. As good as he was in the morning, he was even better with his tongue. I came three times.
"Now fuck me," I purred. "Ride me hard, cowboy and put me back wet." Where the hell did that come from? I sounded like a bad porn movie. I went to kick off the heels.
He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Keep them on, babe. I like 'em," he said.
"Ooh, someone's kinky," I said, wrapping my legs around his upper back. Again, I always wanted sex like this with Stacy. I just always figured I'd be on top. We went at it for half an hour, rolling around. Him teasing me with his shaft. Me nibbling his ear, his neck and everywhere else. Before he finally came, I came three more times. Stacy and I usually lasted ten minutes, with a minimum of playing. She always seem bored.
"I don't know how I'm going to walk tomorrow," I moaned when we finished.
He rolled over and smiled, "I'll say it again. What's gotten into you today?"
"You don't like it," I mock pouted. "I'll never do it again."
"Whoa, baby. I didn't say that..."
The rest of the week went fairly uneventfully. Brian had several early meetings, so unfortunately we had to waste water by showering apart. I made up for that though at night. I found myself having fun being a girl. I learned, for example, that I liked the taste of cum. The first time Brian shot his load into my throat I almost gagged. I then discovered that the salty, sticky taste wasn't so bad. I also learned that I could make him beg, by bringing him almost to climax and then stopping. By Thursday, it was all I could do to keep from attacking it when he came through the door. But then, I had also learned all the other fun uses for a cock as well. For example, it was a fun toy for tickling my ass. And as my own personal dildo. I'd sit on top of Brian and play with my clit while he thrust in and out. At first he complained, but when we'd come simultaneously and then I'd lick him like an ice cream cone, he found he liked it.
I also had a chance to live out every fantasy I'd ever had, albeit differently than I'd planned. For example, Brian discovered that he liked mild S&M. I'd get dressed up in my black teddy and 3" boots, and tie him to the bed. He'd mock protest and then I'd spank him with his fraternity paddle. Then he'd "fight back" by flipping me over and fucking me slowly so that I'd be just on the cusp of an orgasm. I'd beg for relief and he'd keep going. We did everything that week, even the Catholic school and cheerleader things ('Give me a 'C,' give me an 'O,' you fill in the rest.') I hadn't had much sex in my old life to compare, but this was clearly the best sex we'd ever had.
I found myself doing better at work too. Clients were complimenting me to partners, Jack told me what a great job I did, quite frankly I was amazed. I still was confused and a little concerned about what had happened. I even wondered what had happened to Stacy. But even so, my life appeared to be going better.
Saturday rolled around. When I woke up, Brian was already out of bed. "Honey, where are you?"
"Jess, can it wait? I'm watching College Game Day. I want to hear what they have to say about today."
"Ahem," I coughed as I exited the bedroom wearing nothing but one of his football jerseys. I leaned one leg up against the wall like a model in a magazine ad.
"What do you want?" he said. Then he looked up, and his jaw dropped.
"You know," I said coyly. "I think if you tried a pass, you might make it to the end zone. I walked over to the couch, wiggling my hips more than usual. I sat down in his lap, and began moving my ass like a lap dancer.
"Now, if you want to watch TV, I can find something else to do..." Then I turned around, so that I was facing him and began kissing his neck. "I mean, I know this is a big game and I wouldn't want to disturb you. I reached down between his legs and freed his cock from his shorts. He began to get up.
"No, stay right there, I'm in control. You're just my fuck toy."
I began moving up and down, taking his shaft deeper and deeper. "Mmmm," I moaned, "I love it like this, don't you. Oh sorry, Game Day's on, I'll get up," I said, rubbing his hairy chest and tweaking his nipples. He just made some guttural noises.
I stood up. "Lay down on your back," I commanded. He, needless to say, did what I said. I then put my pussy right over his face, with my back to him.
"Before we take care of you some more," I said, "take care of me."
He began licking my clit. Like I said before, he knew every way around a girl. "Don't stop," I said, leaning forward until I was looking at his cock. "Keep going."
I began running my fingernails up and down. "Don't cum. I'll be very disappointed if you cum," I said. I kissed the tip, tasting pre-cum. I playfully asked, "Now this isn't getting you hot, is it. I mean I'm not the Game Day crew."
I began taking him slowly into my mouth, running my tongue along as I did. After three minutes, he and I both came. I stood up, and began walking away.
"Ungh...grunt...what," he mumbled, "where're you going?"
I smiled. "I've got to get ready. Janey, Lisa and I are going out. TTFN." I deliberately wiggled my ass as I left the room.
I went to my closet. "What to wear...what to wear." It was supposed to be sunny and in the mid-70s. "Hmmm, sundress or shorts and a cropped top. I'd look cute in either one." I still had no idea where this was coming from, but each day I became more and more comfortable with it. "Oh, if I'm a girl, I'll be a girly girl," I thought, taking the sundress and a pair of sandals with a 2" heel to the bedroom.
At 12:00 PM, Janey and Dan came over. "Oooh, don't you look adorable," she said, with what I thought was a wink. No, I must have been confused. "We're going to have fun today. A real girl's day out." I was unsure of why she kept saying that, but figured I never really paid attention before.
Ten minutes later, Jeff and Lisa came over. "Isn't Jess just the cutest thing?" Janey said. Lisa giggled. The guys just rolled their eyes, and watched the pre-game.
"Let me show what I bought the other day," I said, leading the women into the bedroom.
I proceeded to show them everything. When I showed them the dress and heels, they both looked at each other for an instant. Lisa smiled and said, "Someone had fun at Saks. You'll look great hanging on Brian's arm in that." They both grinned. "And speaking of Saks, let's get going. Shop early, shop often. That's my motto."
"We'll see you boys later," Janey said, as we left. What was the sudden focus on boys and girls, I wondered. Again, I just figured I never noticed before. Janey and I had always gotten along fine, but she was my friend's wife and I was the guy who was married to someone she could take or leave. We all piled into a cab. "Bloomingdale's, 60th and 3rd," I said. "I haven't been there all week." Janey and Lisa flashed each other another one of those strange smiles.
When we got to Bloomie's, we headed up to the shoe department. As we were heading up on the escalator, Janey turned to me and said, with a leer, "so how's Brian?"
"Umm, fine, I guess. Busy at work," I said quizically.
"No," she said. "I mean, how's Brian," and she winked.
"Ohmigod, Janey, we've been married four years, I can't believe you'd ask me that."
We got off the escalator, and she and Lisa steered me to a corner.
"Cut it out, Josh," she said, as my jaw dropped. She saw my look of horror. "Yes, Josh Martin. I know who you are."
"But, what...how...huh? Lisa? Help?"
"Well," said Janey, "Lisa and I are witches."
"Excuse me, but that's impossible." I said, not believing her intellectually but feeling differently.
"Really," she said, "we are. Not like Glinda the Good Witch or anything. Probably more like 'Bewitched.'"
"Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that you are," I said, regaining my lawyerly bearings. "What did I do to you to deserve this?"
"I won't take that as an insult," she said. "Let me explain, everyone has an aura that reflects their inner spirit. Those with a feminine inner spirit have a pink aura, those with a masculine inner spirit have a blue one. Only those with special powers can see them"
"Of course. Uh, huh, go on," I said, tensing up.
"Anyway, Lisa and I like to read people's auras. See if we can guess who has what."
"Sounds like a real blast," I mumbled.
She rolled her eyes at Lisa. "Anyway, remember that party at Adam's house in July. We started reading everyone, and guess what. Your aura is hot pink, and Stacy's so blue it's almost black."
Lisa chimed in. "I told Janey that before we checked. I mean you always loved playing with Adam's kids. You oooh and aaah over puppies. And I saw the look you'd get whenever you saw Janey and me leave to go shopping."
"No way," I said angrily. "I mean, so I like kids and dogs. That doesn't mean anything. And I just got that look when you'd leave because I felt bad that you never invited Stacy."
"Enough already, Josh," said Jane, with a tone of annoyance. "Look at you. Look at that dress and shoes. You could've chosen anything to wear today and you wore that. How girly could you be?"
"Ummmm..."
"Have you even worn pants or anything remotely masculine or even neutral this week? And I saw how your eyes lit up when you showed us that dress. Sure, you were in this body, but you certainly need the dress and that underwear. All of that says, 'I love being a girl,' doesn't it?"
"Well...I mean...I suppose," I said.
"And," she continued, "from what I've heard, you're quite the little nympho, and a kinky one and that, miss shower, miss S & M."
I turned bright red, "Ohmigod, how did you know that. Can you see into our life?"
They both guffawed. "Uh, not quite. Brian told the guys about everything. Men are such gossips."
"OK," I smiled, for what seemed like the first time in an eternity," But why did you do this to me?"
Janey continued. "Like I said, you have this hot pink aura, pinker than most women. Anyway, were you happy with Stacy? With your job? With your life?"
"No, not really," I said.
"And how have you felt this week? I mean, how's work? We know how your personal life is going..."
"Actually, much better. Jack is actually being nice to me, and clients compliment me."
"You're happy and it shows. I mean, I've been watching you today. You walk with a smile and your head held high. Josh always looked depressed, and walked like he had the world on his shoulders. Am I wrong?"
"No, I suppose not."
"See," said Lisa. "By making your body match your aura, we've made you whole. And a whole woman is much better than half a man, don't you agree? But, if you want to change back..."
We all stood for a minute. Then I gave each of them a hug and kiss. "No, you know what, I love being like this. I love being a girl. I love the clothes, the make-up, the shoes. I love driving men wild. And, to answer your original question, I LOVE Brian. If Jeff and Dan can do half the things he can, you're both very lucky." This time, they both blushed.
"Oh, stop it, you little slut," Janey said, "Let's get to work here."
Later, over lunch, I turned to them. "So, if I'm now Jessica, does that mean Stacy is Brian?"
Janey smiled, "No, no, no. You two were never happy. Stacy's still Stacy."
"But, I thought she had a blue aura."
"She does."
"Then, why didn't you make her a guy?"
"Your initial impressions were right. We didn't like her, so why would we make her whole. She's still married. But this time to a guy who isn't as nice to her as you were. You were, quite frankly, a wimp when it came to her. This guy puts her in her place, which isn't nearly as nice as yours, by the way. A walk-up. With roaches."
I smiled devilishly. "Boy, this day has turned out even better than I thought."
--Epilogue, June 2004--
"Well, Ms. Silverman, I have some visitors to see you," said the nurse, leading Janey and Lisa in.
I held up my new daughter, Rachel. "Isn't she just the most perfect thing you've ever seen?"
Janey smiled, "It looks like my little Scott has a girlfriend. and Lisa's little girl will have a friend" Janey had a little boy four months previously. Lisa was seven and a half months pregnant with a girl. Rachel began to cry.
"Someone's hungry," said the nurse, as I took my breast out of my gown. Rachel began sucking away.
"Thanks," I said to Janey and Lisa through my tears, "Thank you for everything."
Note: TG magic transformation Rated-M
Posted by: Miss Jessica on Monday, August 09, 2004 - 12:12 AM
Nicole by Miss Jessica
It all started innocently enough.
Brian and I were lying in bed, after sex. We had been dating for four months. While we weren’t on dating behavior anymore, we hadn’t quite entered the relationship stage either. He made jokes whenever emotions came up and I was fine with that. Exploring my feelings was never my strong suit.
“So, what’s your fantasy?” I said, running my fingers up and down his chest. He wasn’t a hairy guy, which I liked.
“What?”
“What’s your fantasy?”
“A three way with Jessica Alba and Beyonce?”
“OK. How about a realistic fantasy?”
“Isn’t that an oxymoron?” This was Brian. Making jokes.
“Seriously.”
“Promise you won’t freak out?”
“Does it involve pee or crap or something?”
“Promise.”
“OK.”
He took a deep breath. “OK. I’ve always wanted to have sex, where the girl is completely dressed and I’m completely naked.”
This intrigued me. “Really?”
He pulled away, “Never mind.”
I smiled, “No, I’m game. I just wasn’t expecting that.”
He looked wary. “Really?”
“Really. What two consenting adults do in the bedroom is their own business. If I don’t want to do something, I don’t do it.”
“That’s fair. What’s your fantasy?”
I smiled. “I’ll let you know.”
“Come on, I told you.”
“No, I like the element of surprise,” I said, playing with his balls. “When I’m ready for it, I’ll let you know. But you have to agree now to do it.”
He smiled, “No pee or poop?”
“No,” I laughed. “No pee or poop.”
“No public humiliation?”
“Well…,” I said and he blanched. “Just kidding. No public humiliation. So do you agree?” I don’t know why I needed him to agree so much, but I did.
“I agree.”
“Shake on it,” I said, putting out my hand. He started quivering. “You said shake…” I laughed and I slapped him on the ass.
The next morning, he went out to the gym, and left me there to my thoughts. What did it mean that he wanted me fully clothed while he was naked? What was he telling me? That he wanted to be humiliated? That he didn’t like me naked? Something else? I was a little confused, a little worried and, to be honest, a little turned on. I liked the idea of being in control. A guy could just whip it out, screw and walk away. I could be the guy in this scenario, leaving the girl naked and watching. I decided to explore this.
I spent the next couple of weeks watching Brian. Or, more accurately, watching Brian watch women. I wanted to see if I could tell what would turn him on. Late spring in New York is great for women. As the weather warms up, we shed the bulky coats and sweaters and can dress however we want. I watched him closely. Some women can’t handle that. I know that guys look at women. Women look at guys. So long as you don’t do it all the time and just look, I don’t honestly care. What I noticed was he gave the longest looks to women in dresses. More than women in pants, which was normal. More than women in short skirts, which was not. He liked women in dresses. Especially, strappy dresses. He seemed especially fond of women in sleeveless dresses and sundresses, especially those that fell somewhere between a couple of inches above the knee to mid-calf. He also liked lacy dresses and dresses with delicate prints. I know that sounds ridiculously specific but, if I was going to play with his fantasy, I was going to go all in. Or at least what I thought was all in. Interestingly enough, when that happened, he became very touchy-feely with me. Not that he groped me. Just that he held my hand, rubbed my arm, touched my leg.
One day, we were going out to dinner. When he came to pick me up, I was wearing a blue sundress with little roses on it. It had spaghetti straps and fell below the knee. I never wore dresses like this. I mean, I wore dresses but they had sleeves and were usually black or red. This dress was a little too girly for me. I felt unprotected.
When I opened the door, his eyes widened and he said, “You look great. I’ve never seen this dress before.”
I smiled. “It’s new. Old Navy. $16.”
“Well, it looks great.” He took my arm and we went out. The whole night, he was more solicitous than he’d ever been. He always held the door open for me which, to me, was just common courtesy. But, he opened the cab door for me and held my chair. The whole dinner, he kept looking me in the eyes. He didn’t joke like he always did. He listened.
“What?” I said. “What’s up?”
“You just look really pretty tonight,” he said sheepishly.
“I don’t look pretty all the time? And be careful…”
“You always do. I just really like this dress.” Hmmmm.
I blushed. “Well, thank you. I have a secret…”
“What is it?”
I grinned. “I’m not wearing any underwear…” He frantically asked for the check.
The whole way home in the cab, we were making out and he was massaging my thighs. As much as I wanted it, when he got close to my clit, I said, “No. I’m in charge and I’ll tell you what to do. Understand?”
He kept my massaging my thigh, “Please….”
“I said I’ll tell you what we’re doing. Understood?”
“Yes…”
We went up to my apartment. I pulled him to me, kissing him hard, the way he usually kissed me. He started playing with my nipples through the material of the dress. It was funny. Usually, he was rough. Today, without me telling him what to do, he was rubbing them the way I would. Which was both extremely satisfying and somewhat weird. “Mmmm, I like that, Brian.” I started grabbing his ass and kissing his neck. He groaned with pleasure.
He started to unzip the dress. “No, Brian, it’s staying on. But, you strip NOW!”
It took him a second but his eyes widened.
“Yes, Brian…” I said, as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. I reached over and moved his hands away. “Let me,” and I started unbuttoning them, slowly, one by one. “I’m in charge,” I purred into his ear. After I took off his shirt, I said, “Put your hands over your head.”
“Is this a stick up?””
“No jokes, Brian. Hands up.”
He complied. I pulled down his pants slowly. He was standing in his underwear and was rock hard. I was getting wet. I pulled down his underwear and threw him on the bed.
“So, who’s on top?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“You. You’re on top. Fuck me. Fuck me please,” he moaned, in what I swore was a softer voice than I had ever heard him use. I was getting a little freaked, but a promise is a promise.
I pinned his wrists with mine and started grinding into him. “Do not come until I say so.” He smiled and started digging his nails into my thighs. “That’s going to leave a mark,” I thought.
I lifted myself up and started pistoning on his crotch. My skirt was spread over his stomach to just below his chest. He started playing with the material and rubbing it over his body and moaning. His eyes were closed and I don’t know if he realized what he was doing.
“Are you ready?” He just groaned. “Good! Just remember – you do what I say. And you can’t come until I say so. OK?” I could’ve asked him to kill his parents and he would have agreed.
He kept writhing under my skirt and grabbing the backs of my thighs. “Is this what you thought it would be, Brian?”
“Yes, yes…”
“Now, arch your back.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve been on top. You know how the girl arches her back.”
“Uh…”
“I can climb off if you want…” He arched his back. “Remember, don’t come.”
He started bucking like a girl would. I kept pumping up and down. He started playing with my nipples, then moving to my thighs, then back to the nipples. I was shocked at how hot this was getting me. “Don’t come. Don’t come. COME!” We came at the same time and I climbed off of him. His stomach and my skirt were covered in it. Oh well, the dry cleaner has to eat.
I turned to him and said, “Was it everything you fantasized about?” We were spooning and I was the big spoon, which felt both weird and right.
“Oh g-d, yes.” and he paused.
“Why did you pause?”
“It was amazing. I just hope I wasn’t too weird.”
“You weren’t. Not at all.” I started rubbing the dress on his balls and then his chest. “Do you like the way this feels, Brian?”
“Uh…”
“It’s OK. It’s just you and me.”
“Brian, don’t be embarrassed about anything. Don’t you think I enjoyed myself?” He nodded. “Then, just say what you feel.”
“I like it. It feels soft.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes…”
“Then do what feels good,” I said, draping my leg over him. He looked cute naked and half-covered in my dress. It was like I pictured. Me the guy and the girl naked under a sheet, looking satisfied. “What two consenting adults do in the bedroom is their own business. If I don’t want to do something, I won’t. And I did this.”
“OK…”
“How come you wanted it this way?”
He looked sad. “I don’t know. It’s my fantasy. I just always thought it would be hot. I hope you’re not freaked out,” and he looked like he was going to cry. This was not the Brian I had been dating. The Brian I had been dating told jokes to avoid emotions. I was surprised.
I pulled him closer. “Don’t get upset. I am absolutely NOT freaked out. I just wondered. We’re adults, Brian. Everyone has fantasies. So long as they don’t involve pee or something, I’m good.”
He turned around and smiled, “OK, what’s your fantasy?”
I smiled and said, “I told you. You’ll find out…when it’s time.”
“Come on…I showed you mine.”
“Nope.”
“Did you enjoy this at least?”
“Surprisingly yes. There’s something, I don’t know, about you being naked and vulnerable while I’m dressed and in charge.” He looked like a kid at Christmas. “It doesn’t mean it’s this way all the time.”
He laughed, “I wouldn’t want that.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup, if you got what you wanted all the time, you’d stop wanting it. Wondering makes it fun.” I took off the dress, and put on my panties, a t-shirt and sweatpants. He went to put on his underwear. “Stop. Stay naked.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
He grinned. “You’re the boss.”
I smiled. “Yes, I am,” and we climbed back into bed.
The next morning, I woke up before he did and thought about everything that had happened. I looked over at his naked body, sleeping peacefully. On the one hand, it was a little weird. He willingly, almost too willingly, acceded to everything that I told him to do. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be with a guy who would do that. On the other hand, he opened himself up to me. We were at four months. This was the point when we were really beginning a full bore relationship. I decided that I would let things be. If it got too weird, one of us would stop it.
Ten minutes later, he woke up. “Hey, sleepy head,” I said. “Did you sleep well?”
“I woke up in the middle of the night for a little while.”
“Why?”
“I thought about what we did.”
“Not this again…” I said, with a smile, hoping to calm him down.
“Seriously. I like you and I acted weird and I just hope…”
I held his hands in mine. “I like you too, Brian. Stop thinking about it. We both liked it…a lot. Just let it be. There’s no one here but you and me and what we do is what we do. OK?”
“OK…”
I smiled, remembering him with the dress covering him. He looked so happy covered in little roses. I wanted to take this further. Then, I stopped myself. Instead, I grabbed his balls and squeezed them. “Now, I fucked you yesterday. Now it’s your turn.”
He grabbed me and kissed me hard. Harder than he ever had. And I liked it. He threw me backwards and pinned me with his wrists. “OK,” I thought, “this guy is working through some shit.” He leaned down again and kissed me again. I liked this. “Put your legs on my shoulders.” I did. He started fucking me, hard. He grabbed my hair. Normally, I liked it rough, although not this rough. It was over relatively quickly. He rolled off and spooned me – this time he was the big spoon. “Was it good for you?”
I laughed. “Ya think? Wow. You are quite a man there, Bri.”
“What?”
“What nothing. You are man of many talents is all.” I didn’t realize how neurotic he was. I guess most guys don’t go to these kinds of extremes though. We laid there for a while until I said, “I’m meeting some friends for lunch. I’ll call you later, OK?”
“OK,” he said, getting up and dressed. I always liked watching guys have to take the walk of shame. Although they didn’t have the messed up hair and makeup. Life is unfair.
I lay in bed and thought about everything some more. I liked Brian. He was a funny guy. Polite. Caring. Good in bed. On the other hand, he clearly needed to work out some issues and I didn’t know if I was ready or willing to do that. Then I remembered what my shrink said. She told me that I was always looking for fault so that I didn’t have to commit. I decided to give it a try.
Brian and I rarely saw each other during the week. Our work schedules were such that, by the time we got home, we agreed, after one bad date, that neither of us was good company on a work night. We spoke frequently though. This week, the conversations were better. He was more solicitous, asking me about how my day was and what was going on at work. It’s not that he didn’t care before. It’s’ just that previously it felt like he was waiting to talk. Now, he was listening.
On Wednesday, he called and said, “I was offered box seats to the Yankees Friday. Interested?”
I was not a big sports fan. I watched the Super Bowl every year because I liked the parties. I liked going to live events for the immediacy of it but I wouldn’t care if it was the Yankees, the Mets or anyone else. I decided, however, that there was something fun about sitting that close. “I’m in.”
“Great, the game’s at 7:00 PM. I’ll meet you by the clock in Grand Central at 6:15.”
When I got there Friday night, I saw him waiting by the clock. I surprised him by putting my hands over his eyes, “Guess who?”
“Hmmmm….Jessica Alba?”
I playfully swatted him. “Funny…”
He kissed me. “I don’t want her. I want you.”
I laughed, “You’re a terrible liar. Or crazy.” I was wearing a red knee length dress with short sleeves that showed a little cleavage.
“You look amazing.” He took my hand. “Let’s go. Thanks for coming. I know this isn’t your thing.”
“It’ll be fun. Plus, next time we’ll do my thing.”
We went to the game. It was uneventful. I think the Yankees won 5-3. While he was watching the game, I watched him. It was a warm night. There was a beautiful woman in a strappy dress in front of us. He kept looking at her but it was weird. He wasn’t just looking at her. He was looking at her dress. Every time he did, he’d touch my hand or my leg or lean over and kiss me. “You’re in a good mood tonight.”
He smiled. “Why wouldn’t I be? The Yankees are winning. We’re here,” he laughed. “On someone else’s dime. Are you having a good time?”
“Of course. I like people watching. I like seeing the players up close. It’s all good.”
After the game was over, we took the 4 train back. We got off at 86th Street and walked up to my apartment. He held my hand. We walked past H & M on Lex, and I watched him look in the window. Maybe he always did and I never noticed. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing. Just looking around.” When he said that, he was looking at a dress that came just below the knee. Pink with a delicate floral print. Interesting. He liked florals.
“Do you like that dress?”
“Huh?” he said, defensively, letting go of my hand. “What do you mean?”
I clearly hit a nerve. “I meant, do you think I’d look good in it?”
“You’d look good in anything,” he said, taking my hand again.
“Well, thank you. Would I look good not in anything?” I said, with a devilish grin.
It took him a second. “Even better,” and we walked home. I couldn’t get the dress out of mind though.
When we got back to my place, I excused myself. I undressed, wrapped myself in a towel. took a deep breath and came out, “It’s my turn.”
His eyes widened as he saw me in the towel. “Your turn?”
“Yes, my turn. You know what my fantasy is?” I said, dropping the towel. He gulped. I could’ve said anything. “I’ve always wanted a man to shave my legs for me?”
“Shave your legs?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“No,” he said, looking confused. “It’s just the first time I’ve ever heard of that.”
“Are you willing?”
“I’ll try,” he said, putting his hands behind his back, like a shamed schoolboy. I liked it.
“Good, first things first, strip.” He immediately complied. He also got immediately hard.
I grabbed his penis and said, “come with me.”
Before I came in, I had turned on the tub and filled it with gel. I handed him my shaving gel. “First things first, lather me up.” He fumbled with the gel. When he had a handful of foam, he started clumsily rubbing it all over. I spanked his ass and sternly said, “No. Not like that.” I rinsed off my legs. “Rub it in gently, up and down my leg.” He got another handful of foam and rubbed it all the way up my leg to my crotch. I shuddered. “That’s it. That’s a good boy.”
He smiled shyly, which got me hot. “Thank you.” Thank you? Like I gave him his change at the store? Weird, but oddly sexy.
“Now, shave my legs,” I said, putting my right leg on his shoulder. “Long even strokes. It’s not your face. Can you do that? I’ll be very upset if I get any nicks,” I said, taking on a serious tone. “You won’t like if I get upset.”
He didn’t blink but looked seriously concerned. “I can do it.” I didn’t know who this was, but I found it extremely alluring. He started shaving my legs in one continuous stroke. When he got the blade near my crotch, he’d rinse it off and start fingering my clit. I moaned, gently slapped his hand and said, “finish the job you were given, please.” By the time he finished, I wanted him inside me, but decided to see how far he’d go. I was worried he’d run, but needed to see. “Good job, Brian. Before I let you enter me, suck my toes.” I had never had that done to me before and wasn’t sure I’d even like it, but I needed to see what he’d do.
“What?”
“I. Said. Suck. My. Toes.” He did. It turns out that I liked that. “Now, take me to bed.” He lifted me out of the tub and carried me there. He was on top. It was amazing. He was really into it. Again, I didn’t let him come until I did.
We were cuddling and he started playing with my toes. He had never done this before. “Whatcha doing, Bri?” I giggled.
“Does it bother you? I’ll stop.”
“No, keep going. Just you’ve never done it before.”
“Huh. I don’t know. I like your toes. They’re cute. I never noticed.”
“I need a pedicure.”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
A thought came into my head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean that I need a pedicure and I want you to do it.” I liked the idea of him painting my toes.
“Um…I’m not Korean,” he joked. “They’ll come get me.”
“First, that’s racist. Second, my manicurist is Vietnamese. Now, was this not amazing?”
“It was…I just…”
“You just what?” I said, sounding annoyed.
“Nothing. I’ve just never done it before.”
“You’ll do fine,” I said, getting out of bed naked. I went to the drawer where I kept my nail polishes. I had too many. That was my vice. Nail polishes and make up. I purposely bent over naked while I looked. “Oh, where is it? Brian, can you come help me pick one out?”
He jumped up. He leaned over my shoulder, brushing my ass with his cock. “Which one do you like, Bri? This red one or this pink one?” I assumed he’d pick the red. He surprised me by picking up a baby blue one.
“This one. I like this one.”
“Really?”
“Yes…it’s…” and he looked sheepish.
“It’s what?” I really wanted to know.
“I just like the color. I think it’s pretty. I mean it would look pretty…nice on you.”
There was ‘pretty’ again. He liked pretty. Most guys, it would be sexy. Or hot. He liked pretty. It was cute. He was really showing me a vulnerable side that I found really erotic. Normally, like I said, I went for unavailable. I found myself attracted to his vulnerability. “OK, now are you ready to give me a pedicure?”
“I’ll do my best.” He looked like he really meant it. He went to put on his underwear. “No, naked, I want you to do it naked.” He immediately complied. I liked this new Brian.
I sat on the edge of the bed and handed him a bottle of acetone and some cotton balls. “Now, first remove the existing polish. Put some polish remover on the cotton balls.”
He started carefully removing the polish from each toe, like he was one of those people painting on a grain of rice. He tickled the balls of my feet as he did it. “Good boy, Brian,” I said, getting excited. He started blowing on my toes. “What are you doing,” I said.
He seemed surprised by the question. “Drying your toes so we can polish them. Should I stop?”
“Oh no. Keep going.” He blew on every toe. I shuddered with pleasure. By the time he was done blowing, it was all day I could do to keep from grabbing him. But I maintained my self-control. “Very good job. You did very well.” He smiled like a child who got a good grade. “Now let’s polish them. Are you sure you want the baby blue and not the red?”
“Yes. The baby blue is prettier. You don’t need red to turn me on.” Strappy dresses. Baby blue. Where was he going with this? He started polishing my toes, very carefully. He didn’t smile. He wasn’t upset, just very focused. When he finished, they looked better than they ever did.
“Did I do a good job?”
“You did a great job.” I spread my legs wide. His eyes went wider. “Do you think you can do another job for me while they dry?” I cooed, grabbing his head, pushing him down on me. Out of nowhere, I pictured him with a blond high ponytail in a scrunchy. He was wearing lip gloss. Pink lip gloss. I started to gulp.
When he finished, I patted the bed and said, “Sit down.” He looked embarrassed. “What now, Bri? That was incredibly hot. Wasn’t it?”
“Yes…”
“Again, it’s just you and me. And we’re both consenting adults. I didn’t force you, did I?”
“No…”
“And you certainly didn’t force me. So it’s all good.” I started nibbling on his neck. “You like this, don’t you?” His moan was enough. “Like I’ve said, I do for you and you do for me. That’s what makes it hot. No one else knows and no one else will know, OK?”
“OK.”
I wiggled my toes. “You like? I like.”
“I like.”
“You like pretty things, don’t you?” He looked defensive. I hit a nerve. Time for a quick save. “I mean, you like when I look pretty, don’t you?”
“Of course.” He looked relieved.
“So, you’re just helping me look pretty. Plus, I think guys should know the work that goes into it. It makes you appreciate it more. No?”
“I guess.”
“Good. Now, get dressed. I want to get something to eat. You shouldn’t be the only one who ate,” I said, kissing him.
I put on yoga pants and a t-shirt. His clothes were wrinkled. We went out to eat. He seemed distracted. “Please don’t tell me you’re thinking about everything.”
“I just…”
“You and me, Bri. We’ve been together almost five months. It’s real time. What’s the most important thing in a relationship?”
“Sex?” He joked. The old Brian was back. I needed to stop that.
“No,” I said, looking him in the eyes and holding his hands. “Trust.”
“I know.”
“You have to trust me and I have to trust you. If we don’t have that, let’s stop now.” I almost said, “though I’ll miss the pedicures.” That would have killed the mood. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“I’m just scared.” He looked like a baby deer. His newfound vulnerability was scaring me. Partly, because I had never been with a guy who was like that. And partly because I liked it. I liked being the strong one.
“There’s nothing to be scared of. I wouldn’t hurt you,” I said, rubbing his palm. “No matter what, I wouldn’t hurt you. Because you wouldn’t hurt me, right?”
“Right. It’s just…”
“Brian, I like you. A lot. I like that you’ve opened yourself up. That means you trust me. Don’t be afraid. Say, ‘I won’t be afraid.’”
“I won’t be afraid.”
“I trust you.”
“I trust you.” The truth was I really was scared. He was opening up to me. I’d have to open up to him. I had been hurt too many times and wasn’t sure that I could.
“I trust you too. Promise you won’t hurt me.” There I said it.
He looked shocked. “I would never hurt you. Unless…” He smiled. I knew he wanted to say, “unless you asked” to lighten the mood. But he surprised me. “No. No jokes now. I would never hurt you,” and he leaned over and kissed me. It wasn’t a deep kiss or a hot kiss. But it was the most satisfying kiss that I’d had in a long time. We spent the rest of the afternoon walking and talking. We looked in store windows. We held hands. He made me laugh. He didn’t just tell jokes but noticed funny things in a funny way. In short, we acted like a couple. Not two people dating, but a couple. I wanted to let down my guard completely but something held me back.
We went back to my apartment around 5 PM. He followed me in, when I said, “I’m tired.”
“OK, take a nap. I’ll watch TV.”
“No. I’m tired. I don’t want company. Go back to your place,” I snapped.
“Did I do something?”
I wanted to tell him no and that I was afraid of becoming an “us.” But I didn’t. “No. It’s not all about you. I’m tired. I’ll call.”
He started to say something then stopped. He looked like a kicked dog. A kicked puppy, actually. He walked away, looking back at me. I felt like garbage. However, I didn’t call him. I was surprised, however, when he didn’t call me either.
I called him two days later. “Hey, Brian.”
“Hey.”
“I was just tired.”
“Sure,” he said. “We all get tired sometimes. What’s up?”
“I wanted to see what’s up. See what you’re doing tonight.”
“Relaxing. Stressful day from work.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“If you want.”
This hurt. I had hurt him. “Do you want me?”
“If you’re not too tired.”
“I’m sorry Brian. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Whatever. Come over if you want.”
“I am sorry.”
“Know what? Don’t worry about it. It’s only been four months. Let’s just play it by ear, OK?”
That stung. “Sure. Bri…”
“Come over. Let’s just watch Netflix.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, yeah. Life’s too short to be all serious.”
I came over and we ordered Mexican and watched “Orange is the New Black.” He kept making jokes the whole time and looking at me for a response. It was uncomfortable. I leaned over and kissed him and said, “what do you say we make our own entertainment,” which was cheesy as hell, but it was all I could come up with. We went into the bedroom and had sex. We didn’t make love. We had sex. Utterly disconnected, unsatisfying sex.
We rolled over. He turned to me and said, “Was it good for you?”
I took a deep breath. “No. You?”
“Not really. What’s up?”
“Nothing. You?”
“Nothing much either.”
“Want to suck my toes?”
“Not really,” he said flatly. “I’m full,” he said with an empty smile.
“Funny.”
“That’s me.”
“I think I should go home.”
“Probably a good idea. We both have work.”
I stopped to say something else, but left. I walked home the forty blocks. A homeless guy stopped me at one point and said, “nothing’s that bad.”
“Yeah, it is,” I said, giving him ten dollars.
“It’ll get better.” Great, now I was being counseled by a homeless guy.
“Let’s hope.”
He smiled, “Just did for me.”
A week passed without Brian calling. I didn’t call him ei I texted him, “Can we please talk?”
He wrote back. “I’d like that.” My heart leapt.
“Tonight? My place?”
“OK.”
He came over and looked suspicious. “What?” I said. I wore a little spaghetti strap dress that ended above the knee. My toes were pink. I wasn’t all made up. He said nothing.
Instead, he looked me in the eye. “I’m here. Let’s talk.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I scared you with my fantasy.”
“No, you didn’t. Actually, it turns me on.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I came.”
“Really?”
“Really? I liked being in control. I liked you lying there naked while I was clothed. It gets me hot.”
“What about the legs and the pedicure?”
“That was my fantasy. A naked man giving me a pedicure makes me short of breath.”
“Then what was it?”
“We had a good time that day.”
“And that’s scary?”
“Yeah, it is. We were just us. We were talking and holding hands.”
“I see how that’s scary.” Out of nowhere, he said, “Tell me something secret.”
“What?” I was shocked.
“Tell me something about you that you don’t tell people. You talk about trust. Trust me.”
“My mom left when I was four.”
“But, you talk about talking to her.”
“That’s my stepmom.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s why it’s a secret. Duh.”
“I’m sorry,” he reached over to me. I pulled back a little.
“You didn’t do it.”
“What happened?”
“I dunno. She and my dad should never have been together in the first place. They shouldn’t have had me,” I said matter of factly.
“Then..then…” He was fumbling for words. “Then whose toes would I have painted?”
I was actually glad that he made that joke. I couldn’t deal with seriousness. I didn’t even want to tell him.
Then, he said, “Have you heard from her?”
“Every once in a while. Not in eight years.”
“So what happened?”
“My dad is not an easy guy. He’s kind of abrupt.”
“Abrupt?”
“He shuts down when he’s done talking. Even if you’re not. I imagine it pissed her off.”
“Still, I can’t imagine a mom leaving her kid.”
“And a dad? A dad could?” I snapped. I didn’t like where he was going with my mom.
“No, not at all. You don’t like your spouse, I get it. Your kid doesn’t ask to be born.”
“Sorry,” I said. For the first time in my life outside of therapy, I said, “It still hurts,” and I started to cry. I don’t cry.
I thought he’d run. But he didn’t. He just rubbed my back and held me, the way my stepmom did.
“My stepmom used to do this when I was little.”
“I’m your stepmom? Am I hot?” He joked.
“Stop joking. It feels nice. Warm.”
“OK,” he said, and he kept rubbing. I hated getting this close.
“Don’t hurt me, Bri…”
He looked shocked. “Why would you think I would?”
I cried some more. “Just don’t. Promise me that you won’t.”
“I won’t. Tell me about your stepmom.”
“Huh?”
“Tell me about her. What’s she like?”
“She’s great. She knows how to read my dad’s moods and he’s moody like me. Plus, it has to be weird raising another woman’s kid. I wasn’t easy.”
“How so?”
“Usual stuff. Smoking. Boys. You’re not my mom…”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. She just took it and tried harder.”
“That’s amazing.”
“It’s become a joke between us. I sign every card ‘you’re my mom, even if you don’t want to be.’”
He looked surprised. “She doesn’t mind that?”
I laughed. “She signs it ‘you’re stuck with me.’ Now, you tell me a secret.”
“I told you my secret.”
“That’s not a secret. That’s a fantasy. I told you one.”
He looked serious. “You have to promise to never use this against me.”
“What is it?”
“Promise.”
“But…”
“I said promise!”
“OK, I promise.”
He took a deep breath. “My dad went to jail when I was fourteen.”
“For what?”
“Stealing. Embezzling, technically. It’s all the same.”
“What happened?”
“He was an accountant at this company and he stole $200,000.”
“Why?”
“Support his girlfriend. Party with his friends. Be a big shot. Didn’t use it for us..”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. All I know is we had a twelve year old car, lived in a shitty split-level and my grandparents were broke. Had to go somewhere.”
“Did you ever ask him about it?”
“Nope. I haven’t seen him since he went away.”
“You never went to visit? You never asked your mom?"
“No. To be honest, he was always one of the guys who held himself out as better than everyone. Like he was Mr. Moral. Well, Mr. Moral was a crook. I loved him and he screwed me. I didn’t want to hear it.”
“Do you think that’s why you tell jokes?”
“Oh, the Pagliacci thing….” He looked angry.
“What?”
“The clown laughing on the outside, crying on the inside. No, I was always funny.”
“Is he still alive?”
“Yup.”
“You haven’t seen him in all those years?”
“Nope. No need. Don’t want to.”
“Why did you ask me never to use it against you? Why would I?”
“Because my first real girlfriend did….” He started to tear up. “I told her and one day when we were fighting, she said that I was a piece of shit like my father except I was too stupid to steal. When I got upset, she said I was a loser.”
I started to tear up, then got angry. “What a cunt! How could she say that?”
“She did. Why, I don’t know. I can’t believe that I told you. If you’re going to use it against me, go ahead. I won’t hold you to the promise, not that I could.” He started to tear up. Now, it was my turn to hold him.
“Bri, I will never use this. That’s not the way I work. Boy, we are a pair,” I laughed.
He smiled. “That’s us. ‘You’re not my mom’ and ‘Son of Criminal.’”
“Brian, thank you for trusting me.”
“Thank you? It sounds like getting a car detailed. ‘Thank you for trusting us with your car.’”
“I’m serious. Thank you.”
“You went first,” he said, taking my hand. “By the way, you look really pretty tonight. I really like the dress.” Hmm. Now I was back to wondering.
“Thank you. And my toes? Do you like them?” I needed to lighten the mood.
“That’s a really nice color.” Nice? Nice? Not what I was going for.
We ordered in and were sitting on the couch. I put my feet in his lap. He started playing with my toes. Out of nowhere, he started kissing my feet. I reflexively pulled them up.
“I’m sorry.”
“Just a reflex,” I said, “Keep going.” He moved up from there. He lifted my dress and played with my thighs. I moaned. I said, “do you like the dress?”
“Yes…” he said. He would’ve said yes to anything.
“Is it pretty?”
“It’s very pretty.”
“Do you like the way it feels?”
“Yes, it’s very smooth,” he said, playing with my nipples.
He went to take the dress off of me. “No,” I said. “Keep it on.”
“You don’t have to do this again.”
“I’m not. I want you on top. I just want you to feel it while we have..make love.”
And make love is what we did. Sweet, tender love. I noticed that, during foreplay, while he kissed my shoulders, he played with the straps. He rubbed his body on the fabric. He never pulled it up fully when we made love but involuntarily pulled it down if it rode up too far.
When we were lying next to each other, I said, “That was amazing.”
He smiled, “It was.”
“Are we good?”
“We’re good.”
“Do you like it when I’m pretty?”
“You’re always pretty.”
“I mean, do you like this dress?”
“I said that I did.”
“More than my other dresses?”
“It’s different?”
“It’s OK if you do.” I pulled it over my head.
“I like this better…”
“Seriously.” I started to rub in on his body. “Do you like the way it feels?”
“Huh?”
“Do you like the way it feels? I do. The silky fabric on my naked skin feels so good,” I lied. I didn’t mind it, but I could not wear this again and be fine.
“It feels good.”
I put the straps near his shoulders. “I like the way the straps feel on my shoulders. Like they’re these little strips holding up this dress. Do you like the way they feel?” I didn’t. I felt naked.
“Ummm.”
“Just say what you feel.”
“They feel nice. They’re so thin. Don’t you feel naked?” That threw me.
“I do. But sometimes that feels good. Just like,” and I rubbed the hem near his thighs. He started to get hard, “I like feeling the dress brush my thighs. Do you like when it brushes your thighs?”
“No.”
“No one is here, Brian. No one is making judgments. If you could wear this dress, would you?”
“That’s crazy. I’m a guy.”
“If a guy could wear this dress, would you?”
“I…”
“No judgments. Close your eyes. If you could walk down the street and no one would say anything, would you?” I rubbed the straps on his shoulders. “If you could feel these tiny little straps on your shoulders, would that feel good?”
“Uh, yes…”
“If you could feel this silky fabric on your body, would you like that?”
“Oooh…” I was getting turned on by this. I pictured him in the little pink dress.
“If you could feel the hem brush your naked thighs, how would that feel?” He could say whatever he wanted, but his penis gave him away.
“It would feel amazing.”
“Would you feel pretty? I think you’d be very pretty.”
“Stop,” he said. “This is getting weird.”
“Brian, we’re just playing,” I said, running my nails up his cock. “It doesn’t mean anything. I know you’re a guy.” And then I took him in my mouth.
Things were better after that. We started seeing each other during the week. We were having conversations. We talked about our feelings. He told me about his bitch girlfriend.
“I dunno. We were kids. I was 20.”
“You didn’t have a girlfriend until you were 20.”
“I had girlfriends before then. But a high school girlfriend is pretend. Like ‘we’re a couple’ and you kiss and hold hands and maybe have sex. But everyone knows it’s not real.”
“I didn’t. I thought we’d be together forever.”
“Really?”
“What does that mean?” I got annoyed.
“I didn’t mean something bad. You just strike me as someone who would’ve known that. Who knew the difference between a high school crush and reality.”
“That’s me at 34. At 16, I thought I found the guy who would save me.”
“From what?”
“Me.”
“You don’t need to be saved from you. I…” and he stopped.
“You what.”
“Nothing. I think you’re great the way you are.” That wasn’t what I expected. I expected ‘I love you,’ but was happy he didn’t say it because then I would have had to and I couldn’t. Not yet.
“So are you.” We kissed. We didn’t have sex though.
A month later it was my birthday. He came to my apartment. We were going to dinner.
I wore a low cut lace dress that came to 2” above my knee and a pair of black 3” Loboutins.
“Wow,” he said, his eyes bulging. Jackpot! “You look amazing. Do we have to go to dinner?”
I slapped him on the ass. I liked doing that. “Yes. What kind of girl do you think I am?”
“I know what kind of girl you are…” he leered.
“Good, then buy me dinner so I don’t feel used.”
He took me to Gramercy Tavern. We finished a bottle of wine with dinner, then had some after dinner drinks. By the time we left, we were pretty drunk. We went back to my apartment.
I kicked off my shoes and we started kissing. “Hang on,” I said, “the wine is getting to me. I have to pee,” I giggled.
“I told you to go before we left,” he said, mock-sternly.
“I didn’t have to,” I whined. “Hold on.”
While I was in the bathroom, a thought came to me. “Can you come in here?”
“You’re a big girl. You can go by yourself.”
“Please come here. I have a surprise.”
When he came in, I was naked with the shower running. “Are you just going to stand there?”
He took off his clothes and we got in. We started soaping each other up and I picked up my razor.
He rubbed my leg. “It seems smooth to me.”
“It is. I shaved before you came over.” I smiled. “I want to shave your legs.”
“Ummm….”
I thought about giving an ultimatum but instead said, “Wasn’t it hot when you shaved my legs? Didn’t you get excited”
“Yes, but…”
“But what? Why would you deprive me of that? Especially, on my birthday…”
“But, what if someone sees my legs?”
“It’s fall. Who is seeing your naked legs but me?”
“No one. I mean, what about the gym?”
“Do you know anyone at the gym?”
“No…”
“Then you care about strangers more than me?” He fumbled his words. I had him.
“No…”
I took a handful of my scented shaving gel. It smelled like flowers. “Do you like the way this smells, Brian?”
“Yes.”
“How does it smell, Bri?”
“It smells pretty.”
I started rubbing it slowly up his legs. “You like pretty, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he moaned.
“Do you like when I rub this all the way up your legs, Bri?” I said, going all the way up to his crotch. I tickled his balls. He kept moaning.
“Keep going…”
“Put your leg on the tub, Brian,” I said, as I slowly ran the razor up one leg. After I was done with that leg, “oooh, you feel soooo smooth, Bri. I like the way it feels.” Without me asking, he put his other leg up. “Oooh, my pretty Bri likes this.”
He didn’t flinch. “Yes….”
“You are such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” I said, trimming his pubic hair.
“Uh huh…” Men in heat will say anything.
“Lift your arms.”
“Why?”
“Shhh,” I said, putting my fingers to his lips. “I want you to feel how sexy it is to be clean. To not have all that hair in the way..” I waved the gel under his nose again. “Don’t you like the pretty smell?”
His eyes were closed. “Yes…”
“You like when I smell pretty, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“It gets you excited, right?” I said rubbing my hands on his thighs and sticking my finger in his ass.
“Yes…oh g-d, yes.”
“Well, I like to smell pretty little things too. Fair?”
“Fair.”
When I was done, his legs and pits were smooth. I had trimmed his pubic hair like he was a girl going to the beach. I wanted him in the worst way.
I led him to the bedroom. I sprayed some “Daisy Dream,” by Marc Jacobs on the bed. I didn’t usually do that. In fact, someone had given me the perfume. It just fit the mood.
I threw him on the bed and we started kissing and pawing each other. I rubbed my legs on his. His bare legs on mine felt so amazing. I started tickling him under his armpits.
He started giggling. “Stop,” he said. “That tickles.”
“I know, silly. That’s the idea.”
“Yeah, but it really tickles now. No fair. You didn’t tell me it would tickle more.”
“I know,” I giggled, “I’m really mean…”
“You are,” he said, as I pinned him. It wasn’t fair. I had tickled him into submission.
I looked down at his newly hairless body and said, “You are making me sooo hot, Bri…”
“So are you.”
“No, I mean I love the way you look.”
Alll of sudden, he said, flirtatiously, “How do I look? Tell me again how I look….”
I was, to say the least shocked. He was pretty drunk but even still.
“Tell me,” he said, giggling. I was beyond excited.
“You look so pretty,” I said, leaning down. I sniffed him. The perfume had rubbed off on him. He smelled like daisies. “You smell really pretty too.”
He reached up and he kissed me. Then he started tickling me. “Gotcha,” he giggled, like a teenage girl.
“Oh, you are in such trouble, Missy…” Missy? He didn’t respond. I went to climb on top of him, then stopped. “No, I want you on top..” He looked surprised. I wrapped his thighs in my legs. I loved feeling his smooth skin on mine. It was electric.
When we finished, I rubbed my legs against his. “Wasn’t that hot?”
He said, “oooh,” and then passed out. Even shaved like a girl, he was a guy.
I kissed him gently on the lips. “Sleep tight, my pretty one.”
I woke up before him. He woke up and rolled over. “Good morning, Brian,” I said, kissing him.
“My head,” he mumbled. “I need coffee. I need to pee,” he groaned, standing up. He walked naked into the bathroom. I expected him to say something but he didn’t.
He walked towards the door. “I’m going to make coffee. Want some?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
He came back in with two cups. “Here you go. That was some night…”
“Yes.”
“We were pretty bombed.”
He smiled, “Don’t remind me.”
“What do you remember?” What he said next shocked me.
“Everything,” he smiled.
“Everything?” I said nervously.
“Yup, everything…”
“And you’re not upset?”
“About what?”
“About…” I paused.
“My pretty Bri, for example,” he said, with a smile.
“Oh g-d….”
“I like the way it feels. Do you?” Now I was getting nervous. Not that he liked it, but that I did.
I gulped. “I do. You look so pretty.”
“And that doesn’t freak you out?”
“Does it freak you out?”
“I asked first.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“What two consenting adults do….” He smiled.
“So long as there’s no pee or poop.” We both started laughing. “Can I spray some perfume on you?”
“OK,” he said. “But tell me why.”
“Because you’re pretty and should smell pretty.” I said, spraying him on his wrists and neck. After I did that, I kissed him on the neck and earlobes. I liked when guys did that to me. “Does my Bri like that?”
“Yes.”
“That’s because he’s pretty. A pretty, pretty girl.” He smiled but said nothing.
I played with his nipples. “Does Brian like that?”
“Mmmm, yes…” he said, licking his lips.
“Are you a good girl or a bad girl.”
“That depends.” I was getting excited.
“I want to play. Can we play?”
“Play what?”
“Do you trust me?”
“What game is that,” he said, in a flirty, girly voice. I wanted him in the worst way.
“It’s a question. Do you trust me?”
“I trust you. You won’t hurt me.”
“I won’t.” I went to my dresser and took some pink nail polish. “I want my Brian to look prettier. Do you want to?”
“It stays here, right?”
“Of course. Can I paint your toes?”
“I’d like that,” he said, licking his lips again.
I started painting his toes. “Do you like the color?”
“Why not red?”
“Red is sexy. Brian is pretty. Does Brian like being pretty?”
“Yes.” He was really playing along.
“Can I put on some lip gloss?”
“You’ll just kiss it off,” he said with a pout. Someone had paid attention to girls over the years.
“That’s my right. But, you have such pretty lips,” I said, kissing him first.
“You have such pretty eyes. Wasted on a boy,” I said. “You need eyeliner and mascara.” I don’t know what was coming over me.
He had delicate features. When I was done, he really looked like a girl.
“One last thing,” I said. “This is big. If you’re not comfortable, we can stop.”
“I trust you,” he said.
“Close your eyes.” I went to the closet and pulled out the dress from H &M. I took a deep breath. “Lift your arms.” He did and I pulled the dress down. I had guessed his size. “Now open your eyes.” It looked adorable. It ended a couple of inches above his knee, where it flared out a little.
He looked shocked. He checked himself out in the mirror. He looked to the left then the right, like I would. “Oh boy…”
“Brian, I…what are you thinking?” I was sure that I had made a mistake.
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“You look really pretty.”
“I do. Is that OK?”
I pinched his ass. “It’s making me hot. You know who you are?”
“Who am I?”
“You’re my pretty girlfriend. My girlfriend…” and then a name came to me. “Nicole.” I don’t know why. He looked like a Nicole.
“Nicole?”
“Nicole. Pretty Nicole. Let’s play a game. Tell me about pretty Nicole.”
“It’s not too weird?”
“We’re playing. It’s like acting. Just play.”
“OK, so long as this isn’t too weird or anything.”
“Trust. Two consenting adults.”
“Trust. No pee or poop.” One of us always had to say this.
What’s your name?
“Nicole.”
Nicole what?
“Nicole Ann Militch.” He winced.
“Why did you wince when you said that?” I was curious.
“I don’t like my middle name.”
“Why?”
“I always wanted it to be something pretty.”
“Like what?”
“I always liked Rose. I like the sound. Nicole Rose Militch,” he said, twirling from side to side, watching the dress move. My pretty Nicole Rose.
“Why don’t you change it?”
“First, it’s been my name my whole life. Second, it’s a middle name which no one really ever sees. Third…”
“What’s third?”
“It’s after my paternal great-grandmother and it meant a lot to my grandparents.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Why did you pause?” I wanted to know.
“It sounds silly,” he said, looking down.
“It doesn’t. It sounds nice. So tell me about Nicole Ann Militch. Are you Nicki or Nicole?”
“Nicole. My family calls me Nicki, which I don’t like, but I gave up trying to stop them. But I’m not a girl, I’m a woman and I want to be Nicole.”
“Well, Nicole it is. Where are you from?”
“Creve Couer, Missouri. It’s a suburb of St. Louis.” That was strange. Brian was from Hastings on Hudson, a suburb of New York. This was oddly specific.
“Ah, a nice Midwestern girl.”
He smiled. “Yes. A nice girl in the big city.” I was glad to see he was playing along.
“What color is your hair?”
“Chestnut brown.”
“Eyes?”
“Blue green.”
“Height?”
“5’4””
“Weight?”
“125 lbs?”
“You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?”
He smiled shyly. “Yes.”
“Favorite color?”
“Baby blue.”
“I would’ve guessed pink.”
“Nope, baby blue. Everyone thinks pink, but it’s too obvious. I always wear something baby blue every day, even if it’s just a scarf or something you can’t see,” he said, lifting the hem just slightly.
“Feet?”
“Two.”
“Ha ha. Size?”
“Six and a half. Seven in some shoes.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m number two at a speaker’s bureau,” he said proudly.
“Speaker’s bureau?”
“One of those agencies that gets people for speeches. They specialize in authors and newscasters.”
“How did you get into that?”
“I graduated college and got a job as an assistant at ABC News. An agent met me and told me the agency was hiring and that she’d make more. I left and now, ten plus years later, here I am,” he said proudly.
“What are your hobbies?”
“Reading. Biking. I like to dance. I’m also a volunteer tutor at the Children’s Aid Society in Harlem.” That was sweet. Not something Brian did.
“What’s your favorite thing about yourself?”
“My smile. Not to brag, but people always compliment me on it. They say it lights up the room.”
“That’s sweet.” It was. Strange coming from Brian. But sweet.
“What’s your least favorite thing about yourself?”
“It’s silly, but my ears.” Ears? I was shocked at how easily he was falling into this.
“Ears?”
“They’re too big. My sister used to call me Dumbo. That’s why I don’t like to pull my hair back.”
“Are they too big?”
“No, but I just can’t shake the feeling.”
“What do you do when you’re nervous?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like I twirl my hair.”
“I rub the two knuckles on my left hand index and middle fingers.” He was really getting into this. I was worried about where we were going.
“So, you said that you have a sister. Tell me about your family.”
“My dad’s a doctor. He was an ENT at Barnes Jewish in St. Louis. He’s retired.”
“And your mother?”
“She stayed at home until I was in junior high. Then she became a real estate agent.” Brian rolled his eyes.
“Why are you rolling your eyes?”
“The job was a joke. Like something that bored doctor’s wives did when they got tired of playing tennis.”
“Ouch.” Seriously, that was cold.
“It’s not that. If I thought she really tried, I’d respect it. But I always felt like it was a part-time thing and she didn’t really try for her clients.” He crossed and uncrossed his arms.
“Does that mean a lot to you?” I don’t know why I needed to hear all of this, but every question made me think of five more.
“Yeah. These people trusted her and she’d rather be on vacation. She doesn’t need the money so it seems like she should just let someone else do the job.”
“Interesting.” It was. It made me realize how much he valued giving something your all. “So you have a sister. Is she older or younger?”
“Older, by three years. Her name’s Rachel”
“Any other siblings?”
“Yes, an older brother Jonathan, who’s six years older.”
“So you’re the baby. The pretty little baby.”
He smiled, “Yup.” Unbidden, he said, “I love Jonathan. He’s married and lives in New Jersey, with his wife Wendy and their two kids, Josh, who’s 8, and Liam, who’s 5.” I was thrown by how specific that was and how he used his hands while he talked.
“What about Rachel?”
He sighed. “I wish we were closer. We fought when we were younger. When I got older, and saw my friends become closer with their sisters, I thought Rachel and I would be friends. But we aren’t.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. We’re just different.”
“Different how?”
He stared at me and with an unexpected edge said “we’re just different.”
“What about Jonathan? Are you close?”
He smiled, “Always.” Interesting. Brian had two brothers and a sister. He didn’t talk about them much.
“That makes you happy?”
“Yes, he always took care of me. Took me places. Always made sure I was taken care of.” He had a gentle smile.
“How so? Give me an example.”
“When he was a junior at Columbia, he invited me to come for a weekend. Just us, no parents.”
“That’s nice.”
“It is. Not lots of 20 year-old guys would take care of their 14 year-old sisters for the weekend.” Interesting. 14. When his dad went away. “He took me all over. He took me to places he knew I’d like, like Ricky’s and museums and bookstores. We went to the Strand, which was just amazing to me. That was the first time I met Wendy. I met her before the rest of the family,” he grinned.
“That sounds fun. Did you like that?”
“I did. I felt special. And Wendy was really nice. Not lots of girls would let their boyfriend’s dorky little sister stay with them. But she did. And her friends were really nice. I’m sure Wendy told Jon what to do.”
“Are you and Wendy close?”
“Yes. Very. It’s important to me. I really try.” Other than telling me he had siblings, I never heard Brian mention his family. He hadn’t met mine and didn’t ever suggest I meet his.
“You try how?”
“I have a standing appointment to baby sit Josh and Liam, so Wendy and Jon can go out and not worry about the time. I go to New Jersey. Whenever Wendy wants to pamper herself, I tell her to bring in Joshy and Liam so she can.”
“Joshy?” That was so girly and cute.
“He hates that, but that’s my right as an aunt.” He was really getting into it.
“You like to please people, huh?”
“Sue me. I like when people are happy. It makes me happy.”
Alrighty then. That wasn’t me. Or Brian. “So, what were you like as a little girl? Was she a tomboy?”
“Absolutely not.” Absolutely not? That’s definitive. He pulled down on the hem of the dress, which I found so flirty. “I was a girly girl. Gymnastics. I was in dance for eight years, from 4 to 12…” The pause intrigued me.
“Why did you quit?”
“That’s when it stopped being fun. I always worked hard and loved the recitals. But, at 12, it became a chore. I saw how unhappy the older girls looked and I stopped. I still like it. That’s why I take dance classes at the gym.”
“What else did you like to do when you were little besides dance?”
“Sing. Play with Barbies. I loved dressing up.” Interesting how he used “loved.”
“You loved it. Why?”
“I liked being pretty.” There was pretty again. “I liked the attention. It’s hard as the youngest.” Brian was the third of four. I was surprised how he said that about being the youngest. “I remember crying when my mother wouldn’t let her wear my synagogue dress to school.”
“What was high school like? Cheerleader, I bet?”
“Ick.” Ick? He was getting a little too into this. “No. I had my friends. I wasn’t a popular kid, but I had my friends.”
“Who were they?”
“The kind of kids who read for pleasure. Some theater kids. The artsy types.”
“You did dance. Were you in shows?”
“I was a drama queen,” he giggled. “Seriously, I tried out. I was usually in the chorus. However, I won accolades as Chava in ‘Fiddler on the Roof,” he laughed.
“What did you want to be when you were a little girl?”
He didn’t blink at that. “It’s silly.”
“It was a childhood dream. It can be silly. I wanted to ride horses in the Olympics. A girl from Little Neck. It can’t be sillier than that.” I had never told a guy that before. I felt somehow vulnerable and free.
I took a deep breath. “I wanted to be like Lois Lane.” He rolled his eyes. “The intrepid girl reporter. Silly, huh?”
I smiled. “No sillier than anyone else. Kind of cute.” I pictured a little dark haired girl with a notepad. “Did you have a crush on Dean Cain?”
“Who didn’t?” The way he said that sounded like any woman in her 30s. I wondered if I should stop this. He seemed oddly relaxed and so I kept going.
“Any boyfriends?”
“One serious – Michael Harrison. We dated in 11h grade.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“No,” he said, with a mix of vehemence and sadness. “I wasn’t ready.”
“Is that why you broke up?”
“Maybe. I think it was inevitable,” he said, playing with his knuckles.
“What did you do?”
“What I always did when things got uncomfortable. Retreated into books.”
“Why do you say retreated?”
“I always felt more comfortable reading. However complicated a book was, it was less complicated than the real world.” He looked uncomfortable.
“Are you OK with this, Bri? We can stop.”
“No,” he said. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about Nicole. Remember?” Unconsciously, he was smoothing out his skirt.
“OK…so, what did you read?”
“The usual high school reader girl stuff. Jane Austen. The Brontes…” he grinned, shyly. I found this so endearing that I had to refrain from hugging him.
“Any guilty pleasures?”
“Trashy novels. I loved Rona Jaffe even though I knew it was cr…garbage, excuse me.” That was so cute and ladylike. “My mother had all her books. That was all I ever saw her read.”
“Did you read them to get closer to her?”
“Maybe,” he said, playing with his hair. “Maybe I thought I’d understand her better.”
“Did she ever say anything?”
“She always looked at me and said, ‘always reading…Good for you.’ But, it had an edge. my..my..” and he looked away.
“What?”
He teared up. “My Grandma Lillian always defended me. Whenever my mother would make a comment, grandma Lillian would say that there’s nothing wrong with being smart. That she was proud of me. Then, she’d take me into the city and we’d go to lunch and she’d buy me books, just the two of us,” and he started to cry. My heart was breaking.
“It’s OK,” I said, rubbing his back. “That’s a beautiful story,” I said, forgetting for a minute that neither Nicole nor Lillian was real.
“Is grandma Lillian still alive?”
“No, she died when I was in the tenth grade. I miss her terribly.”
“I would imagine.” I wanted to lighten the mood. “Any pets growing up?”
“A dog. Ozzie. After Ozzie Smith, the Cardinal shortstop. Ozzie – the dog it is – liked chasing balls.” He giggled. “So did Ozzie the shortstop.”
“What kind of dog?”
“A shepherd – retriever mix. He was a rescue.”
“So, where did you go to college?”
“The University of Michigan,” he said, “Go Blue.”
“Very nice. What did you major in?”
“English. Surprised?”
“Not really. Specialized in Austen, Bronte, etc?”
“No,” he said, with a devilish grin. “That’s what everyone expected. I really got into the postmodernists – Gaddis. Barth. Pynchon.” I had no idea of who they were, other than certain guys I had slept with all had copies of “Gravity’s Rainbow.” And that the spines had been cracked on absolutely none of them.
“I’m surprised at that. Were you in a sorority?”
“Alpha Epsilon Phi,” she shrugged.
“Did you like being in a sorority? You seem like the kind of girl who would. I picture you in a big sweatshirt and shorts.”
“I thought I would. Believed in sisterhood. Thought I’d find lifelong relationships. I heard about rush and dressing up in different outfits. That sounded fun. I’d get to be pretty.” Again, pretty.
“But?”
“I have friends from there. But, overall, it was catty and sexist. I couldn’t compete with the girls from New York and Chicago.”
“Couldn’t compete?”
“Maybe, didn’t want to. Not to be mean, but those girls were mean for mean’s sake. I like being nice. Maybe, I’m just a Midwestern girl at heart.” That was adorable. “By junior year, I was spending more time on other things.”
“Like what?”
“The literary magazine. Tutoring kids in Detroit. The Special Olympics?”
“You really like to help people?” I was falling in love.
“Yes. I was given a lot, so I felt like I should do my part. Grandma Lillian always said the best tzedakah – charity – comes when you give yourself not just money.”
“Is it a noblesse oblige thing?”
“No. It really is gratitude for my life. Plus, I’m selfish. I got pleasure when a kid understood something from school because I explained it. Or when a kid at the Special Olympics dribbled a ball fifteen times when he could only do three when I started with him.” I was falling in love with Nicole. I started to tear up, “That’s really sweet.” I grinned. “Now, before we go into sugar shock, when did you lose your virginity?”
He blushed. “Nineteen.”
“To who?”
“A guy named Jason Rosenberg.”
“Was he your boyfriend?”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean sort of?”
“He was in ZBT. A legacy. We had a bunch of classes together. We met during a joint event and we both realized that they didn’t quite know what the Greek system really was. We went out for three months before they had sex.”
“Did you love him?”
“I thought so at the time. Now, I realize that I was in love with the idea of being in love. Like, ‘this is my boyfriend Jason.’ ‘My boyfriend and I…’ That kind of thing.”
“Who broke up with who?”
“Neither. Both. We both realized that we were with each other because we were looking for something. We’re still friends. His wife laughs about it. She and I are friends too, which makes me happy.”
“You really like when people are happy, huh?”
He looked generally surprised. “Why shouldn’t I? Who wants to make people unhappy?” I thought about that. Did I like people to be happy? Unhappy? Or did I just not care?
“Let’s get raw. What’s your favorite position?”
“It’s boring. Missionary,” he blushed.
“Why?”
“I like the guy on top.” This was not surprising given how we got here.
“Will you go on top?”
“Sometimes. If the guy wants it.”
“What about doggy style?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Again, absolutely not.
“Why so absolute?”
“It makes me feel used. Like the guy doesn’t want to look at me.”
“Some guys like it. Some girls too.”
“Maybe. Not me. If that’s what he wants, he wants someone else. I want to please my partner – within limits.” He looked down at his toes, wiggled them and grinned. “Sorry. I was just looking at my toes.”
“You like them, huh?”
He smiled then blushed. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Speaking of partners, how many sexual partners have you had?”
“Nine.”
“Nine? So, less than one a year.”
“I don’t just want to sleep with someone. I did that once and felt bad about myself.” I had done lots of times. I never felt bad about it. Well, not about the act, just the guy sometimes. It was weird to hear a guy say it.
“Why?”
“I want a connection with someone. I want to feel like I’m important. I want to be able to snuggle with them.” I was surprised at how matter of factly he said this.
“Snuggle?” I said, with a smile. “You mean cuddle.”
“No, I mean snuggle although I like cuddling. I like to curl up in a guy’s arms on the couch and be held.” I moved over and put my arms around him. He snuggled up and looked up at me. “Like this.”
“Is that when you’re most comfortable?”
“Yes. You’ll know I’m comfortable with you when I pull my legs up under me on the couch.”
“Why do you think that is?” I noticed that he kept lifting his legs up, then putting them down.
“I don’t know. Maybe doing that means I don’t feel like I need to get out quickly.” I realized that I always kept my feet on the floor and my shoes nearby.
“So, “ I said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “When you snuggle, does that mean you’re ready to sleep with a guy?” I expected him to respond to that, but he kept going.
“I’m not a prude or something. I don’t make them wait months. I just want a connection. Maybe I’m too much of a romantic. My friends tease me and call me ‘Charlotte.’”
“Sex and the City Charlotte?” That was a weird pick for a guy to use, but somehow with Nicole it seemed on point.
“Yes, because I never give up on love. I don’t mind, though. I’d rather keep my heart open than give in.”
I started to tear up. I had been cynical for so long that I couldn’t believe anyone could feel that, even someone imaginary. “That’s actually really nice. “
He smiled then looked down then up. He was becoming Nicole before me. “Thank you.”
“Have you always dreamed of your wedding?”
“Of course. You haven’t?” He looked surprised.
“Tell me about it. Where will he propose?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I don’t need it to be Paris or Hawaii or something. I want it to be some place that means something to us. It could be anywhere. It could be the corner of 57th and 7th, if that was where we had our first real kiss or he told me he loved me. That’s romantic. Not some bridge where everyone has been.”
“That sounds really romantic,” and it did.
“So,” I said, changing the subject. “What do you look for in a guy, other than a good snuggler?”
“He has to like dogs. If he doesn’t play with a golden retriever when I do, he’s gone.” I noticed that Brian liked dogs. I wondered if he noticed that I didn’t play with them. I liked dogs, I just never thought about it.
“Really? Why?”
“People who don’t like dogs don’t really like people. They don’t like life, in my opinion.”
“How so?”
“A dog is this friendly creature. It just wants to play and be loved. Are they messy sometimes? Sure. But, when it’s all said and done, they’re there for you?” He upspoke. He saw one of my sandals on the floor. It had a 2” heel. He picked it up with his foot and dangled it off his toes. I found this incredibly sexy.
I held back. “Do you have a dog?”
“I’d like one.” But, I can’t give it the time it needs right now. Plus, I thinks that my husband and I should pick one together. That way, the dog won’t get jealous.”
“Your husband? So who’s your ideal husband?”
He surprised me. “I don’t have an ideal. I’ll know when I meet him.”
“I’m surprised that such a romantic doesn’t have a picture in her head.”
“I’m a romantic, but I know that you come to love a person once you know them. Immediate attraction isn’t love. It’s lust.” I was surprised to hear a guy say that. I sometimes felt that way.
“Well, do you at least have a type?”
“He has to be tall. I want my kids to maybe be tall. He should have green eyes, since that would be a great combination with mine. He needs to be smart and well-read, but not annoying about it…”
“Likes dogs…”
He smiled. “Funny. Also…”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s silly.” He used that word more since we started than in the previous eight months. I don’t know why but I found it feminine. And endearing. I was falling in love with Nicole. He was looking down at the sandal. He reached down and put it next to his foot, like he was deciding whether to wear it. We had the same size foot. 8 ½ mens. He slipped it on and then the other one.
“We all have our things. What is it?”
“He has to,” and he took a deep breath. “Make the bed every day. Well, at least, in his place.” I laughed. “Don’t make fun of me,” he said.
“I’m not. It’s just unusual. Why is that a big deal?”
“I like a home to be nice. A made bed says you care.”
“Is that a deal breaker?”
He smiled. “Not as much as going out in public in pajama pants.”
“I agree. You’re an adult. You can button pants.” We both laughed.
“OK. What’s your place like?”
“What do you mean?”
“How’s it decorated?” I wanted to see how his mind worked. What kind of girl he wanted. Or wanted to be.
“It’s got daffodil yellow walls. There’s one wall in the bedroom that’s baby blue.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It warms up the room. Makes it homey. I have a blue overstuffed couch. A leather chair my father bought me as an apartment warming present…” Interesting. My apartment looked like, as an ex said, a hospital waiting room. Wait a minute? Her father?
“Your father? Not your parents?”
“No, my father. He was in New York for a conference. He came to my apartment and said, ‘Nicole, you need a real chair.’ When I told him that I didn’t want him to buy it for me, he said, ‘I’m not buying it for you. I’m buying it for me. That ferkakte Ikea chair isn’t fit for a normal sized human.’, So, he bought me a brown leather chair with an ottoman.”
“Do you like it?”
“I like what it stands for. That my father cared enough to buy it. I knows that he’s proud of me. He called me Nicole, which meant I was an adult.”
“He sounds like a great guy.” My dad dealt in sarcasm. He loved me but he couldn’t express it. “What else is there?”
“A painting over the couch. Pictures of me and my family and friends. And flowers. I like to have fresh flowers.” That didn’t surprise me.
“Roses?”
“No. Gerbera daisies. Sunflowers.” That didn’t surprise me. They were sunny flowers, like Nicole. “Sometimes lilies, although those are bittersweet.”
“Because of your grandma?”
She teared up then snuggled in. “Yes.”
“What do you have there that you feel funny about?” Every woman had that. My friend Danielle had an old sneaker from junior high that her friends signed. My cousin kept her yearbooks from junior high. I had nothing.
“A stuffed Snoopy from when I was a baby. And a stuffed Fredbird from the old Busch Stadium. They’re on top of the bookshelf. I plan…” And he stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on Nicole, tell me.” I waited to see if he responded to that. He didn’t.
“I plan to put them in a baby’s crib someday. It’s like giving a piece of yourself.” He snuggled in closer. He didn’t make a move to kiss me. He just looked up at me and smiled.
“You sound like you really want to make a home.”
“I do. That’s my favorite thing to do.”
“What is?”
“I like to go shopping on weekends for stuff for my apartment. I go to the Chelsea and Bushwick flea markets. To Home Goods, if I’m in New Jersey. But my favorite store is Fish’s Eddy on 20th.”
“I’ve never been. What is it?”
“They sell dishes and silverware and stuff,” he said, without a hint of self-consciousness. Or awareness to be honest. “You can mix and match. So I do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t have a set of matching white dishes. I have bright blue and red and yellow dishes. I like when someone serves someone soup in a yellow bowl and then dinner on a blue one, for example.”
“You really like bright happy colors, huh?”
“Yes, I like to feel warm. And to make other people feel warm.”
“You want to avoid conflict at all costs.”
“No, but I pick my battles. Life is too short to fight over a line at Fairway.” This girl was wonderful. I found myself thinking of whether I could do this.
“So, tell me about your closet.”
“My closet?”
“What’s in it?”
“Clothes?”
“What kind of clothes?”
“What do you mean?”
“Pants? Skirts? Clown suit?”
“Dresses and skirts mostly.”
“No pants?”
“I have pants and jeans, of course. But I like being a girl. I almost always wear a dress. I like to feel…” and he paused.
“What?”
“Feminine. Special.” He started fumbling with the dress. “OK, I..should…go….”
“Bri, it’s OK.” I said, rubbing his shoulders. “It’s you and me here. No one else. Remember, it’s not you, it’s Nicole. It’s just a role. Remember? Take a deep breath.” I turned him to face me and kissed him. He kissed back gently. “Are we OK now?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel special. Everyone wants to. Tell me about your dresses.”
He looked around, and then took a deep breath again. “I have wrap dresses and regular dresses for work…”
“Do you wear dresses on the weekends?” I rarely did, but was thinking about it now. I wanted to have Nicole’s love of the world.
“Yes, sun dresses. What do you call those..strappy dresses. Lots of flowers. They make me feel pretty. Like this one.”
“No sweats or anything?”
“I mean I’ll wear yoga pants to the gym or on a bike ride. But the weekend is when I can get dressed without being rushed, so I want to be as pretty as possible.”
“Beautiful?”
“No, pretty.”
“I don’t understand the difference.”
“Beauty is just about how you look. Pretty is how you feel inside. Pretty makes me happy. I feel like it tells the world that I care.”
“What about shoes?”
“I wear them.”
“Ha ha. What kinds?”
“Heels during the week. Sneakers for the gym. When it’s warm, I like to wear sandals on the weekend. I always have a pedicure. That’s my indulgence. Manicure and pedicure.” I knew I was right. His toes had to be bubblegum pink or baby blue. Not red or purple though. Nicole was all bubblegum pink and baby blue.
“What’s your favorite article of clothing?”
“A St. Louis Cardinals giveaway shirt from 2006, the year they won the Series.”
“Interesting. Such a girly girl and your favorite item is a baseball t-shirt.”
“It’s big and it’s soft and it’s been washed so much that it’s faded from red to pink. Plus, I got it at a game with my grandpa the year that he died.” He teared up. Nicole was a crier. It was cute.
“It’s OK. Was it unexpected?”
“No, he was 94. He used to joke that he was too old to die young. But, he, my dad and I went to the game. We got a picture with Stan Musial.”
“Who?”
“Only the greatest Cardinal of all time and the National League career hit leader…” he said, ending in upspeak. He was sounding more like a girl every second.
“Sorry, Nicole.”
He didn’t acknowledge that. “Anyway, the picture of the four of us is on the bookshelf right below Fredbird.”
“That’s sweet. I get it now.”
“Thanks.”
“So, speaking of Fredbird. Do you..does Nicole want kids?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Boys or girls? And don’t give me the healthy kid speech,” I said, swatting him on his ass. His skirt-covered ass. Which now seemed utterly normal. If he were in men’s clothes, it would look ridiculous.
“Two boys, I think.”
“Really? I’d think you’d want a girl at least.”
“I’ve thought about it. On the one hand, I want a girl so that I can share what I love with her. But what if she doesn’t like that? Will I resent her? Boys are easier because you’re not reliving your past. Plus, if I’m the only girl, I’ll always be special. I see how Liam and Josh love Wendy. You?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it like that. I guess I really would just want a happy healthy kid. But, we’re talking about…Nicole. City or the suburbs?”
“Suburbs. Kids grow up too fast in the city. Plus, I want the house with the yard and the dog…”
“Golden retriever?”
He smiled. “If it’s a rescue. Even then, I’d get a mutt.”
“You’re big on rescues.”
“There are enough dogs in shelters that need homes. Why go to a breeder?”
“You really want to help the world, don’t you, Nicole?”
“As much as I can.”
“Would you adopt a kid?”
“I’m embarrassed to say it, but no.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Both, I guess.”
“I’m afraid to adopt because I’m not sure what’s I’m getting. I’ve read too much about fetal alcohol syndrome and stuff like that. I’m embarrassed because I feel like it’s selfish not to want to do that…”
“It’s not selfish. It’s one thing to heal the world. It’s another to take on a lifelong project without knowing anything. But, you paused…”
“I want to be pregnant. I like the idea of someone growing inside me. I want to be a mommy.” When he said that, he touched his belly like he could picture something in there.
“Of course, you do, Nicole.” And we kissed. I started nibbling his ear and he moaned. I pulled down the dress straps and started kissing his shoulders. I hoped he was paying attention since this is what I loved. I started playing with his nipples. He just kept moaning and I got hotter. I unzipped the dress and let it fall to the floor. He was in front of me naked, but all I saw was a brown haired, blue-green eyed 5’4” girl and I wanted her. I turned him to face me and kissed him. He kissed back like a girl. Gently but forcefully.
“Do you trust me Nicole?”
“Huh?”
“I said, do you trust me Nicole? Do you trust that what I’m doing is for our pleasure?”
“I guess so. You wouldn’t hurt me?”
“No, of course not, baby.”
“OK, I trust you.” With that, I kissed him again and stuck my finger his anus.
He shuddered. “Um…”
“Don’t think. Just feel, Nicole,” and I kissed him while I slid my finger in and out. I broke the kiss and said, “How does it feel?”
“Wonderful. Just wonderful,” he said, digging his nails into my back. I had an old boyfriend who always wanted me to do that. I thought it was weird. Now I got it. I put two fingers in, then three. Nicole just kept taking it. I threw him..her..whatever…on to the bed. I started sucking his nipples. What’s amazing is he was rock hard and moaning, but he never came. I climbed on top of him and started to fuck him. We went at it for fifteen minutes. What’s amazing is I came first. When he came, he screamed, in an octave higher than his normal voice.
When I rolled off him, I looked over. “Are you OK?”
“That’s a funny question. You don’t think I liked it?”
“I mean about everything. You were getting into Nicole. You looked like you were someplace else.”
He smiled and took my face in his hands. “I knew what I was saying.”
I was shocked. “What?”
“I heard every question. Brian heard every question. Not Nicole, Brian.”
I got upset. “Were you just playing with me?”
“No. The answers were 100% sincere.”
I was genuinely confused. “I don’t get it.”
“I want Nicole.”
“You mean you want a girl like Nicole?”
“You want to be Nicole?” I was not ready for this.
“No. I want us to be Nicole.”
I really wasn’t ready for that. “I’m lost.”
He stood up. “I’m tired. I’m tired of being cynical. I’m tired of jokes. I’m tired…of being broken. Nicole sees the good. Nicole likes being happy. She’s open and caring. I want that. I want to do that. Can you?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
“Will you at least try?”
“I….”
“I’m not expecting you to change everything you do. But I want us to try. I want to be a couple.”
“We’re not a couple? What are we?”
“I want us to be a real couple like we were that day. The kind of people who feel good about themselves and want other people to feel good. I’m tired of being funny. I want to be good.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“I want to try. I’ve realized something ever since that day I told you my fantasy and you didn’t freak out.”
“What?”
“I like opening myself up. When you spend your life avoiding getting hurt, you never feel. Nicole feels. She’s been hurt but she doesn’t give up.” I involuntarily raised an eyebrow. “Never mind. Clearly, you want me to go. Please just promise me that you’ll never discuss this.” He wouldn’t look at me. He didn’t seem angry just sad.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t stay. You don’t want a guy like me.”
“What kind of guy?”
“A guy who’d let you shave his legs and dress up and pretend to be a girl. What kind of man does that?”
“A man I love.” He looked shocked. I was honestly shocked.
“What?”
“I said ‘a man I love.’ You and me, we’ve spent forever building walls. I’ve gone for guys who weren’t all in because I wasn’t all in. You opened yourself up to me. You trusted me. How could I reject that?”
“Because I wore a dress and let you stick fingers up my ass and acted like a girl. You want a real guy.”
“Who said that you got to decide what I want?”
“I just thought that…”
“I told you from the beginning that if I didn’t want to do something, I’d say so. Have I said so?”
“No.”
“Exactly. I have to tell you something. When you were talking about Nicole, your whole face opened up. I wanted to be with her.” A thought came to me and I smiled.
“What,” he said warily.
“We can define who we want to be, right?”
“I guess….”
“Why do we both have to be Nicole?”
“I don’t get it.”
“You said when you were Nicole, you were 100% sincere.”
“Um…”
“I like that you want to be kind and caring and romantic. Someone who sees the world and wants to make it a better place. I like that Nicole tutors and rescues dogs and wants to make a home where people feel welcome. I like when you’re vulnerable. That’s what makes me love you.”
“I’m lost…”
“Show me what it’s like. This is new to me. It’s new to you. I’ll try my best but maybe you can show me. Be pretty for me.”
“You want me to be pretty?”
“I can’t be.”
“You are,” he said.
“No, I’m not. I’m a woman. I’m a confused sometimes bitchy woman. I can be beautiful. I can be sexy…feel free to jump in.”
He smiled. “You are beautiful and sexy.”
“Thank you. But I’m not pretty. You are. You said it. Beauty is outside. Pretty is inside and, under all your jokes, you’re pretty.”
“Do you want me to be Nicole all the time? Because I don’t want that.”
“I want you to do what feels right to you. If you want to have blue and yellow plates, have blue and yellow plates. Dance like no one’s watching. If you want to dress up, dress up, although…” and I grinned.
“You need a bra and panties. A good Midwestern girl wearing no panties under her dress...”
EPILOGUE
That was when we became a couple.
Brian really opened up. He was still funny but it was natural. He started doing “Big Brothers” in Brooklyn. They honored him with an award after two years. In his speech, he said that he should have given them an award for letting him do it. I cried when he said that.
I got in touch with my mother and he called his father. You hope for some great reconciliation but life’s not a movie. They were the same people they were. But, we did it. We had, and I hate this word, closure and that was enough.
I told my stepmother that I loved her. She looked surprised but said, “I know. I love you too.” I felt like a weight had been lifted.
Six months later, we moved in together. Brian got his dishes. We bought a couch. A blue couch. And a rescue dog named ‘Pizza.’ He likes pizza.
Six months after that, he proposed. At H & M on 86th Street.
Nicole? She’s still a part of our life. Brian keeps his legs smooth. He says women always smile and flirt with him at the gym. I don’t have the heart to tell them it’s probably because they think he’s gay.
We play dress up sometimes. When he let Nicole in, he developed a real fashion sense. He still goes for the flirty little sundresses although his favorite now is a white lace dress, which he pairs with a white bra and panties. He looks adorable in it. He walks in heels better than I do. I still find it hot.
We didn’t become Nicole. We became better. We became us.
This is the story of three siblings: Emily, a 23 year old transwoman estranged from her parents; her non-binary twin Jordan (they/them); and their older sister Stephanie, a cishet woman.
------
“Hey Matt. I'm gonna head out early,” Emily told her boss, “if that's OK.”
He looked at her, hopefully, “Audition?” He always encouraged her, laughing and saying, ‘You have the rest of your life,’ and he’d look around the office, smiling wistfully, ‘to have the rest of your life.’ The other assistants always gave her the side eye when she'd leave for an audition. It's not like there are that many, she thought sadly. But they came a little more frequently these days. Soon, she always thought, very soon.
She sighed, “I wish. I'm,” and she took a breath, “covering a shift at the restaurant.”
He looked at her and groaned, “I thought you were done with all that. I don't pay you enough?”
She smiled at him, “Is anyone paid enough?”
Matt was fifty and fifteen pounds too heavy, with graying hair and green eyes that twinkled. Not that she was interested. No, oh gosh, no. “Seriously though. Michelle,” his wife, “told me to tell you to slow down. She said you can't keep…”
“Burning the candle at both ends. I know. She told me already. You two gang up on me. But Maia asked me to cover and it's Friday night,” she said, putting a lilt in her voice and stretching out ‘night.’ “This is going to be the last time.”
He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, right.”
“I'm serious,” she laughed, “I'm getting too old,” at 23, “for this.” She had been cutting back her shifts, this job more than enough to cover her expenses. But this was Friday night and the tips alone would help build up her fund. Matt was great about everything but she was ready to be finished. Or to really begin.
He looked at her. “Get outta here before I give you an assignment,” he grumbled, then smiled.
She went into the bathroom, swapping out her jeans and white cotton shirt, for a short black skirt, a few inches above the knee, and white sleeveless blouse. She lifted her feet one at a time, swapping her flats for black booties with a heel. Every waitress knew that skirts meant more tips. Not too short, then the girlfriends would think you were a slut and bother the guy about it. Just short enough to get them thinking.
She stepped back, checking herself out, fixing her skirt and shifting her boobs in the cups. Her boobs. She still sometimes thought of them as an alien being, welcome but not quite real.
Emily arrived at the restaurant at 5:00 PM. She’d been here six years and had learned early on to avoid the freeway, wherever possible, and take surface streets. “Hiya, sweetie,” Maia, the manager, said, as she came in the door. “Thank you for covering on such short notice. I really appreciate it.”
Emily laughed, “I’ll never pass up a Friday night, you know that.”
Maia smiled, “I know but you’re still saving my ass,” and then she looked at Emily. “Speaking of which, yours is looking amazing.” Emily felt herself turn red. Maia knew her story. It wasn’t a secret but it wasn’t something she broadcast either. As far as Emily and her friends were concerned, she was just who she had always been. “Aw, Emily is blushing,” then, more devilishly, “Like you didn’t wear that skirt on purpose.”
“A girl’s gotta eat. Speaking of which, what’s the house meal today?”
Maia looked at her. “Here at Mariposa,” and she launched into the canned pitch with all of the affect of a hostage video, “Well, we like to say Mariposa is northern Italian with a California twist. I like to say that, with all the fresh fruits and vegetables at our fingertips, we would be crazy not to take advantage of them…”
Emily mockingly rolled her hand, “And?”
“The fish didn’t sell yesterday. Ahi tuna over yesterday's greens. It’s better than pasta, I guess.”
“Hey, it’s sorta free,” she said. Their running joke - the meal didn’t cost any money, you just paid for it with seven hours on your feet and eyes on your tits. “Am I at least getting the good tables for my selflessness?”
“Yeah, yeah, Mother Teresa. You’re getting three patio tables. And it’s supposed to be beautiful tonight. You’re welcome.”
“Thanks.” She quickly ate her meal, then went to the bathroom to check her makeup. She re-applied her lipstick, Coral. Always coral, never red. Red was for sex, coral was friendly, Stef had taught her. That ‘and coral works for your coloring.’
She went back out, checking the tables, making sure everything was set correctly. At her first waitressing job, the manager had teased her, telling her that the busboys knew what they were doing and that they weren’t going to split tips with her, but the one thing she had brought with her from home was a need for everything to be in order.
8:00 PM. The beginning of the prime dinner rush, when the big spenders started coming in, the bottles of wine, the appetizers and not just the people headed to a show at the Taper. She came out to the patio and froze.
No way. It's not them, she thought. It can't be them. Why would they be here? I mean, the food here is good, she thought, but there's a hundred places like this. And it's not like this is Beverly Hills or Venice or someplace where tourists would go.
Take a deep breath, Emily, she thought. You're losing it. It's not them. They're with another couple. Why would they be with another couple here unless they were on vacation? And look at the woman, a classic California blonde - if you left her outside in the rain. Look at the rinse, that's from Meche. And that shirt. That's from Fred Segal. She's early 40s, at best. But there's no 40 year old woman in Chicago with that body, except maybe on the Gold Coast or in Winnetka, and they are not hanging out with anyone there.
“Excuse me, miss?” She turned to see a man at one of her tables, waving his hand.
She came over, doing her best to not look at them. She gave him a big smile, “Yes, sir?” With that, she went back to her job. She was Emily and she was doing her job.
Two hours later and they were still here. What the fuck were they still doing here? Why the hell was Lia bringing them dessert? This is California. No one eats dessert in public. And another round of drinks? Shit.
She went back inside to run a credit card. Max, the bartender, looked at her. “You OK, Em?” Six months ago, at the end of a long shift, three beers, estradiol and a diet that let her wear that cute sundress, led to one big mistake with him. He had been a gentleman after, but still…
Emily looked at him and thought about telling him, but then it would bring everything back. They had been good for a while, each silently agreeing that it never happened, Max having moved on to a relationship with Kaia, the day bartender. She smiled, picturing the two of them in bed, asking the other ‘what their favorite was.’
“I'm good. I thought I recognized someone I knew,” she lied, nervously pulling on her skirt, “but now I realize it couldn't be.” Then, she ran the card, scrambling back. “Time is money.”
She was taking orders at another table, the man’s eyes looking her up and down which, in spite of herself, made her smile. It shouldn't have, it was annoying. It was insulting. And sometimes you just wanted out of Vons. But, she needed everything she could get today.
Then, she saw them get up. Fuck. They would have to walk past her. She just prayed that they didn't say anything. You haven't spoken to me in six years, don't start now, not here. She didn't believe anymore, how could she, but still she prayed.
Her prayers were answered. Blonde rinse walked right past Emily, talking a mile a minute. Focus on the job at hand, Emily thought, just focus and you'll be fine. She looked into the man’s eyes, ice blue, and then looked at him discreetly. Probably 60, skin like a walnut, broad shoulders. She imagined him twenty years ago, and gave a little smile.
And with that they were gone. And she exhaled for the first time in two hours.
Two hours later, her shift was over, Maia divvying up the tips. Emily imagined her father grumbling about how pooling was bullshit (‘why should you benefit from someone else's hard work?’ Because, you asshole, it takes as much effort to open a $40 bottle of wine as a $200 one, but people don't tip like that. Not that you would know that.)
Keri looked at her, “You OK?”
“Huh?”
“You looked like something was bothering you.”
Keri didn't know her story, not from her at least. Not that she cared who did. As far as she was concerned, she was always a girl. It just took her longer for it to show, but she wasn't getting into it, not tonight. It had been a good night - $400 more for the fund - and she wasn't letting him spoil it. “Yeah. Just something from a while ago.”
Keri smiled. “That's good. We're heading to Maduro’s. Jake,” the new sous chef, “knows people there. You in?”
Emily, grinning, “I'm there.” Eating after closing with chefs was always fun. They knew people and you'd get meals you'd never get on your own. She remembered a braised pork belly over charred asparagus that she'd tried to recreate. Trying being the operative word. “You need a ride?”
Keri smiled, “I'm going with Jake.” They had been flirting non-stop since Jake had started, Jake forever making sure to serve Keri’s table at the house meal. And Keri making sure to put her orders near his station.
“So I'm going to be at Maduro's myself?”
Keri looked back at the kitchen, “Maybe his friend’s cute, if you're interested.”
Maybe, Emily thought. There was something alluring about chefs, the way that their hands were covered with burns and scar tissue, the calluses rough against the skin that she spent too much on, keeping it nice and smooth. Stef had made fun of her when she had come to visit, saying that she had created a monster.
She was walking on air, humming to herself, when Isabel, the hostess, stopped her. “Hey, Emily. Did you cover 17 tonight?”
And the humming stopped. “No, Why?”
She handed Emily an envelope. “One of the women at the table left this for you.”
“That was Lia’s station. You sure it's not for her?”
Isabel looked at her. “The woman, the brown haired one, left you this and she specifically told me to make sure to give it to you at the end of the night. Like, she asked for an envelope. Maia had to get one from the office. You know her?”
Isabel didn’t know, she was pretty sure. Act, Emily, act. “If I end up chopped up somewhere, you’ll testify, right,” which got her a blank stare.
Emily walked out of the restaurant to her car, smiling at Juan, the head attendant. She got into her car, putting the envelope on the seat and then her purse over it. You don't have to open it now, she thought. It's been a long day and you deserve to relax. Go have fun, eat a good meal, see who's there. The envelope will be here when you’re done. You don't need to open it now. There's nothing good in there besides.
She slipped off her booties and relaxed. The one good thing about restaurant people is no one, not even the guys, expected you dressed up after closing. Everyone was too tired to care, she thought, as she slipped on her flats.
She arrived at Maduro's with Jake and Keri, who were holding hands and looking at each other. She smiled, ready to start conversation with whoever was there, figuring they'd be gone within the hour.
Jake walked in and gave a big guy in chef's whites a bro hug, grasping his hand and finishing with a shoulder bump. “Hey dude.”
The big guy smiled. Brown hair, blue eyes. He was about 6’3”, 240, but he wore it lightly. She pictured him in high school, an unwilling linebacker or tight end. He stuck out his hand, “Hi, I'm Duncan.”
She smiled and pushed her hair behind her ear, “I'm Emily. It's good to meet you.”
“Chicago?”
Emily got nervous. How did he know that? She racked her brain, picturing one of the guys in gym class, Rob Robredo calling her ‘bitch boy’ and fouling her in basketball while the coach laughed at her. Act cool, she thought. “Excuse me?”
He looked at her, still smiling, “Your accent.”
She rubbed the callouses with her finger and smiled, “I have worked for six years to get rid of it. Shoot.”
“I'm from Northbrook,” he said, smiling, his eyes lighting up. “I never hear it. And never as sweet as yours.”
She imagined Keri and Jake puking, but they were too busy checking each other's tonsils to care. “I'm from Dekalb. I came out here for college. You?”
He pulled out one of the chairs for her and she sat, smoothing her skirt under her. “Notre Dame,” and she shuddered, thinking of tonight and the envelope, “Did the finance thing for my dad,” and she saw a look come over his face.
“I get that,” she said, taking his hand, his meaty fingers swallowing hers.
“Then, I decided I'd rather cook meals than books. One thing led to another and here we are. Chicago in LA. Actress or dancer?”
“Actress,” she said, looking down then up and then smiling. “How did you know?”
He turned a little red, which made him even cuter. “You're too pretty to just be a waitress.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, embarrassed, saved by Jake’s, “You going to feed me before you try and hook up?”
Duncan took them into the kitchen, fist bumping the two prep cooks, who leered at her and Keri, and then left. She was still amazed by the dichotomy between the front of the house and the kitchen. The front was female, all talk and smiles, the general peace punctuated by the occasional argument. Kitchens were all testosterone, the heat and clamor interspersed with everyone yelling and pushing. Even the female chefs became macho, one, Kelly, reminding her of Jordan, who she needed to call. “So, everyone cool with sockeye? We got it fresh from the Columbia River today.”
She watched, transfixed, as he began slicing it, then grabbing lemons and limes and avocado from the refrigerator and mixing them together. He cut off two small pieces of salmon and handed one to her, “Just let it sit in your mouth for a second.”
“Wow. This is so fresh,” she said, “I'm still not used to it.”
Keri looked at her, “It's fish.”
Duncan looked at her, “We're from Illinois. We get walleye, not salmon.” He rolled his eyes and took a bottle, pouring her a shot. “Californians are so ungrateful. This is aguardiente, the national drink of Ecuador. One of the guys brought it.”
She took a sip and it burned her throat. “What the hell,” she sputtered.
He grinned, “Oh, did I forget to tell you it means ‘burning water’? My bad.”
---
She woke up the next morning, tongue covered in wool and her head burning, trying to recreate the events of last night. She remembered the ceviche and the drink. Which became two and then three.
She remembered kissing Duncan, his stubble tickling her face and his hands, the calluses rubbing the skin on her waist when they kissed in the kitchen. And she thanked God that they hadn't done anything more than that. She really liked him and didn't want to blow it by not letting him know sometime before they were naked together.
She rolled over to grab her phone off the nightstand, to see what time it was, and she saw it sticking out of her purse.
The envelope. She stared at it, aiming for pyrokinesis. When that failed, she thought about ignoring it, saying Isabel never gave it to her or it fell out of her purse, but she knew her. She wouldn’t let it go and would call the restaurant and then she’d have to explain why she ignored it to everyone. You could open it, she thought, and ignore what it says. They’re not coming for you, they don’t care about you and you don’t care about them. What could it say? Really, what?
She knew what. For six years, she had lived in fear of ‘what,’ only recently having realized that thinking about it was worse than what it could actually be. Stop, she told herself, you are a beautiful, strong woman and there’s nothing they can do that they haven’t already done. You have made a life for yourself 2,000 miles away from them and that’s what matters, not them.
Like defusing a bomb, she picked up the envelope and slowly slid her fingernail under the seal rather than just ripping it open. Eventually, she succeeded. In it was a $100 bill and a note:
‘Emily (?”). I knew it was you. Call me in the morning. Aunt Jeannie,’ with her phone number.
Oh fuck, she thought. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Why? Why? Why are they here and how did she know? She was about to call her sister and chew her out, they had a deal, she had promised. Unbelievable.
Except Stephanie was in the Bahamas with Jared for their first anniversary together. And the last thing on her mind was Aunt Jeannie and Uncle Rob. Then, she looked over at her mirror.
The picture of the two of them last fall in Santa Monica, Emily in the green dress that Stef had bought her ‘just because.’ The gift card to Nordstrom that she gave her for Christmas so ‘she could buy something hot.’ And the sunbleached card that she had sent her for her first birthday out here, the one with the two little girls on the cover, the older pulling the younger one’s hair, on the inside of which was written ‘To the best little sister in the world.’
She felt guilty and wanted to call her and tell her she was sorry for having thought about it. But then Stef would want to talk to her about it which would just take time away from the trip.
She thought about Jordan, except that they had no idea where she worked. They would laugh and say something like, ‘I know you wait tables, don't push it.’ Besides, they barely spoke to the family as well.
Which left..no one, just a weird coincidence. And a hundred dollar bill, which was what, a bribe? A threat? She wished that Marissa, her roommate, was here instead of working that wedding in Santa Barbara. She'd know what it all meant.
She took a deep breath. You are 23, Emily, an adult. Adults solve their own problems by themselves - and this is not a problem, not unless you let it be one. What was it that they said back in group? No one can make you feel inadequate without your own consent and you are not inadequate. You have friends, you have a good job and you are going to be a famous actress very soon, everyone says so. And they are just some people you haven’t seen in six years.
Ibuprofen, she thought, I need ibuprofen and a glass of water. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She turned sideways and thought ‘Maia’s right. It does look good.” She ran her fingers through her auburn hair, putting it on top of her head and letting it fall down to her shoulders, remembering how happy she was when she could finally do that.
She walked into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen, hoping the three would get rid of this headache, and remembering Duncan again. The way he asked for ‘her digits,’ the Chicago slang making her smile despite herself.
Then, she took her pill dispenser down, the pills separated into slots for the days of the week. She popped the spironolactone, progesterone and the estradiol into her mouth, washing it down with rest of the water and a shake of her head, a daily reminder. She had prayed for years that one day she would wake up and not have to do this, but she and God hadn’t exactly been on speaking terms for years and, as far as it went, this wasn’t the worst thing.
She sat at the table and stared out the window at the building next door and then down at the pool. That’s all she wanted when she got an apartment, a courtyard with a pool like they had on TV, where she could lie on a beach chair and get a tan. Maybe she should go hang out down there and call later.
No, she thought as she walked back to the bedroom, you are being ridiculous. You are going to call them, there is nothing they can do to you. This is your city and your state and they are just visiting and, no matter what, your friends, Stef and Jordan love you. So call.
She looked at the paper, took another deep breath and went to dial. Then, she realized she was in her panties and went and put on a pair of shorts. Then, she picked up her phone and dialed.
“You’ve reached Jeannie,” and it brought back memories of Easter and Thanksgiving, “leave a message. Thanks.”
She paused and then said, “Hi, uh, Aunt Jeannie, uh, it’s Emily, your, uh, niece. You left me a message at the restaurant yesterday,” and she laughed nervously, “which you knew, obviously. Anyway, if you want, you can call me back at,” and she left her number.
Three minutes later, the phone rang. “Hello?”
She heard the voice at the other end. “Emily?” It sounded as nervous as she felt, each syllable sounded out.
“Aunt,” and her voice caught on ‘aunt,’ “Jeannie?”
“It is so great to hear your voice,” her aunt said.
Really, she thought. Is it? “Um, yours too. Um, how are you and Uncle Rob? And Liam and Robbie?” Her own voice sounded flat and tinny to her ears.
Jeannie laughed a little. “Everyone is fine,” then, after a pause, “so how long are we going to exchange pleasantries for?”
I don’t know, Emily thought, you called me. Or found me, at least. “Um, OK, what’s up?” She decided to lay her cards on the table. Be an adult, even as she felt herself reverting to that first Christmas after she had told her mom the truth. “How did you find me?” Why were you looking?
“We didn’t find you. It was an accident. We’re out here on business and those people we were with told us about this great restaurant that only locals knew about for now. We walked in and we saw you.”
Mustering up bravado, “Really? There’s a million restaurants in LA and you just came to mine?”
Jeannie responded, “Cut out that Nehlen bullcrap...Emily. It was an accident, I swear on Liam’s head.”
“Why not Robbie?” Their older son, four years younger than her. By the time she left, he was starting to become less of a non-entity to her.
Jeannie laughed, “If you’ll meet us in person, I’ll tell you why that’s not a promise that’s worth anything. Emily,” it sounded like she had been practicing saying it, “I swear no one knows you’re here and I’m not telling them, but you were always my favorite and then I saw you yesterday and I just want to see you.”
She stopped for a second. “What kind of business?”
“Huh?”
“What kind of business? Has the company gotten that much bigger since I left?” She willed herself not to let her voice crack.
“That’s part of why we’re here. Let’s just leave it as you’re not the only one who got tired of their bull.”
Emily was intrigued. “Where are you staying?”
“Pasadena.”
Involuntarily, “Ecch. Why?” Pasadena was God’s waiting room, as far as she was concerned.
Jeannie laughed. “We’re not all 23 plus when, if, when I see you, you’ll understand. So, will you meet us, please?” Her tone seemed sincere.
“Uncle Rob’s coming?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t he be?”
“I, I, I just thought that…” He would be disgusted and horrified by me? He would run screaming? Or worse, he would stand there screaming at her?
A pause, “Emily, we love you and we want to see you. Me and Uncle Rob.”
“You promise?” I have no reason to trust you, she thought. And this is probably a huge mistake. And I wish Stef wasn’t in the Bahamas and Jordan wasn’t useless and Marissa wasn’t working that wedding. But, something seemed sincere.
“Em…what should I call you?”
“Emily or Em. That's what people usually call me.”
“Emily, I promise. No jokes. I promise. If you don’t trust me and I don’t blame you, pick as public a place as you can think of. I’m Irish so you know I won’t make a scene and Rob knows that I will kill him if he says one word.”
Emily sat there for a minute. Every voice in her head told her to say no. To say that she had nothing to say to anyone from that family, that she moved here to avoid ever just running into them. But one voice told her to go. Be proud of yourself, it said, you should be proud of yourself. You, unlike all of them, made a life for yourself on your own, without anyone else’s help. Go show them. “Sure. Is there anything you want to see?”
“You.”
“I mean, if you hadn’t seen me, what would you want to see?”
“Deena, that’s the woman you saw yesterday with us, said I should check out Silver Lake.”
Do you want to see fake hipsters and their kids? At least, it was close to her place and it wasn’t Hollywood or Beverly Hills. “OK. I’ll meet you at the Farmer’s Market, Griffith Park at Sunset.” She looked at her phone - 10:30. “Does noon work?” They made plans and she hung up, staring at her phone. Fuck, she thought, now what?
She went to her closet and stared at it, trying to figure out what to wear. You could find a thousand websites telling you what to wear on a first date, what to wear to meet his parents (not that she had to worry about that so far), what to wear on a job interview. What to wear when you're meeting your aunt and uncle for the first time since you transitioned. Fat lot of good the Internet was, she thought. Then she hoped that, like Harry Potter, the magic outfit goblin would pick out the perfect outfit. Then, she remembered JK Rowling was a TERF. Up to you, Emily. She could have called Mia or Shaye, they'd have opinions, but today, she decided, was about doing things on her own. She did everything on her own to get here, she could do this.
She pulled out her pale green cotton dress, the one with the spaghetti straps and the pink flowers. Pluses: she looked hot in it; it was light enough that if it got too warm, she wouldn’t sweat. She needed to talk to her doctor about her levels, lately she had been sweating a lot. Then, she shook her head. She looked at the dress again and held it to herself. Definite maybe, but would it be too much for them?
She took out jeans. Jeans could work, she thought. She pulled them on and buttoned them, checking out her ass. I look good, she thought, then took them off. I'm not wearing jeans to make them comfortable.
She took a pair of cutoff denim shorts out and looked at herself in the mirror, smiling. This is the outfit she had dreamed of wearing since she realized her truth, remembering Stef going to the beach, her bikini top visible through her t-shirt. She piled her hair on top of her head, and then let it fall, making kiss faces. She took a mirror selfie and smiled. You are gorgeous, she said.
Then pulled the shorts off. This is for the beach or hanging in the park, not for seeing people in Silver Lake. Give her a stroller and she'd look like a second wife or someone's au pair.
11:45, she pulled into a parking spot three blocks from the farmer’s market. She pulled down the visor and checked her makeup in the mirror. She wasn't wearing much, coral lip gloss, a little blush and eyeliner. She thought back to those first lessons in Stef’s room, day makeup versus evening, and the first time she ever felt truly happy with her reflection. She took a deep breath and got out of the car, swinging her legs out and then standing up, smoothing her skirt under her, her pocketbook strap cutting across her chest.
In the end, she had chosen a pale green top, cinnamon brown mini and sandals. You go girl, she kept telling herself, you are strong, you are powerful, channel your inner Elle Woods. Elle was beautiful, Elle was strong and Elle was all woman.
She was sitting on a bench at the corner, watching people go by when she heard, “Emily?”
She looked up and saw her standing there. A little older, her roots showing through the brown, and a few pounds heavier, with tiny crow’s feet around her eyes. She was wearing jeans and a white cotton button down over a blue tank top. The classic suburban mom. “Jeannie. Aunt Jeannie,” and she stood up, her knees feeling weak. Great, she thought, I'm going to fall on my face in front of her.
They stood face to face, awkwardly looking at each other, Jeannie's eyes appraising her. “Wow,” her tone, uncertain. “I mean…”
Emily looked around, “Where's Rob, Uncle Rob?” She felt a burning feeling in her stomach. Dekalb began pouring over her, pounding her defenses. She remembered Christmas Day junior year, the way everyone ignored her, and she felt tears forming. She wanted to run. “I mean, it's fine. I didn't really expect…” To ever see any of you again ever. It was stupid of me to even think he'd see me, even if you called me. I've been happy without you and I'll continue to be happy without you.
She felt Jeannie staring at her. “He's coming. He's always on that damn phone,” she grumbled. Jeannie looked at her. “Those are good colors for you. Your mom always said she had…”
“I don't want to talk about them,” she snapped. She really needed to see the doctor before she went what her friend Katie called ‘full period.’ She clutched her pocketbook strap. “I'll talk about me and you and Rob and Liam and Robbie, but not them. Deal?”
Jeannie smiled, “Fine. I've spent 22 years not wanting to talk about them. So, how do you like being a, uh, waitress?”
“It's fine but I really don't do it much anymore. I work as a legal assistant. For now.”
“Do you want to be a lawyer?”
Emily blurted, “No,” which made people turn. Then, lowering her voice, “I'm an actress.”
Jeannie looked around. “Yeah, that makes sense. Your m...you always did plays in high school, right?”
Not that any of you came, or even asked me about them, and she felt the urge to scream then run. You don't have to run, she thought. You can stay as long as you want and then politely leave. Then, go scream in the car. “Yeah.” Out of the corner, she saw her uncle Rob saying something into his phone and then putting ít in his pocket. Rob was wearing jeans and a Notre Dame polo shirt. He came over and looked at her. “Emily, right?”
“Hi, Rob, Uncle Rob.”
He looked straight at her, his green eyes confused, and she imagined what he was thinking. “You can call me either one, I guess. It's been a long time.”
She decided to play this like an improv exercise. You're three people who know each other from your hometown but you haven't seen each other in a while. You meet in a strange city. Of course, then someone would say something like, ‘and you're in a Nick Teen show.’ Which they weren't. She looked at his shirt and smiled. “Interesting choice of shirt for here,” USC being Notre Dame’s rival.
He grinned and puffed out his chest, “I don't care.” Jeannie rolled her eyes. She remembered her in the kitchen during Grandpa Peter’s birthday, watching a game on the little TV while she cooked.
Me either. After six years of deliberately ignoring it, she could now watch a quarter or two without hating it, but she definitely didn't care. “So, how are Liam and Robbie?”
“Liam’s good. He's a junior. Looking at colleges.”
Emily smiled, “Colleges? He can apply to somewhere besides Notre Dame and maybe U of I?”
She saw Rob visibly relax at the question. He laughed, “I want him to go where he’s happy. Which can be someplace besides ND. Except here or Michigan though.”
“Oh, that’s good. How’s Robbie?” She saw Rob and Jeannie exchange a glance. “Ummm, did I say something?”
Jeannie looked at her, “Let’s talk about happy things. You asked why we were here. We have big news….”
Rob jumped in, “That guy you saw us with is a developer building an office park in Glendale and I am handling the construction!”
Jeannie looked at her, “I hope the men your age don't talk over you.”
“They do,” she said, the comment making her feel warm. Then, looking at Rob, “The company’s gotten that big? Wow, congratulations,” she said, mustering as much enthusiasm as she could.
Jeannie looked at her. “The building’s not the only big news,” and she fished in her bag, pulling a business card and handing it to her.
“RJN Construction and Engineering?”
Rob looked at her. “You weren’t the only one who got tired of their bullshit.” Then, “Sorry.”
“Uh, that’s gotta be awkward,” she offered. A light wind blew and she held down her skirt, noticing how he looked away when she did.
“I don’t care. We were having one of the meetings a couple of years ago,” ‘meetings’ dripping with scorn, “and I realized that I didn’t want to play their games anymore. That I was miserable and I needed to get out before I killed myself. Or them. Does that make any sense to you?”
She looked at him, then Jeannie, who smiled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, kinda. Well, that’s great. So how did you end up here? I mean, the company,” and she hated saying even that, but at least it was just a thing “like Wisconsin is a big deal for them?”
“I called some people I knew from school and started hustling around. I have a core group of guys and I hire crews where I am. I work longer hours and harder than ever…”
Jeannie smiled, “But it’s ours. Not theirs. Ours.” She looked at Emily. “But we’re not talking about them today. Right Rob?” Rob shrugged. “Just us. OK?” She nodded.
Rob looked at her, well at the top of her head. “So, what have you been doing with yourself?”
In the role of Emily today is Emily. “Um, so I went to CalArts, on a full scholarship. I started in the animation program…”
“I remember you used to draw all those Japanese cartoons with big eyes…” Jeannie smiled and rolled her eyes again.
“I did,” she smiled, “thank you for remembering. But, then, I switched to the acting program. I got my BFA last year and now I’m trying to make it as an actress.”
“What made you switch?”
She took a deep breath, “I did a play and realized that I was happier on stage. That I needed to be on stage. To put myself out there, y’know?”
He looked at her and smiled. “Good for you. So, you’re waiting tables in the meantime?”
“Not really anymore. I work as a legal assistant mostly. I just covered that shift as a favor to a friend. Funny, huh?”
Jeannie smiled. “I worked my way through school waiting tables. I always liked Friday nights.”
“No kidding? I didn’t know you did that.”
Jeannie smiled. “I always found Friday tips were best. Better than Saturday. I don’t know why. More drinking maybe. Is that still the case?”
Emily laughed. “Definitely. That’s why I covered. I don’t know, Saturday’s date night. You’d think they’d be trying to impress their dates or something…”
Jeannie looked at her and snickered, “Or something. Sorry, Rob,” she said, as he looked away.
She felt her face flush. “So, this is Silver Lake. Why don’t we walk around a little? It’s a very walkable neighborhood,” she fumbled. What is my job, she asked the imaginary audience. Tour guide, real estate agent, they shouted. Now, she was a real estate agent who gave tours.
They walked around for an hour, Emily pointing out the sites and listening to Rob talk about the project. She steered them to Micheltorena Street. “OK, so this is one of my favorite places in the city. You are going to love all the houses. They say it’s one of the best collections of architecture from the 30s through the 50s anywhere in California. And on your left you can see… “ She was talking with her hands, and saw Jeannie give her a look and a smile.
Rob took out his phone, “It’s OK if I take pictures, right?”
“Sure. I think so.” She felt her hair blowing in the wind and, without thinking, took a hair tie out and put her hair in a ponytail.
She felt them looking at her. Jeannie whispered. “You look better with your hair like that. Cuter.”
She felt a lump in her throat. “Anyway,” she said, as they walked along, “this is maybe my favorite house on the block. It’s the John Lautner House. It was built in 1939 and designed by John Lautner, who was called one of the best architects under 30 when he did it. I got to go inside once and what’s amazing about it is that he sloped the ceiling over the main-living space so that warm air would rise and exit above the kitchen.” Rob was staring at her. “What?”
He smiled, “How do you know all that?”
She thought back to Kevin, her boyfriend junior year. He was an architecture major at UCLA who took her to Palm Springs to ‘see all the mid-century houses.’ (‘So, how was seeing the architecture,’ her friends teased. ‘We actually saw architecture.’) “A friend told me.”
“Friend?” Rob said, looking at her forehead again.
“Rob, stop,” Jeannie said. “I’m glad to hear that Emily has friends,” and she winked.
“Moving on,” Emily said, “Up the hill is Silvertop, which John Lautner also designed. Unfortunately, we can only see so much from the street. If I had known you were coming,” I would have hidden, “I could have seen about a tour.”
“I’ll let you know next time I’m in,” Rob said, then fumbling, “sorry.”
She felt tears again. “It’s OK. I mean, if you want to, let me know.”
Jeannie came over and touched her hand. “Why don’t we get lunch? All this walking has made me hungry.”
“What does everyone want?”
Rob smiled, “I have been dreaming of real Mexican food since I got here.”
“Is that OK with you, Emily? If I eat carbs, I balloon up.”
“It’s fine. I can get fish tacos. Besides, it’s not like...where you’re from. Not as heavy.”
They walked back down and Rob’s phone rang. “Fuck…I’m sorry I have to take this,” and he walked ahead, his voice rising and pace quickening.
“Sorry,” Jeannie said.
Emily’s hair fell in her face and she brushed it out of her eyes. “I understand. It’s work.”
They stood there awkwardly for a second. “We’re having a good time.”
“Me too.” Emily felt her bra strap shift off her shoulder and she moved it back up. “Sorry.”
“For what?” Jeannie smiled. “It happens to all of us.” They walked to catch up to Rob and failed, as he got more animated. “Can I ask about you?”
She looked at her, trying to read her mind and failing. “I told you.”
“You told me what you did. I want to know about you.”
Do you really? How I hated coming to your house because everyone would be there? How I used to try and make myself sick so I didn’t have to see anyone? How I dreamed that one day I’d be able to wear a dress and shoes like Stephanie and have everyone tell me how pretty I was, instead of treating me like a freak. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Where do you live?”
She took a deep breath. “In an apartment.” She wasn’t going to give her any more than that. Not yet. She seemed nice enough but she hadn’t survived these past six years on trust.
“By yourself? Or with someone?”
“I have a roommate. Marissa.”
“You mentioned a friend before. Do you have a...friend now?”
She laughed. “No. I’m between friends now.” She thought about Duncan, his hand swallowing hers and their tongues intertwined as he backed her up against the bar.
“You’re lying,” Jeannie laughed.
She wanted to hide. “No…”
“It is all over your face. There is someone.”
“No, there isn’t. We should catch up to Rob.”
Jeannie took her hand, so she couldn’t run away. “I’m glad you have friends,” she laughed. “And I want to know about them.”
Emily looked at her. “He’s not a friend. Not yet. I just met him yesterday. Does that bother you?” She felt herself tense up.
Jeannie looked at her, hurt. “Emily, it does not bother me in the slightest. Why would it bother me?”
“I just thought…”
“Don’t,” she said, taking her hand. “You’re a beautiful...young woman. And why wouldn’t you have friends? Although, if you had female friends…”
Emily played with the ring on her finger. “I don’t. I’m straight.” She remembered kissing Megan in junior high, how soft her lips were. She had tried to find out what happened to her, but all she found was a Finsta account. “Is this too weird for you?”
“No. Is it for you?”
“Um, kinda?” Which got a laugh from Jeannie.
“How about we just take this as it comes? OK?”
Rob shoved his phone in his pockets. “Are you two coming?” They walked and caught up with him. “Sorry. Being your own boss has some drawbacks, like constant calls.”
“Do you need to go or something?”
Rob looked at her, “Do you want me to?”
“No,” and she fidgeted with her ponytail. “Not unless you want to.”
“I don’t,” and then he grinned. “I’m hungry and I want Mexican food.”
Jeannie looked at him. “Idiot.”
They ate lunch, Rob and Jeannie marveling at ‘how good, how fresh everything was,’ both oohing and ah-ing over the guacamole.
“This is California. We get fresh avocados,” she laughed, then lowered her voice, “and this isn't even that good. Next time, I'll take you to Boyle Heights and you'll see…” And then she stopped.
Rob looked at her, “ That sounds...”
She felt tears again. “Excuse me for a second,” and she all but knocked over her chair running to the bathroom. She ran in and stood at the sink, crying and hyperventilating. You need to get out of here, she thought. You were having a perfectly fine afternoon but you can't let them in. If you let them in, it's only a matter of time before something happens. She pulled out her phone and started to call Stef, practicing her apology, not that she would expect one and would probably be angry that she didn't call sooner. She sat on the little bench and was crying into her hands, when she heard the door open. She didn't look up, but felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Emily…”
Jeannie. Shit. She pulled away a little. “Sorry about that out there.”
Jeannie looked at her. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I made a scene. You promised you wouldn't and then I went and did it.”
Jeannie moved closer again and Emily sat there, neither moving away nor accepting the embrace. “No one even looked up, like it happens all the time or something. What's wrong?”
What's wrong? What's right? We're in the ladies’ room and I'm bawling my eyes out. “You don't want to hear it.”
“My niece is crying her eyes out in the bathroom, and me and my husband are the only ones here, which makes me feel like it's my fault. So, yeah, I want to hear it.”
Emily stood up and looked in the mirror, at her red rimmed eyes. She saw Jeannie's reflection behind hers. “You don't. It'll freak you out.”
The reflection got up and stood behind her. “It won't.”
She took a deep breath and asked a question she had thought she had stopped asking, “What do you see?”
“I see a pretty girl crying,” and now the reflection was touching her shoulder. She tensed then relaxed.
“Do you? That's it?”
“Yes,” and the hand didn’t move.
She put her hands on the sink. “Really?”
Jeannie moved next to her, and Emily could see tears in her eyes. “I don't know what to say,” and Emily started to recoil. “I don't mean it that way. I see a beautiful girl, that's all I see, but I know she's in pain and I hate that I ever caused her pain and I hate thinking that I could cause her pain.”
“You didn't cause me pain,” she said, staring into the sink.
“We didn't help.”
You didn't. You didn't do anything one way or the other. She didn't know what to say, so she shrugged. “What about Rob?”
“He told me, ‘she seems really happy.’”
“She? He said, ‘she?’” In group, they had told them to imagine throwing away their feelings of self-loathing, and she had imagined throwing them into Lake Michigan and now the tide rolled back in. “Really?”
“Emily, when we were walking around and you were showing us everything, you know what I saw? I saw you. A pretty, happy young woman. Smiling and confident. I don't know what you see, but that's what I see.” Emily began crying again and Jeannie hugged her tight. “It's ok, Emily. It's ok.”
They left the restaurant and Jeannie said, “Can we walk around a little? I saw some stores I’d like to check out,” which got a groan from Rob. “I wasn’t talking to you.” Then, whispering in Emily’s ear, “Are you OK to go,” and Emily nodded.
They walked down the block and Rob’s head swiveled every time he saw a beautiful girl.
“Do you think you could be a little more subtle, Rob?” Jeannie groaned.
“That girl was amazing.”
Emily looked at him and rolled her eyes. “Girls like that are a dime a dozen here, Rob.”
He took a dollar out of his wallet and handed it to her, “Can you make change,” which made her laugh.
Leaving Rob on a bench in the park, they walked down Sunset. They walked past The Odells. “This place looks interesting. Let’s go in.” Emily never shopped here or, for the matter, any place in Silver Lake. Silver Lake used to be a sketchy neighborhood back in the 1980s. Then, the artists and musicians moved in, then the actors and actresses and now rich people and their kids. The only girls her age who shopped here either had a TV deal or had their clothes paid for by a guy they called ‘daddy’ - theirs or someone else’s.
They started looking at the racks, and Jeannie held up a jumpsuit. “These make a comeback every few years, and I will never know why. Have you ever tried to go to the bathroom in one?”
“My friend Shaye wears them. She thinks they make her legs longer.” She paused, “They don’t. If I want to wear pants, I’ll wear pants.”
They came to dresses and Jeannie held up a teal print dress with a low v neck, short sleeves and a tie back. “Oh, this is cute. You should try it on.”
Emily held it to her and looked in the mirror. “It is cute.”
“Go,” she said, pushing her towards the dressing room.
She went into the dressing room and took off her skirt, keeping her eyes fixed on her face and chest, and then her top. She pulled the dress over her head and she smiled at her reflection. It came to mid-thigh and was really cute. This was really cute. She looked at the price tag. This was expensive. Really, really expensive.
She went to take it off and then heard Jeannie say, “Are you coming out?”
She walked out and Jeannie - “Wow. That dress is perfect.”
“You think so?” It was. It was perfect. She had money from last night but that was for the fund. Besides, where was she going to wear it? To some party in Echo Park, so some guy could spill a drink on it?
Jeannie laughed. “I have spent my life looking for something that looks that good on me. You have to get that.” She showed her the price tag. “OK, so in three months when you get your first movie, you will get that.”
They kept walking in and out of stores. “Is anything in this city bigger than a size 4? Anything?”
Emily smiled, “That’s what Pasadena is for.”
“Ha ha ha. One day, you too will be 48 and let’s see how you like it. I like Chicago. I can wear a coat six months of the year.”
Emily thought about the absurdity of it all. All these expensive stores all sold clothes made for 22 year olds, except that no 22 year olds she knew could afford any of them and the 40 year olds who could looked ridiculous in them. On the other hand, she looked really good in the split front skirt at Mohawk. She figured she could find a knock off online.
They were in a store when her phone rang. A Chicago number under which it said, ‘Maybe Duncan.’ She grinned from ear to ear. “Excuse me. I need to take this.” She moved away from Jeannie, who followed her, smiling. She glared and Jeannie mock-slumped away. She looked at herself in a mirror while she was on the phone, grinning and pushing her hair behind her ear. She hung up and walked back, plans for Wednesday night firmly in hand.
“Do you want to tell me who that was?” Jeannie grinned, making her feel naked.
No, she thought, no, I don’t. “No one. It was no one,” she said, unable to wipe the smile off her face.
“Was that your not a friend?”
She looked over her shoulder at a mirror, watching herself turn pink. “It was a spam call. About my car warranty.”
“I have no life. I have two boys. You have to tell me,” she pleaded, laughing. “My life is sitting on a bench staring at 22 year olds. Come on, please.”
“Fine,” she said. “His name is Duncan. He’s a chef. From Northbrook, of all places. OK?” She went off to look at a dress.
Jeannie stood in front of the rack. “No. I need more. What does he look like?”
Emily smiled. “He’s like 6’3”, 240, but not fat. Not a musclehead either. Just,” and she smiled, “big, really big. Brown hair, blue eyes. And he has these great hands...” Jeannie looked at her, her grin now splitting her face in half. “I mean, I can’t explain it…” She looked at her reflection and then Jeannie, who seemed rapt with attention. “OK, you find that weird. I’m gonna stop.”
“Oh, no, you won’t. I told you all I have is vicarious thrills and I am not getting those from Liam.” She noticed how she still said nothing about Robbie, and tried to figure out how to ask. “What do you mean ‘hands?’”
She turned red. “I am so stupid. I should not have said anything.”
“You shouldn’t have but you did. So too bad…”
“OK,” she squeaked. “He has chef’s hands. Like they’re covered in cuts and calluses and when,” and then she remembered the two of them at the bar, his hands under her shirt, rubbing her waist, “you sure you want to hear this? Really?” The glare answering her. “OK, so like you feel them against your skin, it makes me…”
Jeannie laughed. “I understand completely. When Rob worked the crew summers, I used to love rubbing out the knots in his shoulders.” Emily thought about Rob and Jeannie and grimaced. “Oh, get over it. But you like this guy, huh?”
“Maybe?” Now, she was red.
“That’s not a maybe face,” she teased.
“I don’t know him. We’ve hung out once and other people were there.” Ignoring us while they made out, but they were there. “So, we’ll see, I guess.” Oh, and he doesn’t know about me. “He’s definitely someone I could like. It really doesn’t bother you?” Putting it out there.
“No. And stop asking, Emily.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
Emily hugged her. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” And she saw her wipe a tear. “OK, that’s enough. I want to walk a little more before Rob calls and starts bothering me some more.”
At the last store, Emily went to the bathroom and came out to see Jeannie paying for something. “What did you get?”
She pointed at a jewelry case. “A pair of cute earrings,” pointing at blue quartz ones in the shape of a flower. “Like those.”
“Oh, those’ll look really cute. Good choice.”
They walked back to find Rob reading his phone. “Have you left that bench, Rob?”
“I went to the store and got a bottle of water. Looked at the bookstore.” He looked at Jeannie’s hands, at the one bag. “I’m glad you were here, Emily. Looks like you saved me some money.”
“There was nothing in my size, Rob,” she said, sighing. “Apparently, we need to go back to Pasadena.”
Rob got up. She had never noticed how much bigger he was than Jeannie, at least nine inches. He kissed Jeannie. “You’re the right size for me,” then, “so what did you do?”
“We just walked around. Checked out the stores. When Emily gets her first movie deal, we are definitely coming back here to shop for her. We saw a dress that was made for her.”
Emily started to tear up again, then smiled. “I’d like that.”
Jeannie took her hand. “Me too.” Just then, her phone rang. “Oh god, it’s Liam. This will be bad,” and she walked away, leaving Emily and Rob.
“I’m sorry we left you so long.” They had been gone for a couple of hours.
Rob looked at her. “It’s fine. You two had a good time?”
She looked at Jeannie, who looked exasperated, as she kept waving her hands, switching the phone from one to the other. “I did. I hope Jeannie did.”
He smiled, “I’m sure she did.”
“Did you?”
He put his hands on her shoulders, surprising her with how heavy they were. “Yeah.”
“You’re not just saying that?” She waited for the shoe to drop.
“Emily, I haven’t just been sitting here. I’ve been thinking too, which is never a good thing,” a family joke at which neither of them laughed. “Look, we come from a family of assholes. When God created the Nehlens, he unfortunately set the default to asshole.”
“You’re not an asshole,” she said.
“I try not to be. And, from what I saw today, you aren’t. But, the rest of them? Everyone treats everyone like shit and you got treated the worst. And I’m sorry for that.”
She started to tear up, and wiped a tear from her eye. “You didn’t do it.”
“I didn’t stop it either. Anyway, I don't believe in signs and all that shit, but yesterday was a sign. You came here today, which you didn't need to do, and I, we thank you. You probably should’ve just told us to go to hell and you didn’t. How come?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Because you’re not an asshole,” he grinned. “I know you don’t want to talk about them and I won’t, but the way I figure it is you and I are the first ones to get away from them, which is a good sign, no?”
She smiled. “Probably.” A guy walked past, checking Emily out and Rob glared at him, which made her smile.
“Probably,” he scoffed, “you’re all the same. Can’t give a guy a win. Anyway, I, we, want to get to know my, our, niece. Will you let us?”
With that, Emily started to bawl. Not tear up, not cry, bawl. Rob pulled her into a hug. “It’s OK, Emily. It’s OK,” and he rubbed his hand in a circle on her back. “Come on. Don’t do this. People are watching. Come on,” he laughed.
She started to laugh a little, but didn’t let go of him. “Thanks, Uncle Rob.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Jeannie came over and looked at Emily, her eyes red, and said to Rob, “What did you say to her?”
Emily smiled. “We were just talking. It’s fine. I promise,” and Rob took her hand, and she smiled. “What happened?”
“Well,” and she took a breath, “he started the conversation with, ‘I just want you to know that I’m OK and no one was hurt.” Rob offered a ‘fuck,’ and Jeannie continued, “the Jeep is now at the body shop and insurance has been called. Apparently, ‘some guy just cut right in front of me and now the front end is kinda banged up.’ Why did we have kids again?”
He looked at her, “Too much disposable income. Not enough gray hair.” He turned to Emily, “he’s a good kid but sometimes he’s dumb as a rock. Anyway, we can address this later, you don’t need to hear this.” She wanted to say that she wanted to, that she felt a part of them when she did but then decided that was too much for now. “I’m going to be out here regularly and I hope that I can give you a call when I am. Is that OK?” Emily started to tear up again. She really needed those levels checked. “Stop that!”
“Yes,” she said, sniffling. “I’d like that.”
He smiled and kissed her on the forehead, “Me too.”
Jeannie smiled and handed Emily the bag, “Open it.”
“What? What is it?”
Jeannie grinned, “Open it.”
“I thought you bought yourself earrings,” she said, as she put her hand in the bag.
“I lied,” she said. “Just open it.”
Emily opened the box in the bag and inside was a butterfly necklace. Her spirit animal, she always envied how pretty they were. She remembered a school trip to the Field Museum, the butterfly hall, watching the monarch butterflies flutter around, beautiful and free. “Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful. But it’s too expensive. I can’t,” and she handed it back.
Jeannie looked at her. “I owe my niece a lifetime of birthday presents. This is just a down payment.” She took the box and put the necklace around her neck, the delicate chain brushing against her. “I saw it and I thought of you.”
Emily hugged her. “Thank you. I love it.”
She walked them to their car. “I expect a phone call Thursday,” Jeannie said, kissing and hugging her.
Rob looked at them. “Huh?”
Emily said, “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. Emmy has a date Wednesday with a boy from Northbrook.” The diminutive making her feel inexplicably happy.
Emily braced herself, only to hear, “You came all the way here to find some rich kid from Chicago? Who is he?”
“He’s a chef. And a Golden Domer,” a Notre Dame alum.
“Mmm hmmm. I know his type,” he laughed. “Have fun.”
She nodded, wondering whether to hug him. He leaned in and gave her a kiss, whispering, “Be happy,” then, in his normal voice, “I’ll call you the next time I’m in.”
“I expect it. And don’t kill Liam. He’s a kid.”
They pulled out and she watched them pull away, while she waved. She fingered the butterfly necklace and walked to her car, smiling.
Chapter 2 - we meet Jordan, the non-binary twin and learn about their life (romantic and otherwise)
——-
Jordan walked around the jobsite, looking for the electrical subcontractor. They were getting tired of this, to be honest. Every day, they’d find him placing bets on his phone while his guys were busy bullshitting or jerking off or doing anything but what they were paid to do - which was wire the fifth floor.
If they had their way, the guy and his crew would’ve been out the door three days ago, but…
“Look, Jordan,” the architect said, laughing. “I get that you want them doing their job but, if they don’t work, they don’t get paid, so they’ll do it.”
Jordan took a deep breath. You’re the low man on the pile, they thought. “Except they aren’t. Mike is always on his phone betting…”
More laughter. “And losing. All day yesterday, I heard him talking about how he’d like to kill the guy who came up with half points,” then, imitating his rasp, ‘the fucking half points, they’re fucking killing me…’
Jordan laughed, in spite of themself, “You’d think he’d wanna get paid, so he could lose some more.” None of the betting sites took credit cards. If they did, Mike’d be dead.
The architect looked at them. “Jordan,” he smiled, “I like you. Everyone likes you and we’re all impressed with your vigilance.”
They held their breath for the inevitable ‘but.’ No compliment came without one. ‘You work harder than anyone else on the team, but we’re starting Nia this week.’ ‘I like you but not that way.’ ‘If I had my way, you’d be on the crew with me, but you know how your mother feels.’ They sighed, “But?”
He smiled. “It’s a compliment.” Then, a pause, “however, you can’t pick every fight. The project will get done on time and on-budget. My rep is on the line and I’m not sacrificing it. And the electric will get done on five on-time and on-budget. Everyone knows you’re on it. You just don’t need to be so ‘on it.’”
“But he’s...”
Grinning, “See, you said but. I didn’t say but. But he’s what?”
They thought about their father. The way that he would never have let a sub pull this kind of shit. How he would have been in the guy’s face until he did the work, telling him, ‘keep this shit up and you won’t work around here again.’ On the other hand, this was a 35 story building, not a strip mall. And they were new around here. And dad told them when they started, ‘your job is to keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. When the boss wants to hear from you, he’ll ask. He didn’t ask? Take the hint.’ “But nothing. I’ll tone it down,” they tried not to grumble.
The architect looked at them. “I like you and you have a real future. Try not to have a heart attack first.”
They walked around, checking on the progress in the building and watching one of the workers frame an interior wall. They always liked framing, especially wood. There was something meditative - not that they’d say that out loud; maybe Emily could get away with talking about meditation in California, not here - about measuring, cutting and putting it up and then do it again. The repetitiveness calmed them. If they had their way, they’d be doing it now but they remembered Dwight, Dad’s foreman - ‘be the guy who showers before work, not after.’
They caught two of the guys talking in Spanish, one mumbling ‘tortillera,’ while the other one looked at him like he was crazy. Whatever, they thought. I don’t know what you said but I know that, in five years, I'll be running projects like this and you'll still be carrying buckets of nails.
------
9:00. Time to call Emily. They used to call right after work, until she pointed out that it was a three hour time difference and ‘I can’t take too many personal calls because the bitch next to me always complains.’ The problem was that Jordan was usually a couple of drinks in by the time they remembered to call, and they owed her not being shitfaced, at a minimum.
Emily picked up the phone. “Hi, this is Emily Berrigan,” she said, brightly.
“This is Jordan Nehlen,” they teased. “Is this a bad time?”
“It’s never a bad time for you. Besides, I’m stuck in traffic,” she laughed, then cursed the driver in front of her. “How’s it going?”
“It’s good, it’s good. I’ve been mad busy at work and they’re driving me crazy.”
“Who is,” followed by ‘don’t ride up the shoulder, asshole!’
They took a deep breath. They never knew what or how she would respond to anything involving construction. Not that she didn’t care and wanted to know, but they could hear it in her voice if it got too close. “Oh, every day I come in and I find my guys jerking off or whatever, and I was told not be ‘so intense.’”
A laugh. “You intense? I am flying there today to tell them...that they have no idea how intense you actually are.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” They hadn’t seen her, not in per\son, since she was thrown out and left for California six years ago. They felt guilty but, up until this year, it just wasn’t doable. There had been that one soccer tournament in San Francisco but Emmy couldn’t make it up there. Besides, they wanted to see her without distraction. Maybe this year. “It’s just…”
A pause and they wondered what was next. “How big is this building?”
“I told you, thirty-five stories,” wondering where this was going.
“And this company does work all over the country, right?”
Dubiously, “Um, yeah. Where are you going with this, Ems?”
“So, this is a national company building a really tall building. Maybe, they know something,” upspeak at the end. They smiled to themself at the way she had become a total California girl, upspeaking and using ‘hella’ instead of ‘mad’ or ‘crazy.’
“It’s just...they...and...shut up!” They laughed.
“I didn’t say anything, Jor,” she laughed, her little trill.
“Yeah, well, anyway, what’s new?”
A pause, “I saw Uncle Rob and Aunt Jeannie.”
That knocked at least one drink out of them. “Uncle Rob? And Aunt Jeannie? As in,” and they stopped.
“Yes, them.”
“Where?” They looked at the TV, at the commercial for ‘your local Ford dealer.’ To be honest, it was time to replace the truck, it needed a new transmission and brakes and they had neither time nor the inclination to do either. But, they had restored it themselves with their father when they were 14 and it reminded them of then. Before everything.
“At work. Last Friday.”
“What were they doing at a law firm there?”
“I was covering a shift at the restaurant.” ‘Jesus, can you pay attention to your lane?’ They pictured Emmy behind the wheel, giving a finger to someone and then feeling guilty about it, the way she always did.
Jordan sighed. “I thought you said that you were done with that.”
“I am,” she responded. “Maya asked me to cover…”
They thought about their sister, the way she always wanted to please everyone, even as they didn’t give a damn about her. They remembered the parking lot at school, Emmy in tears because of what those bitches, her so-called friends, had said to her. “You don’t have to say yes to everyone, Ems.”
“She’s my friend. And Fridays mean money. That I need.”
They knew why. They had checked and insurance covered it, but they also knew that no hospital ever sent you home without some other bill. “Right. Yeah. How close?”
“Almost there,” she said brightly. They pictured her in her work clothes, the dresses they imagined she wore like she was making up for lost time.
“Anyway, Uncle Rob and Aunt Jeannie. What happened? Did it go OK?” They tensed up, thinking of how Uncle Pete and his bitch of a wife would have made a scene. How they wanted to punch them every time someone snickered and then dead named her at a holiday, not that anyone talked about her much at all anymore.
“They were amazing.”
That was not a possible answer. “Really? For real?”
“Yeah. I was like ‘ohmigosh,’” and she went off describing how ‘they called me by my name every time’ and ‘even Uncle Rob was totally cool with it,’ and they pictured her, her hair in a ponytail, like one of those cute low-maintenance girls they should go for, but never did.
They smiled, wondering if this was somehow going to get her back home, even for a visit. “Cool. That’s great, Ems. You don’t think….”
Before they could finish, Emily’s voice grew harsh. “No!” Then, an apology. “Sorry…”
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“I know,” and they pictured her sad face, her big blue eyes. “But, no, Jeannie is totally on board. We didn’t even talk about,” and a pause, “that, other than Rob being on his own and stuff.”
They felt suddenly protective towards her, their little (by five minutes) sister. They had tried to apologize once and she laughed, ‘all kids are assholes, Jor. What matters is now. Let’s not go there.’ “Cool.”
-----
Jordan was leaving work when, “Hey Jordan,” they heard one of the other project managers say, “we're going to Buckley's after work. You in?”
“Nah,” they said. “I have a softball game.” They thought about their mother, how she'd tell them, ‘go out with the people from work. It's not what you know, it's who you know.’ They had gone out with them the other day and besides there were women at the game who knew people too. “I'm in next time.”
Work ended and they went to the bathroom to change, stripping off today's khakis and button down. They looked at themself in the mirror. Grandma Linda always called them a ‘full Nehlen,’ like a slur. Except they were grateful that they had inherited that weird combination of dad's bulk and Grandma Dori’s small chest, barely a B, which on their frame looked like nothing much at all. They laughed, thinking about how Emily would kill to have a chest like Mom and Stef, even though as far as they could tell, she looked pretty good. You'd never know that she was ever anything but what she had always been.
They carefully folded their clothes and put them in the equipment bag, then took out the uniform. They put on the sports bra first, glad that it minimized what little they had, then the jersey and finally the pants, making sure to tuck everything in and that everything was straight. Their father used to say, ‘someone with a sloppy uniform is someone who doesn’t care on the field.’
They drove to the game and walked over to the field, bat bag over their shoulder. “Jordan,” they heard Veronica shout.
“Hey, Ronnie.” They had met Ronnie when they first moved to Indianapolis. Ronnie had been dating someone Jordan knew from college. That relationship failed spectacularly, with dueling restraining orders, but she and they had remained friends. “What’s up?” Ronnie, to test them, threw a ball at them, which she caught barehanded.
“You always have fast reflexes. Not as fast as mine but fast,” Ronnie grinned. “Kayla can’t make it today. Work shit.”
“Fuck,” Jordan groaned. “What are we going to do for a third baseman?”
Ronnie looked at her. “You.” Normally, Jordan played second, turning a double play and nailing the runner at home being their two favorite things.
“Ah, come on…”
“Ah, come on nothing. OK,” other Kayla, so named since she was the second one to join, “can cover second but she doesn’t have your arm for third.”
Jordan looked at her, and laughed. “If you’re trying to get me into bed, ain’t happening.”
Ronnie looked at them. “If I get to the point where I’m fucking your ass, and make no mistake it would be me fucking you, just shoot me.”
A running joke. “I won’t. Know why? Because I’ll have shot myself first, superdyke.” When they called each other that, Kayla the first would lose her shit, bitching about solidarity or something. Jordan looked over at the other team, at a girl, brown ponytail and a killer ass stretching. They looked at Ronnie and tilted their head.
“Nice,” was all Ronnie offered. “You want her? I won’t block.”
“We sure…” Jordan had their fill of experimenters in college, girls testing the waters before marrying some investment banker. Whatever, they’d think, just know that you got my sloppy seconds.
“I saw her at Henry’s,” one of the last remaining lesbian bars in the city. Jordan figured that they were supposed to be happy that they could be public, but they wouldn’t mind more places where straight boys and girls weren’t staring at them when they kissed someone.
“Cool,” they said, staring while the girl sat down and did stretches.
A ball rolled towards Jordan, and they rolled it up onto their foot, then started juggling it. They missed the thrill of playing in college, the cheers of the crowd. Well, the 1000 or so people that showed up at most games. They were doing tricks, juggling it higher and higher when the girl looked at them and winked, causing them to drop it.
The game began, Jordan crouched, hands on knees. They hated playing third. They had played second since middle school, liking the way that you had to go either way when the ball was hit, depending on the situation. Third, you went to your left. That was it.
--
Fourth inning, one out, runner on third. The batter hit a line drive to Jordan’s left. They backhanded it, touched the base before the runner could get back and threw out the runner at first by two steps. “Now, that’s a lesbian league play,” someone said, to everyone’s laughter. ‘Lesbian league’ having been adopted as a term of praise a couple of games ago, after some meatheads on a field next to theirs had used in a manner that they couldn’t decide was insulting or not. They flicked the ball to the ump and jogged off, to see the girl from before smiling at them.
The game ended, Jordan’s team having won. Both teams were around the cooler when the girl came over. “Hi.”
Jordan’s eyes walked up and down her. “Hi, I’m Jordan. You want a beer?”
“Kira,” and she stuck out her hand, Jordan enveloping her soft skin with theirs, suddenly aware of the callouses they had developed over the years. “Do they have White Claw in there?” Jordan smiled. Of course, she wanted a White Claw. Girls like her didn’t drink beer, not that they minded.
Kira took the White Claw, “That was an incredible play in the fourth.”
Jordan smiled and ran their hand through their buzz cut, aware that Kira was watching their every move. “Thanks. I was impressed with how you ran out that single in the sixth.”
Kira laughed. They would’ve said it sounded like birds chirping, except that they could hear her old teammates laughing their asses off at that, making fun of their fondness for femme girls. “Sure. I watched you with the softball before. Do you play soccer?”
“Yup. Well, I did. Four-year starter at Purdue at center midfielder. What about you?”
“I’m a senior at Butler. I’m majoring in economics, with a minor in theater.” She ran her hand through her hair and Jordan watched her shirt ride up ever so slightly, showing just a little strip of stomach, flat and pale.
“That’s quite a combination. Do you plan to tell people the marginal cost of Shakespeare?”
Kira smiled. “Well, that’s the first time I’ve heard that particular one. What about you?”
“I’m a construction manager. I’m working on a new building on Washington.”
Kira smiled and looked her up and down. “That sounds interesting. How did you get into that?”
Jordan smiled back. “That is too long a story for after a softball game. How about you let me take you to dinner and give you the whole story?”
Kira grinned, showing her teeth, small, perfect and white. “How can I refuse such a subtle invitation? Sure,” and then she took out her phone and shared her contact information. “Call me. We’ll set a date,” and she walked off, Jordan’s eyes never leaving her perfect peach shaped ass.
--
Thursday night. Mastrangelo’s.
Jordan sat at the bar, drinking a beer and waiting for Kira. They had worn their blue button-down shirt, having taken an extra today, rather than try and clean site dust off of themselves. The change had not gone unnoticed, the guys busting their chops and the secretary in the trailer looking creeped out. Whatever, bitch, they thought, get over yourself.
They had offered to pick her up, but she had demurred, saying that she’d take her own car. Stef and Emily had both told them in the past not to take it personally, that, “she just wants to be sure that, if it doesn’t work out, she’s not stuck going home with you.”
They were staring at the TV over the bar, when they felt a tap. “Hi.”
They turned to face Kira, who was wearing white jeans and a blue tank top with lace around the top (a camisole, they remembered, hearing Mom’s voice, ‘it’s a camisole, Molly, I swear.’ That being the first and last time they wore one, Mom having once again declared them ‘hopeless.’) “Hey, how’s it going?”
Kira leaned in and kissed them on the cheek. “This place looks great. I’ve never been here.”
“They have great veal parmigiana,” which got a look. “I mean, unless you don’t eat veal. Then, they have other choices.”
Kira smiled, showing her top teeth, those beautiful little white teeth. “I don’t. Not for ethical reasons, I just don’t like it that much.” Then, Jordan thought, why did you give me that look?
“OK. Well, everything I’ve had here is pretty good. Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure. Barolo, if they have it.”
Jordan took out their wallet, and held up a $20 bill between their fingers. The bartender came over, eyes going between Jordan and Kira. Whatever, dude. “A glass of Barolo, please.”
The bartender took the $20 and walked away. Kira looking annoyed. Jordan laughed to themself. Femmes always took it personally, like they were being judged. I've been judged my whole life, they thought, and guess what? He's taking my drink order, not the other way around. The bartender brought back the drink and set it down, walking away quickly. “Do you want to drink that here or at the table?”
Kira took a sip and Jordan could see the lip print on the glass. “Let's go to the table,” she said, looking back at the bartender with disdain. They wanted to tell her to ignore him but that would only point out what was obvious and would ruin the night. They sat down, Kira on the inside, and she smiled, looking at them, her hazel eyes twinkling, “So, construction manager, what does that mean?”
“I coordinate between the architects and the contractors and workers, make sure everyone does their job,” and then they paused, wondering how deep to go into it. “Like there's a budget and a time frame,” and they thought about the other day, “and I want to make sure that no one is slacking off.”
She smiled, “So you're the tough guy, huh?”
Was she flirting with me, Jordan thought. “I'm the tough guy,” they said, smiling the easy smile their ex told them made them seem nice. Seem.
“Should I be scared?”
Jordan looked at her, her cute ears with the flower earrings. “Definitely. You should definitely be scared.”
Still smiling. “I don't think so. How did you get into construction management?”
“My family runs a construction company back home. I always liked going out with my dad on-site and, when I was being recruited, I saw that Purdue had a program and there you are.”
“Where's home?”
“DeKalb, Illinois. About 60 miles west of Chicago.”
“How come you didn't go back after graduation?”
Jordan groaned inwardly, hating this question, hating that they didn't have a good answer, even as they had worked on the lie for years. “Two reasons. One, I think that it's good to work for someone else for a while. I had a professor who said that businesses do much better when the next generation works for someone else first, you know, learn new things, learn what it's like to report to someone who you don't see for dinner every week.” The lie seemed to be working and they continued, “and, second, the business is big enough for the current generation, my dad and his brothers, but maybe not the next,” leaving off how Uncle Pete's sons had their own crews, Kevin getting one two years after he dropped out of NIU. “Besides, if I was there, I wouldn't be here.”
“Does that line usually work?” Kira laughed.
Jordan smiled, “You tell me.”
Kira touched their hand, as a woman nearby rolled her eyes, “I'll let you know.”
Not letting go, “So, theater and econ major, how did you get into that?”
“Two reasons, I have them too. First, I love acting but it's not exactly an easy way to earn a living…”
“I know. My sister's an actress, or trying to be.” They owed Emily a call. She had left a message the other day, which she never did, but she didn't sound like it was a problem.
“You have a sister? Older or younger?”
“Actually, Em's my twin, although I’m older,” which got a smile. “I mean, I have an older sister, Stephanie, too…”
Kira’s eyes widened. “You have a twin? Identical or fraternal?”
Jordan smiled. Em's fraternal, in the truest sense. “Fraternal. We look nothing alike, to answer the next question,” they laughed.
“You have two sisters though. That's so cool. I just have a brother and we are not close at all. Are you all? All of my friends are so close to their sisters.”
“Emily and Stef are incredibly close. Me, we've definitely become closer.”
Kira looked at them. “What do you mean?”
Shit. Now, you sound like an asshole. “It's not anything. We were just incredibly different growing up, I played sports, she didn't. She was into,” and they smiled, thinking about that first time, when they came into Stef's room and saw Em in the dress, “makeup and clothes and theater and stuff.” Oh and my mom hated me and my dad hated Chris. “I think, when we weren’t on top of each other, we came to like each other a lot more.”
That seemed to placate her. “And Stef's like that?”
They laughed. “Stef is into clothes and makeup but she's definitely a much bigger bitch than Em.”
Kira laughed, “That's not nice!”
“Oh, she would proudly tell you that. She was a cheerleader and all that, but she's tough. Like she and my grandma can't stand each other and my dad says it's because they're too alike.”
“So, you have a cheerleader, an actress and a jock? Boy, your poor dad didn't know what hit him, did he?”
And...let's not go there. “What's second?”
“What's second what?”
“You said there were two reasons for theater and economics. What's second?”
Kira laughed. “My dad wouldn't pay for just theater. He says uneducated actresses are boring and he wouldn't pay for me to be boring.”
Jordan rubbed the top of her hand, ignoring the sighs of the woman next to her. “You don't seem boring to me...must be the economics major.”
“You've found out my secret,” and she slowly moved her hand away. “What’s left?”
Jordan was amused at Kira’s forwardness, the way she toyed with them. “I imagine there are some secrets left.”
----------
Jordan and Kira lay in bed, in the afterglow. “So…” Kira said, naked and grinning.
“So.”
“Look at you, all smug. Pretty proud of yourself, huh?”
Jordan laughed. “You are a tough one, aren’t you?” They ran their hand down Kira’s side, reveling in the curves and the smoothness, so opposite their own bulk.
“Am I not supposed to be?” She rolled over into the sheet.
“You can be whatever you want to be,” they said looking into her eyes.
“I think I'd have to be, to keep up with you,” and she ran her finger down Jordan's chest, tracing circles around their right nipple.
They smiled. “You think you can keep up with me?”
Kira smiled lasciviously. “I would be very happy,” and she drew out ‘very,’ “to try.”
Jordan ran their fingers on her collarbone. “Really?” They hoped that didn't sound too needy.
“Mmm hmmm,” and she kissed them. “So, how do I introduce you to people?”
“This is Jordan?” Then it hit them. After all these years, they didn’t know how to play these kinds of games. They remembered back to Megan in high school, the way she kept them guessing.
Kira kept smiling and running her finger around the nipple, which was driving them crazy. “No, I know that. I mean, what do people call you?”
Just ask, they thought. And then they thought, ‘shut up. She’s cute, funny and gives great head. If she needs to do this, let her.’ “Jordan,” they teased. “Emmy calls me Jordy when she wants to tease me.”
“Jordy? I like that,” she smiled and kept playing with their nipple. “I meant, what’s your pronoun? What do you prefer?”
Jordan hated this question. They wanted to tell her to fuck off, that it didn’t matter, except that it did. And if it didn’t matter to someone, there’d be some other reason - thick ankles, clingy personality, something, that would make it worse. “They, I guess. I mean I’m non-binary, although I don’t actually care about pronouns.”
“Really?” Kira sat up.
“Really,” they smiled. “I’m me. I’ve been called enough shit in my life,” by my own family, for one. “Call me whatever you want.” I know who I am.
Kira smiled and ran her finger on Jordan’s chest. “OK, Jordy. So, are you trans? Not that I care.”
Which is why you asked. Jordan smiled, thinking ‘only one of those to a family.’ “Nope. No interest. This is me.”
“Did you ever think about it?”
They smiled. “Do you always cut to the chase like this?” Before she could answer, “I thought about it a little,” a lot, “when I was younger. I mean, I totally hung out with the guys, but around middle school, I stopped,” remembering that sleepover but then Coach Lynch, their soccer coach and the way she showed them how you could be tough. “Besides, the side effects suck, I hear. My friend did it and he got fat and started going bald and shit. If it’s what you want, go for it but, nope, not for me, thanks.”
Kira smiled. “Good,” and she rolled over.
Jordan looked at her back. What’s your deal, they wanted to ask. Baby dyke coming out or bored straight girl, experimenting? Then, they stopped. Why the fuck do you care, they wondered. You like her and she seems to like you. Asking, the way you always ask, will only fuck things up. Let it go.
----
They were driving home for the weekend. It was the last place they wanted to be, home having become exponentially more uncomfortable but it was Grandpa’s birthday and Uncle Pete had somehow managed to get a suite at Wrigley. And Grandpa wasn’t getting younger and the Padres were in and they wanted to see Tatis, see if he was everything they said.
“You can crash here,” Stef had offered. Stef and her boyfriend lived in Lincoln Park. Well, their stuff mostly, Stef spending all of her time at the firm and Jared at the bank.
“Jared won’t mind?”
Stef sighed. “I told you, Jordan. He likes you.”
“You’re not just saying that, are you?” All these years later, they still didn’t fully trust Stef, remembering the way that she always criticized their clothes and their video games (‘oh god, you’re hopeless,’ being her favorite.)
“Yes, yes, I am. Which is why I invited you.”
“Ha ha. I should probably go home though.”
“Why?”
“I dunno.”
‘You know. You know that you don’t like it there and you’ll have to drive seventy miles and the highway will be a mess. Just stay with us.”
“OK.”
“Oh yeah, we’re having dinner with them the night before. Mom convinced him to get a room at the Palmer House. A romantic weekend.”
Jordan groaned “Don’t make me think about that.”
“They’re doing all kinds of weird shit. Mom told me.”
“Really?”
She laughed. “Ew, gross. No. Oh god, I don’t even want to think about that.”
“You’re sure you’re OK with me?”
Stef laughed. “With you? No. With you crashing here? Yes,” which led to a conversation about work.
----
Friday night. If Jordan timed it right, they’d be in Chicago by 8 (‘which is fine, reservation’s at 8:30,’ Stef said, ‘not like I can get out before then) and at the restaurant by 8:15.
Jordan timed it right. But I-90 didn’t cooperate. 24 miles took one hour. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ they thought, dreading the inevitable. At 8:45, they walked into the restaurant, apologizing profusely and explaining the problems.
“If you had left more time, you wouldn’t have this issue,” their mother said, by way of greeting. “You know it’s a mess there.”
“Hi to you too, mom,” they said, feeling her eyes burn a hole in them, specifically their shoes. “I left Indy at 5.”
Their dad turned to their mom. “That’s plenty of time, Laura.”
With barely disguised scorn and a look at Stef, “Thank you for your support, Doug. I appreciate it. It’s Friday. They,” the word choked out, “could have left sooner.”
Their father, looking at them, “Champ,” his name for them since childhood, “is the low man...person,” followed by a ‘heh heh’ “on the totem pole. First one in, last one out, right, champ?”
Jordan looked at Stef, who smiled and shrugged. “Yup. Anyway, I’m excited for the game tomorrow. How did Uncle Pete score a suite?”
A look exchanged between their parents, followed by their dad’s, “You know Pete,” and a brief mirthless ‘heh heh.’ “Anyway, this kid Tatis looks like he’s all that and a bag of chips.”
Jordan smiled. “I can’t wait. Should be a good game,” if you eliminated Uncle Pete and his wife. And Uncle Kevin and his.
Jordan’s mother looked at them. “Is that what you wear to work?” A pair of khakis and a button down shirt that they hadn’t had time to change.
“Um, yeah. What would you expect me to wear?” A conversation as old as time, or Jordan.
“Look at how your sister is dressed.” Stef was in a black pants suit with a white satiny looking top, which she wore effortlessly like everything else she wore.
Stef, rolling her eyes, “I work in a law firm, not on a job site, ma.”
“Are you the only,” they could see the wheels spinning in her head. They had had this fight for years, Jordan having thought it was over.
Jordan tested her. “Assistant construction manager? No, there are three of us.”
“Don’t be cute,” she snapped.
“I can manage that.”
Stef chimed in. “Jesus, are you going to do this all weekend? Because I’ll leave and skip the game tomorrow.”
Then, their father. “How are things going with your crew?”
“Good,” they said, “really good.” Other than with the electrical guy who spent all day complaining about how the Bulls ‘fucked him but good.’
“You still having problems with your electrical guy?” They had brought this up with him once, which led to the conversation with the architect.
“Nah,” they lied. “We have it under control now.”
“Because you can’t let them walk all over you. We fired one last week for being lazy.”
A sigh. “I know. I said that I have it under control.”
“Because I don’t give a…,” which led to a look from their mother, “I don’t care if you’re having problems with your wife or your girlfriend or whatever, my site, you’re on the clock. Right?”
“Uh huh,” they said, taking a roll and buttering it, their mother’s eyes following the roll from basket to plate to Jordan’s mouth. “I know.”
“The way you move ahead is by not taking shit, right?”
Their mother began twisting her napkin in her hands. “We all know, Doug. No one takes shit.”
“Thank you Laura.” They looked at Stef, silently asking ‘why’ and getting no good answer. “Champ gets it.”
Jordan looked at Stef. “So, how’s work?” She had been assigned to a big merger, which she had told them ‘means I get to sit in a conference room until 12 AM collating papers. Glad I made law review.’
Stef smiled. “Hella busy,” which made them both laugh, thinking of Emmy.
Their mother looked at them. “What’s so funny?”
“Inside joke, ma. A meme.” That would shut her up. Since they were kids, their mother hated memes (‘in my day, you had to write jokes and they were funny.’) “Jordan,” emphasizing the name, “sent it to me.”
---
Back at Stef’s. She took off her shoes, boots with a low heel, ““You OK?”
Jordan took off their shoes, dropping them next to Stef’s, still amazed at the size difference. Not making eye contact. “Yeah, fine.”
Stef looked at them. “Don’t let them…”
Jordan, brusquely, as they headed to the couch. “I don’t...sorry,” they said as they sat down. “I didn’t mean that the way that came out.”
Stef sat down next to them and rubbed their right shoulder. “I know. It’s not the worst thing to talk about stuff.”
And it’s not the best either. “Nothing to say, Stef. It is what it is.”
Stef laughed a little. “Yeah. By the way, I counted. Three times, only two angry.” The number of times either of them called them ‘Jordan.’ “They’re getting better.”
Jordan sighed, “Can we not?”
“Of course,” presumably thinking about tomorrow. “What else is going on?” Jordan hesitated and Stef pounced. “Who is she?”
Jordan looked at the wall. “She who?”
Stef laughed. “You are the worst liar ever. You’re not looking at me.” They had been told by everyone that they knew when they were lying because of that. “Who is she?”
Jordan paused. “You can’t say anything to them.’
Stef laughed. “Like I would do that. Why would I ever do that?”
“Fine,” Jordan sighed. “Her name is Kira. I met her at softball. She’s a senior at Butler.”
Stef looked at them. “Please tell me she’s not high maintenance.”
Looking at the floor, but smiling. “Shut up.”
“Just say it and I will,” and she poked them in the side.
“Fucking weirdo,” and they poked back, making sure not to do it too hard.
“You’re the one with the problem. You’re a glutton for punishment,” she laughed, whacking them on the back of the head.
“How so? How am I a glutton for punishment?”
Scoffing. “Oh please, I had a long day and I don’t have time to explain each and every instance of your gluttony,” and she headed to the bedroom. Jordan stood up to follow her, then stopped as the door closed. From inside, “You are and you know you are.”
“I’m not but she’s not...high maintenance.” They didn’t think she was. “She seems normal.”
“Just be cool this time,” Stef said, as she came out in a faded Michigan t-shirt, the letters cracking from repeated washings, and shorts. “Be cool and let it work itself out.”
“You and Em. God,” and they went for their backpack, to get their toothbrush and their change of clothes.
She laughed. “We know what’s best for you.”
Someone should, they thought.
-------------------
“You’d think so,”Jared said, as they walked down the steps from the El, in response to a comment from Jordan about how cool it would be to live in one of the buildings where you could see the game from the roof. “But my friend Alex does and he says some asshole beating a drum for nine innings while you’re trying to get laid kinda sucks.”
“Thanks for that image, Jar. I needed that,” Stef laughed. Stef was wearing her Cubs t-shirt and jeans, just like Jordan, but somehow Jordan knew that they’d be found lacking. “Hopefully, we get a good game.”
Jordan stared up at the ‘Wrigley Field, Home of Chicago Cubs’ sign, remembering the first time that Dad had taken them, alone, as a reward for a good game. The way that he took their hand as they crossed Addison, Dad talking about ‘Ernie,’ ‘Hawk’ and ‘Ryno,’ the players from his childhood. And the way that he fed them ice cream and popcorn, telling them with a wink ‘this is between us, Champ.’ Champ. They were still ‘Champ’ to him, they guessed. “We should,” they said, as they walked to the suites’ entrance, Stef holding the tickets in her bag. “I mean, should we get something to eat,” they asked as they passed the concessions.
Stef laughed. “Nah, they took us to a suite when I was a summer associate. They have better food and an open bar.” Jordan assumed that somehow Uncle Pete would cheap out, that he’d have a cooler of Old Style and some chips and that they’d end up going out for food, but they couldn’t say that, not in front of Jared.
They got to the suite and they saw Grandpa Peter sitting in a chair, staring out at the field, the emerald green of the field and the ivy covered walls. Normally, they hated the way that Northside dorks would rhapsodize about the wonder of it, but they still had to admit it was pretty cool. Stef walked over first and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Grandpa.”
“Steffie,” he smiled. “They let you out of your cell?”
“I’ll go in tomorrow, Grandpa,” she laughed. Grandma Dori came over, with a plate of vegetables. “Hey, grandma,” and each offered the other a perfunctory kiss. Hopefully, they’d each be distracted by someone else for the rest of the day. Jared rolled his eyes at them and then offered his hand. “Happy birthday, sir.”
“Jared. Glad you could make it,” and he looked through him.
Jordan leaned in and gave him an uncertain hug. “Happy birthday, Grandpa. I would’ve brought you something except you can’t bring in anything.”
Grandma Dori looked at them, and they felt bare before the world, “He doesn’t need anything.”
Grandpa looked at them and rolled his eyes. “Hey there. How’s Indianapolis treating you?”
“It’s good,” they nodded. “Work is good.”
Grandpa looked at them. “It’s not supposed to be good. It’s work. You’re the first one there every day?”
Jordan pasted on a smile. “Just me and the security guard.”
He looked at them. “Good. You want a beer? They have it on tap.”
“Sure. You want another?” He smiled and held up a half-empty glass with a smirk. Dismissed.
They walked over to the bar where cousin Kevin was drawing a beer, his latest girlfriend they assumed, blonde and trashy like those who came before her, looking at her phone. “Hey Kev,” and they offered their hand.
“Hey,” pause, “Jordan. You drove up from Indy for this?”
Jordan looked at him. “It’s his birthday. And I wanted to see Tatis.”
Kevin handed them a beer and, with a nod, “Jordan, this is my girlfriend Kylee,” of course she was. “Kylee, this is my cousin Jordan.”
Jordan offered their hand and was given a dead fish in response. A dead fish accompanied by a withering appraisal. Whatever, you skank, they thought, as they talked to Kevin about work and the Cubs.
“Still an assistant manager?” Uncle Pete laughed, interjecting himself.
Jordan smiled, thinking ‘yeah, on a thirty-five story building. How’s that strip mall?’ “Hey, Uncle Pete.”
“Because we have Kevin here managing ten guys on a project.”
Jordan smirked. “That’s great, Kev.” And you get to deal with their bullshit. “I’m managing twenty on mine. A thirty-five story building’s like that.”
“Yeah,” Uncle Pete interjected before Kevin could, “but you’re still an assistant. We trust Kev with decision making,” which made Kylee put her arm around his waist. He’s fucking you, Jordan thought, not marrying you, you dumb bitch.
“They’re a year out of school, Petey,” they heard Uncle Rob. “And they’re doing it on their own.” Then, Rob turned to them. “Hey, Jordan,” offering a bro hug.
“Yeah, well, maybe they,” eye roll, “are like some other people who can’t handle the heat.”
Jordan looked at Rob, who just snickered. “Hey, Uncle Rob. How’s everything?” They noticed the ‘RJN Construction and Engineering’ polo shirt. “How’s business?”
He gave them a half smile. “It’s been great. Busier than ever, all over the country. How’s Indianapolis? A friend of mine from college drove past, said your building is coming along nicely.” Uncle Pete and Kevin walked off to talk to some of the other cousins. As they walked away, “Ignore them. We’re proud of you, for what it’s worth.”
Jordan looked at him and smiled. “Thanks.” Someone should be, they thought. They wondered whether they were supposed to say anything, whether Emmy would want them to.
Aunt Jeannie came over and gave them a kiss. “Hey, Jordan.” They exchanged pleasantries and were talking about their son Liam, who ‘had plans’, when Aunt Julie came over.
“Molly,” she fake smiled, using their old name, the one she had stopped using in college. “How are you?”
“It’s Jordan now,” they sighed, having been through this with her on every holiday. “I changed it, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. Dori told me that. Said you’re non-binary now. How brave of you.”
Jeannie and Rob just looked at her, and Jordan offered, “Yeah, thanks.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Rob, “Well, they see you right now, Julie.”
“Very funny, Robby,” which made him wince. “I just wonder if she, sorry they, find it hard, given their situation.”
Actually, I spent Thursday night fucking someone silly, they thought. “It isn’t, Aunt Julie. Anyway, excuse me, I think I’m going to get something to eat,” as they saw a big tray of Italian beef sandwiches wheeled in.
They were taking one when their mother came over. “Hello.”
“Oh, hey, ma.” They watched as their mom watched them take a bite, hoping nothing was dripping on them.
“How’s everything?” Mom said, as she took a turkey sandwich, throwing one piece of bread into the garbage.
Since last night? “It’s good.” Kira wasn’t a topic of conversation, not yet if ever.
“Work is good?”
They looked at her and sighed. “I told you yesterday that it’s good, very busy.”
“Your father thinks I should apologize for yelling at you yesterday for being late.”
And you don’t. “It’s no big deal. You were hungry,” they offered.
“Well, he thinks I should. Anyway, try and have a good time today,” and she looked around the room, taking in the various Nehlens. Jordan decided that was the apology.
Jordan shrugged. “I’m excited for the game,” and their mother walked off to talk to Rob and Jeannie.
---
Fourth inning, Bote got taken out at second by the runner, blowing the double play and leaving the Padres with runners on first and third. “Ah, damn,” Jordan grumbled. They were sitting in the outside seats. It was a beautiful day. Why come to a game to sit inside, they thought. Cousin Mikey sat next to her. “That sucks.”
Mikey, Stef’s age, not looking at them. “Yeah.”
“How’s everything Mike?”
Now intently watching as the pitching coach came to the mound to talk to the pitcher. “Fine.”
“How’s work?”
Expecting one word and getting. “It’s busy.” Wow, two words, then, “we’re mad busy. Working on a project in Schaumburg. Total gut renovation of an office park. I have forty guys on it.”
They nodded, surprised that the guy who spent every holiday ‘going for walks’ and coming back reeking of weed, like he didn’t know how to vape, could do that. “That’s great. I’m managing…”
He looked back at the suite, where he saw his father waving him in. “Yeah, I’m getting called in. Grandpa must want something,” and then he got up, leaving them sitting there.
Fuck him, they thought. They decided to walk in. They had as much a right to be there as anyone. They walked in backwards, not wanting to miss Tatis’ at bat.
They walked in to find everyone standing around Grandpa, while he sat. “Goddammit,” he yelled, as Tatis knocked one out, flipping his bat in the air. “Goddamn showboat.”
Uncle Kevin. “Fucking bullshit.”
Uncle Pete. “Too bad you can’t brush anyone back anymore.” Turning to Cousin Kevin. “It used to be that the next guy would get nailed in the side. Bob Gibson,” and they were shocked to hear his name mentioned without spitting, “would have this guy,” and they saw the batter walk up, “in the dirt by now.”
Jordan chimed in. “What’s the big deal? He hit one out. That’s his move.”
Dad stared at them. “We’ve discussed this, Champ,” which got a smirk. Well, fuck you, I had a four-year soccer scholarship to a Big Ten school, you losers. “Act like you’ve been there before. Or deal with the consequences.”
“I just…”
Before they could finish the sentence, Grandpa stared at them. “I was talking to my men, not you,” followed by a glare at their father. Smirks from everyone except Dad, who stared at the floor, and Uncle Rob, who rolled his eyes.
Fuck you, you old asshole, they thought, then felt guilty about it, their father’s standard ‘he’s an old man’ ringing in their ears. They walked over to where Mom was deep in conversation with Aunt Julie and Aunt Karen. They stood at the periphery, listening to a conversation about Mom’s office, about managing ‘millennials and Gen Z,’ and their sense of entitlement.
“That’s not fair,” they offered. “Maybe we’re not entitled. Maybe you all just took too much abuse and are mad because we won’t.”
Julie looked at them. “Excuse me?”
“I just think that…”
“Jordan,” there was the first one, “we weren’t talking to you,” their mother said.
“I don’t think I’m entitled. I work hard.”
Karen, “As opposed to the rest of us, Molly? We sit on our butts and eat bon-bons?”
Gritted teeth. “My name is Jordan, Aunt Karen. Not Molly.”
“Jordan,” their mother snapped, offering the second one.
“Whatever. As your mother said, we weren’t speaking about you or to you. I’m surprised you’d deign to speak to us at all.”
And I’m surprised you know the word ‘deign,’ they thought, as they went outside.
---
By the fifth inning, Jordan left the suite to go for a walk, not that anyone noticed.
They were walking along, looking at pictures and occasionally looking up at the game on one of the TVs, when they heard, “Hey, Jordan.”
Jared, beer bottle in hand. “Hey, Jared. What’s up?”
“Why the fuck did you come?”
They knew Stef was lying, that he didn’t want them in the apartment. They felt their hands clinch. “If you didn’t want me, you should have just said so. I won’t do it again.”
Jared stuck out his hand. “I didn’t mean it that way, Jordan. Sorry. It came out wrong.”
They stood there open mouthed, knowing that the Nehlens inside would mock him if they heard that. “Yeah, well, what did you mean?” Trying not to sound hostile.
“Seriously, why the fuck would you ever voluntarily come for this?”
Jordan looked at him, as he took off his cap and ran his hand through his brown hair. Staring at the TV, as the Padres ran the squeeze unsuccessfully, the runner tagged out at third, “Why did you?”
He laughed. “I didn’t have a say in the matter. So, why?”
“It’s Grandpa’s birthday.” Offered half-heartedly.
He took a pull of his beer and swallowed. “Send a card next time,” he laughed. “The old fuck doesn’t appreciate it regardless.”
Jordan was offended for their grandfather, though God only knew why. “Yeah, well…I wanted to see a game from a suite.”
He took another drink, “Next time, ask me. The bank lets us use them from time to time.” They watched as the Cubs closed out the inning. “I should get back, before Kylee asks Stef again if she wants to get high.” He started walking away, saying, “next on the pole, Kylee,” which made them laugh.
They spent the sixth wandering the stadium, stopping to watch the game from time to time.
By the seventh, they had decided. They’d stay for the stretch and ‘let’s root, root, root for the Cubbies.’ They texted Stef, ‘I’m out.’
‘See you back at the apartment’
Jordan stared at the field as the Padres ran out for the bottom of the inning. ‘Nah. Headin back home. Had enough’
‘Come on stay. Jager bombs on me’ followed by the woozy face emoji.
‘Nah. I wanna go back I think. Thx for lettin me crash and thx 2 Jared’
‘Are u sure’
‘Yeah’
They made it south of Gary before Dad called. To ask them the name of his old foreman.
Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman. At 17, she was thrown out by her parents. She hasn't seen her twin Jordan in person in six years, as a result. Her older sister, Stephanie, is engaged. Will sparks fly?
In Chapter 1, we met Emily. In Chapter 2, her (non-binary) twin Jordan. Now, we meet Stephanie, their cishet older sister and the bride-to-be
-----------
Stephanie looked at her phone as she walked out of her office onto Lake Street. 8:30, an early night. Too early for the firm to cover her Uber, but too late to take the train. Every time she’d say that she was going to, Jared would tell her not to, that he’d cover it. Not that she’d take him up on it. She made more money than she ever thought she would and, even with her student loans, she could cover a $15 cab once in a while. She was standing out front when she heard, “Hey, Stef.”
“Oh, hey, Mike,” she said, as she turned to the voice. Mike, a friend from Michigan who was working for an asset management company in the building. “What’s going on? How’s Ariana?” His girlfriend as of the last time they’d seen him.
He laughed. “That’s over.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m not. Early night?” He laughed slightly.
“Yeah, half day.” They looked out at the Chicago River, dark other than the lights on the bridges barely illuminating it. “I hear that’s nice during the day.”
“Wouldn’t know,” he laughed. “You headed home? Wanna split a cab?”
“Sure.” This wasn’t the first time they had gone home together. He was the perfect cab mate, he talked if you did, but otherwise didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. They got a cab and he climbed in first. “Any plans for the weekend?”
Mike shrugged. “Maybe a party in Lakeview. Friend of a friend. You?”
“Jared’s cousin got engaged. We have the party out in Northbrook.”
“Lucky you,” he said. “Weekend with the in-laws.”
“They’re not my in-laws,” she laughed. They’ll be eventually, she thought, not that she was in a rush. She and Jared were fine the way they were, living together. Besides, they both worked crazy hours, so it wasn’t like a ring would change anything, not that mom and dad saw it that way.
“Yeah, OK, sure.” And he went back to staring out the window, which was fine by her.
Her phone buzzed. Mom. At least, she had finally learned not to call during work hours, before 8:00 PM. She was an administrator for a law firm, you’d think she’d get it, except it wasn’t a real firm. They did closings and wills and some litigation, with an office in a house in Dekalb. She had shown mom and dad her office once and they couldn’t stop talking about the view. She stared at the phone and sighed. “I’m in a cab with Mike, I’ll call you back. I promise,” and she hung up.
Mike laughed without looking at her. “How’s your mom?”
“Annoying,” she laughed. “Yours?”
“In New Jersey, thank god.”
And then the conversation stopped again, until they pulled up to her place. “I’ve got this,” he said, taking out his wallet.
She grimaced. “No, I said we’d split.”
He looked at her and then the cabbie. “You both should invest. There, now, I can expense it. Next time, you pay, Stef,” he said, as he put away his wallet. “Say hi to Jared for me,” he said, as he walked away.
She looked at her phone. If she went upstairs and Jared was there, he’d roll his eyes during the call, which was irritating. But the day had been long enough. If she called her from down here, she’d wouldn’t be upstairs for another half an hour.
Two minutes later, she was upstairs, no Jared, which was good. She put her shoes by the door, joining the pile there, and then pulled her bra out of her sleeve. She sniffed it and hung it on the door of the bedroom, so she could wear it another day.
She put the phone on speaker and called. Second ring, “Hey, Steffie.”
“Hey, ma.”
“How’s Mike?” Her dad had met Mike once in Ann Arbor and said his hands were too soft. Her mom said that the goal was to not have hands like sandpaper (‘not everyone likes callouses, Doug.’)
“He’s fine. Hands are still baby soft, I think he moisturizes them.”
“Funny, sweetie,” she laughed. “How’s Jared? Hi Jared.”
“He’s not here. They probably went out after work.” Jared was a utilities trader, and one of things they did was go out drinking, not that Jared was a drinker. She’d never seen him have more than two, and he usually left part of the second.
“You don’t know where he is?”
“I trust him, ma.”
“I didn’t say that.” No, you just suggest it every time I don’t say that I have an ankle bracelet on him. “I trust your father, but I still know where he is.”
“Yeah, so, what's up?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Randy,” her boss, “asked how you were doing.”
I went deep into debt so I could put together deal packages. “I'm good. Say hi.”
“Grandma and Grandpa were glad you came to the game.”
Drily, “Somehow I doubt that.”
Her mom laughed. “Well, I was happy you came. You know that I can't stand the rest of them.”
Stef laid back on the bed and looked at the ceiling. She knew this already and her mom knew she knew this. But, if she was complaining about them, she wasn't nagging her and she could basically tune her out, offering token ‘uh huhs.’
Until it came to, “I don't like how your sister looks.”
It took her a second. Emmy was her sister. “What's wrong? They looked good to me.” She could hear her wince. “What?” Jordan, she was talking about Jordan.
“I understand that she, they is, are a lesbian and I'm perfectly fine with that,” which is why you always mention it, “but she looks horrible. That haircut, for one.”
She sighed. “I'm not doing this again. Can we go back to complaining about Grandma and them?”
“I'm concerned.”
Another sigh. “About? They seem fine to me.” She almost mentioned the new girl, but Jordan would rightfully kill her.
“You and your father seem to think that.” Good, now we could segue into Dad, she thought. She put the phone on her dresser as she got undressed, throwing her shirt into the cleaning pile and hanging up her suit, her mother keeping up a steady stream of patter.
She put on one of Jared's old t-shirts, “so why doesn't he do what Uncle Rob did and go out on his own?” Uncle Rob was the youngest of Dad’s three brothers, Dad being second youngest. From the whispered grumbling, he was doing really well.
“We don't have that luxury right now, Stephanie,” she said flatly. “As much as I'd like that.”
“You're not paying for school. Jordan and I are self-supporting,” you won't even say her name, not for six years, “why not now?”
“We don't have Rob’s connections. Some of us didn't get to leave home for college, you know.” Rob, alone among the four Nehlen brothers, had gone away to college, Notre Dame, no less, a fact that always bothered Dad.
She gave the phone the finger. “I just meant that he's miserable, you're not happy…”
“I didn't call for advice,” she huffed.
Eyes rolling, “You called me.”
“To see how you were.” No one could turn on a dime like mom.
“Ok, ma. Sorry.” Like listening to mom and grandma Linda. She heard the lock turn. “Jared just came home. Let me sniff him for perfume.”
“Very funny, Stef. I love you.”
“I love you too. Dad too.”
Jared walked in, untying his tie and carefully putting his shoes by the door. She took him in. 6’2”, 195, brown hair, blue eyes. Not someone everyone would turn around for, but good looking enough and, more importantly, good where it counted. He came over and kissed her on the lips. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey, sweetie,” she said. “How was your day?”
“Good, I guess,” he said, as he walked into the bedroom.
“That didn't sound promising.” She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the dry cleaning pile. She went and put it in the cleaning bag.
“Market went crazy. We had a down day... Nothing unusual.”
“It'll be up tomorrow.”
“Probably,” he laughed. “But all that matters is today, you know how it goes. How was your day?” A question dad never asked.
“Another day in paradise. Today, I put together resolutions. I know, I know. Ma’nishtana.” Jared had taught her that the first time she met his family. From Passover - ‘why is this night different from all other nights?’ She didn’t meet them then but it was the all purpose Gauss family response. “Mike says hi.”
“How’s Mike and what’s her name?” He laughed. “I know I should know it.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s” and she jerked her thumb behind her. “We should just call them Bic lighters.”
He laughed. “Street umbrellas.”
She thought for a second. “Carnival goldfish. Small, cute, and dead before they hit the bowl. Mike’ll like that. Anyway, you hungry?” She wasn’t but felt compelled to ask, to be the good girlfriend.
“We ate shit at the bar,” he said. “Sorry.”
“No biggie. I wasn’t really that hungry anyway. I’ll eat some cheese and crackers or something. When’s the thing on Saturday?”
“You don’t know?” He picked up last night’s t-shirt off the bed, sniffed it and put it on.
And so it began. She was supposed to be the keeper of the calendar, buyer of food and cleaner of clothes. She didn’t sign on for this, it wasn’t going to happen. Then, this really isn’t a big deal, she thought. And I have a phone, where his aunt sent the invite. She looked at it. “2:00. How long do we have to stay?”
He looked at her. “Do we have plans or something?”
And she felt herself tense. “No. I just wanted to try that new place, the Mexican one.”
He came over and kissed her again. “We don’t have to stay that long, if you don’t want. Couple of hours. Come on, it’s Nicki, you like her.” She did. She was one of those funny, low maintenance Jewish girls, not like the ones from Long Island from freshman year. Always good for comments about her various relatives, and she liked her fiance. “Besides, I don’t want to listen to everyone ask us either.”
Yeah, she thought. Try being the girl. “Whatever. We’ll stay as long as we stay,” three hours, at least, she knew.
He laughed. “That’s the spirit!”
----
Saturday afternoon.
Stephanie stood in front of the mirror, playing with her dress; having chosen her powder blue one with the little flowers. She made minute adjustments to the hem, which fell a couple of inches above her knee. Cute, but not something that would draw attention. Today was about Nicki and, besides, the last thing she needed was his aunts saying something. They already had enough ideas - wrong ones, but ideas nonetheless - about her, they didn’t need ammunition. She went into the living room, where Jared was mindlessly watching TV. She picked up her purse, “Ready?”
“You look amazing, honey,” he said, grinning (‘we broke him in for you,’ his sisters joked).
“Thank you,” she said, as he stood up, and she adjusted his shirt, blousing it out from his pants.
Forty-five minutes later, they were driving through Northbrook, where his aunt lived. And his parents. And his grandparents, not that she was one to talk. She watched as the houses went past. Not that it looked all that different from Dekalb, her hometown, it was Illinois, it was flat, but still she looked. When she started at U of M, she remembered listening to the girls from here and Scarsdale and Bloomfield Hills, about their new cars and the trips and talking about ‘where they applied to college.’ Michigan was her one out of state school.
“Let’s do this,” she said, swinging her legs out from the car, not that anyone was watching. She remembered that first trip out to California, the way Emmy did it naturally, like she had been born to it and smiled to herself.
They walked in, and were greeted by Jared’s oldest sister, Jamie. “Hey, sweetie,” she said, giving Stephanie a kiss. “How’s everything? How’s McDermott these days?” Jamie was in-house for Jones Lang LaSalle, having, ‘gotten out of firm life as fast as possible.’
“Sucks,” she laughed, shrugging.
“Do your time and you’ll get out. Besides, just bank the cash. Let this one,” and she poked Jared, “pay for shit.”
Jared promptly rolled his eyes and ignored her, and they began walking through, greeting everyone. They found his grandmother leaning against the fireplace, ignoring one of his cousins. Stephanie took her in, all 5’3” and 140 lbs of her, in a beautiful blue blouse and white linen pants, and she thought back to the Cubs game with her grandparents. “Hey, Grandma,” Jared said, giving her a kiss. “What’s up?”
“Charles is annoying, but you knew that,” she laughed. “How are you two?” Turning to Stephanie, “How’s work? Do they still have you locked up doing garbage work?” Before Stephanie could answer, “more importantly, are the male,” the word dripping, “associates doing the same thing?”
“Yes, Gloria, they treat us all the same. Like dogs,” remembering her dad’s favorite Vince Lombardi quote.
She grinned, then her eyes narrowed. “Don’t let them. We all worked too hard for that.” Before she had met her the first time, Jared told her to expect this (‘grandma was like hardcore feminist, surprised she didn’t kill my dad.’), but still she was surprised.
“I know, Gloria.” The first time she met her, she called her ‘Dr. Gauss,’ since she was a sociology professor at UIC, which got a smile and a nod to Jared, and ‘call me Gloria.’ “I'm doing the best I can.”
“Good,” then looking at Jared, “go find your mother. She was looking for you.”
Stephanie walked through the house, looking at the art on the walls, the books on the shelves. She remembered the first time she came here and the way that his aunt Michelle had tried to explain the art to her in front of everyone.
---
“I can see the influence of Rothko,” Stef had said, to everyone's shock, and Jamie's amusement, “but it's really got more of a,” yard sale, “Robert Motherwell feeling,” you pretentious bitch. Yes, the little Catholic hick from Dekalb knows about art. Not that her family owned any or went to museums, that being reserved for school trips.
“They bought that shit at some charity auction,” Jared had laughed in the car on the way back, while she vented. “And that was only to show off. I guarantee you that they haven't been in the Art Institute in twenty years at least.”
---
Stef wandered through the house, saying hi to his various relatives, feeling their eyes burn a hole through her.
She wandered into the kitchen, where his aunt was busy directing the caterers. “Hey, Michelle.”
“Oh, hello, Stephanie,” she said, then telling a waitress to take the spanakopita out to the patio (‘look for a gray haired man in a sweater,’ her father, ‘first.’) “I'm sorry, I'm a little crazy as you can imagine.”
Stef smiled. “I just came in to say mazel tov.” Jared taught her the pronunciation before his cousin's bat mitzvah.
“Thank you,” and she gave her a kiss, while mentally deconstructing her. I made law review, she thought. You were selling makeup at Neiman’s when you met Dan. Just saying. At least, she was spared the inevitable ‘what about you two,’ Michelle having made her feelings clear.
Eventually, she found Nicki, in her pink sleeveless dress, surrounded by her friends. “Hey, Nicki,” she said, grinning. “Congratulations.”
She gave her a big hug. “I'm so glad you're here,” seeming sincere.
Stef laughed. “Lemme see.”
Nicki thrust her hand out dramatically. “If you insist.”
Stef looked at it. Probably two and half carats, square cut. “Very nice. Good job, Jake,” she said, kissing Nicki's fiance on the cheek.
Jake looked at Jared. “I have a guy,” he joked. “He'll hook you up.”
Jared gripped Stef's hand. They had discussed it, sort of, agreeing that it would happen. Eventually. Jared looked at him. “But you're taken, Jake.”
Nicki smiled, her easy smile, “That's right,” and she put her arm around his waist, “he is. Besides, you two would be terrible together. Jared could not deal with your neatness.” She turned to her friends. “Jake is an absolute neat freak.”
Stef watched them with detachment. Even after all these years, they were a foreign country to her, the way they joked and congratulated each other on successes and made efforts to see each other besides holidays. Not that her family wasn't supportive, she remembered the way Aunt Jackie made sure to send her care packages throughout college and law school, but this was something else. “Jews talk,” was all Jackie said.
Eventually, Nicki's dad stood next to her, his arm around her, holding his glass of champagne aloft. He thanked everyone and said, “I just want to say,” and his voice caught, “how happy I am that Nicki and Jake have found each other and how happy we are to have him in the family.” Nope, dad wouldn't say that, not that he disliked Jared. “And it seems like just yesterday, we were bringing Nicki home from the hospital.”
Nicki, “Daddy,” drawing it out. “You're embarrassing me,” as she ate it up.
He grinned, pulling her closer, “Just wait until the wedding.” Words never uttered in Nehlen land. She tried to remember Cat's wedding, if Uncle Kevin even said anything. He just showed his love in a new kitchen when she and Matt bought a house.
--
“Did you have a good time?” Jared asked, as she buckled her seatbelt after the party. Unlike her family, no one was drunk.
Jared always asked that whenever they saw his extended family, she realized. Trust me, she wanted to say, if I didn’t, you’d know. Then again, she never asked that in reverse, knowing the answer. He hated her family. Well, hate was harsh. But she noticed the way he’d always find a reason to go to the bathroom or offer to wash dishes (‘I don’t mind helping’), a fact that did not go unremarked on, not that she blamed him. “I did,” she smiled. “You don’t always need to ask. I like your family."
“They like you too.”
She laughed. “They should. I’m extremely likable.” Jared started driving, and she stared out the window. She watched a kid wash his new Jeep, lovingly cleaning the tires with a brush. Not that she got a new car or even expected one (‘getting your driver’s license means you’re first learning to drive,’ her dad joked. ‘A new car may as well as be a loaded gun’), even though Jordan got the truck when they turned sixteen.
Jared pulled into the lot of what looked like a junior high school. “Something wrong with the car?” Her father’s daughter, she could tell when she was driving if something was off, but she wasn’t, thank God, him, able to diagnose it from the passenger side. Let Jordan do that, she’d laugh to herself.
Jared looked around nervously. “Nah, this is my old junior high school.”
She wanted to get back to the apartment, to go to dinner, not go on a trip down memory lane. “OK?” Trying to hide her frustration.
“Can we walk around a little bit?”
“You know, we’ve been here how many times and you’ve never shown me this.”
“Well, I want to now, OK?” His eyes darted around.
Sighing, she unbuckled her seat bet. She got out of the car and looked around at the nondescript 1970s squat brick structure and wondered. He wasn’t breaking up with her, that much was clear. If you are, she thought, you could’ve saved me the trip. Besides, she was out of his league, he’d joke. And she was, except she had dated enough guys in her league to know that they were assholes. Jared was like dad in that way, he appreciated what he had. She smoothed her skirt and laughed. “You wanna go down memory lane, babe, fine.”
They walked around the building and she pictured seventh grade Jared, all curly mop and braces, walking in with his weird friend Alex. Twice a year, they’d go to dinner with him - he was an oncology fellow at Rush and barely had time to breathe. He wasn’t a bad guy and was impressed that she had ‘done that research project in high school’ (finalist in Intel, thanks), but still he’d look at her like he was waiting for her to mock him, like there were two football players waiting outside to kick his ass. She'd laugh to herself, thinking that we wouldn't have noticed you enough to care about you, much less beat you up.
He went out back to the football field and stood at the bleachers. “You know this is where I kissed my first girl. Kayla Gelb.”
“Cool.” She remembered her first time, Tommy Robredo at Kate’s ‘boy-girl party’ in sixth grade. She could still taste the drool on her lips.
And then - he dropped to one knee and reached into his pocket. “And I want it to be where I kiss my last girl,” and he grinned, looking right at her. “Stephanie Nehlen, will you marry me,” and he opened the box. Inside was a ring, emerald cut, at least three carats. She felt herself tearing up, dammit. This wasn't in the plan, the bastard. She nodded, unable to speak. “Is that a yes?”
She threw her arms around him and kissed him, hard. “Yes,” she coughed out. “Yes, yes, yes,” and they kissed again. “Yes.”
“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world. And I’m going to make you the happiest woman.”
She wiped her tears. “You better.”
She could see tears in the corners of his eyes. “I will. I promise,” and he slipped the ring on her finger. “Do you like it?”
“It’s gorgeous,” and she stared down at it. She was never one of those girls, except now she was.
“It’s my grandma’s,” he said proudly.
“I hope she doesn’t realize it’s missing,” she joked.
He laughed. “Oh shit, don't wear it around her. No, she gave it to me when I told her I was proposing to you.”
“You told her? Wow, she’s good. She didn’t let on or anything today.” All they talked about was work - and how she thought Nicki was selling herself short.
“Nah, she’s good. That’s why I hated playing cards with her when I was a kid. You really like it?”
“Yes, it’s gorgeous. I can’t wait to tell everyone.” She took out her phone and snapped a picture of her hand. She started typing and then hit send.
Two seconds later, “Hi, mom. Yes, he did. No, I just kept the ring. I know it’s beautiful. It’s his grandma’s. Please don’t go there, mom. I dunno, he just proposed like five minutes ago,” then, “hi dad. Yes, I said yes. I know you do. I love you too. I can’t wait to see you guys either. Love you.” Jared stood there laughing at her and she gave him the finger.
“They’re excited?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “Very.”
“What don’t you know?”
“Where we’re getting married. When. That kind of stuff.”
“Wherever you want. Whenever.”
“No,” she said, resolving not to be one of those brides, “we decide together.”
Jared laughed, “Sure.”
“I'm serious,” she said, poking him. “We do this together.”
“Sure, right,” he kept laughing, as she kept tickling him. “I'll pick a place, you'll say no. You'll pick a place, I'll say no and then you'll win,” he said, tickling her back. “I'm not stupid.”
She squirmed, giggling. “Yes, you are.”
More kissing her with big wet smacking noises. “I'm not, I know how this is going to work.”
She pulled away, feeling flush, out of breath and weirdly alive, “You're not leaving me to do this with her.”
He kissed her, seriously this time. “I won't. It's you and me.”
You and me, she thought. Damn.
---
Across the country, a phone pinged. What appeared was a picture of a left hand, on the ring finger of which sat a huge ring.
“OMG,” appeared on screen, then the phone rang. “Oh my God!!! Is that what I think it is?”
Stef smiled, Emmy, her little sister, was the human emoji, all smiles and hearts. “Mmm hmm, Emmy.”
The enthusiasm bubbled up. “I am so so so happy for you guys. That is so so so amazing.” She pictured her, her ponytail bobbing while she bounced in her seat. “Are you excited?”
“No, I said yes because I'm apathetic.”
“Shut UP!”
“Yes, I'm excited,” she laughed. “So you're going to be a bridesmaid…” She remembered how excited, nervous Emmy was that first time she put on Jordan's junior bridesmaid's dress, the way she kept turning this way and that. How cute she looked when she put on lip gloss and blush. The way that Jordan caught them and said only, “I thought mom said no makeup until you’re 15,” and walked out.
“Oh my gosh, for real?”
“Of course, for real. You're my sister,” she laughed. “It's you and Jamie and Brooke,” Jared's younger sister, in her first year at film school at USC, she and Emmy both in LA; she made a note to tell Jared to have them meet finally, “and Arden,” her best friend from college, “will be maid of honor.” Realizing how that sounded, “That doesn't bother you, right?”
Emmy, laughing, “Please, no, Steffie. It should totally be Arden. She's like your sister too.”
“You sure?”
Teasing, “So long as you didn't tell her first.”
Steffie looked at Jared, who was driving and grinning, “Of course not,” she lied, sort of. She had texted Arden, who was probably doing rounds at the hospital, but she hadn't heard back, so Emmy was the first to congratulate her. And it wasn't a competition. Arden was Arden and Emmy was Emmy. Two sides of the coin. “Of course not, you're my little sister. Anyway, we're on the way back from Nicki’s thing, so I'll call you later.”
“Emily's excited, I take it,” Jared laughed.
She started bouncing around in her seat, then smiled, thinking of how excited she'd be at the first dress fitting, how she’d keep staring at her reflection, how mom would joke and call her Tigger, like when she was little…”oh…”
“What?” Jared asked. “What's wrong?”
Jared knew about Emily. She had told him early on. If a guy was going to get freaked out, she wasn't going to waste time. Emmy was her sister and, if a birth certificate was a problem, so be it. “Mom…”
“Oh yeah…”
Then, “I don't care. Emily's my sister and she's going to be in the wedding,” girding for the fight.
“Works for me,” he said, then, “thanks for having Jamie and Brooke.”
“They're your sisters, of course I'm having them.”
“Your mom won't be upset that it's not Stace and Mia?” Jackie’s daughters.
“I'm not having sixteen bridesmaids. Unless it's a royal wedding, that's just tacky,” she laughed.
He rolled his eyes. “You're my princess.”
She thought about how his grandmother would lose her shit at that, how she didn't allow princess stuff in her house, how his mom joked about hiding it when she came over. She mock-removed the ring. “Pull over. Let me out.”
“Nope. Princess Stephanie, I like the sound of that,” he teased. “King Jared and Princess Stephanie, sounds good.”
“Oh fuck you,” she laughed, “more like Queen Stephanie and her consort.”
“Can I consort with you,” and he put his hand on her thigh, massaging it.
“You're cheating,” she laughed, as she squirmed. “No fair.”
He moved his hand up. “Email the no fair office. Just say yes.”
“Keep doing that,” she commanded. “Fine, you can consort with me, if you must.”
Just then, her phone rang. “Hi, Aunt Jackie,” mom’s sister, “I don't know, we've been engaged for like five minutes... No, definitely not in Dekalb... Well, let her know you agree...yeah, thanks... I'll send you a picture... We're in the car... Love you too.” to Jared, “This better stop tonight,” then, “let's see if any of them call.” Them being dad's family. Jared sighed and she continued, “Sorry, you're right,” and she stared at her finger. “Your grandpa had good taste.”
“He did. You'd hardly know it was zircon.”
She looked at him. “You know I don't care, right?” She knew what some of his family thought of her, that she was marrying him for money. Yeah, she'd think, take a look at my W-2 and then yours, and we'll see.
“I know. That's one of the reasons I love you. But it isn't. It's legit.”
She laughed, “Yeah, yeah, I know.”
---
Later that night, she was on the phone with Arden, friends since the first week of freshman year when Arden held her hair after a frat party. “Am I making a mistake?” The mistake being asking Emily to come East for the wedding.
Arden, yawning after a long shift. “No, absolutely not. She's your sister.”
“Yeah, but…”
“No buts,” Arden said. “She's your little sister. How could you not?”
Stef got up to stretch her legs, looking at the picture in the corner of the mirror, Arden, Emily and her at a football game in Ann Arbor, the first time Em went out as herself. Her face was a little more angular, the hair a little too short but the silly look, the smile was Em. “I'm afraid,” the first time she'd said that out loud.
“I get it, but if she doesn't want to, she'll let you know.”
Stef knew she wouldn't, Em was a people pleaser, no matter what. “I just don't want her to have any problems,” she sighed.
“She's a grown woman. She can handle herself, Stef.” Stef smiled, Arden the first to call her by the right pronoun.
“I know,” she exhaled. “I just worry.”
“You're a good big sister,” she placated her, “you always were,” then, “I still can't believe you're getting married.”
“Me either. Do you remember that girl senior year, what's her name?” And they went off on a girl who bragged about getting ‘her ring before spring,’ like it was the 50s or something, while Arden said, under her breath, ‘I'm gonna have an MD before an MRS.’
“Oooh,” Arden said, “maybe you can call her. Get some tips.”
“Oh, fuck you, Arden.” She was grinning from ear to ear.
“Not unless you buy me a rock like that.”
“Oh fuck no. You know how much I did for that? Put out then we’ll talk rings.”
“Nah, the bicoastal thing would never work for me. Or,” and Stef began giggling, preemptively, “the bi other thing.” In college, some Fiji asshole had tried to spread a rumor that she and Arden were lesbians, like it was a big deal. Yeah, well, it was - the disciplinary hearing got him on probation.
--
Monday morning, Stef was sitting in her office reviewing some prospectus, making sure that one set of rich people could cheat some other rich people, when her phone rang. “I’m at work, ma.”
“Hello to you too,” her mother said, faux-brightly. “So as we were discussing…”
We weren’t discussing anything, you were. I was looking at my phone. “Still at work, ma.”
“I just wanted to discuss some things with you.”
Arden’s ‘humor her’ in her ears, she moaned, “You get ten minutes. Sorry, but time is money. You know that.”
“It won’t take more than that.” Stef set the timer on her phone, mentally betting how far over she’d go.
“OK. Fine...what were we discussing?”
“Kaia…” Her cousin’s five year old daughter. The flower girl. To be. The flower girl to be. Named for the daughter of Cindy Crawford, the pride of Dekalb. Stef wondered how many Kaias were in her class.
“What about her?”
“Your grandmother’s very upset,” she sighed.
“Since when do you care about what she thinks?” She was now referred to only by the spat pronouns ‘she’ and ‘her.’
“I don’t, but she gave your father an earful and then gossiped to them.”
She looked at the clock. 9:20 seconds left. Did she miss getting on an elliptical machine? “Jesus, ma. So because they can’t keep their noses out of things, I have to have that little brat in my wedding? Besides, I don’t even know if I want a flower girl.”
“Of course, you do. We’ve covered this. You were in Rob and Jeannie’s wedding. You were adorable.”
Stef laughed, in spite of herself. “I’m cuter and was better behaved.”
A laugh, “Nonetheless, if you’re not going to have any of your cousins in the wedding, you need to give something.”
“Are any of them paying for this,” she scoffed, “because otherwise I don’t have to give anything.”
“Stephanie, don’t be like them,” her trump card. “She’s a little girl. Don’t blame her for her parents.”
“They blame me,” she said, a tinge of defensiveness in her voice. “They always have.”
“Who cares what they think?”
Stef, playing with a pen on her desk, balancing it on its point and trying to catch it before it fell. Shit. “You do. You brought it up.”
“I don’t care what they think. Your father does and I care about him, so ipso facto, I care about this…”
“Do the lawyers in your office actually say ‘ipso facto?’” She imagined the gales of laughter that would happen if someone said that here.
“Only Gerald,” the 80 year old semi-retired founding partner. “Nonetheless, that’s what marriage is...”
6:30. Was she on a glacier? “Putting up with shi,” and then she remembered how much her mother hated when she cursed, saying that ‘your sister does that,’ “stuff that neither one of you wants to placate some people neither of you can stand? Maybe, I won’t get married.”
Her mother laughed loudly. “No, it’s about caring about what your husband thinks.”
“If I say I’ll think about it - seriously think about it - can we get off the phone? I have work to do and talking about some brat being in my wedding when I’ve been engaged for two days seems counterproductive, no?”
“What did his aunt,” Michelle’s name never said, like Voldemort, “have to say?”
She sighed, remembering a Hanukkah party at Michelle and Dan’s house, Michelle repeatedly telling people how ‘they’re the first people I’ve ever met from Dekalb, I think.’ “Not going there, ma.”
“I’m sure she’s thrilled that you have his grandmother’s ring.” (‘She was following me around like I was going to take the silverware. Which is cheap junk from the outlets.’)
She held the phone to her keyboard and hit the keys. “Oh, I just checked the tickets for ‘there’. Aw, all sold out. So we’re not going. Maybe next time.” Then, she hit backspace to delete ‘drbnfkxtq.’
“I was just saying…”
Stef snapped. “Mom, I don’t care what anyone thinks - them, grandma, Jared’s family, no one. This is my wedding. We will have the wedding I want to have when I want to have it and where I want to have it with whomever I want to be in it. Period.” She hadn’t told her yet about Emily. “Understood?”
She could hear her teeth grit. “I’m not going to be lectured by you, Stephanie.”
She sighed, as the pen fell and rolled off her desk under the chair. She’d have to maneuver her chair just so to not crush it. “I’m not lecturing. And it’s not me against you,” a pause, “it’s us against them.”
A laugh. “I’m not letting you off that easily.”
She got up and moved her chair back, crushing the pen. Shit. “I’m sure you aren’t.”
“Can I tell her that Kaia will be in it?”
“Tell her that we haven’t decided if it’s a day or evening wedding,” because we’ve been engaged for TWO DAYS and they need lives, “but if it is, I will definitely consider her for the job.”
“With that, counselor,” she laughed. “I love you, have a good day.”
“Love you too, ma,” she sighed.
Twelve hours later, her boss called her into his office. “Everything OK?” she said, as she knocked.
Without looking up, he said, “I hear congratulations are in order.”
She could feel the love emanating from him. “Thanks.”
He looked up for a second and smiled. “Seriously, congrats. They tell you the secret of a good marriage is listening. It isn’t. The secret of a good marriage is not listening. Pay attention to no more than ten percent of what he says and you’ll be fine.”
She laughed. “I thought it was ‘never go to bed angry’,” something someone had said at Cat’s wedding.
He laughed. “Then, no one here would ever get married. Or sleep. Anyway, knock off for the night. Go see your betrothed,” the last word said with all due sarcasm.
---
She got on the el, making sure to turn her ring inward. She pulled out her phone and began flicking through TMZ, Twitter, anything mindless to keep herself occupied.
A message popped up. ‘Congrats,’ from Jordan. Jordan was working in Indianapolis as a construction manager, the lone sibling to go anywhere near anything resembling the family business, even if they were five hours away working for another company.
She remembered how excited Jordan used to get when Dad would take them to a job site, how much they didn’t shut up when Dad let them haul nails to the crew. She typed back, ‘wow it took you two days thx’
A middle finger emoji, followed by ‘r u married yet if not be quiet’ then ‘srsly congrats thats great I like Jared’
‘Thx He likes u 2’ then, ‘hows Kira,’ followed by heart emojis
‘Fuh Q’ followed by laughing emojis, then ‘I try 2 be nice and this is what I get’
‘Sorry couldnt resist,’ then ‘I wont say anything anymore’
‘Shes good were good its good’
‘Are we a we yet’
‘Well see,’ followed by a shrug emoji, the man one. Hmmm. ‘Were good right now later is later,’ which was pure Jordan, then ‘where r u’
‘El going home’
‘U shouldnt be on train this late’
She smiled. If you had asked her when they were kids, the idea that Jordan would not be actively trying to get her killed or at least hurt would have been unfathomable. ‘Thx Jared’
‘I care about u PITA,’ family slang for ‘pain in the ass.’ Which made ordering every trip to the Middle Eastern restaurant amusing. ‘I dont want u hurt’
‘Awww,’ then, ‘u just dont want to have to deal w them alone’
‘Duh’
‘My stop next love u say hi to Kira’
‘Love u 2’ and ‘im ignoring you’
She put away her phone and smiled.
--
They were on their way to Dekalb, the satellite radio tuned to ‘90s on 9,’ Jared, singing along to “You Get What You Give,” his fascination with oldies befuddling her. She looked out the window at the bleak expanse of I-88, the other cars, the personal injury billboards, the nothingness flying past her at 80 miles an hour. The song ended and he asked, “Are they going to be there?”
She raised her arm and watched her bangle bracelet slide, then lowered it and watched it slide back. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. She,” probably, “wouldn’t do that to us.”
“Not that I don’t love your family,” convincing, especially as his knuckles turned white on the wheel.
She laughed, “You don’t always have to say that. You know that I hate your aunt.”
“Yes,” he smiled, “but I’m nicer than you.”
She smirked. “That’s like being the world’s second tallest midget, Jar. I’m a bitch,” then, teasing, “seriously, why would you want to be married to me?”
Without looking at her, “Oh, that’s easy. You’re really hot.”
She looked down at herself. 5’7”, 36 Cs, 25 inch waist. Great legs, if you believed the stares she got on the street. “Oh. That makes sense,” she said. “You know why I’m with you?”
He laughed. “My huge dick?”
She held two fingers close together. “Mmm, nope.”
“My winning personality?” His hands now relaxed.
“If that’s winning, I’d hate to see losing.” And she turned the channel to Z-100 from New York, making Jared grimace. “Try again.”
“I have no idea,” he laughed.
“Because,” she said, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek, “I love you. Because you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He looked confused. “I’m serious.”
He smiled. “Oh, OK. That seems like a good reason,” and she punched him. “Hey!”
“I love you too,” then, “we had to do this, right?”
“Yes,” she groaned. “We had to. They’re my parents.”
They pulled up, mom’s car and dad’s F-350 in the driveway, her old cheerleading trampoline rusting in the backyard, Jordan’s basketball hoop, with a fresh net, like a dog waiting hopelessly by the window for its master. Jared made jazz hands, “Showtime,” and got out of the car.
Stef opened the door and looked at the pictures in the hall. Stef in her cheerleading outfit, Jordan in their basketball uniform, graduation shots, her dad with his arm around her at the football game. She remembered the family shots that used to be here, her mom wrestling Jordan into a dress, Emmy looking miserable in a shirt and tie, then everyone all cheesy grins.
“We’re here,” she yelled.
Her dad came out first, in his polo shirt and jeans. “Hey, Steffie,” he said, drawing her into him. He wasn’t tall, 5’11”, but years on site had given him first muscles, and now, as a supervisor, pure bulk. Not fat, although he could lose 15 pounds, just heft like a tugboat.
She kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, Daddy. Look,” she said, theatrically waving her hand in his face.
He smiled. “You got a manicure?”
“Very funny,” and she rolled her eyes.
He took her hand. “Look at that,” he said, smiling, then wordlessly hugging her again.
He looked at Jared, “I would’ve liked for you to ask me for her hand before you did it.” You could see the beads of sweat forming on Jared’s forehead, and her dad laughed, “because I would’ve told you that you have to take the whole thing. Daughter parts aren’t worth anything on the market.” He stuck out his hand, “Congratulations you two.” She watched her dad’s eyes just to make sure Jared shook correctly.
Her mom came out of the kitchen, and gave Jared a big hug and kiss. “Congratulations! Welcome to the family!” She watched her father and Jared both tense up, each not eyeballing the other.
Jared gave her another kiss. “Thanks, Laura.”
Her mother took her hand. “This is beautiful, Jared. This was your grandmother’s,” a look passing from her mother to her father, who slumped ever so slightly.
“Um, yeah. When I told her I wanted to propose, she told me to take it. Well, I mean she was kinda drunk at the time.” Stef tensed as another look passed between her parents and she looked at Jared, who was getting flop sweat. “Yeah, no, seriously, she really wanted Stef to have it. She said that grandpa would’ve wanted that. Anyway, I hope you know that I love Stef more than anything and would do anything to make sure she’s always happy.”
What the fuck, she thought. Where is this coming from? Her mother smiled, “I know, Jared. That’s beautiful.”
Her father smiled and looked at her. Then, “Always? Good luck to you, buddy,” which made Stef hit him in the back of the head. Chastened, sort of, “That’s your job. Keep my little girl happy,” and she’d swear she saw a tear in his eye. Then, “who wants a drink? Beer, Jared?” A test that Jared had been passing for the past year or so.
“Umm, sure,” Jared, dreading Old Style (‘my last experience with that involved me facing the bottom of a garbage can’) and breathing a sigh of relief when he brought out a Blue Moon.
“Wine, Steffie?” Her mom asked. “White?”
I don’t drink white, ma, she thought. Have you ever seen me drink white? Then, kicking herself, “Sure, sounds great.”
They sat down and talked about work for a while, then the wedding. “No,” Stef sighed, “we’re not getting married here.”
Her father, jumping in, “That’s fine, honey. Whatever you want,” he smiled, “within reason.”
“Thank you Doug,” her mother spat.
Her dad looked at her. “Laura, come on. They live in Chicago, their friends are in Chicago. It’s crazy for them to drag everyone out here.”
Her mother, staring daggers. “I appreciate the support, Doug.”
Her dad, grinning. “Oh, Linda,” her maternal grandmother, which made Stef laugh.
Her mother, softening, “You don’t have to get nasty about it,” she laughed. “We had always discussed having it here.”
“When? When did we ever discuss that?” Stef said, her tone harsher than intended. She laughed a little. “Sorry, but when?”
“When Cat got married,” her mother said.
“You mean,” she laughed, “when I was a junior in high school? I don't even remember that conversation.”
“You said it was nice,” her mother said. Cat had gotten married at the Hilton, which was fine, if you liked a hotel ballroom.
“I also thought Olive Garden was fine dining,” which made her mother smile slightly.
Jared laughed. “We could get married there. Unlimited salad! And breadsticks!”
A glare from Stef, and a ‘Jared,’ from her father, followed by ‘let me give you some advice if your dad hasn't. Stay out of wedding talk. There are only two possibilities there - worse and more worse.’
Stef, “Jared and I will decide where it's happening. Right?” Her dad looked at her, then at Jared.
“Umm, yup, Stef. You and me,” then, laughing, “mostly you probably.”
Stef, annoyed but refusing to give them the satisfaction. “You're entitled to an opinion, so long as it's mine,” she teased, poking him.
After fifteen more minutes of wedding talk, she excused herself and walked upstairs to the bathroom, conveniently ignoring the downstairs powder room. She walked down the hall, looking at the pictures, the ones from when she was little, the more personal vacation shots.
You have got to be fucking kidding, she thought, as she looked at a shot from Disney World from when she was eleven, the twins seven.
Her, mom, dad, Jordan...and a mysterious set of legs hanging over Dad’s shoulders. Jesus, she thought, really?
She went into her room and sat on the bed, looking around, the room preserved, as if in amber. Her yearbooks, her cheerleading trophies, the four National Honor Society certificates. The Intel Science Search plaque, congratulating her for being a finalist, her project focused on developing a new test for sepsis. She remembered Grandpa Frank in the hospital, with the infection that killed him, how proud Grandma Linda was about her project (‘you have greatness in you,’ she'd said, when she told her about the prize.)
Yeah, she thought, do I still?
“I thought you fell in,” she heard Jared say, as he stood in the doorway, grinning.
“Yeah, no. Sorry to leave you there.”
“It's fine. They were asking me about work,” he laughed.
“You know, they don't understand what you do,” she smiled, as he sat down next to her.
“I don't, why should they?” He grinned, “Check it out, guys, I'm in bed with a cheerleader,” his standard joke whenever they came here. Funny the first six times.
“No, you're in bed with the captain of the team,” she scolded him. “If you're going to tell your friends, at least be accurate.”
He kissed her. “You OK?”
“No, I mean I'm fine, just…”
He touched her shoulder. “She's really into this.”
“I know.”
“And it's not like Jordan's gonna be walking down the aisle.”
“They could,” she said, as she sat up, smoothing down the back of her shirt. “Don't say that.”
He sat up. “You know what I mean. Somehow, I picture Jordan being told where to show up and that's that.”
“We should get back downstairs,” she sighed.
“I was wondering if everything was ok,” her mother said, “you were up there a long time.”
“Maaa,” she moaned, the house making her regress by thirteen years, “it wasn't that long.”
Her mother looked at her. “Oh grow up, do you make that noise at work? Does she do this at home, Jared?”
Jared, eyes darting between the other three, “No, she just tells me to do stuff,” then, imitating her, “Ja-RED, I told you to pick up your socks.”
Her father laughed. “Enjoy it now. But, I know the women in this family. You’ll pay for that later.”
They ate lunch, her father asking questions about prospectuses (‘you really read all of that?’ ‘Yeah, they pay a lot for us to read’) and her mom talking about house closings.
“Do you mind if we go for a walk?” Stef asked, after they had sat for a while. “I feel like walking around the neighborhood.”
“Don't be too long. Come home before it's dark,” her mother joked.
They walked along, Stef staring silently at the houses, Jared walking along next to her. Katie's, not that she'd been inside since homecoming after freshman year of college. The Douglases, whose son had been killed in Iraq, how they stayed still a mystery.
They had turned onto one of the streets, when she saw a man and a woman walking towards them. As they got closer…
“Johnny?” Stef said. “Johnny Harper?” A boy, Emmy and Jordan's year.
The man blushed slightly, while the woman, who was clearly a teenage girl trying to look older, laughed. The man's eyes widened. “Stephanie?” Then, they hugged.
Stef took him in, and she could feel Jared adjusting his posture. “Yup. What are you doing with yourself these days?”
John, smiling. She imagined that smile was quite effective. “I'm in a training program at B of A, retail brokerage. And you?”
“I'm an associate at McDermott Will in Chicago. It's a law firm.”
Jared stuck his hand out, a grin plastered on his face. “I'm Jared Gauss, her fiance.”
As John grinned and shook his hand, Stef said. “Johnny was,” a pause, “the twins’ year.” The girl looked at the two men, then rolled her eyes at Stef. “Hi, I'm Stephanie Nehlen.”
Before the girl could say anything, John piped in, “This is my baby sister,” which got a punch.
“Lee Lee?” Stef said, “I babysat you a few times.”
The girl, 5’9”, 140, with John's blonde hair and blue green eyes, long legs sticking from beneath her dress, smiled tightly. “Liana, and I'm sorry I don't remember you.”
Stef, smiling to disarm her, “I wouldn’t expect that you would. You were about three,” and then, “I’m sorry. My parents did, do, that to me all the time. It’s like, ‘I met them once when I was little. No, I have no idea who they are.’ Anyway, you have to be a junior now.”
John put his arm around her. “She is, and she’s a cheerleader.” Turning to his sister, “Stef was a cheerleader too.” Stef looked at Jared, paused to say something, and stopped him.
Liana, looking at John, “Cool.”
“Is Coach Lynch still there?”
Liana, clearly stifling a yawn. “Nah, I think she retired.” Bitch, Stef thought. Then, she’s seventeen and talking to some woman she doesn’t know, what do you expect?
“Oh well,” Stef smiled. Then, I could outcheer you any day of the week. And that dress has the exact opposite effect you wanted it to have.
“How are Chris and Molly doing?” John said brightly.
“They’re good,” Stef said brightly, taking a second to process about whom he was talking.
“What are they up to?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She wasn’t sure what she could or couldn’t say. “Molly’s name is Jordan now. They're in Indianapolis, working as an assistant construction manager.”
John laughed, telling his sister, “Molly, sorry Jordan, was such a tomboy and always liked going to job sites with her dad.” Liana’s look all but announcing, ‘remember when I said couldn’t care less, oops, I could. “That’s great. And Chris? How’s he doing? I never see him on any of the school groups.”
“In California. Working as a legal assistant. Trying to be an actor.” Saving for a vagina, the usual.
“Well, that’s great,” Johnny said, “anyway, it’s my parent’s 25th today. We just took a break from the party. Say hi to everyone for me,” and they walked away.
After they were out of earshot, Jared laughed, “Well, that was awkward.”
Stef laughed. “You have no idea. Emmy used to have such a crush on him.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Do you think he knew?”
Stef smiled. “Um, would you have at that age?”
“You could’ve held up a sign and I’d have missed it,” he said, kissing her. “But I got better.”
Stef kissed him back, her arms around his neck. “Sure, sure you did.”
---
On their way home, they decided to stop at Jewel, to pick up non-perishables. It was cheaper out here and besides they could load up the car. They were pushing the cart down the pasta aisle when she heard, “You know there are supermarkets closer to you.”
She turned to see Aunt Jeannie, the one aunt on her dad’s side she could tolerate. “Hey Aunt Jeannie,” and she gave her a hug.
She backed up and waved her hand toward her. “Lemme see.”
Stef swore she would never do it again after the last time, but she held her hand out. “Very nice,” then grinning, “congratulations, you two,” then, grinning devilishly, “my flower girl is getting married.”
Jared smiled, “That’s funny. So are we. Tell her congratulations.”
Jeannie, “Anyone ever told you you’re funny?”
Jared, giving her a kiss, “My mom.”
“She lied. Seriously, we are so happy.” She saw Stef’s eyes dart. “Don’t worry. They,” no need to say who, “shop at the other one. Certain people,” the words dripping with contempt, “shop here.”
Stef rolled her eyes. “Whatever. How’s Uncle Rob, Liam?” She didn’t mention her cousin Robbie, Robbie having joined the ranks of the unnamed.
“Everyone’s good. Looking at schools, you know the drill.”
“I’d be happy to take him to Michigan,” she teased.
“Ummm, are you happy to pay for it?” Notre Dame was one of Michigan’s rivals until they backed out of the series.
“Well, I mean,” and she teased Rob in absentia, “Rob’s school would be a solid - if distant - second choice school. I mean, if Illinois State rejects him.”
Jared smiled, “I’m going to go get toilet paper and water. Do you need anything else?”
Stef smiled at Jeannie. “A big ol’ thing of tampons, the largest they have, like super economy size.” He turned red. “Jeannie, do you need him to get you anything?”
Jeannie smiled. “A big package of pink razors and some flowery shaving cream. Take off the cap and sniff, just to be sure.”
“Ha ha,” he said, as he walked away.
Jeannie laughed. “Well, that was mean of you.”
“Oh, he knows I was kidding. We don’t have the space for that,” her hands resting on the bar of the cart. “What else is going on?”
Jeannie looked around, “I saw Emily.”
Stef smiled. “I know. She told me. What do you think?” Bracing herself.
Jeannie smiled. “She is an absolutely lovely young woman.”
Stef, shocked. “Really? You think so?”
Jeannie, “Absolutely. She is just so sweet, charming and polite and I’m so happy for her. We had a wonderful afternoon with her.”
Stef leaned forward in case one of them decided to brave it here. “What did Uncle Rob have to say,” and she took a deep breath.
Jeannie looked at her. “He feels the same way about her. He has business out there now and made her promise that she’d go to dinner with him.”
“Really? He’s not weirded out? You’re not?”
A glare. “Absolutely not. As far as I’m concerned, she was always Emily.” Stef let out a breath. “Although, and you absolutely cannot repeat this, she looks more like your mom than any of you.”
Stef laughed. “Oh god yeah, but they’d both lose it if they heard you. I mean, she really looks like Aunt Jackie at that age,” remembering a picture of her and mom on the beach.
“I could see that,” then Jeannie got serious, “what’s gonna happen with the wedding?”
Stef, matter of fact but tense, “She’s in it. She’s going to be a bridesmaid.”
Jeannie whistled. “Have you told your mom yet?”
“There’s nothing to tell. My wedding, my sister. How could I not have her?”
“I am behind you one hundred percent for what it’s worth but you know there’s going to be a shit storm, excuse me.”
Stef smiled tightly. “I don’t give a fuck, excuse me,” which got a laugh, “they don’t like it, they don’t have to come.”
Jeannie smiled, “I admire your courage. I question your sanity, but I admire your courage nonetheless. We will be there, assuming we don’t get disinvited with them.”
Stef smiled. “I’m going to put you at a table of normal people.”
“I’m honored.” They saw Jared coming in the distance. “He knows, right?”
Stef smiled. “Oh yeah. He couldn’t deal, he’d be gone.”
“And he’s good with it?”
“He loves her,” having spoken to her on the phone. “He says he still doesn’t know how we have the same parents.”
Jeannie laughed, “You couldn’t have two Emmys or two yous in this family.”
Jared came over, a cart full of water and toilet paper. Stef looked at him. “We don’t have space,” then, “I know it was on sale, but we don’t have space.”
Jeannie laughed. “Just so you know Stef, enjoy it now. Once you get married, he,” and she jerked her thumb back, “won’t set foot in here,” then she kissed them and went off.
Jared looked at her. “Everything good?”
She shrugged and they went to pay.
Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman, who hasn't seen her twin Jordan in six years. Not since she told her parents the truth about herself and they threw her out. Her older sister is getting married and wants Emily there - as a bridesmaid. Will sparks fly?
----
In this chapter, Emily and Duncan go on a real date, she gets an audition and sees her uncle again. Please let me know if there's interest in my continuing the story.
---
“Hey, Em,” said one of the other assistants, as they stood in the bathroom after work. “We’re headed to the Dublin. Are you interested?”
Emily smiled. “I’ll take a rain check…” It never actually rained here. Maybe they should call it an earthquake check or a mudslide check.
The other woman looked at her. “Who is he?”
“Who is who?” She looked at her reflection in the mirror, checking her teeth. She hated the way fluorescent lights made her already pale complexion look sallow.
The other woman laughed. “Oh, stop. You know who.”
Emily laughed, still checking the mirror. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t.”
She would and Emily knew she would, but, “His name’s Duncan. He’s a chef. I met him the other night.” She had met him when, in an effort to avoid opening the letter her aunt had left for her the day before they met, she had gone with one of the other waitresses and her boyfriend to a restaurant at which Duncan was a chef. She had come 2,000 miles and met a guy from the Chicago suburbs.
The other woman, married with two kids, laughed, “A chef, huh? What are you and the chef,” said with a leer she didn’t think was possible, “doing?” Emmy saw herself turn pink. “Or what have you done already?”
“We haven’t done anything. I mean, we kissed. But that’s it. And we’re going to Santa Monica. OK?”
The other woman smiled. “OK!” Then, “Santa Monica, really?”
“It’s a first date. At least if the date sucks, we have the pier and the ocean and stuff,” and she began fixing her makeup. “Do I look OK?”
The other woman smiled, “You look cute.”
“Cute?” She looked at herself, her hair down around her shoulders. The white cotton sleeveless eyelet top. She had checked her ass before. She thought she looked good, maybe even hot. But cute?
The other woman smiled, “Cute. Cute is good. Not over the top like…” The name didn’t need to be said. The daughter of one of the firm’s biggest clients had worked as a paralegal for a year, until she got bored, and was utterly useless. In exchange, she was a bitch. “You look really good, Em. Besides, he has to impress you.”
Em smiled. “We’ll see. Anyway, have a good time tonight,” she said, as she put her bag over her shoulder.
It only took her forty minutes to make the seven mile drive from Century City to Santa Monica. She pulled her robin’s egg blue Nissan Fit into a spot on the street, grateful that it was too worthless for anyone to actually steal, then got out and began walking to the Pier to meet Duncan. The woman wasn’t wrong, it was hackneyed as hell but she liked it and it was easy to find besides.
She was ten minutes early, and figured she’d walk to the end of the pier and back, when she heard, “Hey, Emily.” She saw Duncan in front of a sandwich shop, smiling. He was wearing a button down shirt that was tight in the shoulders and jeans, and black lace up shoes. He was 6’3”, 230 pounds. He wasn't fat and he wasn't a muscle head; he was just big. When she met him, she pictured him in high school, an unwilling linebacker or tight end.
“Hey, Duncan,” she said, trying to smile and not grin. “You’re early.”
He had the same awkward smile, his brown eyes somehow shining. “Old habits die hard. I’m glad that we’re able to do this.”
“Me too,” she said, feeling strands of hair in her face, and moving them away. “They give you off Wednesdays?”
He smiled. “It’s not too busy. Plus, I traded. I’m working brunch Sunday.”
She felt her face twist. Everyone hated brunch. The wait staff, because the crowds were big and rude. The chefs, because no one wanted to cook French toast and omelettes. The bartenders, because no one was ordering real drinks - and real drinks meant real tips. “Ooh, sorry.”
He laughed. “It’s fine. It’s a good trade for me,” he said, looking down at her.
She brushed some more hair from her face. “Thanks. So, what are we going to do?”
“So,” he said, “I was thinking. We can either go to one of the places here, get a drink, all that. Or we can walk along and, if, when, we get hungry, one of my friends runs the best Korean BBQ truck you’ve ever had over there.”
And she heard Marissa’s voice - ‘food truck, yecch.’ And Shaye - ‘food truck? Um, see ya.’ And she looked at Duncan and remembered the other night. “Why don’t we walk along and play it by ear? If we want to sit down, we’ll sit down. If we want Korean, we can do that. OK?”
He smiled. Even sober, he had a great smile that made his eyes light up. “Sounds like a plan. So, how do you like working in a law firm?”
And so began the inevitable first date chatter, everyone trying to feel each other out. “It’s good. I mean, I like the people I work with and the work’s easier than waiting tables...how do you like being a chef?”
He laughed. “You know what it’s like. It’s hot and noisy and everyone’s crazy.”
“Do you ever miss finance?” Please say no, she thought. Stef could keep the finance bros.
He laughed. “Not at all. Buncha assholes, excuse me,” which she found endearing, “all trying to show how tough they are. None of them would last a night in a kitchen,” he said, as they began walking along. “So, CalArts, huh?”
“Uh huh,” she said, smiling and looking down. “What about it?”
“How was it? What was it like?”
She looked up at him, and tried to keep one eye where she was walking. “I dunno. It was,” the first place where I was accepted, where I felt comfortable in my own skin, “fun. Very creative.”
“I can imagine,” he said. “So, it’s just artists and actors and dancers?”
She smiled. “Yup. Pretty much.”
“Wow,” he said, “that has to be pretty cool. Like you’re there with the people who are going to make all the shows and stuff...ok, that sounded dorky.”
She smiled, “Not at all. I mean, you don’t really think about it like that, when you’re there. It’s just...school. Classes and stuff. What’s Notre Dame like?”
“Not that,” he laughed. “Definitely not that. Like if there are creative people there, I didn’t know them.”
“Don’t say that,” she said, still looking into his eyes, “you’re creative.”
“Nah. I’m not coming up with a whole series in my head. I’m making reductions and glazes. It’s not the same.” She felt his hand touch hers and she opened it, letting his fingers entwine with hers. There was something about chef's hands that she found alluring, the burns, cuts and scar tissue rough against the skin she spent too much on to keep it soft. “Is this OK?” She nodded. “Cool.”
They kept walking and talking, so much that she didn’t pay attention to the sun setting. “So, there’s three of you?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “Still three of us. Hasn’t changed.”
“And Stef’s a lawyer. And Jordan, she’s…”
“They,” Emily said. “Jordan’s non-binary.”
“Sorry,” he said, and she looked in his eyes to try and discern what he was thinking, “they. They’re in construction management. And you’re the actress.”
She smiled, “You passed the quiz. And there’s you and Niamh. And she’s a senior at Villanova, and wants to be a doctor.”
He grinned. “You passed too,” and he leaned down to kiss her. She opened her mouth and let his tongue in.
He finished. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.”
She looked at him. “I opened my mouth. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have.”
“You’re sure?”
She smiled. “I think you need to kiss me again, just so I’m sure.” This time, she felt his hands around her waist and put her arms on his neck. They kissed and she made a face. “Yup, OK. It’s definitely OK.”
He smiled, “I’ll take OK.” They kept walking. “What about your parents?”
She took a breath. I hate them. They hate me. We haven’t seen each other in six years. “I have them,” she joked.
“What do they do?”
Hate me and wish I was never born. “My dad runs a construction company with his family and my mom works as a law firm administrator.”
“Is that why you became a legal assistant?” His face open and curious, so much so that she had to stop herself.
“Nah, that’s just a coincidence. I needed a job with insurance. Matt was hiring and he’s incredibly cool about auditions.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s a paycheck. I mean, the people are perfectly nice. When, if my acting career ever hits, I won’t keep doing it.” The wind blew her hair in her face, but she wasn’t going to put it up, not on a first date.
“I get that.”
“And your parents?” She was trying to picture Duncan telling his parents that, after four years of tuition at ND, he wanted to be a chef.
“I have two also,” he grinned.
“Very funny…”
“My dad is a lawyer at Sidley and my mom works in development for Northwestern.”
She laughed, “And neither one of you went there? Like doesn’t she get free tuition or something?” If they could’ve gotten that, that’s where they would have had to go. As it was, they all got scholarships.
He looked at her. “Thanks, dad...yeah, but my dad was like ‘I get it. You want out.”
“I mean,” and she thought about them, how they fought over every dollar, “that’s great, but still…”
He laughed. “They can afford it. You wanna ask him about me becoming a chef, that’s a whole other story.”
“I think it’s cool.”
“Thank you,” he laughed, then he looked at his phone. “Wow, it’s been two hours.”
Shit. Fuck. He’s going to want to leave. “Do you have someplace to be?”
He looked shocked. “No. Not at all. I’ve been having a really good time.”
“Me too.”
“I was just surprised at how fast the time went. Have you ever been on one of those dates that just drags?”
She smiled, “And you’re like, ‘oh just shoot me already?’” And she mimed just that.
“Yeah. Well, this isn’t one of those. Is it?”
She felt the warmth of his hand on hers. “No.”
“So, are you hungry?”
She kept smiling. “I could eat something,” then, to the silent cries of her friends, “you wanna see if your friend’s here?”
They walked back and she saw the truck, ‘Seoul Brother No. 1,’ which was kinda cheesy and she began to regret her decision. The tiger on the side did nothing for her either. He walked up. “Hey!”
A large Asian man, in a bandana and stained chef’s whites came over and stuck out his hand. “Yo, Dunc!”
Grinning, he said, “Meet Emily Berrigan. And Emily, this reprobate is,” and he gave his friend’s name, “we met in culinary school.”
She stuck out her hand and felt the calluses on his. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
He smiled as he checked her out, which still made her feel good, even as she knew it was wrong and crass. “Well, welcome to Seoul Brother No. 1, where we’re trying to do a Korean barbecue with a Southern twist. Allow me to draw your attention…”
“She is, or was, a waitress,” Duncan said flatly.
“I want to hear the pitch. We’re paying customers,” and she tapped her foot.
They both laughed. “Fine,” Duncan’s friend said, “I’ll do mine if you do yours.”
She put on her best fake smile. “Welcome to Mariposa, is this your first time with us? Well then…,” and she did the pitch, complete with hand gestures. “So?”
“I’m convinced. You, Dunc?”
He took her hand and smiled. “I’m sold.”
Duncan’s friend did his pitch, to the hoots of Duncan and everyone in the truck, one of whom kept calling him ‘maricon,’ (then, looking at Emily, ‘I’m gay, but there’s gay and there’s this’). “How was that?”
She waved her hand side to side. “I didn’t feel it completely.”
His friend laughed, “Fucking actresses. Anyway, let me give you the marinated short rib over the collards, side of mac?”
“Sounds delicious,” she said.
“What do I get, dick?”
He looked at the guy next to him. “What’s about to spoil?”
“Your mom,” the guy said. She was amazed at the way the kitchen repeated itself in the cramped space of the truck. “Give her the bulgogi spiced catfish over the greens. Give him the short rib. They’ll split it and fatboy,” pointing at Duncan, who smirked, “will eat most of it.”
They got their food and left the truck. “Sorry about that,” he laughed.
“About what?” She balanced the drinks in her hands, while he carried the food.
“That’s just them.”
“Are you serious? Do you know how many kitchens I’ve been in? I saw a dishwasher stab a line cook once.”
His eyes widened. “Serious?”
“Oh yeah, I came in to get an order and they were yelling at each other and he stabbed, well grazed, him.”
“So what happened?”
She shrugged. “The chef told the dishwasher to keep washing dishes, made the line cook put on a finger cot and everyone went back to work.”
“What did you do?”
She laughed. “Picked up my order and went back out. No one likes cold food.”
He laughed. “You are something else, Emily,” and they sat down. She took a bite of the catfish, “Oh, wow, this is really good….try it,” and she almost picked up her fork, then stopped herself.
He took a bite, and smiled. “Not terrible.”
“Not terrible? It’s really good.”
He grinned. “I could do it better.”
She raised an eyebrow, “you could do Korean better than him?”
He looked at her, as she took a bite of the ribs. “What are you trying to say?”
Staring back, and grinning, “You know what I’m trying to say.”
She felt his foot brush hers under the table, not sure if it was inadvertent - and not caring. “Are you trying to say that just because I’m a big white kid from Chicago,” the nasal ‘a’ coming out, making her smile in spite of it, “I can’t make this better…”
“Than a Korean kid,” and she tried the mac and cheese, and purposely closed her eyes and smiled, “yep, that’s what I’m saying. I mean,” and she looked down then up, “I’m sure you could do some things better.”
He looked at her, his brown eyes shining. “I can do a lot of things better than he can.”
She felt her throat tighten and her pulse race, and then she remembered. “I’m sure,” she smiled. “I meant in the kitchen.” Very smooth, Emily, she thought.
He kept smiling. “I knew what you meant,” then he took a bite of the short rib, “fuck, this is actually pretty good,” and he reached over for the catfish. “Excuse me.”
She teased, “you take it and then you say excuse me? Wow…”
He turned a little red, which was cute. “Yeah, sorry.”
She reached over and took some greens. “Now, we’re even,” she smiled. Her hair kept blowing in her face, and now little bits of short rib were getting stuck.
He looked at her, fumbling with her hair. “Why don’t you put your hair back?”
“Huh?”
He took another bite, then a sip of his beer. “My sister always has something to tie her hair back in her bag. Don’t you?”
“I do. I just…” And he stared at her, in incomprehension. “OK,” and she put it back, thinking, ‘well, this is too soon.’
He smiled. “That’s better. I mean, unless you want sauce in your hair. Which, if you do, I make no judgments.”
She could hear her friends screaming not to do it, but still she moved over to his side of the table, smiling. “Less wind this way.”
He looked at her, then leaned in. She closed her eyes and could taste catfish and ribs and beer. She debated - hands on bench or hands on his waist? Bench is definitely first date, she thought. Not too forward, not too needy. And then she felt his hands on her waist. Waist it is, she smiled to herself.
They pulled away. “Just so you know,” she laughed. “That was definitely OK.”
“Good.” They finished eating and she began clearing up, sweeping crumbs off the table into her hands. “You know, the wind does a pretty good job of getting those.”
She smiled, as she picked up everything. “Old habits die hard.”
“Am I supposed to leave a tip then?” She liked the way his back muscles stretched across the shirt, the shirt she wanted off of him in the worst way. But, it was a first date and she needed to be honest. “Because I’m kinda short of cash.”
They walked back to the pier and walked along, looking at the tacky stores. She caught her reflection in the window of one. Aunt Jeannie was right, she did look cuter with her hair up. She wondered what everyone saw, what they were thinking.
After four hours, he walked her to her car. “You know,” she said, leaning against the door, “you didn’t have to do this.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I did. It’s too late for you to be walking around here by yourself.”
Looking up at him, “I can handle myself.” God knows, I’ve had to when no one else was willing to help.
Still smiling, “I’m sure you can. But I just wanted to be sure you were OK.”
Now, his hand was on the roof of her car. She liked the way he splayed his fingers out across the top. “Thank you,” then, “are you sure that you’ll be OK walking to yours? I can drive you…”
He smiled, leaning forward, “I think I can make it.”
Her pulse raced again, and she felt herself getting warm, wondering if she needed her levels checked again. “That’s good.”
“So I’m going to kiss you again, if that’s OK,” he laughed.
She pursed her lips to the side, and tapped her foot. “Mmm, OK,” she laughed, as she felt his hands around her waist, the calluses through her shirt.
They kissed and he pulled away. “I’d like to see you again.”
She smiled, still warm. Nope, definitely not my levels, she told herself. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll call,” he said, as he walked away. “Get home safely.”
“You too,” she said, as she got into the car, smiling to herself.
--
She walked in and Marissa looked at her. “I’m guessing it went well?”
Emmy smiled, putting her bag on the counter and taking off her shoes. “No, I spent four hours with him and it sucked.”
Marissa actually leaned forward. “And?”
“And nothing. We had a great time. I really like him,” she said, as she walked into her room to change.
Marissa followed her in. It had taken Emily a while to get used to changing in front of her, even though Marissa knew, had known since before they moved in together. Even now, Emmy would still turn around before taking off her panties. “Are you going to see him again?”
Emmy pulled up her shorts and put on her t-shirt, a faded Dodgers shirt from some long ago guy in college. She wanted to send a picture to Jordan, just to torture them. “He says he wants to. And I want to,” and she smiled.
Marissa sat on the edge of the bed. “That’s great, Em,” then looking at her, “what’s wrong?”
Emily looked at her, as she took a wipe and began removing her makeup. “You know.”
Marissa played with the stuffed bear Emily had won at that carnival in Santa Barbara, when the guy at the booth had said, ‘so easy even she can win it,’ and then winked at her. “You’re not there yet,” she said, matter of factly.
“Yeah, but before we get there, he has the right to know.” The truth of ‘why’ going unsaid.
“I guess. See how it goes next time and then you decide.” Emily thought back to his hand in hers, the way it felt so big, so right and she smiled. “You really like this guy?”
“Yeah, I think I could,” and then she described the date.
“You go there so easily,” Marissa laughed.
Emily, busted. “No I don’t.”
Marissa, “Oh please. I’ve known you how long?”
Emily, more busted. “Well, I like him regardless,” then, “how was work?” Marissa worked at an ad agency as an assistant copywriter.
“Fine,” she laughed, and then she talked about a client.
--
The next day, at 6:00 PM, her phone pinged. “Where’s my phone call? :-)” Aunt Jeannie.
“I just got off work”
“Wrong answer,” with another smiley.
“Ill call when Im in the” car emoji. “Commute is long”
“Grrr...fine.” Emily froze at the period. Was she pissed? She had no reason to be.
When she was in the car, she called her, “Hey,” then a pause, “Jeannie.”
Jeannie. “Hey, sweetie. How was it?”
“Are you upset with me?”
Jeannie, confused. “No. Why would I be?”
“You ended the text with a period.”
Jeannie, “How do you end a sentence?”
“I just thought..I don’t usually do it.”
Jeannie, silent for a second. “Neither does Liam apparently. It’s a failure of the Dekalb schools, I guess. Anyway, I didn’t call to discuss punctuation.”
“I think people don’t discuss it enough,” she said, as she pulled out of the lot, turning the wheel hand over hand to make the right turn out of the lot.
Jeannie made a buzzing noise. “Wrong answer. So how was it?”
“It was,” and she paused, wondering how much to say, what would get back, “good.”
“Good? Good isn’t good, unless that means something else.”
She paused again. Fuck it, she thought. I don’t care what they know. I don’t have to see any of them. “It was...very good.”
She could hear Jeannie leaning forward. “Very good is better.”
Emily. “It was better than very good then.” She knew that she would come to regret this conversation, that it would come back to bite her. Then, she felt the butterfly necklace Jeannie had surprised her with (‘I owe my niece a lifetime of birthday presents’) against her collarbone. “It was much better than very good.”
“That is wonderful, Emmy,” the diminutive still making her feel warm. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Really?”
A sigh. “Yes, really. I know you really don’t know me yet.” Yet? “But I only want you to be happy.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, silently cursing the stalled car in the left lane. She watched as cars slowed down to look at the stalled car. It’s a stalled car in L.A. Unless the engine block is poking out, move it along.
Jeannie laughed. “‘Thank you.’ Am I the cashier at Osco? Come again!”
“Shut up,” and she paused. Too informal? “I mean...thank you for wanting me to be happy.”
Another sigh. “This is the absolutely last time I’m saying this. You may not trust me yet, but I am not them.”
“I know,” Emily said, “you never were.” Remembering a day-after-Thanksgiving where Jeannie let her hide in the guest room to color.
“And I won’t be. Here we go - I am your aunt. You are my favorite niece. End of story.”
‘Favorite niece’ making her smile an inordinate amount. “You’re my favorite aunt.”
A laugh, “That’s not much of a title to be honest, given the competition.”
Emily, laughing. “Who am I competing against?”
“There’s more of you, but yeah, I guess it really isn’t a compliment, when you think about it.”
Emily, “Hey!”
“I’m kidding, Emmy. You always were my favorite, by a lot. Don’t tell Stephanie.”
Emily, now grinning from ear to ear despite the traffic, the homeless man weaving between the cars with his battered cardboard sign. “I won’t.” He came past her window and she shook her head, sorry she didn’t have change.
“Good. Now I told you last week. I need details. Please. Everything….well, as much of everything as you want to tell me.”
Emily, grasping at the conversation like a lifeline, “There’s not a lot of that everything...yet,” and then she described the date, happy to describe it and sad at the same time. Eventually, Uncle Rob got on to call Duncan a yo yo (‘Duncan is a company that made yo yos). Emily hung up, happy.
—-
Two days later, as she lay in bed, she got a text, “u up”
Duncan. “:-)”
“:-) r u busy”
“N”
The phone rang. “Hi,” she said, grinning from ear to ear, like a dork. She stared at a picture of her and her friends at graduation, gowns open, mortarboards at angles.
“Hi. Sorry I haven't called but I've been mad busy.”
“It's ok,” she said. “Work is crazy?”
“Yeah, one of the prep cooks quit, so I've been working crazy hours. I've wanted to call.”
She loved his openness. Six years of LA, and six years of industry wannabes, had conditioned her to expect irony and studied aloofness. “It's ok. You're calling now.” And she kicked herself some more.
“So, anyway, what are you doing Monday?”
“You don’t have to work?”
He laughed, “Nah, I have off. Slow day. They don’t need me.”
She stared at her feet. She needed a pedicure, badly. “I’m not busy. What were you thinking?”
“I dunno. A friend of mine was telling me about a cool exhibit at LACMA,” the modern art museum. In her mind, she heard Stef laughing, ‘trying to show he’s got culture.’
She rolled onto her stomach and looked at the wall, the picture of Joshua Tree she found at a crafts fair. “That sounds fun. I can meet you there. 7:00? I mean, subject to traffic on Pico,” she laughed.
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I can’t wait.” Stef, now screaming and shaking her head. Say goodnight, Stef, she thought.
--
Monday afternoon, she was sitting at work, waiting for the clock to strike 6:00, not that clocks struck anything anymore, when her phone rang.
“Emily Berrigan,” she said brightly.
“Hey Ems, it’s Shaye.” One of her two best friends from college.
“Hey, Shaye, what’s going on?” She played with her pen.
“I just heard about an open call audition for a commercial. For Axe body spray.”
Her face twisted. “Yuck.”
Shaye, laughing, “Not for you to wear, stupid. They need girls for the commercial and it says that they’re looking for girls who look high school/college.”
Emily, laughing. “We graduated, remember? I know you got pretty messed up that night but still…”
Shaye, “Ha ha, Ems. I mean, you could totally pull off college. I can’t, because I’m too,” and she laughed, “sophisticated.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” then, looking at her reflection in her screen, “you really think I could pull it off?”
“Oh, totally,” she said. “With your hair up and light makeup, you totally look 19.”
“I dunno,” she said. “Axe, though?”
“Ems, it’s your card,” her SAG-AFTRA card. “Get the job and you can work union.”
“You really think I could pull off college?” She started thinking about what she should wear to the audition. Her blue cotton dress? Maybe a t-shirt and shorts? Or was that trying too hard?
“Totally, sweetie. You could totally be the all-American college girl,” and then she laughed. “You have that Midwestern thing going.”
“I’m not sure how to take that.”
“Me either,” she laughed. “I’ll send you the call.”
“Thanks, honey. I really appreciate it. If I hear of anything requiring someone sultry and exotic, you know who I’ll call first.” Then, she hung up the phone and grinned.
“What’s up?” Matt, her boss, asked.
“My friend just called me and told me about an open call.”
He held out his hand for a high five. “That’s great! For what?”
“Oh, it’s a commercial for Axe. But, it’s union…”
He looked at her. “Em, that’s great. Who cares what it’s for? When you’re famous, they’ll show it as your first appearance on TV.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Matt.”
He smiled, looking like he wanted to touch her shoulder, but #metoo, not that it was that. “In six months, you better not be at that desk.”
Her stock response. “That’s the plan.”
“I wanna see you on Fallon talking about the great boss you had,” he laughed.
Her, “You know I can’t lie like that.”
Him, grinning. “You’re an actress who works at a law firm. You can lie. Seriously, though, that’s great. Michelle,” his wife, “will be so happy.”
“Let me get it first,” she said.
He looked around, then at her. “You will. I have a good feeling.”
“Thanks,” and she thought about how one day she'd miss his support and who could replace him and his wife.
A week later, she found herself in an office park, at some clearly abandoned telemarketing space. You could see the outlines of the removed cubicles on the floor and she could, ‘I'm sorry to bother you during dinner,’ being said ad infinitum. She had worked tele-marketing in college, fired when she wasn’t able to harass enough people into extending warranties on appliances.
She looked at the other girls. Even after six years, she still couldn't fathom the number of gorgeous blondes here. Back east, they would have men trailing them like dogs in heat, their choice of jobs. Here? They were interchangeable.
You can do this, Emily, she told herself. If all they wanted was some OnlyFans girl, they could do this without an open call. They don't want just that, they want something else. And she looked at them, in their short skirts. You don't look like college girls, she thought, you look like strippers. Emily looked down at her blue and white striped dress, the one with the short sleeves and that buttoned up the front. And her flats. After agonizing, she decided to wear her hair in a ponytail. And light makeup, a little lip gloss, some eyeliner, some blush. She had tested how young she looked by going into a liquor store and getting carded, the clerk continuously looking back and forth between her and her ID, and then handing it back with “I can't lose my license.” You can do this, she told herself. You can pull this off.
After four hours, she was called in to the casting room. Sitting there were three people in their thirties, looking somewhere between bored and suicidal. You are a college girl, she told herself. Not CalArts, but a regular school. She remembered Ann Arbor and that cute boho dress. That's you, she said to herself. She handed over her headshot, the one her Christmas bonus had paid for. One of the three looked at it and yawned. “Name?”
It's on there, she thought, then no. Affecting a slight Chicago accent, not so heavy as to grate. “Hi,” she said brightly, “I'm Emily Berrigan.”
Barely looking at her, “Where are you from?”
“Dekalb,”’she said, going wide-eyed, “Illinois. Thank you so much for seeing me,” and she shuffled ever so slightly.
“Mmm hmmm.” So much for that. “Can you read the side,” and she took it from him.
“Gosh, Johnny,” and she went wide-eyed, “you smell,” like ego mixed with misogyny, “great!”
The woman at the table wrote some stuff down, then, “we'll let you know.”
More aww-shucks, “Well, thank you…”
The woman, “we'll let you know.”
She left. We'll let you know? Why not just tell me ‘fuck off?’
She left, feeling dejected. It was a cattle call and the odds were hella against her, but they didn't even acknowledge her. She wasn't even a piece of meat. She was just a loose thread they found on their clothes. She got into the car, dreading the conversations with everyone, their hollow affirmations. She watched another girl, some pneumatic blonde, get out of her car. This Amazon bitch, in her blue minidress, walked across the parking lot like she owned it.
Ten minutes later, she was pulling onto the highway, chanting ‘you can do this’ to herself.
---
Three days later, she was at work when Ariana Grande’s ‘7 Rings’ started playing, and one of the senior attorneys walking passed glared at her. She quickly silenced her phone and looked at the screen - ‘Anonymous.’ Great. Mortified by a spam call. She ignored the phone as it vibrated across her desk. A minute letter, ‘Missed call - voicemail’ appeared on her screen. Great, she thought, not only do they waste my time on calls about the warranty on my seven year old car, they clog up my voicemail.
An hour later, she got up to go to the bathroom, taking her phone with her. As she sat down in the stall, she saw the voicemail indicator. Why the fuck not, she thought, may as well as delete it before it gets full again.
She hit ‘play- “Hi Emily, this is Rachel, from Blah Blah Blah Productions,” the people that ran the stupid audition. “I wanted to let you know that the client decided to go another way…” Fuck you. “However…” However? However? Now she paid attention. “We have another campaign that I think might be better suited for you and,” then she left her number. Emily let out a scream. “Everything OK in there?” She heard a voice say nervously.
Emily bounced out of the stall, pushing down the handle with her foot, and coming face to face with one of the female attorneys in her 30s. “I didn’t get a callback on a commercial…”
The woman stared at her as if she were trying to figure out how to defuse a bomb. An auburn haired 5’6” bomb in a green dress. “Ummm, congratulations?”
Emily, grinning from ear to ear. “Sorry. That part sucked, but then they said that they might have something better suited to me.”
The woman relaxed slightly and smiled, “That’s good?”
“Yes, sorry. You must think I’m totally nuts but I have never, ever had this happen. This doesn’t happen. None of my friends have ever had it happen but it happened.”
The woman backed up slightly. “Cool,” as her eyes looked around then up, as if she was going to escape through the drop ceiling. “I mean, that sounds really positive. Let me know how it goes…”
Emily thanked her, dancing out of the bathroom, humming to herself.
---
“So,” she said, when she met Shaye and Marissa for drinks that night, “I called her and she said that the client wanted ‘Axe girls’....” Marissa held her hands out from her already not insubstantial chest. “Exactly,” Emily continued, “and she was like, ‘you are too sweet looking to be part of that,” which got an ‘awww,’ from her friends, “shut up, I’m talking here but then she was like, ‘you don’t want to be part of that anyway, have you ever seen an Axe girl anywhere but Playboy, no you haven’t, which is kind of fucked up because she works for them but whatever….”
Marissa, rolling her hand, “Em, while we’re young…”
“I’m getting there,” she exhaled, “and then she said, ‘but we have a campaign that I think you might work for. It’s for Best Foods mayonnaise…”
Shaye, grinning, “Mayonnaise is perfect for you.”
Emily, sticking her tongue out, “Actually, she said it was because I was sophisticated and exotic...anyway, so she told me that they were looking for someone with that all American look, and she scheduled an audition.”
“Yay, Ems” everyone said, and gave her kisses and hugs. “That’s so amazing.”
Em looked down at her chest. “I still think I should…”
Marissa looked at Shaye, and then Em. “We are so not having this conversation again…”
“You weren’t in the room with all those girls,” she said, looking around the room.
Shaye rolled her eyes. “I have been in plenty of those rooms. You would look ridiculous if you got them..”
Em looked down again, she was a full B cup. “You had to see them. I think it’s costing me parts.”
“No. We are not going there. You don’t need them,” then, raising her glass, “we are celebrating you actually getting called to audition. I am so happy for you.” While Shaye was hoping for her big break, she was fetching drinks as a PA on some shitty series (‘I don’t even know what platform it’s on, but whatever.’)
Em grinned. “That’s right. We are celebrating me,” and she thrust her chest out, to giggles and eyerolls. “So, celebrate. Come on,” and she spread her arms wide. Everyone raised their glasses and then purposely ignored her.
--
“Hey,” she said, as she stood on tiptoes to kiss Duncan. “I know you.” They had agreed to meet at the Getty Center, to walk around the gardens, since they were both going to be in Century City and it was close by. She had been to the Getty a bunch of times, but it still amazed her, the way that they had carved this beautiful garden out of two ridges, facing the ocean and the San Gabriels.
He put his hands around her waist. “Do I know you?”
She was wearing her blue dress with the spaghetti straps, with a cardigan over it, sandals and her round sunglasses. Third date, a dress was OK, she decided. “Nope,” she said, “I must have been mistaken.”
Duncan grinned, “Well, whoever he is, he’s not here. So whaddya say?”
She took him in, in his t-shirt and dark blue jeans. Who, she thought, decided that he can get away with that? Then, she checked out his pecs and crotch. “I have nothing better to do,” and she took his hand. “So, how was work today?”
He had covered a lunch shift at one of the owner’s places in Century City. “Why didn’t you stop by? I could’ve hooked you up…”
“I had a brief to type and Mark was being psycho AF, and besides can you imagine what they would have said had I come in?”
He smiled, “You still should have. I would’ve liked to have seen you.”
She grinned and kissed him again. “You’re seeing me now. Did you go home after lunch?”
“Nah,” he said, “I hung around. Went to the mall, walked around. That kind of thing.”
She was telling him today. She had resolved to do it last time, but she was doing it today. He deserved to know, she had reasoned to herself, Stef telling her ‘to be careful,’ Jordy wishing her luck. He took her hand and they started walking. She never got tired of the bougainvillea, its hot pink flowers and beautiful smell. She had tried it once as perfume, but it was overpowering at such close range.
A half an hour in, after they walked the hedges, she decided it was time. If it was going to go south, let it go south while the sun was out and people could see them, but far enough from anyone so that they couldn’t hear. She took a deep breath, “I have something I need to tell you.”
He looked at her, with puppy dog eyes. “What did I do?”
She pulled her sweater around her. “You didn’t do anything.”
“I really like you, Emily,” he said, his face so open, so genuine, so not L.A.
“I really like you too, Duncan, which is why I need to do this.” She felt tears and was willing them back, unsuccessfully.
“Do you not want to see me again?” Now, he took a step back and was looking her up and down. She cursed her outfit, wanting nothing more than to hide.
“I do,” she said. “But I need to tell you something and when I do, you may not feel that way.”
“You’re married?” He smiled.
“Please let me speak,” and she felt her throat tightening. “Please.”
He took her hand. “It can’t be that bad.”
Let’s see what you say next. “It isn’t. But it is. Or it may be,” she found herself stammering and she started to cry. He hugged her, enveloped her in his bulk, and it felt like a cocoon, one she never wanted to leave. But she knew she needed to, if this had any hope of surviving. She pulled back, fingering the butterfly necklace. She took another breath. “I’m trans,” she said, opting for that over ‘assigned male at birth.’ No matter what they said at group, that was bullshit, like she went to school for it or something.
She looked into his eyes and couldn’t read anything. Some actress you are, she thought. They stood there for an eternity and he said, “Wow.”
“Wow?” She suddenly felt exposed to the world, and watched his hands, which remained flat at his sides.
“Yeah, wow.” He didn’t move.
She looked down. “I totally get it. I understand. Well, thank you for not yelling or...anyway, yeah, I’m sorry. You’re a great guy and I hope you find the woman you deserve,” and she began walking away, trying not to cry until she got to her car.
“Stop,” he said. “Where are you going?”
She turned around, staying a couple of feet back. “You said ‘wow’ and I thought…”
He, standing in place, “I didn’t say leave.”
“But you said, ‘wow.’”
He gave a sickly smile. “It’s kinda wow worthy, y’know?”
Her cardigan slipped off her shoulder and she caught him looking. “I...I’m sorry.”
He looked at her, moving a step closer. “For what?”
“I didn’t tell you,” she said, looking down.
“It’s OK,” he mumbled, not looking at her. “I mean, I get it. It’s scary, I imagine, telling people.” People milled around them, not giving them a second glance.
“It is,” and she watched an ant walk along. “Thank you. I didn’t want to lie to you.”
He walked over, so that he was fully in her space and she felt his shadow over him. “You didn’t lie to me.”
“But, we kissed and stuff.”
He watched his shadow shrug. “Uh huh.”
“And you kissed me.”
He smiled. “I did.”
“But, you thought you were…”
“Kissing Emily Berrigan. You are Emily Berrigan, right?”
She sniffled. “Um, yeah…but…”
He looked at her. “I don’t care about the past.”
“You don’t?” She felt herself sweating.
“I don’t. I told you. I really, really like you.”
He was blurry through her tears. “I really, really like you,” she said.
“Then, that’s what matters.”
She looked at him, and his face was still a blank slate. “Really? But you thought…”
“Don’t tell me what I thought,” he sounded annoyed.
“But…”
“I don’t think anything. I mean, I wasn’t expecting this…”
She looked down. “Obviously.”
He put his hand under her chin and pushed up. “Look at me, please. I like you. You like me,” and she nodded. “This doesn’t matter to me.”
She didn’t believe him. She wanted to, but didn’t. “OK.”
He took her hand and they walked silently around the gardens. “So, your parents…”
She went to cut him off. “Are not OK with me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand.
She shrugged. “It is what it is. I have Stef and Jordy, that’s what counts.” He paused, mouth open, like he was about to say something, then stopped. Fuck, she thought. Softly, she said, “You can ask, say, whatever, you want,” and she braced herself.
“I just can’t imagine not wanting you in their life.” She wasn’t expecting that, and started to tear up. “Don’t do that,” he mock-yelled.
“That was really nice. Why did you stop yourself?”
He looked down. “Because it sounds dorky. Because it’s our third date and I was afraid that you’d think it was too soon, too push…”
And she stood on tiptoes and kissed him, grateful for his dorkiness. “It doesn’t. It isn’t.”
Then, he smiled and put his hands around her waist. “Cool.” She let her cardigan drop from her shoulders and he kissed her again.
---
The next morning, her phone rang as she was deciding what to wear. “You were supposed to text me.”
Stef. Shit. She flicked through her closet, trying to decide between the cute cinnamon-colored day dress or jeans. “I know. And I’m sorry. But it was late….”
Stef. “I was worried about you.” An undercurrent of worry masked her tone of anger.
Jeans. Definitely jeans today. White jeans. And a pale green camisole. “I know. I know. And I should have. But we were…”
Stef. “Well, the important thing is you’re OK. Did you tell him?”
She slid the jeans up her legs, checking out her ass and smiling. “Yes.”
“And?” Now exasperated.
“He was...really cool about it,” she said, putting the phone on her dresser while she put on her camisole. “Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker.”
“He was cool about it?” Her now tinny voice sounded surprised. Not that it was undeserved, all things considered, remembering Kevin from junior year.
She put on eyeliner. “I mean I think he was definitely shocked at first but, yeah, he was really good.”
She heard Stef take a breath. “Are you going to,” pause, “see him again?”
Em laughed. “Yes.” Probably. He said that he’d call, make plans for the weekend. Now, she put on foundation, blotting in on with the little pad.
“I am so happy for you.” Em looked over at the birthday card Stef had sent her for first birthday out here - one little girl pulling another little girl's pigtails and ‘to the best little sister in the world’ - tucked in her mirror and smiled. “You have no idea.”
Em smiled. “I do. Thank you. Do you know how much I love you?”
“Yes,” Stef laughed, “but you can tell me anyway.”
“You are the best big sister. You know that, right?” Now she put on blush, then brushed her hair, admiring her handiwork.
“I do. And I love you too. Anyway, back to the grind. I’ll call later.”
---
Emily stood in front of the audition panel, the woman who called her, one guy in his twenties leaning forward and a guy in his forties, who looked like a lifetime of bad choices had him here. They were in a bare rehearsal room, all whitish walls, floor lamps and a dance barre along the wall. She imagined a whole room full of lissome girls trying out to be dancers, each rejected for short legs or five pounds extra.
“OK,” the woman said brightly, “you’re a waitress in a busy diner, it’s lunch time, understand?”
Emily was wearing a white long-sleeved cotton shirt, black skirt a couple of inches above the knee and flats. Not exactly diner material, but she wasn’t going to rent a uniform. She smiled knowingly. “Um, yeah, I think so.” She studied her side and then put it down.
Standing at any imaginary table, holding an imaginary pad, “OK, that’s one cheeseburger and fries, one Cobb salad and one turkey on rye with Best Foods mayo.”
She then turned around and did a sort of pirouette around an imaginary waitress coming the other way. “Stop,” said the guy in his forties, “what are you doing?”
Emily smiled. “I was just picturing another waitress coming…”
He looked at her. “Does it say anywhere that there’s another waitress coming and you’re a ballerina…”
Guy in his twenties. “Interesting choice,” he said, not quite believably. “But, how about you just walk?”
I’ve been walking since I was one, she thought. “Got it.” She went back to the imaginary table, took the imaginary order and then, ringing an imaginary bell, said, “C.B. fries, turkey whiskey down with Best Foods mayo.” I don’t know where this diner is, she thought, but I’ve never heard anyone say any of this. All that was missing was gum to crack.
Then, she repeated this for three different orders - ‘turkey club with Best Foods mayo,’ ‘ham and cheese with Best Foods mayo,’ ‘coffee, black, with Best Foods mayo.’ She’d grown up in the Midwest and had never seen this much mayo.
She finished, “Best Foods brings out the best in everything,” and she smiled and winked.
The three at the table huddled together. The woman, impassively, “we’ll let you know.”
Fuck, you brought me in here, she thought. “Thank you,” and she walked out.
She called Duncan on her way to the car. “Hey Em.” They were at the shortened name, not the pet name, phase. “How did it go?
“Eh,” she said, her shoes crunching the gravel of the parking lot. “We’ll see.”
“Are you upset?” His voice was one of concern, uncertain of how much was acceptable.
“Nah,” she said, as she pressed the key fob, the ‘boop boop’ opening the door. She threw her bag on the passenger side and plugged in the phone. “It’s an audition, you can’t really get upset.”
“I hear you,” then he laughed, “Quite frankly, you don’t really want to work in a diner. The tips are awful.”
She laughed. “Thank you. Whatever will be, y’know? When do you get off later?”
“Usual. 11 or so,” he said. “Why?”
She looked in her rear view mirror and smiled. “If you wanted to come over…”
She could hear the wheels turn. “I mean, I may be really tired…”
She touched up her lip gloss. “Oh well, if you’re going to be tired…”
“I mean, I suppose I can see how I’m feeling…”
She felt herself getting warm. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” she teased.
“This isn’t just a booty call, is it? Because I’m not just some piece of meat,” he huffed theatrically.
She smiled, thinking of the other night. “Yes you are.”
He paused. “Oh yeah, that’s right, I am. Never mind. Figure 11:30?”
She smiled and looked down at her legs. “I can’t wait.”
-
Fuck, she thought, as she stared at Matt’s notes for his brief. Could your handwriting suck worse? Not that she couldn’t read it but she was tired and hated bringing work home. At least he let her correct grammatical mistakes when she saw them, unlike some of the other partners. You wanna look like an idiot, she’d think, be my guest.
Not that she minded working at home. All those years in restaurants had made her a night owl, more alert at 9:00 at night than 9:00 in the morning. Plus, no one was standing over her, asking questions or talking about a date. Just her and the computer, her fingers flying across the keys, the words becoming just a collection of letters to be proofread after. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t hear the phone until the third ring.
“Hello,” she said, “I mean, Emily Berrigan.”
“Hi, Emily, it’s,” the woman, “from Blah Blah Blah Productions,” she said brightly.
“Um, hi. How are you?”
A laugh. “I’m fine but not as good as you.”
“Huh?”
Another laugh. “We’re calling to offer you the job…” Which made Emily let out a scream of joy. “So, I take it you’re happy…”
“Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, ohmigosh,” and she started hyperventilating. “Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, ohmigosh, that’s so amazing.”
The woman, now laughing, “OK, OK, calm down. It’s scale…”
“I don’t care, that’s so amazing. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. I thought you didn’t like me.”
“Why did you think that?”
“Well, I mean I did that move and then the other guy got annoyed and the other guy said just walk and then you just sat there…”
A laugh. “You did great, sweetie. I’ll send over contracts via email. You’ll Docusign…”
Of course, I will. “Uh huh.”
Another laugh. “Tell you what, go pour yourself a drink or pop an edible and celebrate. Everything will be in the email.”
“Thank you. Good night. Thank you,” she gushed, as she hung up. She started running in place, arms pumping, eyes closed, and turned to face Marissa.
“I heard the screaming….”
Before she could ask it was OK, “I GOT IT! I. Got. The. Commercial,” and she began jumping up and down, Marissa joining her.
“That is so amazing! I am so happy for you,” and Marissa hugged her. “This is so amazing!”
“I know! Ohmigod, a commercial. I mean, it’s regional. Because back home it’s called Hellman’s and not Best Food, but it’s a commercial….”
Marissa, grinning. “It is. And I am so proud of you.” She went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of Two Buck Chuck from Trader Joe’s. “It’s not champagne,” she laughed.
“I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I got a commercial. I got a commercial. Wanna see me do it?”
She had heard her practicing already. “Sure,” with an indulgent smile.
“OK, go sit over there.”
Marissa, eyes rolling, sat at the kitchen counter and let Emmy do her thing. She finished and Marissa looked at her. “Excuse me, but I didn’t order this. I can’t have mayo. I have a food allergy.”
“Too bad. You’ll eat your whiskey down or whatever with Best Foods mayo and like it,” she teased. “We have Epi-Pens in the back.” Then, dancing and singing, “I got a commercial. I got a commercial.”
She texted Jordy, it was too late for Stef, “guess who got a commercial”
“gordon ramsay” followed by three tongue out emojis.
“Idiot me”
Five smiley face emojis followed by, “wut for”
“Best Foods,” making sure to capitalize it, since they were paying, “mayo”
“never heard of it”
“Wut they call hellmans here”
“Kewl im so proud of u Emmy”
“Thx”
“U r welcome call tomorrow”
“Is kira there” followed by hearts, peaches and eggplants.
“bye Emmy” followed by three tongue outs. “Kira sez kewl too”
“Thx kira” followed by more hearts. She pictured Kira lying in bed next to them, her head on their chest, while Jordy talked about the commercial and wondered what she would think. She was an actress after all and looking for work like everyone else.
----
“Hi, Rob,” Emily said, picking up her phone. “What’s going on?”
“So, I’ve got to be out there next week on the project and wanted to know what you were doing Tuesday night.”
“Um,” she paused, “let me check my calendar,” she lied. She had no plans. Tuesday night, she never had plans, it was a work night. “I’m, uh, free.”
“Good,” he said happily. “Then, we’re going to dinner.”
“You and me,” she said nervously.
He laughed. “Yes, you and me. Just you and me. Is that OK with you?”
“Sure. I mean that would be great.” Or awful, either one. “Where do you want to go?”
“I hear Duncan’s place is pretty good…” She began breathing shallow breaths. “Oh god,” he laughed, “I’m teasing you, Emily. Relax. Where would you like to go?”
She stuck her tongue out. “Is there some type of food you want?”
He laughed. “You and Jeannie, Christ. I’ll name a food, then you’ll say no and then I’ll ask you, and you’ll say I’m easy. But fine, I’ll play your game. Mexican. You mentioned really good Mexican food someplace. So that’s what I want,” then a pause, “unless you want something else.”
“Mexican sounds good,” she smiled. “Where are you staying? There’s no reason for both of us to drive there.” He gave her the address and she wrote it down, saying, “let me know that day how your day is going and we’ll plan from there. Does that work?”
Tuesday afternoon, she was at work, when her phone rang. Rob. Maybe he was busy, she thought, and wanted to reschedule. “Emily Berrigan,” she said, not thinking.
A pause, “hey Emily Berrigan, it’s Rob Nehlen.”
“Ha ha...what’s up? How’s your day going?”
“I’m running a little long…”
Putting on her best sad voice, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you need….”
He stopped her. “You’re not that lucky. I was just going to ask if you could meet at the job site…”
At the words ‘job site,’ everything came flooding back, every snicker, every comment. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No, Emily, put on your big girl pants, she told herself. “Sure, no problem. What’s the address?”
You can do this, she told herself on the drive over. She put on her freshman year mix, all Katy Perry and Taylor Swift, singing along to “Shake it Off” and “Firework.” If Stef and Jordy were here, she wouldn’t hear it over the laughter, but they weren’t. By the time she got to the site, she was singing that stupid song, “Fight Song,” the one Hillary played at her rallies, knock off Taylor Swift but her favorite at 17.
And then she saw the trailer.
Fuck.
No. No fucks, Emily, she said, as she picked up her bag and swung her legs out, walking across the parking lot like she belonged, quickly enough to stop her knees from knocking. She tapped on the door. “Come in,” she heard a female voice say.
She walked in and saw a dark haired girl in her early 20s at the desk, wearing a blue sleeveless top and jeans. She remembered a long time ago and wondered if that outfit came with the trailer. The girl looked her up and down, taking in her short blue skirt and white short sleeve shirt, and she felt sweat form on her forehead. “Hi, I’m here to see Rob Nehlen.”
She looked her up and down again, clearly trying to decide, ‘side piece,’ ‘her replacement,’ ‘DOL investigator.’ “And you are?” Her apathy, palpable.
“I’m, um, Emily, Emily Berrigan, his,” pause, “niece.”
With that, the woman broke into a giant grin. “He has been waiting all day for you!” She stood up and put out her hand.
Emily shook it uncertainly, but smiled, “He’s been waiting all day for me?”
“Oh yeah,” the woman said, “he has told us all about you.”
Emily laughed nervously. “Um, do I want to know what?”
The woman laughed. “Oh all good. Just that you were his favorite niece, that you were an actress and that you just got a commercial.”
Emily was stunned, but kept her bearings. She laughed and raised an eyebrow, “Really? He said all that?” She pulled down on her skirt.
“Oh yeah,” The woman grinned. “He has been looking forward to this all day. Let me call him,” and she picked up a walkie talkie, which made Emily flinch. “Hey, Rob, she’s here,” she said, in a singsong. “You want a bottle of water?”
Emily smiled, “Nah, I’m good. So how’s the job?”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “You ever been to a construction site?”
Emily, keeping her bearings, “A couple,” she laughed. She looked around the trailer, at the dingy faux-wood walls, the mandatory workers’ comp and OSHA posters haphazardly taped up, the woman’s monitor with the invoices on the screen, the calculator with the tape next to her desk.
“Then, you know.” Stef never worked on one for a reason.
Emily sat down on the edge of the desk, the sagging black leather couch being not compatible, for myriad reasons, with her skirt. “So, he’s been all about getting Mexican. Know any place good?”
The woman laughed, “Yeah, in Boyle Heights,” which made Emily laugh. “Take him to La Cabanita on Verdugo and Ocean View. It’s pretty good and you can sit outside.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Nah, so how’s Rob as a boss?”
The woman smiled. “He’s good.”
“You’re not just saying that, are you?”
The woman moved some papers around. “I don’t get paid enough to lie,” she joked. “Very relaxed.”
Emily smiled, thinking of all of them and what they’d say. “Good. Aunt Jeannie asked for a report.”
Just then, Rob came in and gave her a hug and kiss. “Hey, Emily,” he said happily. “I’m so glad you came.”
She saw the woman hide her mouth behind her hand. “I said I would,” and she pulled on her skirt again, suddenly regretting the choice.
“Well, still. Did you offer her water?”
“Yes, Rob, I did.”
Emily, rolling her eyes at her. “She did, Uncle Rob,” the ‘uncle’ hopefully not too choked. “Thank you,” she said deliberately.
“You are very welcome, Emily,” The woman laughed.
Rob rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t work here, you do. Remember that.” Which got another eyeroll. “You wanna see the project,” he asked eagerly. Emily must have flinched because he whispered, “you don’t have to, if you don’t want.”
No, she told herself. It is a job site. Not their job site. A job site. And he wants you to. “No,” she said, smiling a little too widely, “it’s OK. I mean, I want to see what you’re doing out here.”
“You’re sure?” expectant.
“Of course,” she said. “Why else would I have driven out here?”
He grabbed her a hard hat and she remembered the first time at age 4, the picture Dad kept in his wallet of the helmet covering her eyes. She picked it up and adjusted it, trying not to mess up her hair. She grabbed her bag. “It was great meeting you,” she said, brightly.
“You too. I like your skirt and,” looking at Rob, “so will the crew,” which made him grimace and Emily smile.
They left the trailer and started walking. Rob looked at her. “Are you sure you’re OK with this? I mean…”
She looked at him. “It’s fine, Rob,” then, for levity, “I mean this is not exactly a site-friendly outfit,” and she felt the wind a little and held down her skirt, “but it’s really OK. I can walk around a job site…”
He looked at her. “You’ll let me know?”
She smiled at him. “I’ll be fine,” and he still looked concerned. “I’ll let you know.”
They started walking through and he pointed out where the offices would be, the amenities that would be installed (‘you really think the indoor rock waterfall is a thing? Really?’) and ‘how fast the guys work,’ her father’s daily complaints to the contrary making her smile. As they walked into one space, she saw one man, early 40s with a gut and two Mexican or Guatemalan laborers in their 20s, short, stocky but muscular, all covered in dust, cleaning up. “Hey guys, this is my niece Emily. Emily, this is John, my foreman,” obviously, “and Jaime and Hector, two of my best framers.”
She waved and smiled. “Hi guys, nice to meet you,” and she felt their eyes walk over her, making her feel naked.
Rob took her hand. “Mi sobrina,” he barked. “Ojos alli,” and he pointed at the wall, “no aqui. Comprende?”
The foreman rolled his eyes, “Si, entedemos, el jefe.”
Rob, laughing, “Chingate,” then, “and moving on.”
“Very nice meeting you, Emily,” the foreman said, “you certainly brightened up the day.”
Cheesy as all hell, but she smiled, “Thank you. It was very nice meeting you all. Adios,” which got smiles from everyone.
They finished walking the site and he said, “What do you think?”
She took off the hard hat and fluffed her hair. “I think,” and she paused, “it looks really, really great,” then, teasing, “if I needed office space out here, this would be the first place I would go.”
He smiled, “And you’re sure you’re OK? I know…”
“Rob, it’s totally fine…”
“Jeannie told me that I…” And he looked apologetic, embarrassed.
“I told you. It’s fine,” then, grinning, “hold on a sec,” and she put back on her hard hat.
He looked at her. “What are you doing?”
She grinned. “We should take a selfie and send it to her!”
He laughed. “Selfies. We used to take pictures of other people. Have we become more self-absorbed or do we just have better technology now?”
“Stop it. Put on your hard hat again,” which he did, semi-willingly, a bemused look on his face. She handed him her phone. “If you hold it up high, it makes you look better.”
He took the phone, laughing, “I can use all the help I can get.” He held it up high. “This good? OK, on the count of three,” and he took the picture, both of them grinning. “Not bad,” he said. “I look pretty good.”
She looked at the picture. “Me too. Good job,” and she held out her hand for a high five. “OK, gimme,” and she sent it to Jeannie.
Two seconds later, several smiley faces appeared, followed by ‘tell him to take one of you,’ then ‘see, no period’ She walked a few feet away and held her hands up in a game show hostess move, a big grin on her face, matched only by his.
They walked to the parking lot. “So I’ll drive, since I know where I am.”
They got to her car and he looked at the Fit. “Umm, no, Emmy.”
“What? What’s wrong with it?”
He laughed, “You know why it’s called a Fit? Because only a girl,” which made her smile, “can fit in it. We’re taking my SUV.”
“You don’t know how to get there,” she grinned.
He held up his phone. “This does. You do. Come on.”
They got in the truck, Emily stepping up on the doorstep, sliding in ass first and then swinging her legs in, all the while Rob staring ahead. She closed the door and put on her seat belt, then gave him directions.
They got to the restaurant, and Rob came around to the door, opening it and offering his hand. “Thanks,” she said.
He looked at her. “It’s a lot to get out of this, especially in a skirt.” She raised an eyebrow and he laughed, “you let Jeannie know I said that. She thinks I don’t pay attention.”
“Do you?” And she smoothed out her skirt.
“Not really,” he laughed, “but lie for me, OK?”
They walked into the restaurant, a standard issue California Mexican restaurant. Posters of the Pacific at Cabo, adobe walls, all beiges, browns and oranges. At least, there were no sombreros on the walls, no cheesy pictures of a zocalo, L.A. having moved beyond that long before she got here. The hostess led them to a table outside, Emmy reaching into her bag for a hair tie.
“I’ll have a Pacifico,” Rob said to the waitress.
“Horchata Tamarindo, por favor.”
Rob looked at her. “You don’t want anything stronger? You’re going to make me drink alone?”
The hormones combined with no lunch meant she’d get loopy. “I didn’t eat anything past breakfast today. If I drink now, you’ll be carrying me out.” Then, she winced. “Poor choice of words,” as the waitress tried to figure them out. “Mi tio,” she laughed.
“Por supuesto,” yawned the waitress. Emily knew that she was thinking, ‘humoring equals tips.’
“So,” Rob said, his hands on the table. She had never noticed how large and beaten up they were.
“So,” she said, taking a sip of water. “How are your projects going?” Tonight, she’d play a reporter interviewing someone for a feature story.
He smiled. “Everything is good. I’m putting a bid on something in Indianapolis.”
She smiled. “That’s where Jordy is.” So much for reporting.
“I know,” he laughed. “I saw them at a Cubs game...shit, I know you don’t want to talk about them.”
She felt bad. “We’re not. We’re talking about Jordy. And how they’re in Indianapolis.” He took a chip and pushed the basket towards her. She shook her head, the salt making her bloat, a sad fact of the cocktail, one about which one of her friends said, ‘welcome to my world,’ “I’m good.”
“Your loss,” he said, pulling the basket back. “Anyway, I know. It sounds like they’re doing great. Do they know you call them Jordy?”
“I can. Stef can. You can’t,” she laughed. “They would kill you, then me.”
He smiled. “I won’t. But, I’m putting in a bid,” and he described the project, the process and his eyes lit up.
She had never seen such excitement about it before, and it was contagious. After a few minutes, “You really enjoy what you do, don’t you?”
He smiled. “Yeah. You seem surprised.”
She looked around. “I mean…” He looked at her and she felt nervous. “What?”
“When you cut bullshit out of your life, it makes everything better. You know?”
“Um…” And she took a sip of her horchata, which was too sweet. She poured a little water in to cut the sweetness.
“Like I told you that first day, as far as I’m concerned, we got out. There’s no them. I mean, obviously there’s a them and they’re my problem, but there’s no them here and there won’t be a them here unless you want a them here, which you obviously don’t. Right?”
She laughed a little. “I don’t,” and she played with the butterfly around her neck. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to stop yourself about anything.”
“Thanks, Emmy, but I have spent way too much time on them in my life but thank you.”
For lack of anything else, “You’re welcome,” which got a laugh.
“So, tell me about Duncan,” he grinned.
She felt herself flush. “Remember how I said you don’t have to stop yourself…”
He sipped his beer and grinned. “No take backs. So, you and this Duncan character,” the deliberately old-timey elocution making her laugh, “what’s the deal?”
She took a chip and dipped it in medium salsa. “The deal is I don’t know.”
“I may be dense. Hell, I am dense but that isn’t an ‘I don’t know face,’ Emmy.”
“OK, this is awkward,” she laughed.
He grinned. “If you think this is awkward, ask Liam what I did when he brought his girlfriend home…”
“You didn’t?” Feeling embarrassment for a cousin she hadn’t seen in six years, one who was basically a child, running around after the bigger kids, the last time that she saw him.
“I did. I did and I will.”
She sighed, playing along. “Fine. I like him. I like him a lot. But it’s early, y’know?”
“I hear you. Play it by ear, see how it goes. But, just make sure he treats you right.”
“He does,” she smiled, remembering the other night, when he gave her his sweatshirt on the beach; it swam on her, which had always been one of her dreams. “I promise you.”
“Good. You’re my favorite niece and I don’t want to hear that someone isn’t treating you right.” She looked at him, trying to read whether he was sincere. Years of acting had made her wonder about her ability to feel real emotion. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not a nothing face, Emily.”
“It’s nothing.”
He looked at her. “Just say it.”
“I just...and I’ve loved seeing you...and….”
He put his hand on hers, and she could feel the rough patches. “Jeannie told me this would happen.”
She felt mortified. “What would happen?”
“You’d feel weird,” he said. “Don’t.”
“This isn’t weird to you?” She was dubious.
“No. It isn’t. If it’s weird for you, tell me how to make it less weird.”
If I knew that, it would be. “I just don’t want you to feel weird.”
“Emmy,” he said, looking dead at her, his blue eyes swimming, “Jeannie told you, I’ll tell you. You are my niece. That’s it. My niece. And we are glad we saw you at the restaurant, and that you let us try and be part of your life. Jeannie would kill me for saying this but she is so happy that you talk to her and I am so happy that you came out today. That’s it.” Emily started tearing up and he, exasperated, “OK, stop that. You can’t do that every time.” Still, he got up and hugged her.
“It really isn’t weird for you? At all?”
“No,” he said, flatly. “Niece. Uncle,” and then his voice caught, “if you’ll let me.”
She felt herself tear up. “Not crying,” she grinned.
“Me either,” he said. “I think it’s dust.”
“Onions,” she said, pointing at her chicken mole. “It’s the onions.”
He smiled. “OK, you know what is weird?”
“What?” She braced herself.
“How much my wife is into your dating life.”
She felt herself turn red. “OK, that,” and she half-laughed, half-choked, “is way too much information.”
He laughed. “No, it’s not like she tells me sex talk.”
“OK,” and now she wanted to hide, “I am not going there. I am not going anywhere near there. In fact, if we’re going there, leave me here and I’ll get an Uber.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry. We are not. Even if you wanted to go there, we aren’t. I will drive as far in the opposite direction as I can. I just meant that she just seems way too invested in you and,” and he sneered theatrically, “Duncan. I mean, you’d think she wants to start dating again,” he laughed.
“That’s not it,” she laughed. “She seems resigned to you,” she teased.
“Resigned? Wiseass,” he laughed. “She could do a lot worse.”
Emmy, smiling, “She could.”
They were sitting around, picking at an order of sopapillas. “So, Stef is getting married…”
She broke off a piece and mushed it around the honey and cinnamon, mostly to keep her hands busy. “Yeah, she is.”
“Jared’s a great guy,” he said, taking a bite, a little sugar getting on his shirt. She gestured and he swept it off with a little smile. “Really loves her.”
“He really does. From what I’ve heard.” Suddenly feeling cold.
“You haven’t met him?”
“I mean, on FaceTime and stuff. The last time she was here, they weren’t a couple.” And she felt sad. “But, he’s always really nice to me.”
“There’s no reason he shouldn’t be,” then, “so Jeannie says you’re coming back for the wedding.”
“Do you think that’s a bad idea?” Now, her sopapilla was inedible, mashed into oblivion.
“No,” he said. “I think it’s a great idea.”
She looked at him. “Really?”
“You’re her sister, Emily. Of course, you should come for her wedding. If it’s a money thing, I’ll pay for your ticket.”
“That’s not what I meant and it’s not necessary but thank you.”
“She’s got one sister...and Jordan...I mean, and this may sound out of date, totally wrong, but what do you call them?”
She laughed. “My twin, I guess. Keeps most people happy.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, she’s got the two of you. And Jeannie said that she said that you’re going to be in the wedding?”
“You think THAT’S a bad idea, don’t you?”
He looked at her. “Fuck them. If that’s what you’re thinking, fuck them. We will be there for you and her. And Jordan. And your parents. But you get the idea, right?”
She smiled. “Thanks, Uncle Rob,” ‘uncle’ coming back to her.
They finished their meal. They went out to the SUV. He helped her into the truck and went around. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Berrigan?”
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
He looked at her, confused. “For what?”
“Berrigan. I mean…”
He laughed. “Do you know how many times I dreamed of that? I just wondered why Berrigan.”
There was a story she wasn’t ready to tell. “Long story. Some other time.”
Teasing, “What’s Duncan’s last name?”
“I’m ignoring you,” she said, checking her teeth in the visor mirror.
“Duncan I’m ignoring you? So, I guess you’ll keep your name…”
“Am I laughing,” she said, stifling a laugh. “No, I am not. But, I am ignoring you.”
“Fine. Be that way,” and he turned away from her. “You have a middle name?”
“Yes, Claire,” and he made a face. “What? What’s wrong with Claire?”
“I dated a girl named Claire in college. Too high maintenance.”
A sense of comfort washed over her, sitting here, joking with him. “Really? High maintenance?”
“Oh, yeah. She was one of those St. Mary’s girls, one of those girls who was expecting to be married and have kids and drain the life out of some guy…”
“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “All that from Claire, huh?”
“Yup. Jeannie wanted to name a girl Claire if we had one and I said no way.” And he checked his mirrors and put the truck in reverse.
She laughed. “You would have lost, you know that, right?”
“Well, it’s good we had Liam then.” She went to ask about Robbie and stopped herself.
They drove back to the job site and he walked her to her car. “Thanks for dinner, Uncle Rob,” and she wondered whether to hug him, whether it was too much.
He leaned over and gave her a hug and kiss. “No, thank you, Emmy.” He waited until she was in her car and tapped on the window. “Drive safe.”
She smiled. “I will, Uncle Rob.”
Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman, who hasn't seen her twin Jordan in six years. Not since she told her parents the truth about herself and they threw her out. Her older sister is getting married and wants Emily there - as a bridesmaid. Will sparks fly?
----
Jordan and Kira's relationship deepens. Emily films her commercial. Stephanie tells her mother who's going to be bridesmaid.
----
Jordan stood at the garage of the vocational school, handing over the keys to the truck. They looked at the squat beige building, the garage bays open and cleaner than any commercial garage ever would be. They remembered the RFP their father put in on that school bus depot in Aurora, how pissed he was that he didn’t get it. Well, if they had their way, they’d never have to worry about something that small.
“Well, thanks, uh, Ms.,” the word said uncertainly, “Nehlen. We really appreciate you donating your truck to us. The kids can learn a lot from old vehicles like these,” the ‘old’ a punch to the stomach.
They smiled, “My dad and I rebuilt it from the ground up, basically.”
“That’s what we’ll be doing here, too.” The shop teacher looked over at Jordan’s new, well 3-year old, Toyota pickup, Kira behind the wheel. “That’s a nice one you got there.”
“Thanks,” they laughed. “Kinda hard to drive though. You turn a key and it just starts,” to a laugh from the teacher, who told a story of an old Camaro he had, ‘fifteen minutes of pre-flight when you loaned it to someone.’ “Like, I don’t know what I’m gonna do when it’s cold and I can just go outside and get in...anyway, I’m glad it’ll be of use.”
They walked over to their new truck, and Kira lowered the window. “Can I help you,” she grinned.
They smiled, “Shove over.”
Kira, smiling, “What if I say no?” Her tone, flirtatious.
They took a deep, dramatic breath. “Oh, you’re saying no, are you,” hoping that they didn’t sound like a maniac.
Kira smiled, “You never let me drive.”
From the corner of their eye, they saw the teacher walk back into the building. “I’m an awful passenger,” they said. “You will regret this,” and they walked around to the other side, hopping into the cab.
Kira kissed them on the lips. “I’m a very good driver. You’ll see.” They looked over at the seat and regretted not paying extra for the one with the memory seat. Once Kira got out, they’d have to spend ten minutes fixing it and it would still never be right. Still, they needed to relax, and they took a breath. Kira laughed, “Oh come on. It’s like a fifteen minute drive, it’ll be fine, you baby.” They watched as Kira adjusted the mirrors again, checked behind her and pulled out of the lot.
Kira pulled into the lot at Butler, and grinned. “See, you didn’t die. Your new truck is all in one piece. What do you say?”
They smiled. “You did fine.”
Kira began poking Jordan. “I did fine? I did fine? That’s all.”
Jordan, stifling a laugh, “I don’t know what you’re doing. I’m not ticklish.” They could see people looking at them. “Come on, people are looking.”
Kira kept poking, and they watched as her shirt rode up a little. “So,” she said, continuing the poking, “tell me I was good and I’ll stop. Besides, why do you care what they think?”
Trying to maintain a semblance of control, “I don’t care. I’m concerned for you. You start assaulting people in a parking lot and people start to talk,” they laughed.
“Oh, is poor Jordan being assaulted?” She looked at the window and saw a campus cop going by on a scooter. “Should I call a cop? Yoo hoo, Mr. Officer, my big strong,” and she paused, they hadn’t said what they were yet, “Jordan is being attacked. Just say it.”
“Only because you need to get to class and I need to get to work - you did very well. OK?”
Kira pulled them in close and gave them a real kiss. “Yeah, that covers it.” She picked up her backpack and purse from the seats behind her. “I will see you later, right?” They had softball, Kira’s team playing on the field next to theirs. Roni had told them, laughing, ‘that you better keep your eyes on the field.’
“Yup. I have your glove and bat bag in the back. Have a good day at school.” Have a good day at school? Idiot.
Then, they watched as Kira walked off to class, her ponytail bouncing as she walked away, catching up with her friends. They drove to work with a smile on their face, ignoring the traffic.
--
They ate lunch with two of the other assistant managers, Dean and Lucas.
“Nah, she’s all up my ass about moving in.” Dean was bitching about his girlfriend. “I’m like, yeah, no. Know what I’m saying?”
Jordan took a bite of their sandwich. “How long have you been together?”
Dean looked at them. “Like six months?”
Lucas laughed. “You don’t know to the minute? I’m telling her.”
“Fuck off, dick,” Dean said, then turned to Jordan. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
“Does what bother me?” They had genuinely no clue and racked their brain.
“What we’re talking about.” He took a bite of his burger and she watched food fly out.
“No. Why would it?”
He looked at Lucas. “I just thought…”
They grinned. “That was your first problem. You thought. I don’t care if you don’t know how long you’ve been together. She will. I don’t. You chewing with your mouth open? That bothers me. Anyway, is your lease up or something, or hers?”
He looked at them. “A couple of months.”
They shrugged. “Your call.”
“Would you move in with someone after six months?” Now, they both looked at Jordan.
“I dunno. Depends.”
“On what?”
They took a breath. “If I thought she was someone I wanted to see everyday.” They knew Jordan liked girls and thought that was probably easier than if she didn't, straight women being for the trailer. “Do you wanna see her everyday?” They thought about Kira, how they weren't ready for everyday or even close to it, but how pissed they'd be if someone else was.
Dean looked at Lucas, then Jordan. “No but she's hot and I don't wanna give that up. Sorry.”
Jordan shrugged and took another bite. “Not my problem but she's gonna figure that out eventually.”
The two guys looked at each other, and Dean shrugged. “I'll figure that out then.”
--
It was after the game and Jordan and Kira were in the truck, heading back to her dorm when the phone rang. Jordan went to look and Kira said, “Eyes on the road,” then, “it says PITA. Who's that?”
They laughed, “Stef. Pick it up.”
Kira picked up and, in a bad breathy voice, “You've reached Jordan Nehlen.” Jordan went to grab it and she moved it to her other ear. “This is their assistant Kira.”
Jordan, laughing, “Come on. Give it.”
Kira, now grinning, “I've heard a lot about you... I'm a senior at Butler. Econ and theater...I know, they told me. Oh, they're driving. Should I put you on speaker?” Over Jordan's yelled, ‘I'll call you back,’ Kira put Stef on speaker, “Hey, Jor,” she laughed.
“I'll call you back.”
Laughter. “Kira, you don't mind if we talk now, do you?”
Kira, grinning. “Not at all. I won't interrupt.”
Jordan grumbled but smiled, ‘I doubt that,’ and Stef continued, “It won't be an interruption,” then, “Mom wanted me to call you.”
Jordan took a deep breath. This was never a good start to any conversation. “What did I do now?”
Stef laughed, “No, this time I'm supposed to apologize to you.”
Kira looked bemused as Jordan said, “For what?” Trying to remember if anything had happened in Chicago and coming up blank.
“Well, because I'm not having you as a bridesmaid.”
They were confused. “Yeah. Ok. And?”
Stef said, “Well, she thought I should apologize because you,” and she couldn't hold back the laughter, “aren't,” which led to uncontrollable giggles from Kira.
They laughed, “Is she fucking nuts?”
Kira, giggling. “I think you should be,” then, “Stephanie, I'm thinking orange.”
Stef, laughing, “What do you think of magenta?”
“Ooh... chartreuse!”
Jordan, “Are you two having fun?”
Stef, “That's perfect! And I'm thinking ruffles.” They stared ahead, watching traffic, glad that Stef seemingly liked Kira, not that they had planned to introduce them to each other yet. They hoped that none of this would get back to their parents, knowing that Mom would take it out on Dad. They listened as the two landed on a dress with a full skirt, a hat and a parasol, giggling the whole time. “Anyway, call me later, Jor. Love you.”
“Love you too, Stef,” and they hung up.
Kira laughed, “Why would your mother ever think you'd be a bridesmaid?”
They sighed, “I think she thinks this is a phase.”
Kira rolled her eyes. “Is she that clueless? Besides, there's Emily. From what you said, this would totally be her thing.”
“It is. It will be,” and then the lie came to them, “Jared has two sisters, so it's a symmetry thing.” They mentally patted themselves on their back.
Kira played with her phone, “That's crazy AF.”
Jordan laughed, “Yeah, that's the Nehlens. Crazy AF.”
---
On the way back from Kira’s dorm, they called Stef. “Hey, Jordy,” they said brightly. “I didn't expect you to call back so quickly.”
Jordan laughed, “She has an exam tomorrow, you know the deal.”
Teasing, “I like her.”
Drily, “I'm thrilled.”
“She seems really cool, low-key.”
“She is,” then laughing as she drove onto the highway, “and I'll try not to fuck it up.” Then, “she asked why mom cared about me doing it if Em was around.”
A pause, then an intake of breath. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
They had talked to Emily and she had said that she didn't honestly care whether Kira knew or not, that she was who she was and that she'd find out eventually if, ‘you don't screw this one up, Jordy.’ And as far she was concerned, Em was Em and if someone had a problem, they had the problem. But then again, they didn't know if they were ready for the questions. “I don't know if I'm there yet. Em’s in the wedding, right?” Girding themself for a fight on their little sister's behalf.
A sharp, “Of course, she is.” They exhaled. “How could you even ask that?”
They stared out the window, at the flat expanse of highway, running to the horizon line. They remembered the ride to West Lafayette, the emptiness, the openness. “Sorry. What did mom say when you told her?” Picturing a conflagration like those shows on Dresden that grandpa always watched. Then, silence. “Did you tell her?”
Stef, “It's my wedding. She'll deal.”
Jordan approached their exit, carefully turning the wheel, hand over hand. “What? She's just gonna show up and see Em?”
Trying to regain control, “Obviously, not. I'll tell her. She's already pissed it's not Stace and Mia. Who, by the way, both thanked me.”
Teasing, “Well, then thank you too. But, come on, it's not fair to Em.”
Deflecting, “She really seems great.”
The conversation was over and they knew that one of the good things about this was that Mom would never involve them in it, having declared them useless years ago. “You'll like her,” then stopping the pounce. “If we get there.”
“Right,” she said, drawing it out. “If. Although I guess that she could drop you.”
Jordan, pulling into the Kroger parking lot to pick up staples - eggs, milk, cereal, “That isn't happening.”
Stef, laughing, “Someone thinks very highly of themself.”
They had to laugh a little, having had no relationship until they went to college, remembering the insults and a trip to the mall, the first time that Mom and Dad had left them alone overnight. How she and Em walked around, looking at clothes and how they wondered what went wrong that Em was Em and not them. How Stef huffed that she'd let them go to GameStop if they ‘just behaved,’ like they were a little kid. “It's not bragging if you can back it up.”
“Gross,” she laughed. “Anyway, once again, I am truly sorry that you won't be a bridesmaid. Please, forgive me.”
They laughed. “What's the matter with her?”
Stef laughed. “I had too long a day. Love you Jordy.”
“Love you too. Say hi to Jared.”
---
Emily sat on the set, while the makeup artist did her face. A makeup artist was doing her face. She knew that she had to sit here quietly, speak as little as possible, but a makeup artist was doing her face - for a commercial. “You have great bone structure,” the artist said, as she applied lip gloss.
“Thanks,” Emily said. “I’ve been working on it,” she joked.
“So, this is your first commercial?” Emily nodded. “Don’t nod, I need you to stay still.”
“Sorry about that,” Emily said. “I’m never sure which is worse. Yeah, this is my first.”
“Well, good luck. The director is good, I’ve worked with her before, and some of the crew. I don’t know the cameraman or the lighting guy, but she runs a tight set.” She began applying blush to her face. “You’ve got a cute look, y’know, very approachable. If you stay out of the sun, you should have a long career.”
Emily, trying not to smile, “I hope so.”
The makeup artist took the piece of tissue paper from around her neck, then yelled, “We’re ready.”
Emily walked over to her mark. Her waitress outfit consisted of black jeans and a white cotton top, tied just above her waist and a pair of boots that no diner waitress with an interest in keeping her feet would ever wear. She knew, however, that no one was interested in her backstory for her character, or what she did with her feet after her shift. Smile, serve, say your lines, that’s what they wanted.
The director came over, copper hair down to the base of her neck, worn jeans and a white t-shirt over which she wore a green button down. “Emily, right?” She nodded. “OK, so you know what your job is,” and she gave her basic directions. Go there, look here, that sort of thing. “OK, so you’ve got it, right?”
Emily smiled, about to say, ‘I think so,’ then, “I’ve got it!”
The crew laughed. “I appreciate your enthusiasm,” the director laughed, “OK, everyone on your marks.” Emily walked over to the table where the two ‘customers’ sat, menus in hand. She called for sound, then, ‘action.’
The customers ordered, Emily moving from table to table, making sure not to pirouette, making sure to hit ‘Best Foods mayo’ just right. “Cut.” The director looked at her. “OK, that was OK, Emily, but when you’re going from table to table, can I see some motion?”
“Motion?” She had walked from table to table, like the script said.
“Yeah, motion. You’ve been in restaurants before” And she stifled a laugh and raised her eyebrows. “You’re moving from table to table, maybe do a little move like,” and she moved slightly more gracefully than Jordan would. “Can you do that?”
She smiled. “Let me take a shot.”
Take two. Back in place. They called action and she began moving between the tables, doing the little moves she had been doing since she was 17, the hip shift here, the turn there, always hitting her marks and saying her lines with a smile.
“Cut, that was great, really great,” the director said.
The cameraman looked at her. “We had a shadow in the frame,” then looking at the lighting guy, “can you make sure that doesn’t happen again?”
“Fuck you,” she heard someone mumble. “Maybe check your camera beforehand.”
The director said, “Enough.” Then, ‘do your jobs right and we won’t have this problem.’
Emily sat watching all of this. So this is a set, she thought. She had done student films but that was the difference between training camp and the real thing, looking up at a rigger who had to be at least Rob’s age, climbing up and down ladders. She wondered whether he had wanted to do something else and ended here or if he was happy.
After seven takes - missed cues, mike shadows, a noise out of frame - her feet hurt, her hair was falling in strands onto her face (‘I like it,’ the director said when the makeup artist came to fix it, ‘very realistic.’ As if hair in your food was realistic) and she wanted to punch the ‘customer’ who surreptitiously pinched her ass as she went past. But, still she smiled and did what she was told.
Take eight. She moved from table to table, doing her moves, imagining herself at her old job, the synchronicities that came when everyone knew each other. “Bring out the Best Foods and bring out the best,” she said smiling.
“Cut!” The director yelled. “OK, everyone take ten while I check this.”
Emily sat down in a chair and a PA brought her over a bottle of water with a straw. “Thanks,” she said, smiling. “I really appreciate it.”
The PA, a tall guy, all arms, legs and Adam’s apple, said, “You’re doing great.”
She smiled. “Am I? Thanks. I mean, I’m just the trained monkey out there, you guys do all the work.”
He smiled at her. “You can’t have a circus without monkeys,” which made her laugh. “I mean, you need acrobats and a ringmaster and,” he pointed at himself, “clowns too, but you definitely need your monkey.”
She smiled, “I don’t know exactly how to take that.”
He laughed, “I don’t know what it meant, so we’re even. Anyway, I’m just doing this for extra cash. I’m doing a movie, it’s kinda low budget, but it’s a bunch of us from USC and I was wondering if you’d be interested in maybe reading for it.”
She hesitated. With this, she’d finally be a real professional, paid to work. On the other hand, with this, she’d have had exactly one paying job. “I guess. I mean, what’s it about?”
He explained it. A family drama, about a family in the Inland Empire, just getting by, sort of the faces left behind in the boom. She’d be playing the middle daughter, a high school junior. Not a big part but ‘we think we may be able to get into Ignite,’ the young filmmaker’s institute at Sundance. She was fairly certain it was bullshit, her dentist thought he was getting a first look deal, but she was willing to read a script. For every five hundred pieces of shit, there had to be a ‘Tangerine.’ “So, I’ll send it over.” She gave him her acting email and told him she’d read it.
“OK,” the director said, “that’s a wrap. Great job.” She walked over to Emily. “I need your contact info in case we need to loop.” That got her real email. “And the agency will let you know when and where it’s airing.”
“Thanks,” she said brightly, which got a bemused smile and a head shake.
She took off her costume, cleaned off the makeup and walked out on air to her car, stopping to pump her first. She checked her phone - a bunch of texts (Duncan, Marissa, Shaye) and a voice mail - Jeannie or her boss, obviously. Shit, it was already 5:30, which meant Duncan would be getting ready for the dinner rush. She slid into the car, smoothing her dress under her. She turned on Spotify, Destiny’s Child, singing, ‘the clothes I'm wearing I bought it, The rock I'm rockin,' I bought it. 'Cause I depend on me,’ and bouncing in her seat.
She pulled into the parking lot of her building, dancing along to the music in her head, the woman getting her mail, laughing at her. Or with her. It didn’t matter. She went inside and kicked off her shoes. If she did her math right, if the commercial aired ten times, at standard rates, she’d have enough after taxes for the surgery. She sang, grinning, ‘the vag I’m rockin’, I bought it.’ Then, she took out her phone and listened to dictation from work.
Duncan came over after work and she met him at the door, wearing nothing but a big t-shirt and giving him a big kiss. He looked at her, “Is this Apartment 7?”
“Oooh, sorry, no,” she said, giggling. “You’re looking for the big hairy guy, right? He’s across the hall.”
“Oh yeah. That’s right. Sorry,” and he turned.
She smiled, “I mean, as long as you’re here…”
He picked her up, his hands on her ass and her arms around his neck, and walked over to the couch. “So how did it go?”
She smiled, “It was so amazing,” and she told the whole story, hands gesturing wildly as she described everyone. “And some PA asked if I wanted to read for his movie.”
Duncan looked at her. “I don’t like that, I don’t think.”
Her legs tucked under her. “Why?”
“I dunno,” he said, “I think he was just hitting on you.”
“Why, Duncan Connell, are you jealous,” she teased, as she stretched out her legs into his lap.
He turned a little red, which she liked. “No. I just wonder why he asked you.” She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it like does he ask every actress he meets?” Now, she was staring. “OK, I mean why you?”
She looked at him. “I’m good? Might that have occurred to you?”
He knew he had stepped in it. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just,” and he started rubbing her feet, “don’t like it when other guys just start talking to you, OK? I know you’re good and, if you think he’s legit, I trust your judgment.”
She laughed a little. “Duncan, how long have you lived here? And been in the restaurant business? Everyone is in show business except,” and she booped his nose, “you. He probably figured I’d work cheap or something. Besides, the script is probably garbage besides.” He began moving his hands up her leg. “I’m not letting you off the hook that easy, mister.” He began pulling her by her legs closer to him, so that she ended up mostly in his lap. “What do you think you’re doing?” He smiled and kissed her, full on the mouth. “I’m still not happy,” she giggled as he tickled her. He put his hands under her t-shirt and start playing with her nipples. “I’m serious.”
“Uh huh, got it,” he said. “Do you want me to stop?”
She looked at him. “Just because I want a booty call does not mean I’m not upset with you.”
He began kissing her neck. “You’re the best actress I know.”
She began writhing. “How many actresses do you know?”
“Enough,” and he began pulling her shirt over her head, making her flinch, even still. “Enough to know you’re the best.”
“That's better,” she laughed. They went into the bedroom and she pulled his shirt over his head, running her finger down the strip of hair from his sternum to his belly button, then kissing his chest. He moaned and she smiled. “Does Dunky like that?” More moans. “What about this?” And she unzipped his pants, pulling them down and smiling at his erection. “Dunky definitely likes this, doesn’t he?” They stood there, both in their underwear, and she noticed how he never looked down. She closed the blinds, giggling, “We don’t want to give the neighbors a show, do we?” She turned out the lights, took off her panties and they went at it, hot and heavy, his hands all over her chest, hips and ass. After fifteen minutes, she took out the K-Y and rubbed it all over his cock, moaning, “Now!”
She should have made him wear a condom. They had told them all that, even if pregnancy wasn’t a thing, STDs were, even as she was pretty sure he was clean. But, in the moment, all she wanted was to feel him inside her. He began pumping away and whatever she had hung there limply, basically a baby’s thumb at this point, thanks to the estrogen and everything. “Ohgodohgod,” he moaned, thrusting in and out, and she gave her ‘yesyesyes’ back.
And, for the first time in a very long time, she felt...something. A stirring. Not an erection. No, those were a distant and unpleasant memory. But a feeling, a very good one. ‘Yesyesyes,’ she began screaming, ‘ohgodohgod,’ and then she gave a noise and flinched, feeling a drop of something drip from her. Then, she felt him pull out, his cum dripping from her ass.
She rolled next to him, nestling in the crook of his arm. “That was amazing,” and she kissed him.
He had a massive grin on his face. “Did you cum?” Guys always asked this. Shaye always said ‘stop asking and start trying harder.’
“Yes,” she laughed, happy to be honest for once. Then, teasing, “did you?”
He kissed her again. “Nah, I was faking it.”
“You really should quit and become an actor then.” She rolled over to put on her panties.
“Are you kicking me out or something?” He looked upset.
She was confused. “No, why?” She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at her panties on the floor.
“Why are you getting dressed then?”
“I’m not,” she said, “I was just…”
He smiled and patted the bed. “Then, just lie down here.”
She smiled and lay down next to him, feeling his warmth against her, and she listened as he fell asleep.
---
The last place she wanted to be was downtown on a Saturday. She spent more of her life here than anyplace else and, because of this, would have to be back here tomorrow in the office. And she hated Macy’s. It was crowded, the staff was surly and they made no effort at presentation, basically assuming customers were here because they had no imagination or not enough money to shop on Michigan Avenue or whatever.
But mom liked it, remembering it from ‘when it was Marshall Field’s,’ and rhapsodizing about the way ‘the skylights used to flood the store with light.’ Stef remembered the way that they’d ride the escalators with Grandma to the top, looking at all of the floors of stuff, and then work their way back down. But then the store almost went under and people shopped on-line, and so they had to lease the top floors which meant closing off the skylight because of building codes or something.
And she felt guilty. Arden would kill to have her mom annoy the crap out of her, but the pancreatic cancer took care of that. She never wanted to say anything but Arden always joked, ‘Just ‘cause mine’s dead doesn’t make Laura less annoying.’
So, here she was, waiting for mom by the Frango counter, the last vestige of the old store she sort of remembered. Today was the day. She was telling her and she would just have to deal. Emmy was her sister and she was going to be in the wedding. That was it. If they couldn’t deal, tough shit. It was her wedding.
She was looking at her phone, when she heard, “Please tell me that’s not work.”
Stef dropped her phone in her bag. “Nah, Tik Tok. I promised that I wouldn’t do work,” when you could see me, “and I’ll keep my promise.”
Her mother looked at her. “I like that sweater.”
A green sweater that she bought at a store near work, v neck. Nothing special, but “thanks. So, was traffic OK?”
She shrugged. “The usual.” Usurping dad’s line of inquiry. “Anyway, I’m so glad you could make time for me.”
She felt a stabbing pain. “Thanks, ma,” she said, with a tight smile. “I really appreciate it.” Sorry I don’t work at some firm in the suburbs where I don’t make enough to cover my loans, much less pay rent or anything.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just glad that we’re getting some girl time together. Not that I don’t like seeing Jared too, but I like just us.”
She sighed, “Yeah, me too. Anyway, where do you want to go?” They went up to one of the five women’s floors, men and children being consigned to the first, as her mother began looking for new clothes for work, yammering on about one of the female attorneys who ‘thinks she’s better than the support staff.’
“Do you think the male attorneys think that?” Regretting the words as soon as she said them.
Her mother, holding a dress to herself, “What?”
Doubling down against her better judgment. “Do the male attorneys think they’re better than the support staff?”
Her mother. “Oh stop. That’s not what I mean. She just is particularly snobby. The other day, she just held up her coffee cup and waggled it, like her admin is her slave.”
Stef remembered mom’s old boss doing just that, occasionally barking ‘coffee’ when he was feeling courteous. And the male attorneys in their 50s who all but patted her on the head, when she told them she was doing the Intel Science Search. But keep focusing on the woman, ma. “That’s not OK for anyone to do, ma.”
Her mother was now placated, and they continued walking around the store, her mother offering her opinion on a Nehlen ‘command performance’ she had been forced to attend, savaging everyone except Aunt Jeannie. “She said that she saw you in Jewel when you came out.”
“Um, yeah. She congratulated us.” It was a month and a half ago, and she had all but forgotten, remembering only now the conversation that they had about Emily.
“She seems strange lately.”
Stef looked up to see two boys, obviously bored out of their skulls, trying to run up the down escalator. “What do you mean?”
“She’s very secretive,” then, looking at the two boys, “they’re going to get hurt. They remind me of Molly…”
“Jordan, ma. Their name is Jordan.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t do it often.”
Once is too much, she thought, but don’t go there. “Whatever. Jeannie. Maybe it’s something with Robbie.” She knew something was up but no one said anything to her and she wasn’t asking.
“No, that’s not it. It’s more like she’s trying not to say something to me.”
Stef shrugged. “Maybe it’s a business thing. Maybe something’s up and she wants to say but she can’t because of all their BS.”
Her mother smiled, happy to hear dad’s family bashed. “Maybe. It’s just she’s the only one I can tolerate. How are Brooke and Jamie?” Jared’s sisters.
She took a breath. “I’ve told you. They’re great.”
“You’re lucky.”
“So you’ve said. What happened at the dinner?” How to distract her.
And off she went, describing in detail everything that happened, Stef having learned to tune her out, like a vacuum cleaner being used in the other room. She nodded and agreed about how her aunts were all bitches.
They walked around for a while, eventually heading to the Walnut Room on the seventh floor. Stef remembered how she used to love coming here when she was little, the beauty of the walnut paneling and the crystal chandeliers, the linen napkins. After all these years, as overwrought as it was, it still somehow meant luxury to her.
The menu, on the other hand...salmon? Meatloaf? “Chicken caesar salad,” she said to the waitress, “and an unsweetened iced tea, thanks.”
As they waited for their food, her mother said, “Mia,” Stef’s cousin, “is very upset that she’s not a bridesmaid.”
Stef smiled, “Funny, because she thanked me profusely. She said that the baby is driving her nuts and that she’s so glad that she doesn’t have to go through bridesmaid stuff on top of everything. Stacy said the same thing.”
“That’s not,” and she swallowed her lips, “what Jackie told me.” Stef shrugged. “On top of which, it makes me look bad.”
Stef, taking a sip of water, then swallowing, “How?”
“Because none of the family is in the wedding. They had you and you’re having his sisters and Arden.”
Another sip. “Arden is my best friend. She was never not going to be my maid of honor. You know that, right?”
“I have nothing against her being in the wedding.” Gee thanks. “I’m not unreasonable.” You wouldn’t know. “But his sisters and none of your own family? Jackie is hurt.”
“I’ll call her. I’ll make nice.”
Her mother played with a sugar packet. “That’s not the point. I just don’t understand how you can get married and not have any of your family in the wedding.”
Stef took a breath. She knew that she was going to have the fight eventually but had hoped to eat first. Oh well, she thought, plans change. “I am.”
Her mother, now playing with her straw wrapper, “You are what?”
“Having family in the wedding. Our family.”
Her mother stared at her, then laughed. “Oh, so your sister is going to be in the wedding?”
She saw the car heading towards the cliff and debated hitting the brakes. “Yeah, she is.”
“Did you tell them they,” both words all but spat, “have to wear a dress?”
“She knows that and is excited.” Let’s see how long this takes, she thought, as she watched people running out of the way of the car.
“She? You’re calling her ‘she’ all of a sudden? Do they know that?” Her tone light, her face annoyed.
“I’m not talking about Jordan, ma. I’m talking about Emily.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
Stef, taking a sip of her iced tea. “Emily, ma. Emily is going to be a bridesmaid and she’s very excited.”
A deep breath and, through gritted teeth, “You are not going to have your brother as a bridesmaid. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Emily is not my brother. She is my sister. And she’s going to be a bridesmaid. In my wedding.”
“Absolutely not,” she said, with finality.
“Absolutely yes, ma,” she said calmly, as her heart beat quickly.
“Oh, really?” Sarcasm flowing. “Your brother is going to wear a dress in front of all our relatives? Do you really think I’m going to be humiliated in front of them like that?”
“Emily is my sister, ma. Not my brother, my sister. And she’s beautiful and no one is going to be humiliated. Do you want to see a picture of her,” and she reached for her phone.
“No,” she snapped. “I do not want to see a picture of him. He is not going to be a bridesmaid, and that’s it.”
“That’s not it,” she said, measuring her words carefully, like tiny bits of nitroglycerin, “She is. And, if someone has a problem, them, you, anyone, that’s just too bad.”
“Have you told Jared’s family that your crossdressing brother is going to be a bridesmaid? I’m sure his aunt will have a field day.”
She was done being nice. “Who the fuck cares what anyone thinks?”
“I do. You should. You know what she thinks of you. Are you trying to prove her right?”
She put her napkin on the table. “I don’t care what she thinks. Or Jackie. Or any of them. Emily is my sister. I love her, she loves me, she is the nicest, kindest girl I know - and she is a girl, ma, make no mistake - and she is going to be in my wedding. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. If someone doesn’t like it, they don’t have to come.”
“So,” her mother said, smirking, “if I said, it’s her or me…” Stef waved. “Really?”
“I’d rather not but it’s not me making that decision.” She was amazed that she got that out. “I’m sorry if it comes to that, but this is a red line.”
“Well,” her mother said, “I have to decide my next steps as well, then. Two of us can play this game, Stephanie.”
Stef took another sip. “It’s not a game, ma. It’s my wedding. And I’m not making any choice here. Emily is more than willing to be there with you.” Maybe. They hadn’t discussed it. “But you decide. If you don’t want to be at your daughter’s wedding, I will be really, really hurt but I’ll deal.” She wasn’t ready to give the ‘but if you’re not, be prepared’ ultimatum, yet.
Her mother looked at her angrily. “You can explain that to your father, all of this. I’m not.” Stef smiled and took out her phone. “I suggest that you think before you do that.”
“Okey dokey,” she smirked, putting her phone back. “I ask you to do the same.”
The waitress came and all but dropped their food and ran. “Don’t take that tone with me,” and she crammed her fork into her chicken pot pie. She took a bite. “Well, there’s no point in eating this now,” and she dropped her fork, Stef listening to it clank on the plate.
Stef drizzled dressing on the salad, and took a bite. “This is really good. Want some?” OK, she thought, that was bitchy. “Sorry. But I’m not sorry about the rest of this.” Her mother glared. “You can,” and she took another bite, “choose what you want to do here. But Emily is going to be there, like it or not. And if you got over your BS and took the time to get to know her, you’d see how great she is.”
“I know who Christopher is,” she said, taking an angry forkful of her chicken pot pie. “He chose his path, not me.”
You didn’t find her in her room, with the bruises on her stomach from where Rob Robredo and his friends kicked her. You didn’t find her crying because her so-called friends had abandoned her. You didn’t come home from college and hear how she wished she was never born. “Mom, her name is Emily.”
“Whatever he calls himself these days, I don’t care,” and she took a bite, smiling. “What does Jared think of all this?”
“He loves her. He wonders how someone so nice has a sister like me.”
“Does he know the truth?”
She took a bite. “Yeah, he does. And, to answer the next question, he doesn’t care. He knows she’s her true self now.”
“Well, isn’t that lovely? Her true self. I’m sure your cousins will treat her as kindly.”
Stef put down her fork. “Fuck you, mom,” she hissed, and her mother glared. “It’s like you want something bad to happen to her. You’re her mom, Jesus.”
Her mother scoffed, “You’re putting words in my mouth, Stephanie. And don’t curse.”
“‘I’m sure your cousins will treat her as kindly.’ Would you care to give me an alternate explanation?”
Hissing, “Don’t you dare speak to me that way. I am still your mother.”
“You want her to get beaten? Is that really what you want?”
Now smirking, “I understand that, in your world, Chris is his true self or whatever it is you said,” bitch, “and no, I don’t want anything to happen to him, but guess what? Some people aren’t as enlightened,” the word dripping with contempt, “as you and there’s a finite amount you can do to stop them.”
“Then, they’re not invited. See, simple?”
“Then, we’re not paying for any of it. See, simple?” And she took a bite of her pot pie. “This is really good. Want some,” and she smirked.
“Congrats, mom,” Stephanie said, standing up. “You won.”
Her mother looked at her. “Meaning?”
“You drove away Emmy. You drove away Jordan. Now, you get the hat trick,” and she walked away.
Her mother got up and followed her. “Don’t you walk away from me.” Two older women watched from a nearby table, ‘there but for the grace of god go I’ written on their faces.
Stef stopped in front of their table, knowing how mortified her mother felt in front of complete strangers. “Um, yeah, I’m walking away. And to be clear, I don’t need your money for the wedding. Jared and I do just fine,” and pulling the knife from her sleeve, “his parents have already offered to help us out, no strings attached.” The two women made a show of looking at their plates, their ears perked up.
“We are not having this discussion here, Stephanie,” she said, teeth gritted to the point they should have turned to dust.
Stef took a breath and smiled, “We’re not having any discussion anywhere. My sister is going to be in my wedding.” Now, the women stopped pretending, looking with scorn at Stef’s mom. “You can make whatever decision you see fit about coming. But the decision is made.” The waitress walked past and she said, “Can I have the check please? I think we’re done,” then, looking at her mother, smiling her sweetest smile, “do you want her to box up the pot pie? I know how much you like it.” She paid the bill and left, ignoring the increasingly angry calls for her.
---
Jordan called Stef later. “Hey Jor, everything OK?” She was worried. They never called her, just texted.
“Dad’s losing his shit.” That was Jor. Right to the point.
“She’s a fucking bitch,” Stef said, as Jared walked into the other room.
Jordan laughed, “No shit, Stef. What happened, ‘coz Dad’s all like I have no idea what’s going on and I’m thinking, and you think I know?”
Stef sighed, having gone through this with Jared and Arden. “I told her Emmy was going to be in the wedding.” One word, seven syllables - fuck. “Yeah.” And then she recounted lunch in all its gory detail, Jordan stopping her at…
“She said that?” Their cousins.
“Yeah, she said that.” Stef watched the TV with the sound off, flicking from ‘Say Yes to the Dress.’
She could hear Jordan stand up, their feet hitting the floor with a thud and she hoped Kira wasn’t there. “I will fucking kill anyone who fucking says a fucking word to Emmy, much less,” and she heard their breath get short.
“Jor, calm down.”
Jordan snapped, “Calm down? That fucking bitch thinks it’s OK for those assholes to hurt Emmy and you tell me to calm down?”
Stef took a breath. “I’m as pissed as you are and Jared’s even more pissed although,” and she left off the inevitable, if sad, truth of what would happen.
Jordan laughed, “Yeah, no, that would not be good.”
“What I was going to say was I told her then they’re not invited.”
“Oh,” then, “can you do that?”
Stef sighed. “I don’t wanna, but I’m not letting her do this shit to Ems. I want her there, but I want Emmy and you there more.” Jordan made a retching sound. “Fuck you, asshole. I try and say something sweet and you go do that. Fuck you. Kira can come, not you,” she laughed.
Jordan laughed. “Yeah, that’s definitely the right choice. She really hates her that much? That’s hella messed up,” which made Stef laugh, for the first time all day. “Have you told Emmy any of this?”
“Fuck no,” she said, “you know what she’ll do…”
Jordan, “Yeah,” then, laughing, “if we weren’t twins, I’d think she was adopted,” then, sighing, “Dad’s all upset though.”
“I know and I feel bad for him, but I’m not changing my mind.”
What Jordan said next surprised her. “Good. If you do, I’m not coming.”
“Huh?” She watched as people made out on ‘Below Deck,’ and wondered how much one of these cruises cost. Charter a yacht, get married there.
“You heard me. If Emmy isn’t in the wedding, I’m not coming.” She laughed and they said, “what’s so funny?”
“You. You’re so funny. You really care about her, don’t you?”
A laugh. “You wonder why I never call. Now, you know.”
“Jordan loves their sister,” she sang, “now there’s something no one ever expected.”
“Fuck you, Stef,” they laughed, then, “later.”
“I love you, Jordan,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Now, more seriously. “No, seriously, I do and thanks.”
“Love you too, you freak,” and they hung up.
Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman, who hasn't seen her twin Jordan in six years. Not since she told her parents the truth about herself and they threw her out. Her older sister is getting married and wants Emily there - as a bridesmaid. Will sparks fly?
----
Stef reconciles with her mother (sort of). Jordan tells Kira about Emily. Duncan moves away for a new job. Oh, and Emily gets The Operation.
---
Emily checked her savings account, and her eyes widened. Enough, enough, enough, she began singing to herself, I have enough. Between insurance and this, she could have the surgery and stay out of the office for a week or so.
She called insurance, just to be sure, then, satisfied, called her endocrinologist to get the name of the surgeon (‘it’s the same as the last three times,’ his assistant teased). Then, she called the surgeon (‘hi, my name is Emily Berrigan and I would like to schedule a gender confirmation consult,’ she said brightly) and made an appointment for next Tuesday. Next Tuesday, when I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, she thought, then giggled at the metaphor.
She went to call Duncan, then paused. It's not like he didn't know, obviously he did, not that he ever touched it, but he obviously knew. But this was something else. She put down the phone.
---
“Four weeks,” she told Marissa and Shaye. “The doctor said that he can do it in four weeks, maybe sooner if he gets a cancellation.”
“That's amazing,” Marissa said, as she gave her a hug. “Emily’s finally getting a chooch,” she joked.
Shaye laughed, “Does he get cancellations? Like, I came this far but I decided, never mind?”
Emily laughed, “Shut UP! I don't know, maybe someone gets cold feet or their insurance says no or I don't know. Four weeks and I'm…” She paused, “I'm not freaking you guys out, am I?”
They both groaned, then Shaye touched her arm. “Emily, as far as we're concerned, this is cosmetic surgery for you, like Botox or something.”
Marissa smiled. “Exactly. It's like that surgery we saw on Discovery, where they tightened up that woman's vagina.” Emily remembered the two of them watching, horrified, Marissa asking whether guys were falling in. She smiled, “We're just fixing yours.” Emily teared up, touched. “Do not get all hormonal on me.”
“It's just... I can't believe it's finally here and you guys are just so,” and she started crying in gratitude.
Shaye hugged her close, then teased her about cramps.
---
“We watched the commercial online,” Aunt Jeannie said.
“And?” Emily waited expectantly.
Jeannie laughed, “You were awful. You'll probably never work again,” and Emily laughed. “You were amazing.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” then, “you really think so?”
“Yes,” she smiled, “I totally believed it. I totally believed you were a waitress. So, when we saw you in the restaurant, was that preparing for your role?”
Emily laughed and played with her hair. “Totally. An actor prepares,” she said, in a haughty tone. “Did Uncle Rob watch it? What did he think?”
Jeannie laughed. “He showed it to people. He's really proud of you.”
She felt herself tear up. “Really?”
A mock sigh. “You're not tearing up again?”
Emily laughed. “Stupid hormones,” which got a laugh, “how's Liam? How's the college search going?”
A pause. Then, “Funny you should ask. We are coming there next month to look at schools.”
Teasing, “USC is a top tier school.”
“That's what I said,” Jeannie laughed, “and the lawyer said the divorce won't take long at all. Nah, UCLA, Chapman and Pepperdine. Can we see you?”
Emily smiled, “Of course! I can't believe you'd even ask that,” then, “will Liam be ok with it?”
A confused tone, “Why wouldn't he be?”
“I just…”
“He's a very chill kid. When I told him we saw you, he just said ‘cool’ and has called you ‘she’ and ‘her’ ever since,” then, pausing, “I assume that's not an issue, that we told him.”
“No, why would it be?”
“I just, when I read about it on-line, they talked about your journey and all that…”
Emily smiled, touched. “Nah, it's cool,” then, in a lighter tone, “it would be kind of a big surprise to drop on him when he got here.” She looked down at her legs, peeking from her dress and wondered what he'd say when he actually saw her. “Seriously though, he's ok with it?”
“First, it's not for him or us or anyone to be ok with, just you, sweetie,” and Em smiled. “Second, he's not a big fan of the Nehlens either,” she laughed. “Calls them knuckle-draggers. He said he's looking forward to meeting a normal one...so I lied for you.”
Em laughed and thanked her. They talked for a while about work and Duncan and the wedding, filling a hole Em had forgotten was there. She debated telling her about the surgery, repeatedly stopping and starting, and ultimately deciding TMI.
After twenty minutes, Jeannie said, “I'll let you go. I love you.”
“I love you too. Tell Uncle Rob I love him too.”
She hung up the phone and looked at the selfie from the construction site and smiled.
Then, she called her back. “Hey, sweetie,” Aunt Jeannie said, “long time, no speak. What’s up?”
She paused. “I meant to tell you I’m, uh, having surgery next month.”
Jeannie sounded worried, “Everything OK?”
Emily paused, “Yeah, it’s the, uh, elective,” not really, not if she wanted to do more than survive, “surgery.”
“Oh,” Jeannie said, “will you be OK to go around with us?”
“Um, yeah?”
“OK. That’s great news then. When?”
Emily paused, “Four weeks.”
Jeannie, “How long is recovery time?”
Emily stammered, “They said like ten days.”
“Oh, OK. We’re coming, hang on, let me check, in six weeks, so you’ll be all healed hopefully.”
Emily looked at herself in the mirror, shocked, “I hope so. Really, this isn’t TMI?”
Jeannie laughed, “Do I want to see pictures of the surgery? No, I can’t handle blood, but other than that, no.” Then, a sigh, “one more time, Emmy. You are my niece. This is something you want, sorry, need, right?”
Emily, smiling nervously, “Yeah.”
“Then, that’s it. I mean, I’m not telling Rob everything...because men are such wusses,” she laughed. “Emmy, I am so happy and proud of you for doing this. You are an incredible young woman, and this is just one step,” then, an exasperated sigh, “you had better not be crying.”
“No,” she whimpered. “I'm not. I love you.”
“I love you too, Emmy.”
“And I want you to know how happy I am that you came into the restaurant that night and that you said something…”
“OK, stop…”
“No, I mean I can't imagine my life now without you two…”
Now, with crying, “Dammit, Emmy. It wasn't enough for you to cry, you had to make me cry too…”
“Sorry,” and she smiled, wiping away tears.
“Don't be,” she said. “We love you, Emily. Unconditionally. Now, I'm going before you cry again.”
--
Jordan and Kira were in Jordan's place, watching TV. Jordan turned off the TV. “We need to talk.”
Kira looked at them, concerned, “What's wrong? Are you ok?”
Jordan looked at her. “I'm fine.”
Kira played with her hair, pulling on a lock of it. “You're not breaking up with me, are you? Because…” And they could see her getting agitated.
Jordan looked at her. “No no no. Definitely not,” then, “although who knows what'll happen when I say what I need to say.”
Kira smiled. “You're going to jail?”
Jordan smiled, “No, not that. But, let me speak…”
“You want an open relationship? Because I don't share…”
“Two of you? One's enough, thanks,” and she hit them, “but seriously, let me just say this.” Kira smiled. God, they loved her smile, the warmth suffusing them. They hoped this wasn't it. Emmy told them they were being crazy, that there was no way that she wouldn't be cool with it, but she was there, not here. They took a deep breath. “So here goes, Emily is trans.”
Kira looked at them. “She wants to be a boy? But you said she's super-girly. Ok, well, whatever works for her. Or him.”
“No, Emmy used to be Chris,” and they laughed a little, “that sounds weird to me. Well, she really wasn’t ever Chris, as far as I’m concerned, but anyway she’s trans.”
Kira looked at them. “OK.”
They looked. “What does OK mean?”
Kira turned to face them, knees tucked under her, “It means OK. So your sister is trans. It makes no difference whatsoever to me.” Then, she looked upset. “Why did you think it would?”
Jordan tensed, “I didn't think you would. I just thought that you should, y’know, know. And now you do.”
Kira smiled. “Do you have a picture of her?”
“Why?” Jordan imagined the worst, then realized how that sounded. “Let me check my phone,” and they flicked through, landing on one of her in a green short-sleeved dress, hair down and smiling.
They held out the phone and Kira looked at Emily appraisingly. “She's really cute,” then grinning, “you look nothing alike.”
Jordan laughed, “Not at all. She takes after my mom's family.”
Kira took their hand, “Why didn't you want to tell me?”
Jordan hemmed and hawed, “I dunno. It's just, I don't know…”
Kira looked into their eyes, radiating compassion, “Were you not supposed to? You know I won't say anything, right?”
Jordan looked down, then willed themself to look into her eyes. “It's not a secret, I mean Emmy doesn't publicize it, but it's not a secret and she said it was OK…”
Kira leaned forward, hands on Jordan's knees, “Then what?”
“I like you a lot,” they blurted out.
Kira smiled, “I like you a lot too, Jor.”
Jordan felt knocked back onto their heels. “I just didn't want you to realize how screwed up,” I am, “my family is.”
Kira pulled herself into their lap. “You're not screwed up. So, your sister is trans. So what? I'm one to judge?” And she kissed them lightly on the lips.
Jordan wondered how they got so lucky and prayed that they wouldn't say anything stupid. “I guess.”
“Jor, stop,” then, “I guess that's why they don't speak with her, huh?” Jordan nodded, feeling no need to state the obvious. “That's too bad.” Another nod. “Do you not want to talk about it?”
Jordan looked at her. “I hate that they don't, but I can't do too much, y'know?”
“She's lucky to have you.”
They smiled. “Yeah, she is.”
Kira smiled and started tickling them. “Yeah, she is? You're horrible.”
Jordan, squirming. “I am. And I'm not ticklish,” they laughed.
Kira, now on top of them, “Yes, you are. And take back what you said.”
Jordan, stifling laughs. “Why?”
Kira, now climbing all over them.”It's mean.”
Jordan, now tickling her and feeling her squirm, “Actually, it's median.”
Kira, now kissing them, “You're weird.”
“And you're here. What does that say?” Their hands now under her shirt, unclasping their bra.
“I have low self-esteem,” she laughed. They were still amazed at how comfortable she was in her own skin.
“You really do,” they smiled, kissing her collarbone. And, to be clear, they thought, I'm lucky to have Em and Stef, but they weren't going to say that now.
---
Saturday morning, Stephanie sat on the Green Line, as it pulled out from Lake Street, looking out at the empty office buildings. You could stare into the windows of some of the older ones. On someone’s monitor, she could make out a picture of what looked like a man and a woman on a boat.
She should’ve been asleep, the week having been incredibly long, five fourteen hour days, or at least in bed with Jared. Except she wasn’t. She was on a train to Oak Park to see her father, at his demand or at least pleading. She thought about it and couldn’t remember the last time they had spent any time alone together, maybe a drive to Ann Arbor sophomore year, when mom had to deal with Em and Jordan. She remembered the frustrated phone calls about soccer practice, the exasperation and loathing palpable.
She stared out the window as the stations rolled past, the old station house at the Conservatory stop. Cicero, where Al Capone was from, and so on, until they pulled into Harlem station. She had always liked Oak Park, all of the Frank Lloyd Wright buildings, supposedly the most in one place anywhere in the world, all uncluttered and clean. She remembered that party when she was a summer associate, the one at the Rookery Building, the way the light flowed in. She wondered how much it would cost to rent for the wedding and then shook her head. That was for the kids of Jared’s bosses, not her and Jared.
She got off at Harlem/Lake - the end of the line - and began walking up Marion to the restaurant. She had no idea of this place was any good, she never came out here and no one she knew lived here, but it was a compromise with her father, so he didn’t have to drive through the city. She had found this place on-line and it looked good although it seemed difficult to fuck up an omelette.
As she got to the restaurant, she saw the neon sign saying ‘restaurant’ in old-time script over the awning. She wondered whether it was a legit old sign or just some affectation. The awning looked pretty beat up, so that was a good sign, she decided. She saw her dad standing there, looking around. “Hey, daddy,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey, Steffie.” Then, concerned, “Why wouldn’t you let me pick you up at the station?”
“Because,” she smiled, “it is literally over there, like a five minute walk,” and she pointed. “I was fine.”
He smiled, “I worry about you.”
“Don’t,” she said indulgently. “You wanna go in?” They walked in and were led to their table, dad always sitting with his back to the door.
They were studying the menus, when her father said, “This needs to stop, Steffie.”
She looked around the restaurant, at the other diners, laughing and talking. She almost said, ‘what,’ but that wasn’t fair. She and her mother hadn’t spoken for over two weeks. “I didn’t start it.”
He took a sip of his water, and looked around for the waitress for coffee. “That’s not what I heard…”
Reverting to 15, “That’s not true and you know it...sorry,” and she looked down, “but…”
He smiled, “What I was going to say before I was interrupted,” and she smiled, taking him in. He was definitely over 50, but the gray at his temples made him look distinguished. She remembered that weird father-daughter dance in seventh grade, how much better looking he was than the other dads, “is that she is making me miserable and I am asking you to make me less miserable.”
She sighed, “I would love to, but we’re at an impasse here, daddy.” The waitress came over and took their coffee orders, ‘just coffee’ for him, vanilla latte for her, and she continued, “What do you want me to do?”
He drank his coffee. How he could drink it black was beyond her, even now after years of drinking coffee, but he did. “You’re really going to have Chris as a bridesmaid?”
Her jaw clenched and she took a sharp breath, then exhaled. “Her name is Emily, daddy. Don’t you start with me too.”
He took a breath, and she watched his chest expand on the intake and contract on the breath out. He repeated this three times before he spoke. “Sorry. Emily.”
“Thank you.”
The waitress came and took their orders, pancakes with bacon cooked inside for him (‘can you eat that?’) and a poblano omelette for her. After the waitress walked away, he continued, “But it doesn’t change the question. You’re really going to have Emily as a bridesmaid?”
Steffie drank her latte. “Of course I am. She’s my sister. You wouldn’t be asking me if it was Jordan.”
He laughed loudly, and people looked. “Um, yeah, I would. You would have an easier time getting Kev or Petey,” her cousins, “into a dress. And they’d probably look better.” She laughed and he continued, “I know that you think of him, her, them like your sister.”
Stef stared at him. “Are you trying to get me not to talk to you too?”
“No. I mean, I am sure that you think of them like a sister. And that they think of you like a sister, I mean, like they’re your sister, but not everyone is going to be so kind.”
Stef glared at him. “That’s what she said. Do you want to see Emily get beaten up too?”
He looked at her and sharply, “No, Stephanie, I don’t. And neither your mother or I would let that happen, despite what you think. But guess what? I can’t stop anyone from being an asshole, from saying things and neither can you, despite what you think.”
She looked at him. “Then they don’t have to come. And despite what you and she think, I don’t want to hurt either one of you and I know that not having them would hurt you a lot. But it would hurt me and Emily more if she wasn’t in the wedding…”
She watched him look around the room, the way he took in all the construction details and she imagined him cataloging all the mistakes the contractor made. “Have you asked her what she thinks?”
The question threw her, but to regroup, “Excuse me?”
He looked at her. “You heard me,” and he took a sip of his coffee, “did you ask her what she thinks about it?”
She took a sip of her latte. “She’s excited.”
“I’m sure,” and he paused, “she is. That doesn’t surprise me. But did you ask her about the other stuff, about how you’re not talking to your mother?” When she said nothing, he smiled, “Why not?”
“Because,” and the waitress came with a basket of cinnamon bread. She watched him take a piece and butter it, and she debated how devoted she was to cutting out carbs, “it’s irrelevant.”
He smiled, “What did Arden have to say about it?”
“What does that have to do with anything,” pausing, “assuming I said anything?”
He laughed, “I know how stupid you and your mother think I am,” and she felt herself flush, “but I have learned some things over the years. What does Arden say about it?”
She sighed, “She thinks mom is wrong for what she said…”
He kept smiling, “Mmm, this is good bread. And?”
“And she thinks I should talk this out with her.”
He smiled, “I always thought she was smart. What about Chr...Emily?”
“She thinks she has the right to know,” and she took a piece of bread, and buttered it. “I miss bread,” she sighed, and then, “I know what Emily will do and I don’t want her to. I know neither of you wants to deal with it, but you didn’t hear how happy she sounded.” She watched his face contort. “What?”
“This,” he sighed, “is a lot for me to take in, Stephanie. I understand that you have and that’s great, but this, Jordan, all of it is a lot for me.”
Stephanie smiled, “They’re both really happy.”
He shrugged, then, “You’re really hurting your mother, you know that.”
“You weren’t there. I know you’ll take her side but she said some really nasty things to me.”
He laughed, “And you said nothing whatsoever, Dori,” her grandmother’s name.
She rolled her eyes. “No need to get nasty. And, god, that’s your mom. Jeez, you’re a terrible son,” a running family joke. “Fine, I may not have been perfect but she was just...hateful.”
“Like I said, it’s a lot to process for us, whether you like it or not. But I’m asking you, for me, to call her.”
The waitress put their food down and her father took a bite and smiled. “Try this.”
She remembered going to breakfast with her father when the twins were born. The way after he’d take her with him to the store and ask her to help him pick stuff out because ‘mom needs you to help me.’ She took a bite, “Oh, you shouldn’t have made me.”
He smiled, “Why?”
“Because now I want these and I can’t have them because of the carbs.”
He laughed, “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t. Think I can get your mom to make these for me?”
She smiled, “Good luck. Tell her I’ll call her if she does.”
He touched her hand and smiled, “That’s my girl.”
----
Emily and Duncan were lying in bed, her head resting on his shoulder. They had been rehashing the day’s events, the crabby partner who wanted Emily to work through lunch, the busboy who quit, screaming, when Emily, looking at the ceiling, said, “So I scheduled my surgery.”
He turned to look at her, concerned. “You need surgery? For what?”
She looked at the ceiling, at the little stucco stalactites hanging down, “My...surgery.”
“Oh...Oh...your surgery.” She watched as his legs clenched involuntarily.
“Sorry,” she said, snuggling up closer. “I didn’t mean to just throw it on you like that.”
He relaxed his legs a little. “You didn’t. I guess I had just stopped thinking about that,” and his legs clenched again.
She smiled. “That’s the nicest thing you could have said.”
He stared at her, confused, “Huh?”
She went to explain and then, staring at the picture of Wrigley Field on his wall, stopped. “Never mind,” and she kissed his cheek.
He rolled her towards him. “So when?”
She looked at him. “Four weeks from this past Tuesday.”
“Cool,” then grinning, “so how long before…”
She laughed. “I knew it would come to that,” because it was the question she couldn’t wait to ask the surgeon, “three months.”
He looked at her, with sad eyes, “Really? Three months?” His face was a blank mask, “That sucks.”
She grinned devilishly. “There are things we can do while we wait.”
He looked at her. “Oh really?”
“Yeah,” she said, “we can watch TV or play XBox…” He shook his head. “Duncan Connell, what sort of girl do you take me for? Do you think I’m the sort of girl...well, I never,” she harrumphed. Then, grinning, she started kissing his chest, “Maybe I should…”
He grinned and began pushing her head south, “Maybe. Who knows, you might like being that sort of girl?”
She started kissing down his chest, headed towards his groin, taking him in her mouth. She listened to him groan in pleasure, as she licked the shaft and played with his balls. Then, she felt him tense up and the cum hit her throat.
She actually didn’t mind giving head, liking the control it gave her. She looked up at him grinning, and she swallowed. She took a gulp of water from her water bottle and smiled. “So that’s the one of things we can do while we wait.”
Contentedly, he said, “Definitely more fun than XBox,” then, “are you scared?”
She stared at Wrigley Field, the picture reminding her of home, the twice a year trips to a game, trying and failing to keep score, waiting for ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game’ so she could sing. “Not really. I mean, if there was a non-surgical way to do it, I’d do that, but I’ve been wai...you sure that this isn’t too much for you?”
He pulled her in close, and she nestled happily. “I mean, I don’t want to know all the details or probably most of them, but I can be all supportive and shit,” he grinned.
She looked at him, and ran her left hand through his hair, “The ‘and shit’ makes it work. But, to finish, no I’m not scared.” She chose her next words carefully. “I’m ready, y’know?”
He smiled and kissed her.
---
Emily sat in the coffee shop, one of those fake mid-century designs that apparently sprung up after ‘Pulp Fiction,’ most of which had become banks or hookah bars or whatever. A cup of tea and an English muffin with grape jelly sat in front of her. Across from her was the kid from the commercial, the P.A., wearing a blue pocket t-shirt and jeans. Emily had worn her blue floral print dress, not too short, and flats, her hair down.
“So, what did you think of the script?” He asked this just as she took a bite of her muffin.
She swallowed. “It was good. Very interesting. Kayla,” her character, “is really complex.”
He smiled, “That’s what we’re going for. Everyone always thinks of cheerleaders as these airheads, which they are,” and she almost interrupted him, “but the whole idea with Kayla is that she’s this Type A genius too, trying to get out. Do you understand?”
She smiled. “Vaguely.” He stared, “That was a joke. Yes, I understand her.” She almost went off on Susan Sontag and the male gaze, to give him the film school BS she was sure he spouted all the time at parties. “She’s the kid in a family with an older sister who’s making all these bad choices and these parents who should never have had kids. It’s almost like her form of rebellion is to strive to get out, but she’s got all of these countervailing forces that work against her.”
He nodded and smiled. “You’ve really got it down,” then, “have you ever done cheerleading before?”
She sighed, “Yeah.” And then she took a sip of her tea and a bite of her English muffin.
A week later, a package arrived in the mail from Stef. She read the note on top - ‘You should have had this nine years ago.’ Inside was her old cheerleading uniform, a faded ‘DHS Cheer’ t-shirt that she remembered Stef wearing whenever she practiced in the backyard and her old jacket with ‘captain’ on the top left over the black and orange old English D, and ‘Barbs Cheer’ on the back. She put on the t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and began practicing, remembering the cheers Stef had taught her when no one was home.
---
Two weeks later, Duncan came over. She met him at the door with a big hug and kiss, but felt a tension in him when he reciprocated. She pulled back and looked up, “What’s wrong?”
“I had a long day at work,” he looked over her head, and just stood there.
“Are you coming in?”
He smiled, “It was really long,” and walked in. “Where did you get that shirt?”
She was wearing the DHS Cheer shirt. “Stef sent it, to help me get in character,” and she did a couple of the old cheer moves that she remembered from the backyard. She finished and he smiled. “How was I?”
“Good, really good.”
She looked at his face, at his eyes. “What's wrong, Dunky?”
He shook his head and smiled, “It was mad busy today.”
She put her lower lip over her top one. “Poor Dunky. You want a back rub?” Without waiting, she moved behind him. “Sit down, and let Nurse Emmy give you a back rub.” She started rubbing his shoulders, “Wow, you're really tense. What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, “But keep doing this.”
“You were just trying to get a back rub, weren't you?” Then, she kissed his neck and bit his ear.
“Excuse me,” he laughed, “I didn't say anything about that.”
“Oh well,” she teased, “I can stop. Just a back rub it is,” and she kept massaging. “You know this works better if you try and relax.”
“Sorry,” he joked. “How was work?”
“Hella busy. I had that brief to work on,” and she went off about one of the associates, who did everything at the last second and made it so she had to stay late. After five more minutes, she stopped and moved next to him. “OK, what's going on?”
“Nothing.”
She looked into his eyes. “Stop. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad.”
He looked down. “So, they offered me a sous chef job, I’ll be a real second in command…”
She grinned, “Ohmigosh, that’s so amazing. Where? Century City?” He shook his head. “Santa Monica?” He shook his head again. “Where?”
“Santa Barbara.” 90 miles and two hours away, if you were lucky.
“Oh,” and she looked at him. “Oh. I mean, of course, you’re taking it.”
He took her hand. “I don’t want to leave you.”
Her heart was in her throat, sharing space with her lunch. “You can’t not take this, Duncan. This is huge.”
“I know,” and now he looked over her shoulder. “But I hate that it’s in Santa Barbara.”
She bit her tongue to stop herself. “It’s not that far…”
He smiled and lied, “We can see each other on weekends and stuff. You can come up, I can come down.”
“Definitely,” she lied. “That’s definitely what we’ll,” won’t, “do. It’s nice up there. We can go to the wineries and stuff.” She stood up and he sat there, both feet planted on the floor. “Are you coming in?”
He looked down. “Do you want me to?”
Well, how am I supposed to chain you to the bed otherwise? “Of course I do.”
“I just thought,” and he started walking in, “that you’d be upset with me.”
“How could I be upset with you?” She willed back tears. “This is a huge deal. Would you be upset if I got a movie or a series or something?”
He kissed her. “Of course not! That’s your dream.”
She smiled, “Well, this is yours, so I’m behind you 100%. When does it start?”
He sat on the bed and took a deep breath, “Two weeks.”
And she felt like she’d been punched. “Oh.”
“I can see if I can move it back. I mean I wanna be…”
She held up her hand, and tried not to cry. “No, this is big. I will be fine. Besides,” and she tried to smile devilishly, “I need you here three months,” now an eternity “after that more.”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, that’s definitely more important.”
She smiled weakly. “You’re not backing out on me, are you?”
He laughed, “No, of course not.”
“Good,” and she buried her head in his chest, crying.
“I’m sorry, Emmy.”
From deep in his shirt, she sniffled, “No. Don’t be. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t be crying.” She looked up at him, her eyes red, “this is a big deal and you should be happy. Because I’m happy for you.”
He smiled, “I just hate that…”
She smiled and kissed him, “Don’t hate anything. You are going to become the hottest chef in Santa Barbara and then they’ll move you back here and then everything will be,” totally shitty, “great.” She kissed him again, as hard as she could, and could feel their tongues twisted together. She felt him put his hands under her shirt, as he began playing with her nipples. “Mmm, keep doing that…” And she sat in his lap and started pulling his shirt off, feeling his erection. Which made her think again. Which made her resolve to focus on anything else.
She faced away from the mirror, as he stood behind her, pumping away. For the first time in their relationship, she felt absent, like she was watching someone else.
She felt the shudder and then him pulling out. She went to the bathroom, cleaned up, then came back and curled into his waiting bulk. She fell asleep with his arm draped over her.
---
“You sure you don’t want me there?” Jared asked, as Stephanie got dressed to go to her mother.
She pulled on her jeans and white t-shirt, and walked over, kissing him on the cheek. “My big, strong man,” she teased, “I’ll be fine, baby.”
He grabbed her ass and she jumped. “I know you’ll be fine. I just meant for, y’know, moral support or whatever.”
She laughed. “It’ll be fine. Enjoy the day. Besides, you have plans,” to go to the park and then watch a baseball game at the bar, but plans nevertheless.
He smiled. “You’ll call if you need me?”
She finished putting on lip gloss and kissed him on the lips. “Yes. It’ll be fine,” she said, as she began moving her keys and wallet from one bag to another, not wanting to hear her mother’s comments again about the Louis Vuitton purse Jared’s mom had bought her in Paris for Hanukkah/Christmas, despite the fact that it was no big deal because of the exchange rate and everything.
She took the car keys off the table by the door and went down to the garage to get the car.
Ninety minutes later, and a stop at Dunkin’ Donuts for an iced coffee, she pulled up. She took a deep breath and walked in. “Anyone here?” Her mother came downstairs, and gave her a hug. “Hi, ma,” and she kissed her cheek.
“I’ve missed you.” It had been three weeks since they had last spoken.
Stef smiled, “I’ve missed you too,” then, remembering Macy’s, “but that doesn’t change things.”
Her mom smiled, “Well, I see we’ve decided to pick up where we left off…”
Stef took a deep breath and looked around the room, eyes alighting on the TV, running CNN like it was the airport. “I’m not picking up from where we left off, but I’m not playing some stupid game,” hearing her 16 year old self and cringing, “but I don’t see a point to ignoring what brought this all about in the first place.”
“Stephanie, I’m sorry that I don’t understand why you’re doing this. It’s your wedding…”
Stephanie looked at her. “You’re right, it is. It’s my wedding and Emily is going to be a bridesmaid.”
“Why would you subject,” a pause, “her to that abuse?”
Stephanie had spent the past three weeks thinking of her response, having written it out on legal pads and testing it on Jared and Arden. “Mom,” she said, “would you agree that there’s no circumstance under which I’m not having her at the wedding?” Her mother laughed. “Yes or no, would you agree?”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Yes. I would agree.”
“And would you further agree that, given those circumstances, if the family was there, that they would have a negative reaction to her, upon seeing her?”
Her mother laughed again and, before Stef could say anything, “Yes, counselor, I would agree that they would have a ‘negative reaction,’ to put it mildly. Which is why...”
Stef held up her hand and continued, “Would you further agree that their negative reaction would not be appreciably worse whether she was in the wedding or merely a guest?”
Her mother looked at her. “No.”
Stef stopped, not having prepared for this. “No what?”
Her mother looked at her. “No, I wouldn’t agree.”
16 year old Stef, returning, “How can you say that?”
Her mom looked at her. “I can tell you’ve prepared this speech. Well, so have I.” To Stef’s open mouth, she said, “I know you think you sprang fully formed, sweetie. You didn’t. But to continue, they are going to be pieces of shit, no matter what and you know that. But, if she walks down the aisle, they are going to be even bigger pieces of shit and they are going to laugh and make comments and it won’t stop, not when you walk down the aisle, not when the priest or the rabbi or whoever is talking, they won’t stop…”
“But…”
“But nothing. Stef, you’re smarter than that and you know it and you know however bad you think they are, they can be much, much worse. And I know you care for them…”
“Her,” Stef mumbled.
“Excuse me?”
“Jordan’s them. Emily’s her.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Are you still a ‘her?’”
Eye roll back. “Yes.”
“Good. I need to keep track. Anyway, I know you care for her but do you really think she’s going to be OK with that? Really?”
“Yes. You don’t know her. She’s not the same person you knew. She’s tougher than that.”
Her mother looked at her. “We were all at the same holidays and I know what went on when all you kids were downstairs.”
Stef looked around. “What does Aunt Jackie have to say about this?” Her mother looked down and she took the opportunity. “What does she have to say?”
Her mother shook her head. “She thinks we’re both being ridiculous.”
Grinning triumphantly. “That means she thinks I’m right and you’re wrong!” Now, she was 14. Her mother picked up her phone off the coffee table. “What are you doing?”
“Calling Jackie,” she grinned. “You can ask her yourself.”
Stef sighed and looked at the President on CNN, answering questions in front of Marine One. “What did she say?”
Her mother moved over and patted her knee. “Well, to be fair, I’ll tell you what she said about me first. She said that I am acting like a jackass, that Chr...Emily is my...child and that this has gone on long enough…” Stef grinned and her mom continued, “but she also said that you are pigheaded…”
Stef laughed. “She called me pigheaded? Ouch.”
Her mother laughed, “Oh, it’s worse than that, sweetie. What she said was that you are your grandma Dori filtered through me and then again through law school. I think she said, exactly, ‘you’re a bitch, Dori’s a bitch and you’ve created superbitch…”
Laughing, “Oh, fuck her.”
Her mother, laughing, “Don’t curse. It’s obnoxious. She also said that you need to talk to your sister and ask her. Not tell her, ask her.”
“I don’t tell her things,” she harrumphed half-heartedly.
“I’m a younger sister,” she laughed. “Save it for someone who doesn’t know better.”
Walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water. “I’m not not having her in my wedding.”
Her mother followed her in. “I will make you a deal…”
“This isn’t a negotiation, mom,” she said, as she let the water run to get cold.
“No, it isn’t, I guess. I will make you a deal though. If you talk to...Emily, I will.”
She choked on her water. “What?”
Her mother looked at her. “If you talk to her, I’ll talk to her. If, after you really talk to her, she still wants to be in the wedding, I won’t say anything.” Stef looked at her, dubiously. “I mean it. I think, and will continue to think, that it’s a huge mistake, but it’s your mistake to make and I’ll support you in it.”
Stef tried to read her face, and found nothing. If she was lying, she was better than she gave her credit for. Tentatively, “Do you want to see a picture of her?”
Her mother, head in the refrigerator, said, “I’m not there yet.”
“Seriously?”
She stood up, wheel of brie in hand. “Stephanie, I’m willing to do this if you are. But, on my schedule, not yours.”
She took a breath. “Fine, I think you’re being ridiculous.”
Her mother, now taking crackers out of the pantry. “I’m sure you do.”
“What would you have done if Grandma Linda did this to you?”
Her mother, fanning the crackers out even though it was just the two of them, “If your uncle decided he was a girl and I decided that I wanted a hideous looking bridesmaid…”
“Emmy’s not hideous, she’s really cute…”
Cutting off a piece of brie and making a little sandwich, and then handing it to Stef, “I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about your uncle who would not be cute, but if I wanted him or some other person who wasn’t a,” pause, “traditional bridesmaid and your grandmother fought me on it, well, I don’t know what I would have done. I will be honest. I don’t know. It wasn’t an option, I had Jackie, Karen,” her best friend, “and them,” her aunts.
“Sorry.”
Her mother smiled and nodded. “Not as much as I was. Can we talk about the wedding? Have you looked anywhere yet? Places book up.”
“We’ve looked at a few places. The Botanic Garden looked nice.”
“That is very nice,” her mother said, “so you’re thinking outdoors.”
Cutting off another piece of cheese, “Maybe. I don’t know. I know I don’t want some boring hotel ballroom.”
Her mother smiled, “I’ll let you in on a secret. When it’s all said and done, you won’t remember all of that. You’ll remember your family and friends.”
---------
“Nope,” Emily said, in response to the question.
“What do you mean, ‘nope?’” Stef was driving home.
“You heard me, Stef. I don’t want to talk to her.”
Stef sighed, then laughed, “Do you know how much I did to get her to talk to you?” She looked for a parking lot to pull into, not having expected this outcome.
Emily laughed, “I’m sure, but that doesn’t mean I want to talk to her.”
Stef pulled into the parking lot at Walgreens, watching the old people go in and out, wondering if that’s what aging was. Trips to the drugstore. “Come on. Really? You’re gonna have to talk to her at the wedding.” She could hear Emily breathing. “Emmy? Are you still there?”
Another ten seconds, “Yeah. I am. I was thinking.”
She watched a mother unload one kid out of a car seat, while yelling at her other one not to run in the parking lot. “Why not? I mean, why don’t you want to talk to her?”
“She cut me off. Six years ago, she cut me off.” She could hear the anger and pain, remembering how Emily went away to school and never came back.
“She’s trying to make amends,” she lied.
Emmy’s voice got hard. “No, she isn’t and you know it. You’re forcing her to do it.”
Stef looked up through the moonroof of the car, at a plane heading to O’Hare. “But she’s willing.”
“Yeah, well, what brought this on?”
“Jeez, am I talking to Jordy?” She tried to joke.
“Jordy wouldn’t put up with this shit and neither am I. What is it she wants?”
Stef paused, “She wants me to talk to you about being a bridesmaid.”
Emmy’s voice caught. “What? What does that mean? You don’t want me?” She heard her start sniffling.
“No! Absolutely 100% not. If you’re not part of the wedding, there is no wedding, as far as I’m concerned.”
Crying, “Then what?”
Stef paused, trying to think about how to say it, then decided on bluntness. “She thinks that they are going to lose their shit when you walk down the aisle and make it a total shitshow.”
Now, the edge back, “Do you think that?”
“I don’t care.”
“I didn’t ask if you cared. Do you think that?”
Pausing, “Where did this Emmy come from?”
No laughter, just, “I asked if you think that.”
“Yeah, probably, to be honest,” she took a sip of her now watery formerly iced coffee and grimaced.
She could hear Emily think. “What do you want?”
“I told you. It’s my wedding. You and Arden and Brooke and Jamie.”
“Even if they make a total scene and ruin it? Really?”
“Do you want out?”
She floored her with, “Do you think I don’t know what those mouth-breathing trash think of me?”
She laughed, “Excuse me, there’s only room for one bitch in this family. Two, if you count mom.”
“I don’t,” she said, without affect. “But I know exactly what they think of me and I’m pretty sure of what they’ll do. But, you know what, it won’t be worse than what they did to me before.”
“For real, Emmy?” She watched as someone pushed a cart with a wheel that kept spinning in a circle. Lock the wheel, she thought.
“Yeah. I wanna do this,” then the regular Emmy poked through, “but if you tell me you don’t want them to ruin the ceremony, I won’t be part of it.”
“No,” Stef said, “absolutely no effing way. You’re in. If they start, they’re out.”
“Are you really sure?” Emmy’s sweetness returning. “I really mean it.”
“Me too, Ems. You really won’t talk to her?”
Sighing, “I really don’t want to. What’s she going to say to me?”
Pausing, “Yeah, I don’t know. Sorry I even asked.”
Emmy, “No, it’s OK. I get why you did. If you want me to, I will.”
She wished she was here, or she was there, so that she could hug her. “No. I’m not gonna force you,” knowing how awkward it would be. “What else is going on?”
A laugh, then, “ten days to V-Day.”
“Yay!” She paused, thinking about how absurd it sounded. Then again, she couldn’t wait for a training bra. “What’s up with Duncan?”
She heard Emily sigh. “I miss him already, and he’s not even gone.”
She pictured Emily on her bed, lying on her stomach, face in the pillow, the way that she always did when she was sad. “I know, sweetie. I wish I was there to hug you.”
“Thanks. This is what’s best for him, I know that.”
She watched as someone came out, balancing a case of water on top of the cart, slowly edging the cart down the ramp. Then, watching as the case fell off and split, bottles rolling away. She debated getting out to help. “It doesn’t mean you’re not entitled to hate it happening.”
“I know,” she sighed. “And he keeps trying but it’s not the same. Part of me just wants to break up with him so it’s done.”
Her heart was breaking. Emmy was in love for the first time and she was 2,000 miles away. At least when it happened to her - at 16 - she had her mother. “Can I tell you what mom told me when Brent broke up with me?”
Sighing, “Why not? I’m already in a bad mood.”
“You can’t have rainbows without rain.”
Emily laughed. “That may be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Stef laughed. “See? You feel better already! I’m going to Venmo you some money to go shopping.”
“No,” Emily laughed. “That’s silly.”
Stef put her on speaker. “I wanna. Come on. Go with Marissa and Shaye and get something,” and she started typing. “Something really cute.”
“Stef, no. Thanks but no.”
Stef stopped typing. “I’m gonna when you get snip-snip.” She winced thinking about it.
“Fine,” Emily laughed, wondering how much she would send.
---
Two days before the surgery, Emily came home and opened the door.
“Surprise!” Marissa and Shaye yelled. Hanging from the wall was a picture of Ted Allen, with the caption, ‘Emily has been chopped, she must leave the kitchen.’
She held her hands to her face, “Ohmigosh, you guys. What is this?”
Marissa came over and gave her a hug. “We can’t do this tomorrow because of the prep, so we figured we’d get you good and drunk AF tonight to celebrate.”
From the counter, she saw Marissa’s phone. “Stef?” And she started crying.
“Hey, Emmy! Sorry I can’t be there to get drunk with you, but I wanted to be here as much as I could.”
Emily smiled and hugged Shaye and Marissa. “You guys are the best!”
Shaye took her hand. “OK, Ems, so before we get too far gone, we wanted to give you our presents.”
“OK, stop, no,” she crossed her arms in front of her. “You did not.”
Shaye looked at the phone, “You were right, Stef.”
Emily smiled as she protested, “It’s not necessary.”
Stef laughed, “That’s why they’re called gifts, Ems.”
“Shut up,” she smiled, and then clapped her hands. “So what did you get me?”
Shaye handed her a small jewelry box. Emily opened it and took out a pair of earrings. Shaye smiled, “I know you’re trying to get rid of dangly things, but...oh look, Emmy is blushing,” which got a swat.
Then, Marissa handed her a bigger box. “Open it, open it.” Emily opened it and inside was a green bikini, and held it up so Stef could see. “I know how much you’ve always wanted to wear one, well now you can, I mean, if it fits right. If not, I left the receipt.”
“You guys are the best!”
From the phone, “Give her mine! Give her mine!”
Emily opened it and took out…”Oh my god, Stef,” which got a laugh from everyone. “You are disgusting.”
Stef grinned from ear to ear. “For those times when you’re between boyfriends.”
Marissa sighed, “Or when you’re not between them,” which got matching sighs from Shaye and Stef.
Stef laughed. “Do you remember when we found…” Emily stuck her fingers in her ears, closed her eyes and started singing, ‘la la la,’ then smiled, tearing up. “I love all of you.”
Shaye, “Oh god, she’s going to start crying again.”
“Shut UP!”
Marissa opened a bottle of champagne, and poured three glasses. On screen, Stef held one up. “To the best friend in the world on finally getting what she always wanted.” And they clinked glasses, then drank it down.
Stef poured another glass. “OK, my turn. To the best little sister I could have ever had, who I didn’t deserve, and of whom I am so, so, so proud and who better not be crying again…this is the beginning of the beginning.”
Several glasses and some edibles later, she passed out on her bed, wearing the bikini and a pair of denim shorts.
---
She woke up in her hospital room, still groggy from the anesthesia. She would have sworn she smelled roses and decided it must just be a mix of cleaning supplies and a brain fog.
Claire, a woman from her old support group, was sitting in a chair. “Hiya, sleepyhead.” Claire was in her 40s, about 5’11”, 175 pounds, with a strong jawline. She was wearing a blue and black bodycon dress that gave her a decent figure.
Emily yawned. “Sorry, I’m still kinda out of it.”
Claire, standing up, walked over and touched her shoulder. “Of course, you are. It’s to be expected. You are quite the popular young woman.”
Emily, woozy, “Huh?” She looked over at a table and saw two bouquets of roses, one pink, one red. “What are those?”
Claire, smiling, “They appear to be flowers.”
Emily, smiling weakly, “Ha ha. Where did they come from?”
Claire walked over and took the cards from the bouquets. “Let’s see.”
The card with the red roses read, “To the greatest girl in the world, three months,’ followed by what she assumed were eggplants and devils,’ “Love, Duncan.”
Claire looked at her and smiled as Emily hid the card behind her. “Well, that must be one interesting card.”
Then, she looked at the other card. “To our niece Emily, we could not have asked for a better niece. You are a brave, beautiful young woman and we love you. Love, Aunt Jeannie, Uncle Rob and Cousin Liam,” followed by several hearts and xxxxoooo.
Emily felt herself tearing up and Claire put her hand on her shoulder. She handed the card to her and Claire said, wistfully, “You are a very lucky girl, Emily.”
“I know.” She wiped a tear and said, “I keep crying.”
Claire smiled, “It’s to be expected, Emily,” and then went through everything she could expect, from recovery time to hormone swings. She explained dilation and what she’d need to do ‘although the nurse will explain this too.’
After an hour, she stood up and straightened her skirt. “You have my number, if you need me.”
“Thanks, Claire. You’re the best.”
Claire kissed her on the forehead. “Just make sure you do it for the next girl,” and then she picked up her purse and left.
---
Pain. What Emily felt was excruciating pain. She knew about the catheter. She knew that it would be miserable, it was surgery after all and everyone, from the websites to the group to her doctor, told her to expect pain.
She sat in bed with the hand mirror they had given her and she looked at it. It was red and raw and you could see the stitches. It wasn’t pretty - but it was hers. You couldn't tell it wasn't the real thing.
She tried to sit up and got dizzy. The nurse came in. “How are you doing today, Miss Berrigan?”
“It hurts,” and she tried to smile, then winced.
“That's to be expected. You had surgery.”
“When can I get out of bed?”
“Not today. A couple of days. The doctor will discuss it with you when he does rounds,” and she put down a cup of pills. “Take these. They’re pain medication and antibiotics.”
“Why do I need antibiotics?” Visions of her body rejecting the surgery ran through her mind.
“It’s prophylactic,” and Emily tried not to giggle, “just to be sure.” Emily nodded and took the pills.
She texted Jordan. “Hey”
“Ur awake”
“No im texting from sleep”
“How r u feelin”
“Hurts”
“That sux but u did right thing”
She smiled. “Thx I know how r u hows Kira”
“All good she sez hi and congrats”
She thought about how ridiculous that sounded. ‘Congrats on your new vagina.’ “tell her thx tell her Duncan sent roses”
“No”
“Y”
“Cuz then shell expect them”
“Ur stupid” followed by the tongue out emoji
Five Smileys. “How long again in” followed by the hospital emoji
“7 days”
“Sux can u do anything”
“Rest n recover” She also had her laptop here to do typing for work.
“Good gotta go”
Heart emojis.
Tongue out emojis.
On her last day in the hospital, one of the residents came in carrying a box. “Good morning, Emily,” Dr. Vuong said cheerily.
“Hi, Dr. Vuong. Did you bring me a present?” She joked.
The doctor, a slight Asian woman, smiled, “In a manner of speaking, you’re getting discharged today so you know what that means,” and she opened the box. Inside were four silicone dilators.
“Oh boy,” Emily smiled.
The doctor laughed. “You need to do this to keep your new vagina open.” Emily imagined she looked at takeout menus and her iPhone manual with the same enthusiasm. “OK, so please spread your legs and pay attention.”
The doctor took the smallest dilator and put it in Emily’s new vagina, and Emily winced, offering a token, ‘eep,’ then, “that hurts.”
The doctor smiled at her. “It will take time.”
“How long do I do this for? What are the other ones?” She had read about this on-line and Claire had explained it to her but her mind went blank.
“As you progress, you’ll use the bigger ones. And you’ll be doing this your whole life. You’ll start three times a day, fifteen minutes each, but, over time, you’ll do it less.”
Emily said, giggling, “What about when I have sex?”
The doctor looked at her. “Even once you start having sex, you’ll still have to do it.” Then, a sly grin, “Besides, if you think he’s going to be able to do it for fifteen minutes at a time, I suggest you calibrate your expectations.” Emily groaned. “The important thing is that you dilate, and that you find a position that works for you. If it hurts, try a different position,” then, handing her the dilator, “you try.”
Emily felt herself turn red, “What about a vibrator?”
The doctor said, “Everyone asks that. Not until you’re cleared for sex. Sorry.”
Emily shrugged and took the orange dilator and began inserting it in and out, wincing each time. “It gets better, right?”
“You get used to it.” Then, matter of factly, “I know this isn’t what you expected, I’m sure, but this is what you need to do.” And then she went into the process of douching - ‘the care and feeding of your vagina,’ Emily pictured the announcer intoning. ‘If you take care of her, she’ll take care of you.’
After she finished and was cleared, she left the hospital wearing her shortest dress and grinning from ear to ear.
Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman, who hasn't seen her twin Jordan in six years. Not since she told her parents the truth about herself and they threw her out. Her older sister is getting married and wants Emily there - as a bridesmaid. Will sparks fly?
---
Jeannie, Rob and Liam come to visit Emily, and she learns the truth about their other son. Emily faces off against her mother about the wedding and being a bridesmaid.
---
Emily came into the restaurant, and looked around. She saw Jeannie at the bar, and smiled and waved. She walked over, grinning and gave her a big hug. “Oh my gosh, it's sooo great to see you. I've missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” Jeannie gave her a big grin and looked at her. “That blouse,” a green, short-sleeved batwing with a v neck, “would look amazing with a black skirt, although the jeans work.”
“Next time.” She had actually put on a skirt this morning and then decided it might be too much to throw at Liam for the first time she had seen him in over six years. Not that the breasts and hips and makeup weren't a lot. “Where are they?”
“Rob is, surprise, surprise, on a call and Liam went to the bathroom. So,” and she took her hand, “how are you doing?”
Emily smiled, “Still a little sore, but it gets better every day…”
Jeannie gripped her hand a little tighter. “And?”
Duncan. She and Jeannie had spent an hour on the phone the day he moved up the coast. Emily shrugged, “That doesn’t get better.”
“I know, sweetie. I know how much it hurts,” and she hugged her tight. “I promise you, it’ll get better.”
“I loved him. This was for real.”
“I know. I know, honey,” and she rubbed her back. “It hurts and it stinks but I promise you, you will recover from this.”
“That's what they keep telling me,” she sighed. Just then, she looked up at a younger, taller, thinner Rob. “Liam?” She stepped back. “Oh my gosh, look at you,” which made him wince in embarrassment in front of people he didn’t know.
He shuffled uncertainly and she wondered if this had been the right idea. “Hey, Emily.”
“Wow, you’ve certainly changed since the last time I saw you,” a phrase that made her sound 50.
He laughed, “Not as much as you,” and he gave her a hug, to hissed ‘Liam’ from his mother.
Emily laughed, “It’s fine. I didn’t mean it the way...it came out.”
Liam looked down at her. “Yeah, I know. At least you didn’t say something like ‘I remember when you were in diapers.’”
“If I ever say anything like that, please shoot me. But, seriously, you got really tall.”
Jeannie laughed, “Amazing what happens between 11 and 17.”
Emily rolled her eyes, to Liam’s amusement. “I am so glad you’re here. Anyway, my friend Shaye’s sister is a sophomore at UCLA and she said that, after the school’s tour, she’ll give you the real tour.”
“Stop trying to stack the deck,” Jeannie laughed.
Just then, the host came over. “Your table is,” then, “ohmigod, Emily?”
“Nila?” Then, turning to Jeannie and Liam. “Ohmigod everyone, this is my friend Nila. We used to work together at this place in Century City when I was in college. How have you been?”
After the exchange of pleasantries and catching up and shared ‘you look amazings’, Nila took them to an outside table. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” Nila winked.
“If you see a guy come in, who looks like an older, heavier him,” which made Liam laugh, “that's my uncle Rob. Send him here.”
Another wink and she walked away. Two minutes later, Rob came over. “How did we get an outside table?” Rob kissed Emily’s cheek. She looked at Liam and saw...nothing.
Emily smiled, “Perk of being in the restaurant business. So, I'm soooo happy you're here. And I was telling Liam and Aunt Jeannie, my friend Shaye’s sister goes to UCLA and said she'd give us the real tour after the official one. I mean, you…”
Liam looked at her. “You're not coming?”
Emily looked at him. “I just meant, in case you wanted it to be the three of you. I didn't want to just invite myself.”
Liam looked at her, confused. “I assumed you were coming.”
She smiled. “I am. She'll give us the real tour.”
Rob looked at her. “We didn't come all this way not to see you, Emmy.”
Emily smiled, “I said I would. I'm excited. I haven't been there in a couple of years. You'll love it. It's really nice. I mean, not as nice as SC…”
Liam and Jeannie laughed, as Rob looked at her. “You're uninvited. In fact, go home.”
Jeannie touched her shoulder. “You're not going anywhere. For once, I won't be outnumbered,” which made Emmy feel warm and loved.
The waitress came over and told them Nila offered them a tasting menu, which they gladly accepted. They went through the plans for meeting at UCLA tomorrow, and then Em said, “So, Sunday, if you guys aren't sick of me, I was hoping you'd come over to my place for brunch. I mean, I asked some of my friends, if you don't mind.”
Jeannie and Rob both smiled, and Jeannie just said, “We'd really like that,” as she touched Em’s hand under the table. “We'd really, really like that.”
The waitress came over with ‘an amuse bouche, Copper River salmon on toast.’ Emmy smiled sadly, remembering that first night with Duncan, then resolved to be happy this entire weekend. “So, UCLA, Pepperdine and Chapman…”
“Yeah,” and he took a piece of the bread that no one else in the restaurant would eat in public.
“What are you thinking?”
“I dunno. I’ll know when I see them, I guess. I mean, Pepperdine is in Malibu which is lit.”
She smiled, explaining how Malibu was beautiful but far away from everything. And how Chapman was in Orange County, which was the suburbs, finishing with, “you'll see what you like. You end up spending most of your time with your friends anyway.” He nodded and went back to chewing.
“So what's going on with the movie?” Jeannie asked.
Emily had been offered the role of the younger sister and had, much to her roommate's amusement, been practicing cheer routines with Stef via FaceTime. She talked about it being in pre-production and how they were trying to line up financing, then said, “In the meantime, they're sending me out for a call for a commercial for Carl’s Jr.”
“What's that?” Liam asked, as he took more bread.
“It’s a fast food franchise, hamburgers and stuff,” she said.
“Is it as good as In n Out?”
In n Out was a West coast hamburger chain. Everyone here had a story of a relative from back east who wanted it as soon as they got off the plane. Emily smiled, remembering a trip with Rob. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether they book me for the commercial,” which made everyone laugh.
“I still want it,” Liam smiled.
Rob looked at him. “Can we eat dinner first, Bottomless Pete?”
“I didn't mean now.”
Em smiled, “Your dad is conveniently ignoring that we went last time he was in.”
“I'm not calling you anymore,” he mock-grumped, to eyerolls from her aunt and cousin.
Liam laughed. “Yeah, right. It's like all we hear about for two days after he gets back,” which made Rob flush and Emmy feel her face getting warm. “Emmy, Emmy, Emmy,” and he grinned.
Rob put his arm around her and smiled, “I like her. She doesn't cost me money.”
She looked up at him and smiled, “Oh gee, thanks. That's it?”
He kissed her cheek. “Among other things.”
--
They finished dinner, a series of small plates, Liam especially fascinated with a Korean marinated skirt steak, and Jeannie yawned, pleading jet lag. She leaned over and gave Emily a kiss and hug. “We will meet you tomorrow at 11:00. OK?”
Liam piped in, “I’m not tired.”
Rob smiled, “We are.”
Emily piped in. “We could hang out and I’ll drive him back. I mean, if you’re interested.”
He shrugged. “K.”
K? K? Still, Emily smiled, “Come on Liam, we’ll leave the old people here.” Rob gave her a hug and kiss, and handed Liam a room key.
They walked out to her car and she looked at him, “Last chance.”
He stared at her, confused. “Do you not want to hang?”
She smiled, “I totally do.”
He smiled, “Good, then get in the car.”
She watched him fold himself into her car. “Your dad won’t ever let me drive.”
He put on his seatbelt. “You’re lucky. He’s a terrible passenger. Always complains about my driving and,” he imitated hitting a brake. “It’s annoying AF.”
She laughed. “So, I’m so glad you guys came out here. Are you excited?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve only been here once and that was when I was 9.”
They talked briefly about nothing, graduation and the prom for him, the commercial for her when, looking in her side view mirror, “Let me get this out of the way. Am I freaking you out?”
He looked at her and with confusion and annoyance, “No.”
“You sure?” She cursed the driver in front of her and Liam laughed. “If you are, you are.”
He kept looking. “I’m not them, Emily. I mean, there’s a bunch of LGBT kids at school.”
“Wow,” she said, remembering gym and the parking lot and class.
He laughed, “Things have changed kinda since you were there.”
She smiled, “Well, that’s good.”
“I mean, you’d have to ask them, I guess, but I don’t care. Like, this is who you are, cool.”
She smiled, “Thanks.”
He laughed. “You’re welcome? You really like it here?”
She smiled, describing the perfect weather and the beach and the mountains.
He looked out the window. “And it’s not Dekalb.”
She sighed. “That too,” then, changing the subject, “where else are you looking?” And he went through his list, how Notre Dame, the University of Illinois and Illinois State were givens, although not his first choice. “I wanted Michigan but dad said no,” he laughed, “which is fucked up AF.”
She smiled, as she waited at a light to make a right. “Stef feels the same way in reverse. I don’t get it, to be honest. CalArts doesn’t have a rivalry with, like, USC film school or something.” He laughed and she continued, “I bet if you wanted to go to Michigan and you got in, he’d give in.”
He looked at her. “He’d give in to you, not me.”
She turned. “Excuse me?”
He looked out the window. “He always talks about you when he comes back. He likes you a lot.”
“I like him, too,” she laughed. “And your mom.”
He laughed. “OK.”
She imitated him. “OK?”
“Yeah, you like them, they like you. Cool.” She heard something unsaid in his voice, but decided to stay quiet, as she felt him out. They drove along and she put on Spotify. Ariana Grande came on. He made a face, picked up the phone and furiously typed. Suddenly, rap filled the car.
“Ugh, Pop Smoke? Seriously?”
He laughed, “You know Pop Smoke?”
She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Um, yeah. And it doesn’t change that you think this is better than Ariana Grande.”
“It’s objectively better.”
“Don’t be one of those guys, Liam.”
“What guys?”
She smiled, “If she likes something, don’t criticize it. That gets really old really quickly, know what I’m saying?”
“My girlfriend doesn’t care,” he said.
“Uh yeah, she totally does. She’s just not saying it...yet. So, is there something you want to do? See?”
“Can we go see USC?”
She laughed, “Your dad would kill me!”
He grinned, “Come on.”
“It's all spoiled rich kids.”
He kept grinning, “I just wanna see it.”
She looked around. “You better not say anything.”
“I won't.”
“And if traffic is bad,” and she took out her phone, “we can't go because they're waiting for you to get back.”
He laughed, “they aren't, but sure.”
“If they find out, I'm dead,” she smiled.
“No, you aren't, I am,” he smiled.
She looked at him and resolved to figure it out. The traffic gods were in their favor and she somehow made it to USC in under half an hour. She pulled into a spot and smiled, “Welcome to enemy territory.”
She had been here a few times before, for parties in college, and looked around at the palm trees, the old campus buildings and the new ones made to look old. A gaggle of blondes walked past, all tall and busty and dressed for a party, and she suddenly felt aware of herself. Whatever, she thought. She watched as Liam’s head swivelled around. “Try and be a little more subtle,” she laughed. “You’re worse than Uncle Rob.”
He laughed. “No need to get nasty, Emily. Besides, they’re hot AF.”
She smiled, “Welcome to LA. The girls at UCLA are just as hot,” and she could see the wheels turning. “Seriously, Shaye’s sister is a snack.”
He looked at her. “Is ‘snack' still a thing out here?”
She looked at him and put her hands on her hips. “Yes.”
He smiled. “It still is at home. Just messing with you,” and she relaxed. “This is fucking nice,” he said, as they walked around. “I could see myself here.”
“I’m sure you could,” she laughed. “Everyone is totally gorgeous,” and she watched some frat boys walk past, looking like Abercrombie models, if those were still a thing.
“Be a little more subtle, Em,” he laughed. “I can call you ‘Em,’ right? Because Emmy sounds weird to me, like a little kid.”
She smiled, “Em is fine, Liam. Call me whatever you want. Anyway, it’s so cool to finally see you. They talk about you all the time.” He groaned and she continued, “It’s really all good, mostly. Except the Jeep.”
“Whatever, it wasn’t my fault.”
“I don’t care,” she said, “it wasn’t my car. So, I know you wanna stay and drool but we have to get up in the morning.”
They got back into the car, heading towards Westwood. “Can we go to In N Out?” She looked at him in disbelief. “What?”
“I can still taste dinner.”
“Come on…please.”
She smiled. “Since you said ‘please.’” Then, ‘Siri, find an In N Out near Westwood.’
They drove, talking about school and admission essays, each pausing at the mention of anything connected to Dekalb, Liam shutting that down with, ‘if NIU was my only choice, I’d join the Army or something.’
They walked into the restaurant and he ordered a ‘double double animal style, Large Coke, fries.’ She looked at him, all 6’3” and 170 pounds of him, and envied his metabolism. The estradiol and progesterone did a number on her, making it much harder, and she tried to remember whether she had ever been able to eat like this. She smiled and ordered an unsweetened iced tea.
He looked at her. “That’s it?”
She smiled, “I told you, I can still taste dinner. Plus, you know how they say the camera adds ten pounds?” He shrugged. “It adds twenty.” She watched him happily scarf down his burger. “Do they ever feed you,” she laughed.
He smiled, mayo at the corners of his mouth. “Ha ha, Emily. Don’t be old.”
She took a fry. “No need to get nasty, Liam. You eat like...never mind.”
“Is this about that guy?” She stared at him. “I heard mom tell dad.”
She put her face in her hands, in part to hide her smile. “How much do they talk about me?”
He grinned. “A lot.”
“Oh god,” she moaned, still smiling. “Really?”
“Yup,” and he shoved three fries in his mouth.
“Do I want to know what they say?”
Through a mouthful of fries, “Probably not,” he grinned, “it’s all good. It’s messed up AF that they just saw you that day.”
She smiled, and took a sip of her iced tea. “It totally is. I mean, obviously I’m happy about it, but it’s hella random. Like the universe meant it or something.”
He rolled his eyes. “The universe?”
She took one more fry and smiled. “Shut up.”
“If I come here, will I get all ‘the universe’ and shit?” She stuck out her tongue at him. “Sucks about that guy.”
She sighed. “Yeah.”
“Sorry.” And he looked around the restaurant.
“It is what it is,” she shrugged, then, “so what did you think of the burger?”
He smiled. “It’s good. I get why people like them. I could see eating this.”
“If you came here, you could have them all the time,” she grinned. You wouldn’t, any more than you eat anything else, but you could. “Plus, you see how hot all the girls here are.”
He smiled. “You don’t have to convince me, Em.”
They drove back to the hotel and she walked with him to the door. “I had a good time,” she said.
“Me too,” and he gave her a hug. She smiled as she walked back to the car.
----
The next morning, Em was getting dressed and called Marissa in. “So, what do you think,” she said, “this,” an apricot print dress with an Empire waist that fell a couple of inches above her knee, “or shorts and a t-shirt?” Cut off denim shorts.
Marissa looked at her. “Are you trying to pick up college guys? Because either works.”
“Ha ha. I just, which do you think? Shorts? I mean, I don’t wanna freak out Liam.”
Marissa looked at her. “You said he called you Em and gave you a hug and called you ‘she.’”
“Yeah, but I was wearing pants yesterday, and this,” and she pointed to the dress, “is not pants.”
Marissa rolled her eyes, “A blinding statement of the obvious. He thinks you’re a girl, because you are a girl. You could be wearing a football jersey and jeans and you know what you would look like? A girl wearing a football jersey and jeans,” then, “let me see.” Emily stripped off her t-shirt and shorts, no longer feeling the need to turn around. She put on the cut-offs and the t-shirt, cut tight around her chest. Marissa laughed, “Um, Ems. You could not look more girly than this, if you tried.” They stood in front of the mirror and Em laughed at how right she was, and how much she loved this outfit. “And every guy there will be following you.” Then, “You look like total jailbait, by the way. Put your hair up.” Em put her hair in a ponytail. “Oh yeah, you look like his younger sister.”
“Really?” And she put this aside for the movie, to suggest to whoever was doing costumes, if anyone.
“Totally. Try on the dress.” Em put on the dress. “Oh yeah, this. Def.”
Em looked at herself, then let her hair down. “Def.” Then, looking in her closet, “Slides or espadrilles?”
Marissa smiled, “It’s so cute how much you want to impress them.”
Em saw herself turn red. “I just want to look good.”
Marissa smiled, “Uh huh. Yeah. Sure,” then, “espadrilles, you’ll be walking too much.”
---
At 11:00 AM, Emily stood in front of the alumni center, waiting. She was wearing her round sunglasses. She saw a guy walking up, light-skinned African American, 6’2”, his pecs pulling at his t-shirt, smiling. She lowered her sunglasses just in time to see him fall into the arms of his boyfriend.
She was looking around, when Jeannie came up. “I love it. You look adorable.”
“Hey, Jeannie,” she said, giving her a kiss. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. Seriously, you look terrific.”
“Thanks,” she smiled. “He is a really good kid.”
“Thanks, sweetie. We tried.”
“You succeeded. We had a great time at In n Out, I think.”
Jeannie checked her makeup. “You did. He told me. If he comes out here, I’ll be really happy to know that he has someone looking out for him.”
Emily felt herself smile. “You know I would,” then, “he wasn’t freaked out by me, was he?”
Jeannie looked at her. “Would you stop it already? No, he wasn’t.”
“Would he say something if he was?”
“No, he’s a boy, he doesn’t talk about anything, much less feelings. But, all he said was ‘Em’s cool,’ and ‘she’s fun,’ and that. He’s not like the rest of them. He likes you. Like we like you, well, we love you,” and Em smiled, “But he will love you. You, Emily.” Then, “Thank you for having us for brunch on Sunday. It means a lot to us.”
Emily smiled, “It means a lot to me too. You’re my family,” a phrase she had never said out loud, but meant. “I want all the important people in my life to know each other,” which led Jeannie to hug her and tell her they loved her.
Emily felt herself getting emotional. “No fair. You know I cry,” she smiled. She turned to see them walking up, the same rolling gait, each slightly dragging his left foot. She was amazed at how alike they were.
Rob came over and gave her a kiss. “Good morning Emmy,” then, grinning, “did Liam behave himself?”
Em, grinning, “No, he was awful.”
“Good. Did she?”
Liam, smiling, “She was OK.”
“OK? OK? Just for that, he really was terrible. In fact, make sure he doesn’t go to school anywhere near here.”
-------------
They walked around campus, the guide walking backwards, telling everyone about the buildings and the classes, the sports and the Greek system. She saw three girls in sorority shirts walk past. She would never have fit in here, CalArts was the right place, but still she wondered what life could have been.
She watched Jeannie’s head turn as a guy walked past. “He’s maybe twenty, Jeannie,” she whispered.
Jeannie whispered back, “They didn’t have 20 year olds like that when I was 20.”
Emily watched as Liam and Rosie, a girl they had met while waiting for the tour, walked as close together as the situation would allow, each trying to avoid being seen with their parents. She debated going over and playing the younger sister but decided to leave them be. She pictured Jordan making a move, Rosie being exactly their type, and smiled. The tour finished and everyone dispersed. They were standing in front of the alumni center when she heard, “Ems!” She turned to see the 5’10” half-Asian girl, with shoulder-length dark hair in a UCLA t-shirt and shorts walking towards them.
“Anaia,” she said, giving her a kiss. “Everyone, this is Anaia, Shaye’s sister.” She introduced everyone, and watched Liam unsubtly take in Anaia, who reciprocated.
Jeannie smiled, “Thank you for doing this.”
Anaia hugged Emily, “I would do anything for Ems. She’s the best.”
Rob laughed, “Yes, she is,” then, “are you an actress too?”
Anaia laughed, “Oh god no. That’s for Ems and Shaye. I’m an architectural studies major. Well, going to be. It starts next year.”
Rob grinned, and puffed out his chest to Jeannie’s amusement. “Really? I’m in construction and engineering.”
Anaia smiled. “Well, maybe I should be giving you the tour,” and she winked at Liam, who grinned like an idiot. “What are you thinking about?”
Liam smiled, “I dunno. I was thinking maybe finance.”
Anaia started walking. “I have a bunch of friends in the business school, if you want to talk to them.”
Still grinning, “cool.” And Anaia began the tour, talking about classes and dorms (‘you definitely don’t want Dykstra, although as a first year, you’re screwed no matter what’) and parties (‘although no one here ever drinks underage,’ to Rob and Jeannie’s laughs.) Halfway through the tour, she said, “Oh by the way, my friends are having a party tonight, if you’re interested.”
Jeannie looked at Emily, “Did you plan this, Emmy?”
“No, I totally didn’t.”
Liam, trying not to sound like a kid. “Can I? I mean, that sounds cool,” which got a smile from Anaia.
Rob looked at her. “If Emmy goes, you can.”
Liam beseeched her with his eyes, and she said, “You know, I have a busy schedule,” then, “OK, fine, I’ll go. What’s the dress code here?” Remembering USC, everyone looking like they were going clubbing.
“Totally cazh,” Anaia said, “Jeans, skirt, whatever.”
Emily remembered her last college party, making out with some guy at Cal State, whose name she couldn’t remember.
---
They finished the tour, and Rob and Liam left to walk around the campus and Westwood, while Jeannie and Emily headed to the Grove, a collection of shops. “They don’t mind that we came here, do they?”
Jeannie smiled. “They will be fine. Besides, I needed some girl time with you,” which made Emily grin. She remembered how her mom, aunt Jackie, Stef and her cousins used to go into Chicago, coming back laden with bags and inside jokes. “So, how’re Stef and Jordan?”
Em smiled, “They're doing great. I think Jordan and Kira are getting serious. I mean, she's always there when I call.” Jordan had told her that they didn't care who knew, which meant it was real.
Jeannie looked in the window of Aritzia, “That's terrific. Do you like her?”
“She's really nice and they really seem to love her. They don't even say anything when I tease them.”
Laughing, “That's serious,” then, “has she met anyone yet?”
Em and Jeannie had come to an unspoken understanding. Don't discuss anyone there in anything but vague terms, and then only to complain about them. “I don't think it's that serious yet,” she laughed. “Maybe if someone went to Indianapolis or something.” In other words, no time soon.
“And Steffie?” They walked into the store.
“She's good. I think they're about ready to choose a place. She wants the botanic garden, which looks really pretty.”
“We went to an alumni fundraiser there. I told Rob that's where my next wedding would be.”
She laughed. “What did he say?” She looked at a pale green dress, a tiered babydoll dress with a V neckline, that tied at the neck with cute details at the collar and hem.
“He asked if he was invited. That's cute.”
She held it to herself. “You think?”
“Definitely. You want to try it on?”
She paused. It was cute, but she could find it for less and wasn't sure where she would wear it. But, on the other hand, she was just trying it on. She went to find a dressing room, tried it on and looked in the mirror. She came out, “No, right?”
Jeannie shook her head. “Yeah, no. I can't put my finger on it, but just…”
“I know.” She went back to change. They kept looking around, eventually leaving the store and just walking around the Grove.
---
“I don't think I've ever met her,” Em said, as they discussed Jeannie’s sister-in-law, who had apparently told her mother off about something she had said regarding her daughter.
“You didn't miss much,” she sighed.
“I mean, no offense,” and she looked in the window of Vince, at a cute t-shirt dress, pale pink, “but your mom did tell her that she should not let her daughter dress the way she did. That's kinda, y’know…”
“Oh, absolutely and I told her that, and it was like my childhood all over again but Melanie is making him,” her brother, “absolutely miserable over this and it's killing him.”
Em smiled, “Did you ever like her?”
“She's not bad…”
A slight wind blew and she held her hem down. Her hair blew in her face and Jeannie took a hair tie out of her bag and reached over to put Em’s hair back. Em smiled. “But?”
“He's my baby brother,” she said. “I just think she's mean to him.”
She smiled, thinking of Stef and Jordan. “Well, how bad was what your niece wanted to wear?”
She laughed. “Awful. It was this tight top and she inherited her mother's chest and her mother's inability to buy a bra that fits.”
Em laughed. “Ouch! That bad?”
“Have you ever seen one of those old ladies with her boobs at her stomach? She started as my niece.”
“You are so mean!” She giggled at the mental picture, remembering a former coworker, who everyone used to call her Deedee behind her back, because she was so huge. They began talking about work, about one of the other admins who made comments every time she left for an audition. “I mean, it's like I take work home with me and it gets done and no one else seems to care.”
“She's jealous of you but just make sure your office manager knows that you're doing it. You have to be a self-promoter. If you aren't, no one else will be. Rob taught me that.”
She smiled. “I know. He's always telling me to be my own biggest cheerleader. He's been great.”
She laughed, “I will never tell him that and ask you to do the same.”
--
They were walking past Nordstrom and Jeannie said that she needed makeup. Jeannie picked up a lipstick and asked her opinion. Em smiled and Jeannie looked at her, “You look happy.”
She thought about her mom and Stef, Aunt Jackie and her cousins. “I'm just having a really, really good time.”
Jeannie smiled, “Me too.”
They went out to get coffee, sitting at an outdoor cafe. “I'm having a really great time,” Emily said.
Jeannie looked at her. “Me too. It's not like Liam is interested in spending time with me.”
She smiled and thought of Stef and their mother. “I'm serious. This has been really, really fun and I hope you'll do it with me again.”
Jeannie put her hand on Emily’s. “I will do this with you as much and as long as you're willing to do it with me. You know you don’t need to ask, right?”
Emily, looking into her eyes. “I know. I just don't want to push my luck…”
Jeannie hugged her, “You have no luck to push. We are a family. You, me, Rob,” then pausing, “and Liam. You're stuck with us now.”
Emily smiled softly. “I want to be stuck. I'm glad we're stuck.”
“That's enough of that,” Jeannie said. “You'll keep an eye on Liam tonight, right? He's a good, smart kid but his judgment is sometimes, and when a girl is involved…”
Emily looked at her, “He keeps talking about a girlfriend. What's up with that?”
Jeannie took a sip of her iced coffee. “Nothing. She's a junior and really clingy.”
“Oh God,” she said, remembering her first year self, hormones out of whack. “One of those.”
“Oh yeah,” she laughed, “and she has this awful voice,” and she imitated a high, nasal voice that made people turn. “She thinks it's a relationship…”
Emily laughed. “Got it. Anyway, I'll make sure he doesn't get too stupid.”
“That's all we ask, Emmy. Be his big sister,” which made Em grin from ear to ear.
Then, she got serious. “Speaking of which.”
“I'm not there yet.”
“Emmy, we've talked about this.”
“I know, but I’m not ready.” She intently studied her hem.
“You know that, no matter what, Stef and I will be there for you.”
“I know, but I don't think you know what she said.”
“I'm not excusing anything she said. It's inexcusable. You're her daughter and a wonderful person and you don't just turn your back on your child, no matter what,” and a look came over her face.
Emmy said, in a small voice, “we can stop if you want,” then gave her a hug. “You know that you and Rob mean everything to me.”
She smiled and gave her a kiss. “And you mean everything to us.”
----
“I can drive,” Emily said, as they left the restaurant.
Uncle Rob looked at her. “Take an Uber.”
“I don’t plan on drinking.”
He looked at her, his face serious. “People don’t plan on doing anything stupid, Emmy, but they do. Take an Uber. I’ll pay.”
“I’m just…”
He put his hands on her shoulders, and she felt the weight of his hands. “This isn’t a discussion. Uber or you’re not going.”
“Fine,” she said, smiling. “We’ll take an Uber. I hear you’re an excellent tipper.”
He grinned, “Wiseass,” then, “I’m not OK with this outfit.” Emily was wearing her slip dress, the mini that she bought just before the surgery.
She looked at Jeannie, who said, “Rob, it's fine. It's what they're wearing these days. Besides, Emmy is 23, not 17.”
He grumbled, told them not to be too late, and stuck his hand out. Emily handed him her keys, the plan being for Liam to crash at her place and him to drive her car back for brunch the next day.
Liam looked at him and rolled his eyes, his backpack slung over his shoulder. When they were out of earshot, Liam apologized, “That's just how he is.”
Remembering her own teen years, well Stef’s, she smiled, “He means well.”
“Whatever.”
She smiled. “Whatever,” she imitated. “This is gonna be lit.”
“Thanks for doing this.”
“You don't have to thank me. It's fun.”
“It's not gonna be boring for you, a college party?”
She theatrically put her foot down. “I'm only 23!” He grinned. “Jerk,” she grinned.
—
The party was a success, Liam having fooled around with a girl, a blonde with a cute little nose and pale blue eyes. And misshapen boobs in a top that left them hanging out. Anaia had smiled and tilted her head towards Liam, “He’s a great guy. And she is a total ditz, so they should work out.”
At 1:30, she tapped Liam on the shoulder. “Sorry, Liam, but we have to get back. We need to be up in the morning.”
He looked at her, and she could see his eyes lightly floating in a mix of beer and tequila. He looked at the girl, “Sorry, Kira, but y’know…” Em smiled at the name, thinking of Jordan, how they would be egging Liam on.
Kira smiled, “Well, if you end up coming here, look me up,” and she gave him her Insta and Snap information. Then, she kissed him again.
They walked out. “Go Liam,” she laughed, offering her hand for a high five.
He high-fived her back. “You and that guy didn’t look too bad either,” he slurred.
She smiled, “How drunk are you?”
He smiled. “I’m buzzed, not fucked up.” He walked a little. “OK, I’m kinda close to fucked up.”
She looked at him. “You gonna puke? Because we can wait to call the Uber.”
“Nah, I’m not that fucked up. Thanks for doing this, Em.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” and she felt a late night breeze blow her dress. “I had a lot of fun,” and, to his grin, “not just that, you jerk.”
“You’re not going to tell mom and dad about this, are you?”
“I’m pretty sure they know people drink at college parties.”
“Come on,” he groaned.
“No, of course not. It’s you and me, right?”
He smiled, “You’d be a really cool older sister, you know that?”
She laughed, “You’re way closer to fucked up than you think.”
He looked at her. “No, I mean it. You would be.”
“Thanks. I always wanted a younger brother or sister.”
The Uber came and he got in the car, and Liam rested his head on the window. “He’s not going to throw up, is he?” The driver looked concerned.
“He should be OK. I’ll keep an eye on him.” With that, she could see Liam’s eyes close.
They got back to Emily’s place and walked up the stairs. “You’re the best, Ems,” he slurred.
“Uh huh.”
“Now, I know why they love you so much,” which threw her for a loop.
“I love them too,” she said.
“Nah, I mean it. They love you like they love me.”
She was lost for a second, then chalked it up to alcohol. “Not quite,” she said. “But, thanks.”
“Nah, I mean it,” he said. “They do.”
“You’re their son. I’m just their niece.”
“Stef's just their niece,” he smiled. “I told you. He talks about you all the time.”
She smiled, then, “Does that bother you or something?”
“Not at all. It's been shitty the past couple of years.”
“Why?”
“You know why. Robbie.”
“What's up with Robbie?”
“You don't know? Really?” He looked sobered up for a second.
“No.”
“Mom didn't tell you? Dad?”
“No. What? What's up with Robbie?”
He looked around. “You can't tell anyone. Not Stef. Not Jordan. No one.”
She steeled herself. “Of course.”
“He's schizophrenic. And it's bad.”
“What does that mean? I mean, like what does he do?”
“It's like he has these delusions, they call them. Like he's all paranoid, that we're trying to kill him. And he sees shit. And he attacked mom…”
She felt like she had been punched in the stomach, all the air coming out of her. “Fuck. Was she...ok?”
“I mean, I tackled him before he could do any real physical damage…”
She hugged him without thinking. “Ohmigod.”
He hugged her back, and he started talking, in a choked voice, about how everyone told them that was unusual for schizophrenics and it was only one time but he knew what he saw. Then, how Robbie would disappear sometimes.
She felt herself starting to cry. “I didn't know.”
“I know. And I hate it. I hate that he doesn't always take his medicine. And I hate the way he disappears. And I hate when he comes back,” and she felt his body tense.
“It's ok, Liam, I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere.”
“And I hate him.”
“You don't hate him. You hate the disease.”
He pulled back, his eyes red. “I hate what he does to them. And I hate that I hate him. He wasn't always like this and I went to a support group and they tell you it's ok to be angry but then they tell you shit like it's not their fault, which means it's my fault.” Then, he moved back to her, offering himself for a hug.
“It's not your fault.” She hugged him tight. “You don't have to apologize to me for anything, I get it. Believe me.”
“And I hate that he's like this ghost that haunts us, that he took away our family…”
“He didn't... I mean, they love you as much as they did before...I mean...you know what, I'm gonna shut up,” which made him smile.
He looked at her. “Can I tell you something?” She nodded. “Sometimes, I wish he would just die.” Before she could speak, “because then we'd be done. We could have a funeral and grieve and be done. Now it's like he keeps dying and coming back and dying and coming back, y’know?”
She touched his leg. “You poor thing. How long have you been feeling like this?”
“Since I realized he wasn't getting better.”
“I feel horrible. You know that whenever you want to yell or complain or just talk, I'm here, right?” He smiled and hugged her. “You're a good hugger. Girls like that.”
He pulled back. “This is gonna sound weak, but I'm glad mom and dad saw you that day. You've made them really happy.”
“They make me happy.”
“No, I mean it. Since they've been seeing you, talking to you, they've been really happy. It's like they have a daughter.”
She was floored. “Huh?”
He smiled, “That's what I meant before. I think you're like a daughter to them. They're really proud of you.”
“For what?”
He laughed. “Umm, the way you've made this whole life for yourself out here? Dad's like mad impressed. I heard him tell Uncle Doug.” He looked at her. “Fuck, I'm sorry.”
“What? How?”
“Shit. Never mind.”
“No,” she said, taking breaths to calm herself. “No take backs,” a phrase she hadn't used in forever.
“He meant it mad positively…”
“Liam, just tell me. I'm not gonna get pissed,” at you. Probably.
“So we were at this thing at Uncle Kevin’s,” the name sneered, which made her smile a little. “And Mom and Dad were talking to Uncle Doug and Aunt Laura, and they were talking about the wedding and Mom told her she was being ridiculous, and that she would be proud to have a daughter like you…”
“She said that? For real?”
“Umm, she loves you more than me,” he laughed.
“No she doesn't.”
“She likes you better. Like she waits for your calls and she wouldn't shut up about today. Like she had a perfect day with you. Anyway, so she was telling Aunt Laura how good and kind and sweet you were, and how she needed to wake up and realize that. And Dad told yours that you made this whole life for yourself, with a job and friends and shit, and that they should realize how good they had it with you and Jordan and Stef, ‘cuz it could be much worse…”
“Jeez. What did they say?”
“They saw me listening. So I left mad quick,” he laughed. “Sorry.”
She laughed. “No worries. What did the rest of them have to say?”
“They were too busy getting pissed at each other,” he laughed. “But anyway, Mom and Dad love you for real.”
“I love them too. I wish they were mine. Hella fucked up, right?”
“Nah, they're ok. Anyway, could I ask you something? You don't have to answer, if you don't want.”
She took a breath. “Yeah. What?”
“How did you know about y’know?”
She smiled. “I just did. It's like, how did you know you were a boy? You just did, right?” He nodded. “It's like, from when I was little, I knew I was a girl, that I liked girl stuff. Like I looked at Stef and... everyone else and I knew I was supposed to be them. And when I was with...guys, it was like, and this is weird, I was in a foreign country and I couldn't speak the language and I knew that I could live there the rest of my life and I never would. And I knew that if I kept trying, I would die eventually. Sorry, that's TMI, right?”
He looked at her. “No. I mean it sucks that some people don't get that. Like, who fucking cares if you,” and he clenched his legs.
“It's not contagious, Liam,” she laughed.
“Fuck you,” he grinned, then, “how bad were they about it?”
She looked down. “Bad. Really bad.”
“That's bullshit. I don't get it.” She shrugged. “I'm serious. You're, I mean you'd be, a really good sister…”
She smiled, “Thanks, Liam. I’d like a brother like you. You know, if you come here, I'm here for you. And if you don't, I'm still here for you.”
He smiled, “I know. You gonna ever talk to them again?”
“Stef wants me to. And your mom.”
“You gonna?”
“I don't know. I mean, I know I can't just show up at the wedding, but I don't know what she’ll say. Or me. I mean, I told your mom the shit she said to me.”
He looked at her. “Whatever she says, I'm here for you.”
“Thanks, Liam. That means a lot to me,” and he just smiled, then passed out. She went into the closet and put a blanket over him.
---
11:30 the next morning, Emily and Marissa came back from Vonn’s, carrying bags. She found Liam sitting up on the couch, a bottle of water in front of him. “Yo, you went to the store? Why didn’t you wake me? I would’ve come and helped.”
Emily laughed, “You needed to sleep it off.”
“I wasn’t that fucked up.”
Marissa laughed. “For someone who wasn’t that fucked up, you were snoring pretty hard,” which made him turn red.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
Emily smiled. “It’s cool. Put on some shoes and help us with the bags.”
They walked downstairs, Liam blinking in the sun. “Damn, that sun is bright,” which got laughs.
“You gonna be OK?”
He laughed, “Yeah. I’ll get some more water in me. I’ll be fine by the time they get here.” Marissa smiled and held back.
“So, you had a good time last night, right?”
He smiled, “I said I did.”
They walked up to the apartment, Liam taking bags from her. “You remember the conversation after we got back?”
He looked at her, hurt in his eyes. “Yeah, I remember.”
“If you don’t wanna talk about it again…”
He looked at her. “Nah, it’s not that. I have nothing else to say about him.”
“K. If you want to.”
He smiled, “If I do, I know I can. But I don’t.”
“OK.” She started to ask if he remembered the rest and stopped.
Marissa came over and sniffed. “You smell like stale beer. Go shower.”
He looked at her and smiled. “Do I know you?”
She stuck out her hand and smiled, “Hi, I’m Marissa, Em’s roommate. You must be Liam. You smell like shit. Go shower before your mom gets here and yells at you and Em.” He laughed, picked up his bag and went to the bathroom. “How much did he drink?”
---
Brunch was a success.
Anaia was the last to leave. “Thanks, Mr. Nehlen. I’ll get you my resume.” Rob had offered to put out feelers for summer internships for her.
“It’s Rob, Mr. Nehlen is,” a sigh, “my father,” which got snickers from Liam and Emily, “and I make no promises, but I’ll do what I can.”
“Well, I appreciate it. Thanks again, Ems,” she said, giving her a kiss.
Marissa smiled. “Let’s start cleaning up.”
Jeannie looked at her. “We’ve got this, Marissa.”
Marissa looked at Em, who shrugged. “Are you sure?”
Jeannie smiled. “I’m sure,” her tone, kind but firm. “Go enjoy the rest of the day. When you get back, you won’t even know we were here.” She gave her a kiss, then looked at Liam and Rob, “Go take a walk, you two.”
Rob looked at Liam, “We’re being dismissed.”
They walked out the door and Emily gave a little smile. “Am I in trouble?”
Jeannie laughed, “No, but we need to talk. First, your friends were wonderful,” and she described how much she liked each of them.
“I know. I’m really lucky to have them,” Em said, surveying the room and deciding where to start.
“They’re lucky to have you,” then, “I’ve been thinking all night.”
“Uh oh.”
Jeannie looked at her, “Don’t say it,” the Nehlen family ‘joke’ about thinking. “You need to call her.”
“I know, but I’m afraid of what will happen.”
Jeannie stared at her. “Nothing will happen.”
“You don’t know that,” Em said, as she rinsed a plate in the sink.
“I do,” Jeannie said, scraping old fruit from a plate into the garbage.
“That goes into compost,” Em said, pointing to a bin, “But how can you say that? How do you know that?”
“Because,” she said, dumping a half full mimosa into the sink, “what can she do to you?”
Em stopped. “I’ve spent six years finally not feeling like shit.”
“She can’t make you feel like shit anymore, Emmy,” which got an eyebrow raise. “I mean it.”
“Wanna bet?” And she scraped some egg leavings into the compost bin, and threw some napkins into the trash. “She’s a major bitch.”
Jeannie gave a half-smile. “I’ve known her longer than you. But, she can’t. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because,” she said, reaching over and turning off the sink, “you have me and Rob now. And we’re not going anywhere. We love you unconditionally.”
And Emily felt the tears welling up. “I love you too. I wish you were my mom,” and she put her hand over mouth.
And Jeannie enveloped her in a hug. “Emmy, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I only wish I had a daughter as good as you. And I will be your surrogate mom, if that’s OK,” and Emmy nodded, wiping tears and snot onto her, mumbling ‘sorry.’ “But, she is your mother, for better or worse, and you need to do this. You’re a grown woman. A beautiful, strong woman and beautiful, strong women don’t hide from their moms,” pausing and smiling, “usually.”
Emily pulled back, “What happens when she says everything she said about me again? Or worse?” She imagined the venom spilling over her.
“Then, you will call me and I will tell you that everything she said was awful and wrong and then I will call her and tell her the same thing. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.”
“Yeah, Liam told me you told her off.”
Sorting out forks to put them in the dishwasher. “He heard us, huh?”
“Yup.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I told her that I had seen you.”
Em looked at her. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t expect you not to. That’s not fair,” then, “what did she say?”
“It doesn’t matter, Emmy.”
“It kinda does.”
“As bad as you think she was, she was.”
She debated asking what that meant, and decided not to. “Well, thanks for saying what you said about me,” and she stared at her feet.
“I meant it. We both did. I told you. Unconditional.”
“Thanks. I feel the same,” then, “what did he have to say?”
“He wasn’t going to start, not with all of them there.”
Emily went to her bag and took out her phone. “What’s her number?”
Jeannie stopped bagging garbage. “What?”
“Her number. I’ll call her now.”
“I, uh…”
She took a deep breath and looked her dead in the eyes. “If I don’t do it now, I won’t ever do it.”
“I’ll go outside,” Jeannie said.
“I need you here. Please.”
“I think that…”
Emily looked at her, tears forming. “Please, Aunt Jeannie. I won’t tell her you’re here but I’m afraid and I need you. Please.”
She sighed and gave her the number. The phone rang and she prayed for voicemail.
God was absent. “Hello?”
A deep breath. “Hello,” and she started to say ‘mom’ and stopped. “It’s Emily.”
A silence, then, “oh.”
“Stef asked me to call you and so I am.”
“So you are. How are you?”
Emily looked at Jeannie, who mouthed, ‘you can do this,’ “I’m great. Really, really great.”
“Oh.” That’s it, you bitch, she thought? “That’s good.”
She took a deep breath and, in her nicest voice, “And you? How are you?”
“We’re fine.” She pictured her pacing around the kitchen.
Emily took a deep breath. “You know what? You don’t care about me, so let’s just be real. You don’t want me in the wedding. Stef does and I want to be in the wedding. So I am.” Jeannie’s jaw dropped and then she grinned.
A pause, then ice, “Oh, is that so?”
“Yeah. I know that you don’t care at all about me. Six years ago, you made that very clear. And it took a long time but I realized that I don’t care about you or what you think about me. So, I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks. Stef is my sister. She wants me there - as a bridesmaid.”
“Is that so, Chris?”
“My name is Emily.”
“Your name is Christopher. You can call yourself whatever you want, but you’re Christopher and, guess what, that’s what everyone will see.”
“Not everyone.”
A sneered, “Oh, that’s right. Stephanie and Molly, sorry Jordan, and your aunt and uncle go along with this too. Well, they’ll be in a small minority.”
“Jared’s family does too.”
A derisive laugh. “Do you really believe that? Really?”
Emily wanted to cry, and then took a deep breath. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. The people who care about me know who I am. Everyone else can go to hell.” Jeannie came over and rubbed her shoulders. “That includes you. Why did you even want to talk to me? So, you can tell me again what kind of freak I am? How you want nothing to do with me? Well, guess what, I don’t care about you either. I never wished you dead like you wanted me dead.”
“What a nice speech. Do you plan to give that toast at the wedding?”
She went to hang up and then stopped, “Some of us know how to behave, Laura,” which made Jeannie wince.
“Look at you, all grown up. Well, if you were an actual adult, you’d care about not ruining your sister’s wedding.”
“I’m not going to ruin it.”
“Oh really? When they start laughing at you when you come down the aisle in a dress and Jared’s family starts looking at them, and everyone starts whispering and pointing, you don’t think that’s going to ruin it? How stupid are you?”
She felt nauseous, all the self-loathing coming back and then she imagined throwing everything into the lake. “Is that your best?”
“Excuse me?”
“I asked if that was your best. Because if it is, you’re not nearly the bitch you think you are. Because, guess what, Jared knows about me. And his sisters. And I’m pretty sure his mom and dad. You know why? Because I know who I am. And I don’t need you. I needed you once and you told me to die and I didn’t die. And once I didn’t die, I realized that no one could hurt me like you hurt me. And now you can’t even do that. If people want to be assholes, they can be assholes if they want. I don’t care. I have a job and friends and a life here and I made it all by myself.” Jeannie silently cheered. “Just like Jordan and Stef are making it by themselves. Because we don’t need you or any of them. So, guess what? I’m going to be there. In a dress and heels and makeup. Because that’s who I am.”
“Are you through?”
“Why? Do you have something you want to say?”
“Like your sister, you’re big on speeches. So, now, it’s my turn. You chose to live your life the way you chose to live it. I think it’s a suicide mission, but your grandfather used to say that, if someone wants to kill themselves, don’t get in the way. And you have no idea how thrilled I am to hear that you’ve made a little life for yourself out there. I guess it’s good that you live there and not here, so that hopefully you won’t end up beaten up in an alley somewhere. Because, despite what you think, I never wanted you dead. Whatever you are, you’re my child. And I don’t want you to die, whether by your own hand or someone else’s. And you may walk around in a dress like you did when you were here, and yes I knew that you and Stef used to play dress up, it was fairly obvious, pathetic but obvious, and people may even call you ‘she’ and ‘her,’ but pronouns don’t make you a woman. Biology does. And I’m sorry that the genetic dice came up snake eyes, as far as you’re concerned, but they did. And a lot more people feel the way I do than you and your sisters, or whatever it is Jordan is these days. And I understand that you and your sister think you can bulldoze your way past everyone, but guess what buttercup? You can’t. And if you actually cared about Stephanie, you’d realize that and you’d stay away from here. We’ll Zoom the wedding for you.”
Emily started crying, then hyperventilating. “Goddamit,” she screamed and she threw the phone down and ran into her room, crying. She could hear the laughter from the phone. Jeannie came in, “I’m sorry, Emily.”
Into her pillow, “I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. And you knew it. And Stef knew it. And you all told me to call her. Thank you very much.” She wanted to tell her to fuck off and get out, but then she’d be all alone again. “I’m sorry.”
Jeannie rolled her over, so she was staring at the ceiling. “Do not apologize, Emily Claire. You did nothing wrong. I don’t know what she said, but she is a fucking bitch.” The phone rang. “It’s her. I’m going to give her…”
Emily stuck her hand out. “Gimme.” She picked it up. “Yeah?”
“I wasn’t finished.”
“I was.”
“I wasn’t.”
Emily took a deep breath. “You’re finished. I’m finished with you. If I ever thought about not coming, I’m coming now. And I’m going to wear my prettiest dress and my highest heels. And makeup. All of it. And you know what? I hope I make you sick. I hope you get sick and throw up and embarrass yourself in front of Jared’s family. And you know what? They won’t care. You know why? Because they don’t care about you. You think about them all the time and you think that they think about you, but they don’t. Except maybe they look at Stef and ask how someone so smart and beautiful and successful could come from backwards trash like you. But they probably don’t, because that would require them to care about you enough to think about you. Which is something I have in common with them.” She saw Jeannie smiling and shaking her head. “So, I’ll see you and Doug at the wedding. You’ll recognize me. I’ll be the one in the cute slip dress.” She hung up the phone, and looked at herself in the mirror. Face flushed and hair askew. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”
“I have never been so proud of anyone in my life,” Jeannie said.
“Huh?”
“You stood up for yourself. You told her off. Would I have called her backwards trash? No, that’s for the rest of them,” which made Emily laugh, “but the rest of it? Good for you.”
“She’s going to make life miserable for you and Stef.”
She smiled. “Your sister and I can handle ourselves, Emmy. And I know your sister. She is a bitch. She’s getting an earful from her right now and she’s giving two back.”
“I wasn’t too much of a bitch?”
She laughed. “Sometimes, you have to be a bitch, Emily.” Then, she gave her a hug and kiss.
Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman, who hasn't seen her twin Jordan in six years. Not since she told her parents the truth about herself and they threw her out. Her older sister is getting married and wants Emily there - as a bridesmaid. Will sparks fly?
---
In this chapter, Jordan meets Kira's parents, and Kira gets to spend Thanksgiving with Jordan's family. Please let me know if there's interest in my continuing the story.
----
“Please tell me you won’t do it again,” Kira said, as Jordan merged onto I-65, headed to their parents for Thanksgiving.
Jordan resolved not to sigh again. ‘It’ meant a repeat of the disastrous first meeting they had had with Kira’s parents two weeks ago.
----
Jordan walked into the restaurant, and saw Kira sitting at a table in the blue dress with the floral print they loved her in. Next to her sat a woman, an older, gaunt Kira, and a man with Kira’s eyes - and a scowl. Kira stood up and kissed their cheek, the man grimacing. “Hey pookie.”
What do I say here, they thought. Do I use ‘sweetie’ or ‘Kira?’ “Hey, sweetie,” and the woman gave a small cryptic smile. They stuck out their hand. “Hi, I’m Jordan Nehlen, it’s very nice to meet both of you.”
The woman looked at Jordan’s hand and then shook lightly, her manicured fingers in sharp contrast to Jordan’s slabs of meat. “Diane Harper.”
The man gripped tightly, then loosened his grip, clearly unsure. “Mitch Harper. Kira’s told us all about you,” an accusation offered.
Jordan smiled, trying to remember what Em told them to do (‘no teeth, and looser than that’). “She’s told me everything about you too.” Then, they cursed themself for saying that. “I mean, just how much she loves you guys.” Kira gave a little smile and a head shake. “Um, yeah, I’ve never been here. This looks great.” They had stared at the menu before walking in, resolving to order something that didn’t drip.
Kira’s mother threw her a lifeline. “Kiki, sorry Kira,” and she gave a little grin that reminded Jordan of their mother, “tells us you played soccer at Purdue.”
“Yeah, I mean yes.”
Kira jumped in. “They’re being modest. They started all four years.”
Her mother nodded, “That’s very impressive.”
“And they got a scholarship.”
Her father gave a slight smile. “That must’ve made your parents happy.”
Jordan laughed a little. “Yeah, I don’t think they minded not writing tuition checks.”
The man stopped smiling. “What position?”
“Center midfielder, sir.”
“What does that mean in English?” Feeling his daughter’s glare, he softened. “When the kids played, they mostly just seemed to swarm the ball.”
“Are you a basketball fan, sir?” They knew he was, specifically Indiana University, Purdue’s archrival. Not that he went there. Her father said, ‘mmm hmmm,’ and they continued, “it’s sort of like a point guard. Pass the ball, set up the offense, that sort of thing.”
“So, no scoring,” met with a hissed ‘daddy.’ “What? I’m asking a question.”
Jordan played with their napkin in their lap. “No, but I made sure everyone else scored. My dad used to call it being ‘Smart. Keith Smart.’” This was a lie, although they liked the turn of phrase. Their father never mentioned IU basketball, except to talk about players from Chicago. Jordan had spent lunch Googling IU basketball of the 1980s, specifically point guards. “Kira said you're a CFO of an insurance company.”
“And she tells me that you work in construction.”
“Daddy,” Kira hissed, nudging Jordan's leg under the table. “They are a project manager, not a laborer.”
“Mitch,” her mother groaned. “So, Jordan, what does a project manager do?”
“I'm responsible for supervising the workers and the sub...contractors on my floors to make sure work is completed correctly, on-time and on-budget, and for acting as liaison between them and the architect and the developer.” They smiled, happy for a minute to be in their element.
“That sounds like a lot of responsibilities,” the mom said. “And you're only 23.”
“I know. Jordan took me to the site once and they told me how important they were.”
Her father’s face didn't move at all. “Why would they give a 23 year old that much responsibility?”
“Umm, sir?”
“I wouldn't give someone fresh out of college that much responsibility. Why would they? Should I be worrying that a building I'm in will collapse?”
“There is the architect and the building inspector, sir, so I think you're safe, heh heh,” they tried to joke, “plus I interned for two summers and my family is in the business…”
“That's right, Kiki told me that. You're from outside of Chicago, right?”
Unsure where this was leading, “Yessir, Dekalb. It's about 60 miles west of the loop.”
“I know where it is,” which got a glare from Kira.
“I'm sorry. Most people don't.”
“I do,” which led to an exasperated ‘Mitch’ from her mother. He smiled, “So we've established I'm more geographically aware than most people. Why are you here instead of there?”
“I came to really like Indiana when I was in college.”
Now the smile was gone. “You don't like Illinois? Your family?”
Feeling nervous, “I like my family.”
“So much so that you moved four hours away from them.”
Kira looked at him. “Last time I checked, Grandma and Grandpa were in Omaha, dad.”
“Not the same, Kiki. And I didn't have a family business to step into.”
“There were plenty of things you could have done there, Mitch,” then, turning to Jordan, “why didn't you go into your family business?”
Because they're misogynistic assholes who would only want me in the trailer. “Well, it's my grandfather, my dad and his three brothers and the pie is only so big…”
Her father. “So you have no ambition to grow the pie? That's terrific.”
“I do, sir.”
“You just said that you didn't.”
Kira, “That's not what they said.”
“What does ‘the pie is only so big’ mean to you?”
Jordan, interrupting. “I was trying to say that the family business is mostly strip malls and industrial parks, one and two story buildings, and here I'm on a 35 story building, and so I'm learning a whole new skill set that I can hopefully use to become bigger and better.” Jordan turned to Kira’s mother, “Kira told me that you're a school psychologist in a middle school. What's that like?”
Kira's mother smiled and rolled her eyes. “Stressful.”
“How come?”
“Mom says middle schoolers are the hardest of all,” Kira laughed.
Jordan remembered middle school, the way John Harper and his friends suddenly ignored them, that bitch Kayla and her friends, “I could see that,” Jordan smiled, trying to show only their top teeth.
“What was your issue with middle school?” Kira’s father said.
Jordan, suddenly feeling sweaty and clammy simultaneously. “I don't know. I just remember the way middle school was is all.” They looked at Kira, whose face evinced sympathy, or was it pity?
Kira's mother jumped in. “Mitch. I know you don't listen to me,” and she smiled slightly, “but middle school is very challenging for all kids, especially girls, with puberty and all. Plus I'm sure Jordan had extra challenges…”
“Mom! God,” Kira snapped.
---
That was the highlight of the dinner, as far as Jordan could determine. They had been planning to go to the Pacers game, before Kira had sprung dinner on them. If they had gone to the Pacers game, they'd have met Kira after and none of what happened would have. The discussion about politics (Stef’s ‘I don't care if he brings up Q Anon shit. I don't care if he's actually Q, Jor…’) wouldn't have happened. They remembered the butter stain smack in the middle of their shirt. Butter. They had specifically ordered food without sauce and...butter did it and, without looking, Jordan gripped the wheel.
“Jor?” Kira’s voice snapped them out of it. “Everything OK?”
“Huh? Yeah,” and they released their grip on the wheel. “Yeah.”
“You looked like you were going to snap the wheel.”
Eyes still on the road, “I’m nervous.”
Kira laughed, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be nervous. This is your family.”
Exactly why I’m nervous, Jordan thought. “I just don’t want…”
Kira held up her hand. “I told you. We’re done with that. It happened.” It had led to ten tense days between them, where Kira never stayed over. “You just said it won’t happen again, so what are you nervous about?”
“My family’s fucked up.”
“Everyone’s family is fucked up, Jor.” Out of the corner of their eye, they watched Kira smooth out imaginary wrinkles in her dress.
“Yeah, mine is especially fucked up.”
“Stef isn’t fucked up.”
Jordan laughed, “Nah, she’s just a bitch.”
A laughing, “That’s awful. I love your sister. I can’t wait to meet her and Jared.”
Jordan relaxed a little. “She can’t wait either. I think she’s more excited to see you than me.”
“I doubt that.”
“The rest of them…”
“Just treat them like my dad. If someone’s being an asshole, let them be an asshole, Jor.”
This was not the first time she had said that since everything happened, as if they weren’t capable of controlling themself. They felt their pulse start quickening and focused on the road, telling themself silently, over and over, that she meant well. “I will.”
Kira smiled, “Just try.” Thanks for the vote of confidence, they thought.
---
Three hours, as they pulled into the driveway, Jordan took a deep breath. It was time. They knew it was time. They had been together six, almost seven, months. They loved her. She loved them, having said it first. And Mom had been on them to do this, not that she'd ever come to Indianapolis. No, they had to come here. For Thanksgiving. “Don’t be nervous.”
Kira touched their leg. “I'm excited, pookie. Are you excited?”
“Uh huh,” wondering what awaited them. At least, it was Wednesday. Only their parents and Stef and Jared, who wouldn't be in until later, Stef pleading ‘work and I can only handle so much.’
Kira smiled, “That doesn't sound excited to me.”
Jordan looked at the house. Same as it ever was. “I'm something…”
Kira kissed them. “I'm excited to meet them.” Yeah, they thought, let's see on Friday how you feel. Kira got out of the car and straightened her dress, a red dress with a print of butterflies (‘my spirit animal,’ Em said when Kira showed it to her) that was a couple of inches above her knees. She picked up a gift wrapped box from the seat.
“You look amazing.”
“Thank you,” she smiled. “So do you,” the committee of three having decided on a blue and white shirt for them, without their input.
They walked up and Jordan put their hand on the door. “Last chance.”
“Oh stop it, pookie.”
Jordan opened the door. “Hello?”
Their mother came in from the kitchen and gave them a hug. Her eyes flicked up and down Kira. “You must be Kira. It's so nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you.”
Kira smiled, taking in the woman in jeans and a blouse. “It's great to finally meet you too.” She looked around, “This is a beautiful home.”
A small smile. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for having me,” then, holding out the box, “this is for you.”
Their mom took the box. “Well, this is a nice surprise,” a glance at Jordan. With a fingernail under one edge, she quickly opened it without tearing the wrapping. Apparently, it was a bowl, all swoopy and modern. “This is lovely. Thank you,” and she kissed her on the cheek. “Let me give you the tour.”
They began walking through the house, Jordan unsure what to do with their hands until Kira took it. Jordan felt warmth as she intertwined her fingers with theirs. They watched Kira taking in all of the pictures on the wall, as their mother droned on. “This is Jordan’s room,” no hiccup on Jordan for once.
Kira walked around, looking at the trophies. “This is a lot of trophies, pookie.” Their mother flinched. “MVP, 2014. Toughest player, there’s a shock,” which got a laugh from their mother, “Did you ever not win a trophy?”
Jordan smiled. “I lost out on sportsmanship.”
Kira widened her eyes. “You? No!”
“Ha ha. Shut up.”
Their mother smiled. “Let’s continue the tour before some more of that Nehlen sportsmanship,” which got a look from Kira, “comes out.” They walked down the halls, Kira still looking at everything, and, “this is Stephanie’s room.”
Kira looked at it and smiled. “Yeah, this is Stef’s room.”
Their mother looked at them and then Kira, “I didn’t think you two had met.”
Kira smiling and looking at the Science Search award, “We haven’t. Just by phone. But you can get a real sense of someone by their voice. It’s an exercise they taught us in class.”
“Excuse me?” Jordan tensed up at their mother’s question. “An exercise? What class?”
“Kira’s a drama major…”
“Oh,” and she tensed.
“And an economics major,” Jordan offered, to Kira’s glare.
Kira, ignoring them both, “The point of the exercise is to encourage listening. That your ears tell you more than your eyes. Anyway, even if I didn’t see her name on the award, I would know this was her room because of what she chose to put up and stuff.”
Ignoring that, their mother continued down the hall, “You’ll be staying in here.” Emily’s old room. Not that you’d know, the walls and shelves having been stripped bare.
“Mom, you know we stay together in Indianapolis,” Jordan joked.
“And in Indianapolis, you do what you want. I imagine Kira’s parents would prefer this.”
Kira looked at Jordan and smiled, “This is fine, pookie.”
Their mother looked straight ahead, and said, “Why don’t we go downstairs and get something to drink? Are you hungry?”
Jordan looked at Kira, who kept smiling. “Um, we ate before we left, unless you are.”
Kira just offered. “I’m fine. But I could use a glass of water or something. Jordan’s very particular about people drinking in their car.”
Their mother rolled her eyes. “Like father...Mr. Nehlen is the same way.” Then turning to Jordan and pasting on a smile, “You know when you’re not there, we open a big bag of chips and a bottle of Coke in the car and drive around looking for bumps.”
“Mmm hmmm. That’s why I keep these with me,” and they held up their car keys.
“You can have something else. We have pop, wine, whatever you want.”
“Diet Coke would be great, please. Can I help you with anything, Mrs. Nehlen?” Kira offered.
Taken aback, “Thank you but it’s not necessary. Go sit. I’ll bring everything in.”
Jordan and Kira went to the living room. “Sorry,” Jordan mumbled.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”
Their mother came in with two glasses of Diet Coke and a beer for Jordan. “Thanks ma.”
“Are you sure you don’t want something else, Kira?” Eyes flicking over the hem of Kira’s skirt and landing on her shoes.
“Really, I’m fine. Maybe I’ll have something more later. So, Jordan tells me you work as an administrator for a law firm. What’s that like?”
“Very, very busy. Stef doesn’t seem to think so, though. But most lawyers don’t.”
“Mom, Stef knows you work hard. She just works mad crazy hours.”
Their mom smiled, “It’s amazing how protective Jordan has become of her, their, sorry, sister. You would never have known that growing up. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“A brother. Jeremy. He’s 24.”
“Oh. What does he do for work?”
“Something with crypto.”
“What does something with crypto mean?”
Kira smiled. “Mining it. For a company in Florida. He sets up servers, I think.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?”
“Umm, because, to be honest, I don’t actually understand it fully. But my dad says he’s doing well at it.”
“Don’t you know?” She smiled at Jordan, “Jordan and Stephanie keep in touch. Don’t you?”
Kira kept smiling, “We do,” she lied. “I think it’s more like how Jordan and their father talk at a different level to each other.”
“Is your father in crypto then?” She took a sip, gulp, of her wine.
“No, he’s a CFO of an insurance company in Evansville.”
“Oh. Does your mother work?”
“Yes. She’s a school psychologist in a middle school.”
That got a genuine laugh. “God bless her. That’s certainly fertile ground for a psychologist, I would imagine. I remember the kids in middle school. Steffie was fine. Jordan had challenges…”
Jordan looked up at the ceiling. “Ma.”
“I don’t think that’s any surprise.”
“I was a mess, yup. There. Is everyone happy?”
Kira touched their knee and rubbed it. “Pookie, relax. We all know you’re the picture of mental health now.” Then, Kira leaned over and kissed them on the cheek. Jordan grinned and their mother grimaced which she then turned into a false smile.
“You know what, Kira? Now that I think about it, I could use some help.” Jordan shrugged and mouthed, ‘I don’t know’ as Kira got up.
---
An hour later, the door opened. “Hello?”
Jordan stood up. “Hey, Dad,” as they watched their father remove his dusty work shoes, it had been long decided that they were not allowed past the front door.
“Hey, champ!” And he gave them a half hug. “How was the drive up?”
“Not bad. Usual traffic.”
“How’s work?”
“Good. Busy,” before he could ask, “On time and on budget.”
“That’s what it’s supposed to be. You’re staying on top of your subs, right?”
A groaned, “Yes.”
“Because they will fu..scr..cheat you,” as he looked at Kira, “every chance they get.”
Jordan looked at Kira, who gave a minute push of her hand down, “I know. I keep on them,” they lied. Not that they didn’t, just not the way he would.
“Where’s your mom?” Just then, Jordan’s mom came out, carrying a tray of cheese and crackers. “Hey, honey,” and he gave her a kiss.
“Hello to you too. I see you’ve met Kira...”
Their dad broke into a grin. “Sorry about the shop talk. Doug Nehlen,” and he gave her a kiss and hug, which made their mother stiffen, “it is great to finally meet you. The champ has told me all about you.”
Kira laughed, and hooked her arm in theirs, “Oh, champ did, did they?” Jordan felt themself turn red. “They’ve told me everything about you,” and she pushed her hair behind her ear. “Everything they learned they learned from you.”
Bingo. His chest puffed out. “They learned everything they know. They didn’t learn everything I know.” Jordan thought they could hear their mother’s eyes roll.
“Kira was telling us how she could tell it was Steffie’s room just from talking to her,” she sneered.
Doug looked at their mom and then Kira. “You can tell a room from just talking to her?”
“Apparently, you learn more from listening than seeing or something.”
Doug laughed, “Then, my family is incredibly uneducated.” Which got a hissed ‘Doug’ and a look between Jordan and Kira. “Well, anyway, it’s great to finally meet you.”
Kira smiled sweetly. “You too, Mr. Nehlen. I was telling Mrs. Nehlen how much I appreciated you having me.”
Their father laughed. “It’s Doug. You’ll meet Mr. Nehlen tomorrow,” as his wife stood mute, fists clenching. “Hey champ, you wanna get in a little one-on-one before Stef and Jared get here?”
Kira gave a minute nod of her head. “That OK, sweetie?”
“Of course, pookie,” and a subtle glance back at Jordan’s mom.
Doug grinned. “Oh, pookie,” he sang. “Ready to lose?”
Jordan grinned. “I thought I was playing you. My sneakers are in the truck,” they said, as their father slipped on his Nikes.
Jordan stood on the driveway, waiting for their father and dribbling one of the six basketballs that were in the garage. “Ready, old man?” Out of the corner of their eye, they saw Kira and their mother standing on the steps, smirking.
Their father laughed. “Shoot for who gets the ball first?”
Jordan laughed. “You can go first, age before...talent,” and they tossed the ball to him. He started dribbling and Jordan blocked him, following his every move. To make up for his five inch height advantage, Jordan began bumping him.
He smiled. “You still can’t resist fouling me.”
Jordan rolled their eyes. “I don’t see any blood.” Kira rolled her eyes. “Come on. I know you’re getting old and fat, but you can do better than this.” He tried to move around them and they anticipated his every move.
“Not bad,” he said, “but not good either,” and he made a quick crossover and went for a jumper.
“Clang,” Jordan yelled, as the ball rimmed out and they grabbed the rebound. “You always were good with bricks.” They dribbled to the top of the key and began taunting, “So which way should I go? I’ll let you pick.”
“Talk is cheap, Jordan,” he said, with an edge in his voice. “I don’t need to choose.”
“Well, then,” and they made a quick move around him, taking a short jumper that went through, “Whoosh. Boom goes the dynamite,” a phrase from childhood that they remembered fondly from driveway games. Kira and their mother both stood on the steps, laughing.
Their father grabbed the ball and glared. “You got one. Congratulations.”
“Come on, come on,” Jordan started saying rapidly. “What did you always say? Less talking, more…” He made a move to the hoop, bumping them in the chest. They didn’t have much up top but they felt a stinging pain, as did their mother and Kira, who both winced. They wouldn’t show him that, though. Instead, they made a move to steal the ball and…
He ran right past them. “Come on, Jordan. Play angry, play stupid. Still can’t control it, can you?”
This went until Jordan won 11-9, the taunts and bumps getting more intense. They finished and their father said, “Good game,” offering his hand, and then, “I guess they went inside or something.” Jordan shrugged and they went in.
Their mother was on the couch. “Where’s Kira?”
Their mother looked at them, and said, with an edge, “She went upstairs to unpack. Go help her.”
“Huh?” Seeing the eyeroll and then the withering stare, they went upstairs to find Kira in Em’s old room. “Decided to unpack?” No response. “What?” Still no response. “Seriously, what?”
“What was that out there?”
“What was what?” Jordan was confused.
“Seriously? You’re seriously asking that?”
“We were playing basketball?” Kira stood there. “Tell me what I did.”
“This,” and she began bumping them and smacking their hand, “is basketball?”
Jordan laughed, “Are you trying to foul me?”
Kira looked at them. “And the nastiness?”
“It’s just trash talk. You’ve seen me play softball.”
Kira shook her head. “I wish I had filmed you.”
Jordan looked out the window. “I really don’t get it.”
“You two get violent with each other,” and she hung up her dress and Jordan thought of Emily, how she should be here doing that.
“No, we don’t. It’s just how we play.”
“It’s weird.”
“It’s us.”
Kira came over. “Jordan, we talked about this, please tell me we’re not going to be doing this all weekend.”
Jordan stared at the bare walls, and wondered what ‘this’ was. They opened their mouth to ask and stopped. No good could come of this. “I won’t.” They figured they could ask Stef later what she meant. “We really were just playing.”
Kira smiled. “Promise...champ?”
“Ha ha.”
“I like it,” she said, poking them, “My pookie champ. No, championship pookie. You're the pookiest pookie. Ronnie will love that.”
Jordan began poking back. “Not funny.”
Kira, poking harder, “It’s not supposed to be funny, pookiest.”
Jordan, “I’m not laughing.”
“That’s good,” Kira said, grabbing their waist, “because I’m not joking.” Then, “do you really promise?”
Jordan sighed, “Yes,” again resolving to figure out what they did wrong. “I’m sorry if we bothered you.” From downstairs, they heard a muffled, ‘you can’t bang into her like that,’ and ‘you need to stop, she likes this girl,’ and they winced. Jordan sat on the bed.
Kira plopped down next to them. “So this was Em’s room?”
Jordan sighed. “Don’t let them hear you.” Kira shook her head. “I told you we were fucked up.”
“They’re fucked up. Not you and Stef.”
Jordan smiled. “Really?”
“I’m actually being serious, pook. Your mom kept starting and stopping saying something.”
“About?”
Kira got up, picked up her underwear out of her bag, looked at the dresser and put them back in the bag. “I don't know, but it was mad weird.”
“It'll get better,” they offered, unsure of how.
---
The next afternoon, Kira stood before Jordan, in a green cowl neck sweater, white tiered maxi-skirt and ballet flats. She had applied light makeup and was wearing her hair down, after having played with it for fifteen minutes. “I look OK, right?” She was trying to cover her nerves. Trying.
Jordan, dressed in black pants and a blue striped shirt. “You look beautiful.”
“I’m gonna go ask Stef.”
Jordan laughed. “So, why did you ask me?”
Jordan put her hands around their waist, “Because if you said I didn’t, I’d know it was really bad,” and she booped them on the nose.
---
They drove with Stef and Jared to Uncle Kevin and Aunt Julie’s, Stef giving Kira the rundown on everyone, their kids and their peculiarities.
They got to the house and Jordan handed her the cakes he had been holding. Jared looked at Kira, smiling and said, “Showtime.”
Stef looked at him and laughed, “Let her form her own opinion.” Jordan noticed a glance pass between Kira and Jared, and they felt their blood pressure rise.
Jordan looked at Stef who shrugged slightly, then took Kira’s hand. “It won’t be that bad.”
Kira smiled, “I’m sure it will be fine.” One of us should be, thought Jordan.
They rang the doorbell, Aunt Julie getting upset whenever anyone walked in unannounced. She came to the door. “Hey, Aunt Julie, Happy Thanksgiving,” she said, handing her the cakes. “From Benninson’s, in Evanston.”
Julie put them on the hall table, and gave her a hug. “Congratulations,” and then took her hand. “Very nice, Jared,” she smiled.
He gave her a kiss. “Thanks.”
Then, Julie turned to Jordan and Kira. “Happy Thanksgiving,” pausing on the name and then deciding on no name at all, as she hugged them.
“Hey Aunt Julie, this is my girlfriend Kira. Kira, this is my aunt Julie Nehlen.”
Julie gave Stef a quick glance that she thought went unnoticed. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you Kira.” She made no move to exchange physical pleasantries.
Kira smiled nervously and stammered, “It’s nice to meet you too. Thank you for having me. You have a beautiful home.”
A lupine smile. “Well, aren’t you polite? Everyone is in the living room.”
The four walked into the living room. Grandpa Pete sat in Uncle Kevin’s chair, the remote next to him. Not that the TV would be on anything but football. “Hey, Grandpa,” Jordan said. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” eyes on the TV.
“This is my girlfriend Kira Harper. This is my Grandpa Peter.”
Their grandfather looked at her and gave a smile. “Very nice to meet you.” Jordan imagined what he was thinking and then stopped. “How’s work?”
“Busy. The ironworkers are almost done.”
“Good. You still under budget?” Jordan was surprised he remembered, and said, ‘yessir.’ “Good. That’s what the client remembers. On time and under budget. Do that and you’ll be fine. Don’t and you’re dragging buckets of nails around.”
Just then, Uncle Rob came over. “Hey, Jordan,” and he offered a smile and a hug.
“Hey Uncle Rob. How’s everything going?”
“Great, terrific,” then, grinning, “since Jordan has no manners, I’m Rob Nehlen.”
Kira laughed, “They’re a work in progress,” Grandpa wincing on ‘they.’ “Kira Harper. I have heard so much about you.”
“All lies. I hear you’re an actress.”
Uncle Kevin came over, all false bonhomie. “Where did you hear that,” then, “I’m Kevin Nehlen. Welcome to my,” a glance offered at his brother, “house.”
Kira smiled. “Um, thank you for having me. I told your wife it’s a beautiful house.”
“Thanks. I did a lot of the work myself.”
“Well, it’s terrific. I like the skylights. Makes the room bright.”
Kevin smiled, then smirked at Jordan. “How’s assistant managing treating you?”
Jordan grimaced, then smiled. “I was telling Grandpa that the ironworkers are almost done. You know that’s a big deal on a 35 story building. That, the plumbing. It’s a whole other thing from a one or two story project.”
Rob gave a laugh, while Kevin glared and Kira moved over to Stef. “Must be nice. Clock your 9 to 5. Get your paycheck, and not have to worry about anything but your corner. Anyway, there’s beer on the porch, if you’re interested.” And he walked away.
Rob looked at him, then them. “He’s an asshole.”
“Uh huh.”
“Seriously. I’ve heard about how well you’re doing.”
Jordan looked at him. “From who?”
He smiled conspiratorially. “Your architect is friends with my college roommate. He says you’re someone he’d trust running a project.”
“Wow. Seriously?”
Rob, smiling, “Uh huh,” then, “way to tell Kev to go fuck himself.”
Jordan, somewhere between proud and ashamed, “Thanks,” then, in a lower voice, “Em says your building is amazing.”
A smiled, “I like it. She’s really great. She and Liam had a great time together.”
Jordan sadly, “I heard. I mean, that’s great. Did he decide what he’s doing yet?” He watched as Liam stood bored next to Mikey and PJ, Uncle Pete’s son.
Rob laughed, “We’re still waiting on a few acceptances, but Em definitely tried to sway him with that party.”
Jordan laughed, as Kira stood next to Stef talking to Cat. “I heard.”
Just then, their father came over, “Hey guys, whatcha talking about?”
“Work and stuff,” Jordan said.
Uncle Rob smiled, “I was telling Jordan that I've heard that they're doing a great job.”
Dad tensed, “From who?”
Rob shook his head, “Not that it matters, the architect is friends with Bryan.” Blank stare. “My roommate. For three years. Dated Laura's friend.”
“Oh.”
“Well, anyway, he said he'd trust Jordan running a project. And he does big stuff.”
A fake smile, then, “Sh... They learned from the best. Right, champ?”
“Yeah, right. I’m gonna go get a beer.”
They stood on the porch. An hour or so from now, after everyone had said their ‘hellos’ and got a couple in them, it would be time for touch football. Touch. If someone slamming you as hard as they could constituted ‘touch.’ Not that they didn’t give as good as they got, but they remembered Emily hiding...and how embarrassed they were about that. They walked into the yard and took out their phone and dialed.
“Hey Em. Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Hey, Jordy. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
A laugh. “I can hear it in your voice. What’s wrong?”
“Eh, we’re at Uncle Kevin and Aunt Julie.” They looked inside and saw Kira and Stef talking to Cat and Kelly. “I’m sorry…”
Em, confused. “For what?”
“I dunno. I was thinking about the football games and the stuff I said…”
Em, amused. “When?”
“When we were kids.”
A laugh, “When we were what eight? Seriously?”
“I dunno. I acted like an asshole and I’m sorry…”
A laugh. “Come on,” then, “sorry. I appreciate it, Jordy. I do. Even if you didn’t know any better, it’s the thought that counts.”
“Thanks.”
“How’s Keek doing?”
They gave a little laugh. “Umm, she is being a bitch to her.”
“Oh, fuck that. And him?”
“He’s fine, I guess. I mean, I’m glad she’s gotten to meet Stef and Jared in person. I wish you were here.”
A sighed, “Yeah, well…”
“I didn’t mean…”
“And I didn’t take it that way….”
Jordan watched as Kaia and the other kids put on their shoes, which meant that they’d be outside soon enough. “What are you doing today?”
“One of my friends from acting class is having Thanksgiving. I’m in the middle of cooking.”
A laugh. “So, food poisoning.”
An indignant, “Hey, I can cook...I mean I’m making a side dish. Well, mashed sweet potatoes. You can’t really fuck those up.”
“I bet if you try really hard…”
She laughed. “Keek is really nervous about this. She told me.”
“Yeah.”
“So, please be extra nice to her.”
“When am I not nice to her?”
A sighed, “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. Oh shit, Aunt Julie is opening the door for Kaia and them.”
“I love you Jordy. Just try, K?”
“I love you, too.”
They hung up and went back inside. “Hey, sweetie,” they said, putting their arm around Kira’s waist, while Aunt Julie winced and Aunt Jeannie smiled.
Kira, “Hey, pook.” Another wince. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I was just outside. Call from work,” they lied.
Kira smiled, “Jordan gets constant calls. It’s kinda annoying, but with responsibility comes phone calls.”
With that, Aunt Julie walked off, Jeannie giving her a wink. Stef smiled, “Way to go, Ki,” then, turning, “how’s Em?”
Jordan, taking a sip of beer, “How did you know?”
Stef rolled her eyes. “You have the world’s worst poker face, Jordy,” which made Kira giggle.
Jordan looked down, then up. “She’s good. Says hi. She’s cooking.”
Stef laughed. “Who are the victims?”
Kira, laughing, “You two are mean.”
“Ummm, sweetie, she fucked up those slice and bake cookies.”
Stef smiled, “I didn’t know you could both undercook and burn cookies, but Em could. Jordy got sick.”
Kira looked up. “Oh, poor Jordy. Do you want Nurse Kira to take care of you?”
Stef mock-retched. “A little much, Ki…”
Kira, looking at Jordan who felt their face flush, “Not until they turn purple,” then, “I’m just teasing you. Besides, if she got you sick, my nursing would kill you.”
Jordan, attempting to steer the conversation on course, “How are you doing?”
Kira, looking at Stef, “Well, they’re definitely something alright.”
“I told you,” they said, as they felt themselves get anxious. They took a breath, silently talking themselves down.
“They’re fine, pook. I love Rob and Jeannie.”
Stef smiled, “They’re the most normal. Not that that isn’t being the world’s second tallest midget.”
Jared came over. “Well, it’s officially Thanskgiving. Mikey and Trev asked if I wanted to ‘take a walk’ with them.” Kira looked at him. “Go outside and get high.”
“Oh…”
He laughed, “Every year, they ask. Every year I say I’m good. The Parade, the Cowboys and them. That’s Thanksgiving to me.”
Kira laughed, “Jeremy wouldn’t let me come when I was younger but then expected me not to rat them out.”
Stef laughed. “Did you?”
“I wouldn’t, but I held it over them all night, which is much more fun.”
Out of the corner of their eye, they saw Dad and everyone around Grandpa. “Wonder what they’re talking about.”
Stef looked at them. “Don’t. I don’t. Who cares? As far as I’m concerned, Thanksgiving is the four of us, Mom and Dad, maybe Uncle Rob and them.”
Jordan looked at her, amazed at how she could be that calm, that apathetic. The crowd broke up and they watched as Dad went for a drink, Scotch. If he was drinking Scotch, it was going to be a bad night. They went over, “Hey dad.”
“Hey champ,” and he put down the bottle. They saw no ice in the glass.
“That good, huh?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem.”
“I know. I just…”
“I can handle myself. Don’t huddle in the corner with Stef and Jared all day.”
“We were just talking.”
“You talk to them all the time. Talk to your cousins too. You don’t see them that much.”
They make no effort, they thought. Still, they walked over to Cousin Kevin, Kira following. “Hey Kev.”
With barely covered apathy. “Oh hey...Jordan.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
Kevin looked around the room. “Yeah, sure, Happy Thanksgiving.” He looked Kira up and down, and they felt Kira grip their hand tightly.
Kira smiled, her best fake smile. “I’m Kira Harper, Jordan’s,” the name snapped like a weapon, “girlfriend. It’s very nice to meet you.”
Kevin smirked. “Then, it’s very nice to meet you too.” Turning to Jordan, “How’s your floor coming along?”
Jordan, feeling Kira grip their hand. “It’s going great. Thanks for asking. How’s the strip mall? It’s like a seven unit place, right?”
Kevin, the smirk disappearing, “Ten.” He turned to Kira, “I run the project.”
Kira, meeting his glare with a sweet smile, “That must be a lot of responsibility. I’m sure it’ll be great.”
Kevin, snickering, “Well, maybe someday they’ll give Jordan a second floor and she, sorry they, can understand. Anyway, I’m going to get a beer,” and he walked off, not asking if they wanted anything.
Kira looked at them. “He is an asshole.”
Jordan, “I know.”
“Do not let them get to you.”
Jordan, sighing, “I won’t.”
“You’ll be running a thirty story project and they’ll still be building fake McDonald’s.”
Jordan, inexplicably, “They do more than that.”
Kira, looking at him, “I was just trying to make a point.”
“I know,” then, “just don’t let them hear you.”
Kira softened. “Please just remember they don’t matter. Just me.”
Jordan, smiling, “Just you what?”
“Only I matter,” she brushed some imaginary lint off of herself.
“Only you?”
“Yup, just me.”
“What about me?”
“More than them, not as much as me.”
Jordan went to poke them, then stopped. “We’ll see about that.”
“OK, we’ll see that I matter and you matter less,” then, seriously, “do not let them get to you. Please. For me.”
---
An hour and a half later, everyone started heading to the yard, having put on sneakers.
Jared looked at Stef, “Oh boy,” he said.
Kira, “What?”
Stef, “The annual football game. Jared’s still not quite used to it.”
He turned to Kira and laughed, “You'll see.”
Kira, eyes narrowed, “You’re playing, pook?”
Jordan, incredulous, “Yeah, it's tradition.”
Kira turned to Stef, “Do any girls play?”
“Cat and Kelly,” she snickered, “I did until I was like 13. If you wanna play, play.”
Kira, laughing, “Not in this outfit. Are you sure you wanna play, pook?”
Jordan got annoyed, but took a breath. “It'll be fine. It's fun.”
They went outside and picked teams, Jordan ending up with Jared, Liam, Uncle Rob, Mikey and PJ. “I'll quarterback,” Uncle Rob said, laughing. “I don't have the speed I used to.” Then, he assigned positions, with Jordan as a hybrid running back/receiver.
Kaia did the coin toss, while her grandmother took her picture, and then ran off the field.
Jordan lined up against Trev, her arms hanging by her side. “Still playing, huh?” Trev sneered, contempt in his eyes.
Jordan, “As long as I can kick your ass, I'll play.”
The ball was snapped and Jordan threw a forearm shiver at Trev’s chest, so that Liam could get through. When he was taken down, their father, on the other team, looked at them and shook his head.
Trev lined up against them, “That's why you're just an assistant manager. Cheap shit.”
Kev overhead and offered, “Ass Man. You're just an ass man.”
From the corner of their eye, they could see Kira watching. “Doesn't bother your girlfriend,” which got a snarled, ‘fuck you,’ and Trev and Kev switching places. Jordan ran a 10 yard crossing pattern. The ball hit their hands as Kev threw his shoulder into their chest, knocking them to the ground. From the ground, they heard Uncle Rob, “Are you Ok, Jordan?”
A sneered, “Is baby ok” from Uncle Pete.
Jordan pulled themself up. “You fuck like that? No wonder your girlfriend dumped you.” They heard Liam laugh and Kev turn to him, “You want your ass kicked too?”
Liam looked at him, “Yeah, whatever, Kev.”
Ten minutes, and several cheap shots later, Jordan lined up. “When are you going to quit playing, Molly?” Uncle Pete. They ignored him. “You heard me Molly. When the fuck are you going to stop?” Their cousins began singing, ‘Molly, Molly,’ while Dad looked mortified. They saw Kira huddled with Stef, gesturing.
Jordan glared at him. Uncle Rob snapped the ball, and Jordan ran with him for a few steps, Pete bumping them the entire way. They stopped, took a couple of steps back and then blew past him, the ball landing comfortably in their hands for a touchdown. They spiked the ball, then ran to Uncle Pete, bumping him, “You gonna stop? You gonna stop?”
Their father came over and got between them. “I've got this, Pete.” Pulling Jordan aside, “What the hell was that?”
Jordan, their temper rising, “I scored. Isn't that the object of this game?”
“You know what the hell I'm talking about. What was that showboating?”
“Showboating? You can't handle that I beat your team.”
“That's enough!”
Jordan stood eye to eye, “Stop me. Otherwise, suckers walk.” They felt dissociated, like they were watching someone else. Someone else who was being watched by someone, Kira.
Two plays later, Trev threw a late hit at Jared, who had a bloody nose. “Fuck this. I'm out,” he said, getting up.
“Pussy,” he snickered.
Jordan, blood boiling, got in Trev's face and started pushing. Then, they saw Kira run in the house.
They ran into the house after her. They found her, tears in her eyes, furiously poking at her phone while their aunt and cousins watched, their joy at their humiliation evident. “Ki…”
“Leave me alone,” she snapped.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting an Uber. Then going to the airport. Just send my stuff to me.”
“Come on, why?”
“Why? Why?” Her laugh brittle, almost maniacal. “Did you see yourself? Hear yourself? No, obviously not. But I'm done.” Then, turning to Aunt Julie, “Can I have my coat please?” Jordan would swear that they saw a smile on their aunt's face as she gave it over.
Stef came over. “I'll drive you.” Jordan looked at her and she glared at them.
“No.”
“Yeah. Your dad will lose his...mind if you pay Thanksgiving surge prices.” She turned to Jared, “keys,” and, with his free hand, the other holding a tissue to his nose, he tossed them underhand. Stef grabbed them out of the air and stopped Jordan with their hand.
The two women left, and Jordan felt everyone's eyes on them. They grabbed their coat and walked outside, humiliated. They walked four blocks to the elementary school, where they sat on a swing under the cold gray sky, the sun rapidly falling, and cried. They loved Kira and now she was gone. Gone and they would be stuck with everyone mocking them.
They heard a voice. “Jordan.” Mom. Fuck,
Without looking, “Go away.”
“Jordan.”
“I wasn't humiliated enough,” they said, turning to gave her, “you wanted to come and tell me awful I am, how I deserve this. I know. I'm a piece of garbage. You win.”
She stood in front of them. “Jordan, no.”
Jordan, looking at their feet, at the dirt on their shoes. “No what?”
“You are not a piece of garbage.”
“Yeah, I am. Everyone hates me and now Kira hates me.”
She sat in the other swing and put her hand on their shoulder. “You are not a piece of garbage. I don't think you're a piece of garbage, and neither does your father.” Ignoring what they said about everyone else.
“Yeah, he does. Did you see him?”
She laughed a little. “I don't watch.”
“Well, Kira did and now she broke up with me. And she hates me and I love her. Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I know I disgust you. Sorry I'm not what you wanted?”
“Is that what you think?” They heard a catch in their voice. “That you disgust me?”
“It's true. And I don't care.” They almost mentioned Emmy. They got up and walked away from her.
“Jordan, stop. Please.”
“Just say what you wanna say and leave me alone.”
“You want me to say what I want to say?”
They took a deep breath. “Go ahead.”
“Fine, I will. Everyone in that house, except Rob and Jeannie, is an asshole.” Jordan stared at her. “You heard me. They're miserable assholes, all hovering around your grandfather like rats waiting for crumbs, and they make everyone else miserable. And you and your father let them.”
Jordan clenched their fists and then stopped themself. “What?”
“You let them. You let them let you feel like you're worthless and you shouldn't.”
“Really? You make feel like garbage. What? You don't want people stepping on your toes? Only you can deadname me, make feel like a freak. Like I said, you won. Go back and tell them that you finished the job,” and they walked away.
“Jordan, stop!”
“Just leave me alone.”
“No! Don't you get it?”
They turned around, “Get what?”
“You don't need to play their stupid games. You won.”
“I won what?”
“You won. Did any of them get a four year scholarship? No. Did any of them get a job by themselves, a job where they're respected? No. They all work for their grandfather. You're making it yourself. You won.”
“I still don't get it.” Confused by the lack of abuse. “Isn't Dad one of them?”
She gave a small smile. “I love your father and wish he never went to work for them. That's water under the bridge, we didn’t know any better. We're stuck. But you and Stef? You're doing it by yourselves, better than any of them. Nothing they say can take that away, do you not understand that?”
“They're assholes. Sorry, I know that you hate cursing.”
She smirked. “It's acceptable under the circumstances. I don’t understand a lot of things and you and I don't always see eye to eye, but I know one thing. Your father and I are proud…”
“No, he isn't.”
“He is.”
“No. You didn't hear him when Uncle Rob told me…”
“That Bryan heard how good you are? He told me. Don't look so surprised. Let me tell you one more thing. If you ever, ever come work for the company, I will be extremely disappointed in you. Stay as far away from this as you can. Make your life with Kira or whoever someplace else.”
“It's gonna be whoever, because Kira’s gone.”
“No, she isn't.”
“Umm, did you miss what happened?”
“She's pissed, no doubt about it.”
“I'm glad you think it's funny.”
“She's in a car with Stef.”
“And?”
“Your sister can be,” and she took a breath, “very persuasive.”
Jordan allowed themself a laugh. “That's a word.”
“She's going to be angry at you, very angry.”
“I know.
“But she loves you. You love her?” Jordan nodded. “Don't be a Nehlen.”
“Uh huh. Yeah, I love her. If you wanna go back to the house, I'll be,” whatever I'm going to be, they thought.
“I'd rather wait here with you.”
“You don't have to.”
“I want to. ”
They sat there quietly for fifteen minutes and started walking back, Jordan unsure of what their next move was going to be. They were two blocks away when a horn honked. They turned to see Kira and Stef in the car, Kira driving. Stef looked at them as she got out, “Get in. Get in and don’t speak.”
They looked at Kira, “Is it ok?” Kira's eyes were rimmed red and she nodded. They watched their mom and Stef walk away. “Are you ok to drive?”
“Get in.”
They got in, uncertain, and started to apologize, when Kira put up her hand. “I'm going to talk and you're just going to listen. Can you do that?” Jordan nodded, as they buckled their seatbelt. Kira pulled away from the curb. “I love you, Jordan,” and, before they could speak, “I love Indianapolis Jordan. The sweet, funny, smart Jordan. DeKalb Jordan is an asshole. Dekalb Jordan is an insecure, nasty asshole.”
In a quiet voice, “I know.”
“Excuse me?”
“I'm an asshole.”
“Keep going,” and she made a left, not that she knew where she was.
“I don't know why I let them get to me but they do and I shouldn't but I do. And I've acted like an asshole and I don't blame you for hating me and, if you want to leave, we'll go back to the house and get your stuff and I'll drive you wherever you want and I won't talk.”
“I don't wanna leave. I love you but I'm not going to put up with this anymore.” She made a quick turn and Jordan grabbed the door handle. She laughed, “Did you just grab the door handle?”
“I told you. I'm a terrible passenger.”
She looked at them. “You need to learn that sometimes I'm gonna drive.” They nodded. “Stef says that you feel like you need to beat them, for Emmy. Because they were cruel.”
They laughed. “You do know I played D-1 soccer, right? And you saw the trophies? I like winning.”
“I'm aware but they're something else.”
“I dunno.” They watched a strip mall Dad built go past, remembering the day he took them and let them carry nails, to the amusement of the laborers who were grateful for the break, even if the 8 year old couldn't lift the bucket six inches. “I guess. I told Em I was sorry before.”
“She told us.”
“You spoke to her?”
She laughed, “Stef put the full court press on me. What was your mom doing there?”
“She was there to comfort me, I think.”
“And?”
“She told me that they're proud of me. I don't think I believe her.”
“I'm proud. Stef and Jared are proud. Em’s proud.” Not mentioning their parents.
“That's what matters, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“You know what I mean. I love all of you. You still love me, right?”
An exasperated, “Yes. But this can't happen again. I know you're competitive but if there's another day like today, I'm gone.”
“I know.” They watched as Kira looked around. “Whatcha looking for?”
“How to get back to your aunt's.”
“Let's not.” They looked out the window at the empty streets, everyone already with family they guessed.
“What?”
“That's the last place I wanna go. I don't need that shit.” Kira took another quick turn and Jordan began quietly calming themself.
“Your family is there.”
“Who matters is here.”
A smile, “That's a little much.”
“I mean it. Let's just go somewhere, just the two of us. There's gotta be places open,” and they took out their phone. They found a place nearby. “Turn left up there.”
Kira stopped the car. “No. We're going back. Your mom and Stef are expecting us.”
“I'm going to be embarrassed.”
“No you won't.”
“You saw how they were.”
“But you don't care what they think, right?” A declaratory statement in the form of a question.
They did. They didn't want to listen to any of them. They knew they'd get massive piles of shit the minute they walked in. “No.”
They walked up to the house to find Liam on the phone. “Yeah, you were right. Yeah, gotta go. Uh huh, yeah, me too.” He put the phone back in his pocket.
Jordan, embarrassed, “Hey, Liam.”
He smiled, “You made me look bad.”
“How?”
“Em said you’d be back,” he grinned. “Now I owe her $10.”
“How fucked up is it in there?”
“The usual.”
They went to ask if anyone said anything, but stopped themself. “Who’s bombed already?”
“Cat, PJ’s girlfriend, Uncle Pete, grandpa….” The list recited with no affect, no surprise.
“You pick a school yet?”
Liam smiled. “I liked UCLA.”
Kira, grinning, “We heard.”
Liam, turning red, “It’s a good school.”
Kira, smiling again, “It is.”
Liam, now beet red but smiling, “Shut up. You barely know me.”
“Right, OK, sure, got it,” then turning to Jordan, “let’s go in and leave him to his studying.”
They walked in and found Jared and Stef talking to Aunt Maureen, who smirked and walked away. “You OK, Jared?”
Jared looked around the room. “I’ll survive. I think I’m done with football though.”
“Me too.” They went to get another beer. “Anyone want anything?”
They went to the porch and found Kev and Mikey by the cooler. “Excuse me,” and they grabbed two beers, reaching around Mikey.
Mikey looked at them. “Your dad was all pissed when you left.” They shrugged. “That was mad fucked up.” Another shrug. “You looked like your brother.” A deep breath and another shrug.
Kev glared at them and shrugged. “That’s all you have to say?”
Jordan just shrugged again and walked in, bumping into Grandma Dori. “Sorry.”
“I see you came back. You and your friend,” the word said with contempt, “made quite a scene.”
They looked at the woman in her late 70s, somehow shrinking in front of her. “Yeah, well, what can you do?”
“What’s her problem?”
Do not rise to the bait, they kept repeating to themselves. Do not rise to the bait. “No problem. Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving.”
They walked back to everyone, turning to Kira, “I really can’t convince you to go someplace else for dinner?”
Kira, slipping her arm into theirs, “I saw you. You’re doing great.”
“Seriously, Jor,” Stef said. “You are.” Then, turning to Kira, “Mind if I borrow Jordy for a second?”
They walked with her to a corner. Jordan looked at her. “I don’t know what you did, but thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You know she really loves you.”
“I really love her too.”
“But this shit can’t happen again,” her hands on their shoulders
“I know. I know. I’m trying.”
“I know you know. How are we going to make sure it doesn’t?”
“We?”
“Yeah, we. You, me and Emmy.”
“I’ll figure it out myself.”
“No, you won’t. You are going to listen to us.” Jordan raised their eyebrow. “You can have input,” she smiled.
“Gee, thanks. I just have to remember that they’re assholes.” Then, seriously, “What do I do about Dad though?”
“Jor, you’re you. He’s him. I’m gonna give you a relationship trick. Just nod your head and say, ‘uh huh.’”
“Do you do that with Jared?” They laughed.
“Duh.”
They looked over at Jared and Kira, talking and laughing. “Well, at least they like each other. Whaddya think they’re talking about?”
Stef shrugged. “Skiing. Country clubs. How fucked up we all are. Rich kid shit.”
They nodded and walked back over. Kira, grinning, “So tomorrow we’re going out with Stef and Jared and Jared’s cousins in Chicago.”
Jared grinned, “Me and all of my cousins go out every Friday after Thanksgiving to a bar, to decompress and shit.” Jordan looked around the room and then at Stef, who gave a small smile of slightly more comprehension.
“They won’t mind that we’re there?”
“Nah,” he laughed. “They love your sister.”
Jordan laughed, “Really. They must get really trashed.” This earned a punch in the shoulder from Stef. “Ow. Did you see that, sweetie?” Sweetie saw. Sweetie punched the other arm, saying ‘you deserve it.’ “Fine,” they smiled.
---
Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman, who hasn't seen her twin Jordan in six years. Not since she told her parents the truth about herself and they threw her out. Her older sister is getting married and wants Emily there - as a bridesmaid. Will sparks fly?
----
Dinner time! Do sparks fly? Oh, yeah, they do. But will a phoenix rise from the ashes?
----
Emily watched as Jared walked quickly to keep up with her mother, who was all but running away. She looked at Jordan and Kira, “I should've said no. I'm sorry.” A wind blew and she held down her skirt.
Kira let go of Jordan’s hand and took hers, “You didn't do…”
“It's uncomfortable for everyone. You didn't need that.”
Jordan shrugged, “She makes me feel like shit just fine without you there.”
Kira smiled, “We're working on comforting, it takes time.”
“I'm serious. If you weren't here, she'd have said something about my hair or my clothes or whatever.”
Emily looked away. “Maybe I should just go back to the hotel. Tell Stef I felt sick.”
Jordan stopped on the sidewalk, “Like hell you are, Ems.”
“Jordy…”
“Don't Jordy me. After six years, do you really care what she thinks? Really?”
“I just don't want to ruin dinner for everyone.”
Jordan laughed, “Do you really actually think that Stef won't lose her shit more if you skip out on her dinner? Are you that stupid?”
Kira glared, “Jordan.”
Emily held up her palm, “I know where you're going with this, Jor, but I can deal with her. I don't think I can deal with her.”
Jordan grabbed her upper arms. “Who paid your tuition?”
“Me? But…”
“Who's paid your rent for six years?”
“That's not…”
“Who's bought her car? Her clothes,” then, snickering, “her vagina?”
This made Emily and Kira giggle. “You're stupid.”
“I'm serious. You did it, Emmy. Not with anyone's help. You. And you'll keep doing it on your own. So why do you care what she has to say?”
“It fucking hurts.”
Jordan said tenderly, “I know how she can hurt you, believe me. But I know who you are too. I'm proud of you.”
Emily smiled, “That's so nice.”
Jordan laughed, “Don't get too used to it but I told you at the airport, we're all here for you.”
“I still think…”
“Remember Coach Wallace? Don't think. Just play.”
“I dunno.”
Kira looked at her. “Whatever happens, we're here, Ems.”
“I love you guys,” then watching the quickly retreating forms of her mother and brother-in-law to be, “we should catch up.”
They caught up with them at the restaurant, and the waitress took them to the table, each of Laura and Emily pointedly avoiding eye contact with the other, Emily taking pleasure at her mother’s grimace when Jared held out her chair for her. The air was thick with silence until Stephanie and her father arrived three minutes later, their own silence somehow more freighted.
Stephanie sat down next to Emily, who looked at her, only to be returned a look that stopped her from opening her mouth. She smiled at the waitress and then at the table, “So, what are we drinking to celebrate me?”
“Vodka gimlet,” her mother said, pasting on another grimace masquerading as politesse, “please.”
Everyone else ordered in varying degrees of strength, from wine for Emily and Kira to a bourbon (‘straight, no rocks, no fruit’) for Doug. Jared started to speak, and Jordan held up their hand. “I’m glad everyone is finally together.” To their father’s muttered ‘champ,’ they smiled, “No seriously, I am. I haven’t seen my sister for six years, and she’s never met Jared or Kira in person before.”
Doug looked at Stef, “You all met each other on Thursday was my understanding.”
Stef ignored him and smiled, “Jordan, that was beautiful. Kira, I think you’re a civilizing influence on them,” putting a slight spin on the word ‘them.’
Kira laughed, “They’re a work in progress.”
Laura smiled, “Good luck. I’ve been progressing with Doug for over 30 years.”
Jared laughed, “You’re so lucky, Stef,” and he put his arm around her, “I’m complete.”
Doug laughed, “Then you get married and you’re finished.” He looked at Jordan, “I’m glad you got what you wanted, Champ.”
Emily looked at the table. “I’m so glad I got to finally meet Jared and Kira,” and she sang Kira’s name while smiling at Jordan..
Staring intently at her menu, Laura said, “That’s so nice. Everyone is glad.”
“Mom,” Stef put her hand on the menu and looked at her.
“What? You’re all glad. That’s wonderful. Someone should be glad.”
Emily stared at the menu, deciding on what to eat and whether to run, when the waitress came over and introduced herself (‘hi, I’m…. Welcome to…’) and began reciting specials, landing on a tuna that sounded interesting.
When she finished, Emily looked at her and smiled. “Thursday?” The waitress smiled knowingly and shrugged. Emily thanked her and said, “Give us a minute.”
“Why did you send her away?” Doug said. “I know what I want. And what does Thursday mean?”
Emily smiled, “I asked her when the fish was delivered. Which means it’s four days old, which is not in and of itself terrible, but figured you’d all want to know.”
Stef smiled, “Em waited tables for six years. To pay her way through school.”
Laura, looking at the wall above Emily’s head, acidly said, “How interesting.”
Doug, not making eye contact with anyone, “I wasn’t planning on fish, but good to know.”
Stef smiled, “Do your opening, Emmy.”
Emily turned red, “No. We’re in public.”
Jared looked at her. “Aren’t you an actress? Don’t you perform in public as a job?”
Emily smiled. “This is different.”
“Come on,” and she did her pitch, complete with hand gestures, finishing just as the waitress returned. The waitress laughed and applauded. “Nice.”
Emily wanted to crawl under the table. “Oh god…”
The waitress laughed and started taking orders. When Jordan ordered a pork loin dish, the waitress looked at them, “You might want to consider…”
“Why?”
Emily smiled, “Trust her. Order something else.”
Doug smiled at the waitress and ordered. “Is there some secret code for this?”
The waitress smiled at him, and Laura glared. “You’re fine,” she said. “It’s one of my favorites.”
Taking Emily’s order last, she smiled, “Any allergies? Dealer’s choice?”
“Nope. Dealer’s choice works for me. Thanks.” Laura glared at the two women and the waitress rolled her eyes at Emily.
After the waitress left, Kira looked at her. “Dealer’s choice?”
Emily smiled, “I’m letting her pick for me.”
“She’s just going to pick the most expensive thing,” her mother said.
Emily looked at her. “No, she isn’t.”
Laura laughed, “That’s your problem, not mine. I know how much legal assistants make.”
Emily glared at her, then smiled and shook her head, taking a deep breath. “OK. I’ll be fine.”
Stef looked at them. “Don’t worry about it. I’m paying.”
Doug looked at her. “It’s your birthday. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Jared smiled, “I have this, don’t worry,” then, “You’re not gonna get like caviar wrapped in gold, right, Moji?”
The waitress came over with a ’bruschetta and crostini with a bacon and fig jam.’ “We didn’t order these,” her father said.
The waitress winked at Emily, “Compliments of the house, sir.” Emily smiled in return.
Laura smiled sweetly, “Thank you.”
Doug turned to Emily. “Do you get this everywhere?”
Emily laughed. “If I know the people there, sometimes, usually.”
“Huh,” and he took a bite of the crostini. “Glad you’re here then,” which saw Laura stand up and excuse herself.
—
Stef followed her to the bathroom. “What is the matter with you?”
“Really, Stephanie? What is the matter with me? Oh, I don’t know,” and she looked under the stalls to make sure no one was there. “Your brother is here and you don’t tell me. Then, you don’t tell me he’s coming to dinner or that he’s showing up in a dress.”
“First of all, Emily is my sister. Second, I didn’t realize that, on my birthday, I had to clear who came with you. Third, she’s wearing a skirt, not a dress.”
“Oh, a skirt. Never mind. I apologize.”
“Ha ha. Regardless, you’re not even giving her a chance.”
“You don’t have to clear anything with me? I don’t have to give anyone a chance.”
“I don’t understand why…”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Jordan or anyone else, Stephanie.”
“I wish you would. She’s incredibly sweet and talented and…”
“I don’t care, Stephanie. I will suffer through this dinner - for you - but that’s it. And we’re not done.”
“So dad told me,” she said drily.
She watched as her mother checked her face, staring at the beginnings of crows’ feet around her eyes, at the roots that were about two weeks from a touch-up. She washed her hands and went back to the table.
Jordan looked at Stef, who looked like she’d gone three rounds in five minutes. Stef gave a minute shake of her head and sat down, “Did you save us any?”
“One more minute and your dad and Jordan were going to eat them all,” Kira laughed. “But I saved you some.”
“I’ll pass,” her mother said, then sweetly, “You may as well apply the bacon to my waist. Stef, are you going to eat them? I mean, you were talking about dress fittings…”
Emily winced and then smiled. “I think she was talking about the dresses we were looking at yesterday, not fittings. And it was bridesmaids’ dresses, not a wedding dress.”
Laura kept looking at Stephanie, who said, through gritted teeth, “Your concern is appreciated, mom,” and then took a bite, “seriously, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Emily took a bite and Laura smiled, “Oh, I can’t believe you’re eating that. Doesn’t the camera add ten pounds?”
“One crostini won’t kill me. Stephanie’s taking me to her gym tomorrow for a hip hop dance class.”
“Even still, I would watch out.”
“Mom,” Stephanie snapped.
“You wanted me to hear about…her and I was just asking,” and she smiled. Jordan reached under the table and squeezed Kira’s hand.
Emily kept smiling. “I appreciate your concern. Thank you.”
“You can’t afford to eat too much. I imagine there aren’t as many roles for people like you, no?”
Emily felt her stomach burble and her pulse race. Do not let her do this, she told herself. You are a strong woman and Stef loves you and Jordan loves you and Uncle Rob and Aunt Jeannie and Liam love you. You are not seventeen. She has no control over you. “There aren’t many roles for many people. It’s a tough business.”
“Still, don’t you think that you especially can’t afford…”
“Mom, enough,” Jordan snapped.
“Excuse me, Jordan?”
“You made your point, now stop it.”
Laura kept smiling, her mouth a rictus of anger. “Jordan, this is neither the time nor the place for your outbursts. No one wants a repeat of Stacy’s wedding.”
Jordan started to speak and Emily held her hand up. She turned to Kira, “What she’s referring to is Jordan was a junior bridesmaid and had to wear this pink dress and…” She and Stef started to giggle.
Kira looked at Jordan, “I am trying to imagine you in pink anything.”
Grumbling, but smiling, “Don’t try,” followed by, “I was thirteen.”
Stef laughed, “It was hilarious. I had to take them for the fitting. It was like wrestling a bear into a dress.”
Their father smiled, “That was not one of your aunt’s better ideas,” which got a hissed ‘thank you, Doug.”
“Anyway,” Emily continued, “the day of the rehearsal dinner, she puts Jordan in this dress that’s like for a 10 year old…”
“Which,” Stef laughed, “they could’ve avoided if they would have just gone shopping with us…”
Emily continued, “And they’re all pouty because they had to miss one soccer practice and they threw this total fit which made Aunt Jackie apoplectic…”
Jordan smiled, “It was a Friday practice, those were the most fun…”
Kira laughed, “I’ve changed my mind. Jordan should be in the wedding. Pink taffeta, total 80s retro theme…”
Stone-faced, Laura looked at the table, “The point of my story is that I don’t want any outbursts. I’m glad you all found it funny but I was mortified in front of my in-laws.” She turned to Stephanie, “Imagine your child,” the last word dripping with contempt, “made a scene in front of his aunt.”
Jared looked at Stephanie, then Laura, then Stephanie, “Do I want to know what this is about?”
Stephanie mentally kicked her mother under the table. “Michelle. My mother is referring to Michelle.”
Jared laughed, “Michelle can think whatever she wants. No one listens to her anyway.”
“See, ma? If my imaginary child throws a tantrum, we won’t be talking about it in ten years.” Then, smiling, “Jordan, promise me you won’t throw a tantrum at my wedding or my rehearsal dinner.”
“Can I get sloppy drunk and sentimental like Aunt Mo?”
“With or without racism?” Emmy chimed in.
Laura turned to Kira and Jared, “You’d never know that they fought like animals as children. I remember Stephanie calling Jordan ‘a wild animal’ and Jordan asking why Elly,” delivered with a smirk, “was such a sissy. Sissy Chrissy, that’s what they used to call him…”
Emily tried not to break. She counted to three, then ten. She pictured herself on a beach, the ocean lapping at her toes and warm tropical breezes blowing through her hair. She counted to ten again. She cannot break you, she will not break you. She smiled, “Yes, Jordan did. But some of us grow up and learn from our mistakes.”
Laura sneered, then smiled, “I was just pointing out how nice it is that everyone gets along sooo well now.”
Jared looked at the table. “Yeah, everyone fights. My friends used to say that with Jamie and me it wasn’t if we were going to kill each other, but when and how. My friend Alex used to say it was like Clue. Jared killed Jamie in the basement with a lead pipe. Anyway, so Kira,” and the two smiled at each other, “tell me where you ate in London. I’m going to be around Canary Wharf.”
“Oh yeah, we met my dad there after a meeting. There’s a tapas place, Iberica, that’s pretty good. And there’s always steak at Gaucho, but that’s mad expensive.”
Jared laughed, “On the company. Money is no object.”
Doug smiled, “Are you in the market for a facilities supervisor? Money is the object, the subject…”
“No one wants to hear about the company,” Laura laughed, as he looked at her.
“I can't wait to hear about the trip,” Emily bubbled. “That's on my list.”
“I'm gonna be there on business, Em. I could be anywhere.”
“Don't tell me that. Tell me how you're going to see everything.”
Kira took out her phone and began flicking through pictures, Emily leaning over and looking at all the tourist attractions. Unless she had guests, she wouldn't be caught dead in Hollywood or on a studio tour, but now she was oohing and aahing over Windsor Castle and Big Ben. “I'm jealous. One day though…”
The waitress came over and put everyone's dish in front of them, finishing with Emily. “Here we go. Moroccan spiced lamb over braised carrots, parsnips and couscous.”
Jordan groaned, “I missed that?”
Emily pushed her plate towards them. “Take a piece. There's no way I'm going to eat it all.”
Everyone took a small piece - except her mother. “I'm fine with what I have, thank you.”
“Seriously, honey, you should try…”
“I'm fine with what I have, Doug.”
Emily began chewing, “Oh, this is really good. Duncan took me spice shopping in the Persian supermarket, but…”
“You OK, Emmy?” Stef asked.
“I'm fine, yeah. Anyway, I tried cooking like this. Someone has to wait tables,” followed by a small laugh.
Jordan said, “Emmy and Duncan used to date,” and immediately regretted it when they saw their parents’ faces. “Anyway, I'm gonna eat my chicken.”
Their mother smiled, “You had a boyfriend? What happened?”
As the pit grew in her stomach and began burning, “He got a job as a sous chef in Santa Barbara.”
“Is that far?”
“About 90 miles.”
“I guess it just wasn't meant to be. Are you sure he moved to Santa Barbara?”
“Mom, enough,” Stef said.
“Yes, I'm sure.”
“Because one of the assistants at work had a boyfriend claim to move and then she apparently saw him in a bar.”
“He moved.”
“Mom, what's the point of this story?”
She smiled sweetly, “I'm just curious.” Emily stared at her plate, and mumbled something. “Did you say something?”
“I shouldn't…” Then, she stood up and took her jacket.
“Where are you going? We haven't finished,” her mother said.
“This was a mistake, a big mistake,” and then looking at Jared, “Sorry, I mean thank you for doing all this and it was great to meet you and you too Kira, but I think I'm gonna see if I can catch a flight tonight if I can change my ticket…”
Stef got up, “Emmy, stop.”
“No, really, I'm just…I need…” And she began crying and then ran out.
Stef threw down her napkin and went to get up. “Oh, just stop,” her mother said, “it's a performance, it's always a performance.”
Stef went to put on her jacket and her father stood up quickly. “Sit down.”
“Excuse me, dad?”
He looked at her. “Sit down. I will take care of this.”
Stef stood up. “You wanna finish the job, is that it?”
He looked at her. “Have I ever raised a finger to any of you? Exactly. So sit down.”
“Doug, where…” His back quickly disappeared from view.
He caught up to Emily. “Wait!”
She turned to him, eyes red, “Fuck you! Leave me alone!”
He went for her arm, when he heard the unmistakable ‘whoop whoop’ of a police siren, then, “sir, back away” through a speaker.
A female police officer got out of the car. “I'm going to have to ask you to step back.”
“This is my kid,” he protested.
“Sir,” and she put her hand on what Emily assumed was a Taser, “back up.”
Shoulders slumping, “Yes, ma’am.”
The officer looked at Emily, “Is this your father, miss?”
She started to say ‘biological’ but something in his posture made her just say, “yes.”
“Do you want him to leave you alone?”
“Please,” he said, “please, we need to talk.”
“I…”
The officer walked over to him, “ID, please.”
“Huh?”
“ID, sir, I'm going to run a check, then I'm taking down your information - and hers. If anything happens, I want to make sure you can be found.”
He stared at her. “Do you think?”
“Sir, ID. And then I'm going to follow you to a public place that you will not leave.” She turned to Emily and, in a softer tone, “you don't have to do this, if you don't want.”
“I know. Can I give you my cell just in case?” The officer took out hers and texted her, pointedly saying, “you text me if there are any issues and when you're done so I know you're safe.”
After he was handed back his ID, he looked at Emmy, “Can we sit in that hotel over there?” She shrugged and they began walking, the patrol car rolling slowly behind them. “I feel like a criminal,” and she shrugged again.
They walked into the lobby and found a couch. He looked at the coffee bar. “You want anything?”
“No.”
“OK.” In that ‘ok’ was every ‘dammit, Chris,’ and ‘stop running away from the ball, Chris.’
They sat in silence, until Emily looked at him. “I really want to be alone..”
“Rob and Jeannie showed me your commercial. You were very convincing.”
“Six years of waiting tables will do that.”
“That’s a tough job. A lot of time on your feet.”
In heels, she thought. “Yup.”
“It’s like construction like that, I guess.”
“I suppose. I’ve been to Uncle Rob’s site back home. Not a lot of similarities.”
“Oh,” and she couldn’t tell if he was hurt or curious, landing on hurt. “Oh. How is it?”
“It’s good. I mean, it’s an office building. A nice one.”
“Rob does good work, I hear.”
“He’s building one in Northbrook, he told me. You should go over.”
“Maybe,” then, after discussions of traffic and weather, “Emily, this is awkward for both of us. Can we try having a conversation?”
Never before seen vulnerability. “Um, OK.”
“I don’t know what to say here.”
“Me either.”
“Stephanie told me that you worked the whole time in college.”
Yeah, I didn’t have anyone supporting me. Know why? “I kinda had to.”
“I did too. I hated it.”
“I didn’t mind. I met a lot of nice people.”
“I had your grandfather and uncles…”
“Uh huh.”
“Yeah, well, I’m impressed. It takes a lot to do that. Paralegal?”
“For now. Until my acting takes off.”
“I would’ve figured you'd do anything else,” he joked.
Stone faced, “I get good insurance and my boss is great about auditions.”
He looked at her feet. “That's good. The movie sounds interesting.” She stared at the wall, watching the shadows fall over it. “Anyway, so Stef sent you her cheer stuff.”
“Uh huh.”
“Maybe get a role where you play three bridesmaids and a homecoming queen. I could use the space.” She laughed a little. “Look, I’m at a loss here.”
That makes two of us. “Why?”
“Because this is new to me.”
“It’s who I am. It’s who I always was.” She had practiced this in her head. “Whether you and she care to acknowledge that, it’s fact.”
“We’re not talking about her…”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I talk about her enough. She talks about her enough. I’m talking about me.”
“Oh…”
“Are you going to be like them or are you going to let me talk?”
She laughed a little. “Talk. I’m listening.” Silence. “This is where you talk.”
“I’m thinking.” She groaned and he said, “it’s a stupid joke, I hate it too.” Then, “Why did you come tonight?”
“Go to hell,” and she stood up.
“That's not what I meant. I just meant, I don't know…”
“Because I love Stephanie and Jared. Because she’s my sister and she would do anything for me and I would do anything for her..and him. Just because you threw me out on the street doesn't mean I'm not going to see them. If the cost of that is you and her, I'll pay. That good enough for you?” He laughed. “What?”
“Everyone told me you were sweet. I feel cheated. Seriously though, I don’t get it.”
“I told you. I am who I am. I haven’t seen Jordan in six years because of you. I barely get to see Stef, except when she comes to me…” Silence. Dead air. “Well?”
“I dunno.”
“What don't you know?”
“I...all of you... This is a lot, you're... And Jordan…”
“We are who we are. It’s not hard to understand.”
“It is. Whether you and Stef and Jordan think it isn’t, it is. We barely had gay when…”
“I don’t want to hear about that. Sorry but tell me why I should care.” She heard a sigh. “I’m not trying to be mean…”
A laugh, “You and Steffie say that. I’d hate to see both of you try…”
“We always existed. We just weren’t allowed to be ourselves. Not without getting beaten or killed. Sorry, if that’s too hard for you to accept.”
“I’m sorry…”
Taken aback, she sat down. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry. I failed you as a father.”
She was dumbfounded that he even offered that. “It’s not about you.”
“Huh?”
“It’s not about you. It was never about you. Everyone always thinks it’s about them. It isn’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Even if you had been a good father,” and she heard him take a deep breath. Good, she thought, as she continued, “it had nothing to do with you. I knew what I felt long before I ever felt anything about you. Nothing you were going to do was going to change that.”
“Oh.”
Oh? Oh? She looked at herself in the mirror, playing with her hair. “Honestly, whether you and she had treated me like you cared about me wouldn’t have changed how I felt.”
“Jeez, Chris.”
She almost left but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction or Stef the ensuing grief. “Emily.”
“Sorry,” and he almost sounded like he meant it. “Emily. It slipped out. I’m sorry.”
“Uh huh.”
“Apparently, I’m the only one in this family who doesn’t know just the right thing to say to hurt people. But, anyway, whether it’s about me, whether you would be this no matter what, I feel like I failed you...”
“Again…”
“Be quiet. I’m speaking now. I failed you. I let people treat you like sh...garbage,” and she was touched by the way he didn’t want to curse, “and I shouldn’t have. I tried to teach you to stand up for yourself, and I still don’t think it’s a bad idea for you to do that…”
“I do…”
“Good. But I let too many people, people I could’ve stopped, treat you like that because I was...it doesn’t matter. I did it and I shouldn’t have. So, whether I could have been a good father and you would still be what, sorry who, you are, I could’ve done a lot better. Sorry.”
She started to cry. “Emily?”
“You surprised me.”
A small laugh. “That’s two of us.”
“Now what?”
“If you come to the wedding, I’ll do my best to stop a shit storm. I can’t make any promises.”
“I don’t expect any. I appreciate that though.” Then, taking a breath, “what about her?”
He took a deep breath. “I…I…”
“Why does she hate me?”
He looked at her and unconvincingly, “She doesn't…”
She felt tears well up. “She does. You do. I don't care if you do but…”
She began sobbing and he hugged her. She couldn't remember him ever doing that. “I don't.”
“You do.”
“I don't. I'm sorry that you think I do, but I don't. You know what Rob says? About the default setting?” She nodded into his shoulder. “I grew up in asshole ground zero and all I knew was what I knew and then you…”
She pulled back, “That's not an excuse…”
He smiled, “One day, one woman in this family will let me finish a sentence. Anyway, I was embarrassed in front of them and instead of fighting them, I blamed myself and you. And I was wrong, and I'm sorry for that.” She stared blankly, trying to read him. “Anything?”
“I… I…”
“Yeah…”
“You know how many times I wished I could wake up and be Jordan, make you proud?”
She saw him tear up. “You were you. You were good at what you were good at and I should've been good with that.” He looked at her. “Ever since you were little, Grandma Dori would make digs about how you looked like her. You look like her, you sound like her…”
“Is that why she hates me so much?”
He looked down. “I never asked.”
She looked at him. “Why are you here?”
“Huh?”
“Why did you follow me?”
He took a breath. “You know that Rob and Jeannie love you, you know that, right?” She couldn’t get a read on his voice. Was he upset?
She fingered the butterfly necklace. “I love them too. They’ve been really good to me.”
“And Stef and Jordan…”
“You haven't answered me.”
“Emily, I don't know. All I know is that you were hurt and your sister was hurt and…Ok, what do I call Jordan?”
“I usually just say twin.”
“That sounds stupid,” he laughed. She shrugged. “I fucking hate Kev and Pete.”
“Sorry to hear that, but I'm confused.”
He took a breath. “I never expected the three of you to be in a room together as adults, but somehow you really seem to care about each other. And, when you ran out, I saw that falling apart and I didn't want to be responsible for more fucked-up Nehlens.”
“It's not you, it's her.”
“Emily, as far as I'm concerned, I'll stay away if it means you can see them more than once every six years.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, wow. What do you want to do here?”
“Dinner is probably cold. And I'm not really hungry.”
“Will you sit with me at Weiner’s Circle while I get a dog?”
“You really want that?”
“Yeah.”
And they sat, Emily watching him eat a Chicago dog while she sipped her iced tea, watching the people walk past.
—
A month later and Stef still hadn't spoken with her mother.
She was at Jared’s parents for a bris, his cousin Melissa having just had a boy. She was standing in the kitchen with her soon to be mother-in-law, and Jared's sister Jamie. Jamie looked at her mother, “All I'm saying is Stef's right not to ever speak to her again.”
Her mother looked at them. “I am, let's be clear, not defending what she did to your sister, she was unequivocally wrong but it's clearly bothering you.”
Stef was still not 100% used to the way his family addressed problems, talking, talking, talking instead of seething quietly. “It is but I can't. She made Em cry and then laughed about it. I can't forgive her.”
“You really want to get married without your parents there?”
“He can come.” Even as she said it, she knew it was ridiculous. “I mean, obviously he won't but she's all worried about them making a scene but I'm worried about her.”
Jared’s mother swallowed her lips and then exhaled her through her teeth. “Stephanie, you know I love you…:”
Stef gritted her teeth, then smiled, “No sentence that begins that way is ever good.”
“I know you’re upset. I’m upset too. I can’t imagine ever cutting any of my kids out of my life for who they are…”
Jamie looked at her mother, then Stef, then at the ceiling. “Ma…”
Her mother smiled, “As I was saying before I was interrupted, I can't imagine it but you can’t never speak to her again. It’s not a way to start your life with Jared.”
“I know and I’ve actually thought about this - a lot - and the problem is either I start the fight again or I pretend that dinner never happened, and I don’t want the first, and I won’t do the second.”
Jared’s mother looked at her, “You don’t have to but you know that you’re going to have to do it at some point.”
“What am I supposed to say to her? Seriously, what?”
“Tell her how upset you are.”
“I think she’s aware,” she laughed, as did Jamie.
“Did you tell her or just scream at her?”
Stef laughed, “Not just.”
“Do you want me to call her?”
Stef laughed a little. Her mom would lose it if his mother called her about this, asked her how she was feeling. She wouldn't have to worry about not calling her, because she'd either never speak to Stef first or be in jail for killing her. “I appreciate the offer but if this is going to get done, it's going to be because of me, y’know.”
–
The next morning, she called her father, knowing that her mother was out playing pickleball with Aunt Jackie. “Hey, daddy.”
“Hey Steffie. Please tell me that you're going to end this.”
“I actually want to have a conversation with her about Emily,” which was greeted with a groan. “Thanks, that makes me feel good,” she laughed. “No, I mean an actual conversation about Emily, a dialogue, with back and forth.”
Her father was quiet for a few seconds, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don't think we ever actually talked about it. I think she threw her out and I yelled and she yelled but we never actually had a heart to heart. I wanna hear her out.”
Another few seconds of quiet. “I want you two to talk but what do you hope to accomplish here?”
“I dunno. I'm trying not to tell her anything, just hear her out and I dunno.”
“Steffie, I don't know if that's going to work but please don't scream at her again.”
“I'm serious. Do you think she can not scream?”
“Stef, if you're actually going to listen, I'll support you, even if it makes my life miserable.”
“Thanks.”
“I spoke to Emily for a few minutes the other day.”
Stef smiled. “She told me,” remembering how disoriented yet happy her little sister was.
“I'm trying..”
“So is she.”
—
The next weekend, Stef found herself face to face with her mother. They sat at Stef’s kitchen table, Jared and her father having gone to a DePaul basketball game at Stef’s request. “Your father says that you wanted to talk to me. To me or at me?”. Stef could see the tension in her mother's neck, the vein throbbing.
Stef smiled. “To, ma.” Emily, when told that she was meeting her mother, just said, ‘You do you.’ “I wanted to talk about Emily, about everything.”
“I'm not revisiting this,” and she angrily clinked her spoon around her coffee cup.
Stef thought about the mediation class for law school, about active listening. “Not about the wedding.”
“Then what?”
“Why.”
“Why what?”
“Why you hate her so much.”
“I don’t hate him.”
“Her.”
“You could have saved me the trip if we were going to go through this again.”
Stef took a breath, “I'm trying here.”
“So am I. I truly don’t understand why you would subject yourself and…her…to this. You know it will be awful. What is that you’re trying to prove?”
“I’m not trying to prove anything. She’s my sister. You wouldn’t ask Stacy why she had Mia in her wedding.”
Her mother had a look of shock and disgust. “You’re really going to compare the two? Have you shared with Mia that you consider her the same as a transgendered person?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean then?”
“You know what I mean. Emily is my sister, she always was.”
Her mother took a breath, held it and then exhaled. “You really don’t think they’re going to hurt him?”
“Her. Once again, she’s a her, not a him.”
“Fine, her. They will hurt her. They always have and they always will. But you’re going to prove a point, no matter who gets hurt.”
Stef looked at her. “She is a girl. You saw her.”
“Believe it or not, there is nothing I would want more. If I could wave a magic wand and change him to her, I would in a second. I know you think I’m cruel, but I mean it, I would. But I can’t.”
“So, once again, you’d let them,” her father’s family, “rule our lives. You hate them, I hate them, but we have to give in to them so they don’t cause a scene.”
“Hurting him is not making a scene.”
“You say that like you want it to happen.”
Her mother snapped, “Absolutely not. Whatever he thinks he is, he is my child and I don’t want him hurt in the slightest. I’m glad he’s made a life for himself, I truly am, but that doesn’t change reality, no matter how much you think you can.”
Stef looked at her, “I don’t, quote, want to change reality, close quote. I want my mother and my sister to be at my wedding and I don’t want to have to choose between you.”
Her mother looked at her, “But you will.”
“I just don’t understand why you won’t even try to get to know her,” and she hated the sound of her voice. “You would really like her, you always did.”
Her mother stood up. “I am going to go for a walk. Text me when Jared tells you they’ve left the game. I’ll meet your father downstairs.”
“So, this is how it ends?”
“How what ends?” Her mother’s eyes betrayed the calm of her words.
“Us. You, me. This is going to end because you would rather give in to them, to your own bigotry, than to even try and make an effort.”
“Don’t threaten me,” her mother snarled.
Stef looked her in the eye. “I’m not threatening you but when one of the most important people in my life won’t be in the room with another of the most important people in my life because of her own bigotry or her own fear, I don’t know what else I can do. Tell Grandma and Aunt Jackie that they’re still invited but I imagine they’ll cut me off like they cut Emily off. The difference is that I’m a grown woman and I can handle it.” She handed her mother her coat. “I’ll tell Jared to tell Dad to let you know.”
“Don’t you dare give me ultimatums! I am your mother!”
Stef shrugged, “You are and I will always love you but you’re making this decision, not me.”
Her mother grabbed her coat and stormed out. When she heard the elevator open, she finally exhaled and then bawled her eyes out.
—
‘Ur still not talking to her’ Jordan texted Stephanie two weeks later.
‘he called huh’
‘Uh huh u rly told her not to come’
‘No I said wasnt choosing between her and’ Norwegian flag emoji, the two having adopted the habit, post-trip, of sending random emojis in place of Em’s name. ‘her decision not mine’
‘i know and ur right and K sez ur right but’
‘the solution is in her hands not mine’
‘well we'll be there if were still invited’ Male shrug emoji
‘Ki is not u’
Laughing emojis. ‘good idea,’ then three dots then, ‘y is dad calling me about this does he think I can make u do anything’
‘ill call him make nice’
‘thx’
‘love u Ki 2’
‘love u 2’
–
Jordan hung up the phone and made a call.
“Jordan? Is everything ok?” His cousin Mia said.
It wasn't an unreasonable question, they spoke at holidays and at birthdays, each having made the decision that mom's family belonged to Stef. “Hi, Mia. Everything’s fine except it isn't.”
“Your father got you involved? This is serious,” she laughed.
“Yeah, tell me about it. So, what's up there with this?”
“They're both pig-headed.”
Jordan laughed, “Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.”
“Your mom is all freaked out, and mine and grandma keep telling her she's being ridiculous and she gets all pissed and then she cries and whatever but still we're here. Stef?”
“She wants Emily there as a bridesmaid and so do I.”
“So do I but do you really see Kev and P.J. not making this a shit show?”
“Fuck them.”
“Don't curse, Jordan, it's obnoxious,” she said in her mother's voice, which made them both laugh, “No shit, fuck them but now what?”
“You think if we got them in a room together, we could fix it?”
“You actually care, didn't have that in bingo.”
“I'm serious. Neither one of them wants this, I know dad doesn't, Em certainly doesn't.”
“How is she?”
“Call and ask for yourself. She's good.”
“Anyway, if I had another idea, I'd offer it. You want me to see?”
“Yeah, I'd appreciate that. Thanks.”
“I'll try my best,” and they discussed their lives for the first time ever.
—
A week later, Stef found everyone in her apartment, her mother at the counter, while her aunt and grandmother sat on her couch. Everyone sat silently until her grandmother said, “Thank you for doing this, Stephanie.” Stephanie shrugged and her grandmother said, “We,” and she looked at Laura, “all appreciate it.”
“You're welcome, I guess, but I don't know why you're here unless she's going to rescind her ridiculous ultimatum.”
“MY ridiculous ultimatum?”
Her aunt held up her hand. “Stop! Laura, we've talked about this…”
Her mother rolled her eyes, then looked at Stef, “Why would you do this to yourself?”
“Ok, we're done.” She turned to her aunt and grandmother, “I’d say I'm sorry you drove here but I told you…”
Her grandmother looked at her, burning a hole through her. “Enough! Both of you! Laura, if Stephanie wants her sister there, she's going to be there. You are not going to miss her wedding. You know that, I know that, so let's stop playing games.” Stef grinned and her grandmother looked at her. “Don't think you're getting away scot-free. They are animals, Stephanie. I know it, you know it…and Emily knows it. What does she have to say?”
“She's ready to deal with them, I've told you, she's become incredibly strong since you all cut her off because she,” and she looked at her mother, who looked away, “made you.”
“That was wrong but…”
Stef put up her hand, and looked at her mother. “Are you really going to do this without causing a scene?”
Her mother looked at her. “I understand you and your aunt think that, if you fight enough, the world will bend to you…”
“I'm not asking you to bend…”
“That's not what I meant. I meant them. I know Chr…Emily is going to be there, and as a bridesmaid. Everyone, them, Jeannie, your father, has told me that. I won't cause a scene. But I really don't understand why you would put him in harm's way like that. I don't want him to get hurt, do you? Because that's going to happen. We all know that.”
“I won't let her get hurt.”
“You'll try.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.”
“Why do you hate her so much?”
Her grandmother started, “No one…”
“I asked her…”
Her mother looked at her, “Assuming you want me, I will be there, even if…Emily is. I will not misgender him, even though I believe that he misgenders himself, but I'll respect his choice for the day. I can do that much.”
“You haven't answered me. Why do you hate her so much?”
“I will give you what you want, it's your wedding and I'll accept it but that doesn't mean that I have to like it or even approve of it. In exchange, I will ask that you respect my position.”
Stef pursed her lips and blew out. “This was a waste.”
Her aunt looked at her, “Stef, stop. She is giving you what you want. That's all you're entitled to. She doesn't have to be…agree with you. Do you want everyone there or does she have to say you're right too?”
Stef walked to her mother, “Thank you for agreeing to be there with her. I didn't want my wedding without you and dad…”
Her mother had tears in her eyes, “Me either, Steffie…”
“I just wish you'd give her a chance. You saw her, how sweet she is…”
“I will be there. I will be in pictures with him. I will not insult or mock him and, once again, I will not let anyone hurt him but that's it. That's my last, best offer.”
Stephanie looked at her aunt and grandmother, “Will you please…”
Her mother looked at her, “I love you, which is why I'm doing this, but I don't have to like it…or him.”
Stef sighed. “I think you're wrong about her, but fine.” Then, turning to the other two, “Do you agree with her?”
Her grandmother put her arms on Stef’s upper arms. “Stephanie, I don't and neither does your aunt, but enough,” then turning to Laura, “I really don't understand you but I'm glad we at least got here. So, Stef, have you looked at dresses yet?”
Stef glanced at her aunt, who mouthed, ‘give her this - for me,’ and then said, “Uh huh, I was looking at this one, it's a mermaid dress, a slip one, not a whole lot of beads or lace or any of that.” She took out her phone and showed everyone. When her mother made a face, “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You made a face! Just say what you're thinking.”
Aunt Jackie laughed, “This sounds familiar. Right, mom?”
Stef laughed, then said, “Seriously, just say something.”
“It's very pretty…”
Stef looked at her, “But…”
“It wouldn't be my choice.”
Before Stef could speak, her grandmother said, “Then, it's good you're not getting married. She is and if you asked me to choose a dress for her, I would choose one like this, when has Stef ever been lace and fluff?”
“Thanks, Grandma…hey, I think that's an insult!”
Jackie laughed, “Be grateful she didn't tell you,” and she gave a deep sigh, “‘I guess it's ultimately your choice,’ like she told me.”
Her grandmother winked, “Was I wrong?”
“Not the point, mom,” she laughed. “Let's just say it was the 80s and leave it there. Anyway, Laura, she's going to look beautiful no matter what, and you're going to cry, no matter what, so let it go.” Stef grinned widely and her aunt said, “Win with class, Stef.”
–
Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman, who hasn't seen her twin Jordan in six years. Not since she told her parents the truth about herself and they threw her out. Her older sister is getting married and wants Emily there - as a bridesmaid. Will sparks fly?
---
In this chapter, Emily films her movie. Jared brings Jordan and her to Chicago to surprise Stef for her birthday. Emily sees Jordan in person for the first time in six years. Stef and Emily go bridesmaids' dress shopping. Oh, and guess who else is coming to dinner...
------
Movie sets are a strange place, a hive of activity, the DP checking his lenses, playing with filters, grips moving equipment, setting up lights and mikes, with the director the conductor, moving people around. Off to the side sat Emily. At CalArts, they had told them that acting was waiting, waiting for your scene, waiting for the crew, just waiting. She had resolved to watch and learn, not just play with her phone, when it buzzed.
Jared. Jared? Why would he be texting her? He didn’t text, just said ‘hi’ when she was talking to Stef. She wondered what had happened and felt herself get nervous, which was the last thing she needed before she was getting on camera. He didn’t help it with the text.
‘Call me’
Call me? Call me? No one called anyone unless it was awful. Or they never saw their family and that was the only way. But Jared wasn’t family. Well, he was but he wasn’t. As she began spinning scenarios, each worse than the last...
“Places everyone,” the AD yelled. Emily got out of her chair and smoothed out her shorts, as much to distract herself from Jared's text. Call me? She found herself thinking the worst, something happened to Stef. If it was anything else, Stef would've called her. She looked up to find the grip with the mike staring at her. She took a breath and decided that she would just need to nail the scene on the first take.
In this scene, her character came home from cheerleading practice to find her mother passed out. She was wearing her hair in a ponytail and a t-shirt tied in a knot at her waist, and shorts. When she had done that in an earlier run through, the DP looked at her funny until she explained how it meant your shirt wouldn't ride up when you did moves. Which led to him giving her the creative nickname of “Cheer,” and ending every question to her with a chant of “Ready? OK?” and doing what he thought was a cheer move with his hands.
Emily got up and went to the end of the driveway of the house they rented and began walking up, a backpack slung over her shoulder. She began walking up, thinking about what her character would expect to find and she took a breath and stiffened her shoulders. Which led to:
“CUT!”
The director walked over to her. “Emily, what was that?”
“What was what?” He imitated her taking an exaggerated breath and stiffening her shoulders. “What? She knows what she’s going to find and she’s preparing herself.”
He looked at her. “No, she doesn’t. How does she know?”
Umm, she thought, her mom’s a fuckup. Of course, she knows what she’s going to find. “I just…”
“Don’t. You came home from a good practice. You got a 97 on your chem test. You’re in a great mood….”
She nodded, thinking that she could hold two competing thoughts in her head but, again, it was her first movie and he was the director. “Right.”
“OK, let’s do it again.”
Emily went back to the end of the driveway and began walking up the driveway, grinning and looking around, and waiting for the inevitable ‘CUT’ that inexplicably didn’t come in. She walked into the house and saw the actress playing her mother passed out, a tequila bottle next to her on the floor. She disgustedly hung her backpack on a hook and began picking up the empty fast food bags on the floor, channeling Stef’s disgust at their cousins.
From the couch, she heard a slurred, “hey Britnee.”
Emily sneered, “This place is a pigsty.”
A sneered, “Hi mom. How was your day?”
She walked over to the couch and picked up a half-eaten hamburger and the empty bottle. “I can guess. Did you even leave the house? The couch?”
The actress sat up slowly. “Don’t take that tone with me.”
Emily rolled her eyes, “Whatever,” and began cleaning up.
“Come on,” the actress said, switching her tone to needy, “don’t be that way. How was practice?”
As she walked to the kitchen, the camera following her, “It was fine. It was practice.”
“And your test?”
“Wow, you remembered. Let’s see if you can go two for two. What subject?”
“History?” The actress said with uncertainty.
“Chem. So close.”
“I knew you had a test,” she said apologetically. “Anyway….” Emily walked over and picked up a half full glass of liquid. “Hey!”
Emily walked to the kitchen and dumped it. “You’ve had enough.”
“That’s alcohol abuse,” the actress laughed. Emily walked back in, with a glass of water and Advil, and handed it to her wordlessly. “I’m still your mother.”
Emily gave her a silent look that hopefully said, ‘really? You couldn’t tell,’ followed by, “I got a 97. On my chem test.’
The actress got up and gave her a drunken hug. “Well, that’s great.”
Emily pulled back, “What do you want?”
“I’m proud of you. Can’t that be it?”
Emily smirked, “It could be. But it isn’t.” She felt the camera moving behind her.
The actress smiled, “Would you be willing to drive me…”
“No.”
Indignantly, “I didn’t even finish the question.”
Emily, cleaning up the coffee table so as to have something to do with her hands. “Liquor store? Dispensary? Bar? Which?”
The actress stage-slapped her across the face. “You arrogant, snotty little shit.”
“Go to hell!”
Another slap. “I don’t know who you think you are, you little bitch, but you’re part of this family, and there’s no escaping that. So, just turn around and take me…”
“Like hell I will,” which got another slap. “I can’t wait until June when I can leave this shit hole…”
The actress sneered, “The door works now.”
“CUT! Great. Let me watch this,” and he huddled with the DP.
Emily laughed. “Fuck. You got a little close there, don’t ya think?”
The actress, an older woman named Francesca, at least 35, looked at her. “Just drive me to the liquor store and we won’t have a problem,” then, “what kind of loser drinks tequila by herself?”
Emily smiled, “Seriously. I mean vodka, cheap bourbon, but tequila? I mean, were you going to make yourself a drunk-a-rita?”
They looked over at the director. Francesca smirked, “I’ve done like ten of these,” which made Emily grimace internally although she kept her face impassive, “and I always wonder if these guys know what they’re doing.”
“Have any of the directors ever become anything?” They started walking to the snack table. Calling it craft services was an overstatement.
Francesca picked up a cup and filled it with water from the cooler. “Some have done some episodic shit. Nothing major.”
Emily picked up an apple. It felt mushy and she put it back. “Here’s hoping.”
They finished shooting the scene and the director sent them to wait, while they blocked the next scene. Emily went to a corner, took out her phone and called Jared.
“Hey, Emmy,” he said, brightly.
“What's wrong?”
“Oh shit,” he laughed, “I'm so sorry.”
She was ready to strangle him. She took a breath and exhaled, “You can't do that. You know you gave me a heart attack,” she said, as she played with her ponytail.
“Sorry,” he laughed. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, well,” she laughed, “what’s up?”
“You know how Stef’s birthday is coming up…”
“I have no idea what she wants, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He laughed, “I’m not. I know what I want to get for her.”
“Which is?”
“You.”
Emily let go of her ponytail. “Huh? What?”
“I want to fly you in for Presidents Day weekend and surprise her.”
Emily paused. Stef was not one for surprises usually. She remembered a surprise party an ex threw her. Key word - ex. But she hadn’t seen her in over a year. “I can’t afford to do that,” she said, sadly.
Jared laughed, “That’s why I would fly you in. I have a ton of miles from work. It’s basically free. And I’ll put you up at a hotel.”
“That’s hella expensive. And you know Stef is not really big on surprises…”
“I think she’ll make an exception for this. It would mean a lot to her and me.”
Emily smiled. “It would be nice to finally meet you in person.”
“So you’ll do it?”
Emily sighed and smiled. “Assuming I can swing the vacation days. Yeah. I can do that.”
“Let’s make this a big surprise,” he laughed, “Don’t tell anyone. Not Jordan. No one.”
Emily tilted her head, not that he could see. “K, why?”
“I want this to be a big surprise for her and I don’t want anything leaking out. Please?”
“You know Jordy doesn’t talk, right?”
“I know but you know that if it gets out, she’ll be more pissed than if it doesn't…”
Emily couldn’t argue with the logic. “Fine.” She watched as one of the crew came towards her. “Gotta go. Looks like we’re filming again. Love you.”
—
LAX is the world’s seventh busiest airport. On its slowest day, it is a swarming mass of people from all over the world, each with no idea of how to work a ticket kiosk or how a line works. And it was President’s Week which meant miserable parents dragging whining kids, all of whom were ‘hungry’ or ‘thirsty’ or ‘bored.’ Emily remembered a trip to Florida, Jordan bouncing off the walls while they stood in an interminable line at O’Hare, and their mom threatening to ‘go back home and leave you there.’ At least it was Thursday so most parents wouldn’t pull their kids out of school. Instead, she was left with business travelers. At least they knew how TSA worked.
Emily went to print her boarding pass at the kiosk, when it said, ‘see gate agent.’ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She looked at the line and cursed. Why can’t it work right, she thought? Oh well, she sighed.
After fifteen minutes, she reached the counter and held out her phone. “I don’t know what happened but I tried to check in…”
The gate agent, not looking up, “You’ve been upgraded to business class.”
“Excuse me? Are you…”
The agent briefly looked up. “Emily Berrigan?”
“Yes.”
“Then, you’ve been upgraded. Aisle or window?”
“Ummm, window?” The agent smiled and handed her a printed pass like she was 80. On the other hand, seat 3C.
She boarded the flight, the big chair feeling like it was swallowing her. The flight attendant came over. “Would you like a drink, miss?”
“Water?” She was unsure of the etiquette, of what was included.
“We have other drinks,” she laughed, as she listed them. “No alcohol though until we’re airborne. And I see some ID.”
Emily smiled, “Orange juice is fine, thanks.”
A woman sat next to her. Mid 40s. Brown hair, about 15 pounds overweight, in a dark blue pantsuit. She put her bag on the seat, as she stowed her carryon. She sat down and took out papers, not making eye contact. Not that Emily cared, it beat getting hit on. The flight attendant came over and handed her orange juice, and took the woman’s order. Then, the woman went back to her papers. Emily drank her juice and looked out the window, at the planes and the workers on the tarmac, ears covered as they moved planes and luggage around, a sort of ballet.
After they took off, Emily felt butterflies in her stomach. Six years. Six years since she’d been home, six years since she had seen Chicago, seen Jordy. She was already on edge, not having told Jeannie and Rob that she was coming, having been sworn to secrecy by Jared. She hated having to lie to them when they asked what she was doing, but a promise was a promise. Not that Jeannie ever spoke to Stef except at family things, but still. And now here she was, no turning back. Not that she wanted to, wanting to surprise Stef and finally meet Jared. Then, she felt even more nervous. What if he was just being nice on the phone? What if, when he saw her, he was like all the rest of them? She didn’t want to believe he was, but she had seen enough people get thrown out or worse to not foreclose the possibility.
The plane landed and Emmy went to claim her luggage for the train ride into the city. She had looked it up, it was an hour but she remembered enough about here to know that a cab would cost so much more and wouldn’t get there faster. She walked down towards baggage claim, when Emily saw them. There, in a heavy wool coat and jeans, boots on their feet, holding a sign saying, ‘Berrigan,’ stood Jordan.
Emily began to cry and ran towards them, enveloping them in a hug and not letting go. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod. What are you doing here?”
“Jared wanted to surprise you too,” they grinned.
—--
Jordan looked at Emily, surprised to see her in jeans and a green puffer jacket. After all these years, they weren’t sure what they expected - skirt, dress, ball gown. They had seen enough women constantly smoothing skirts under them, making sure their legs were crossed, to know that only an idiot would fly cross-country like that. Even in jeans and a jacket, there was no mistaking it. This was their little sister, the way she always was and should have always been.
Emily's eyes were red as she smiled. “I can’t believe that you didn’t say anything.”
“I told him I wouldn’t.”
“I can’t believe you still didn’t tell me.” Even the way she spoke. Then, a big hug. “But I am soooo happy to see you,” and she kissed their cheek.
Jordan laughed, “That’s enough.”
She looked around, “Is Keek here? Where’s Keek? Please tell me that…”
Jordan rolled their eyes, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ems. She’s at the hotel.”
“Why? I want to meet her finally.”
Jordan began walking to baggage claim, slowing down when they realized Em was running to catch up. “You will. She thought we needed some time alone, just you and me.”
Em smiled, “That was so nice of her, but she could have come.”
“I told her that,” they laughed, “I said that neither of us was that interesting. Then, she told me we’d have the whole weekend for all of us to hang out and we should find something to talk about.”
“You look really good. I like the haircut.” Jordan had it freshly buzzed before they left and ran their hand over it.
“Thanks. Mom…” Then they stopped themselves. ‘Mom’ was not a part of this weekend.
Emily held up her hand. “I can guess. And I don’t care. I like it. A lot. You look like you.”
Jordan smiled. “So do you.”
Emily grinned. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.” Then, “what’s going on with the movie?”
With that, Emily was off. They didn’t actually care all that much. Well, they sort of did, it was their sister and they wanted her to be a star, but, to be honest, they didn’t really understand grips and DPs and any of that. They just watched movies. But, they smiled, seeing how bubbly Emily was, the way that she upspoke and played with her hair and gestured. They remembered how excited she was when she got the lead in the play in middle school, how she wouldn’t stop talking about it until their cousins mocked her mercilessly and how she ran off, only to be told by mom and dad to stand up for herself. They felt their blood pressure rise.
“Jordy? Jordy?”
“Huh?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“You had the ‘I’m gonna kill someone’ look in your eye.”
Jordan felt themself turn red. “Sorry, I was just…”
For as close as they weren’t for a good part of their childhood, they shared a common language. ‘ I can read you like a book, Jordy.’ “Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter now. Now, it’s you and me and Stef and Jared and,” with a big smile, “Kira…” The last part sang.
“Shut up.”
“You really like her, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“You really, really like her.”
Jordan looked at her. “Yeah, I really do.”
Emily smiled, “Sorry. Then I’ll stop. You love her?”
Jordan felt mortified. “Uh huh.”
“Jordy loves Kira,” she sang. Jordy began wheeling the suitcase towards the parking lot, feeling eyes on them. She's my sister, they thought, not that it should matter regardless.
They got to the truck and Emily hopped in, butt first and then swinging her legs in, looking just like their mom. They remembered how she would yell at them whenever they went somewhere. (‘can you please do it the way I told you, Molly?) And how dad would roll his eyes when Em would do it. Em looked around. “I like it,” and she pulled down the visor to check herself in the mirror. “I really like it.”
“I didn't know if…”
She looked at them. “No one has a monopoly on pickups, Jor. I don't get PTSD from them.”
They pulled onto the highway and they watched as Em looked around. She sat there silently for fifteen minutes, just staring out the window as they headed east, looking at the billboards and industrial parks, not even sighing. Just staring. “You ok, Ems?”
“It's hella weird. Being here. Marissa told me it'd be weird but I was like no. But it is.”
“I get it.”
She started to speak, “We're heading the other way,” and her voice caught and she started to cry.
“Ems, it's gonna be okay.”
Still crying, “I promised myself…”
“Ems,” and they took their right hand off the wheel, and touched hers. “I know…”
She buried her face in her hands. “I swore and I did and now and this was a stupid fucking thing to do I know better…”. Jordan saw a service plaza ahead and pulled in. “Why…”
They turned off the engine and leaned over, pulling Emmy in. They remembered the night she told them and what happened after and they hugged her even tighter. They didn't speak, just let her bawl. They could feel her body wrack with each sob.
After ten minutes, she let go. “Thanks,” she said, with a small smile.
“Emmy.” They took in their sister, eyes rimmed red. They remembered the day in ninth grade when she came home bruised and how that day began the rest of their lives.
She didn't make eye contact, instead checking herself in the mirror. “I look like hell.”
“You look beautiful. Like you.”
“Thanks.”
They watched as she fixed her eyes, the gestures fluid and they realized that she'd been doing it for six years. Six years. Six years of missed birthdays and holidays and relationships and breakups. Six years of games and trophies and plays. Six years of life on a screen and they gripped the wheel tightly. She looked at them and smiled. “Nothing else matters, Jor.”
“I know,” they said, relaxing. “I…”
She looked at them, and flatly. “Nothing else matters.”
----
Stephanie took a deep breath to gather her thoughts before she killed Jared. Thursday night. It was bad enough to go out Friday after a long day but at least she could sleep in. Thursday was a weeknight. She had work in the morning and he was dragging her to dinner. Begging her to go. She turned to him. “I don't understand you. I'm tired. We have work…”
“I just heard good things about this place.”
“And so we had to go tonight? I swear, Jar…”
He held the door open and she walked in. He better not want appetizers, she thought, I will kill him if he orders one, as they walked through the dining room.
She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to Jared. “You…” she grinned. Standing up from the table were Jordy, Kira...and Emmy. “What the actual…”
Emmy came over and gave her a big hug and started singing ‘Happy Birthday,’ finishing with a silly game show hostess move and ‘surprise!’
Jordan came over, grinning. “Happy birthday, Stef,” and they gave her a kiss.
Stef grinned and turned to Jared, “How? How did you pull this off?”
Jared looked at his nails and then blew on them, “I am good…”
“Why didn't…”
Jordan laughed, “See, Stef, the way surprises work is…”
She punched them on the arm. “Shut up,” she grinned. Then, turning to Kira, “Are they always like this?”
Kira, looking up at them, “Yes,” then, with a kiss, “happy birthday!”
“I totally wish I knew that you were coming. I would’ve taken tomorrow off,” and worked at home in the morning.
Emily, in her blue tunic dress and heels, trying to look sophisticated, “It’s fine. We can totally amuse ourselves.” Then, bouncing, “this is soooo cool. I’m sooo happy. Are you happy?”
Everyone at the table laughed and Stef said, “Yes,” then turning to Jared and kissing him, “thank you Jar. This was amazing.” Jared just smiled and looked at Kira.
The waitress brought a bottle of wine over (‘pre-ordered’) and poured glasses. “Happy Birthday, Stef,” Kira said, raising her glass, “and to everyone finally together.” They clinked glasses.
“So, how did you get your stuff into the apartment, Ems?” Emily looked confused. “I mean, your stuff. Did you check it with the coat check?”
“Ummm, I’m staying in a hotel.”
“No, you aren’t,” she said dismissively. “That’s ridiculous.”
Jordan laughed, “You didn’t invite us.”
Stef looked at them and before they could speak, Kira laughed, “So you want to sleep on your sister’s couch instead of all by ourselves in that king size bed…sorry, everyone.” Jordan turned red and mock-grumbled.
Emily looked at her. “It’s like right around the corner from you. Besides, you don’t want me on your couch all weekend. And you have to get up early tomorrow.”
“We’ll see.” She knew it was unfair but Stef slightly resented that Jared could afford to do this, that, unlike her, he didn’t have student loans. “Anyway,” and she grinned, “I am so happy that we’re all together even if,” and she looked at Jared, who grinned, “it’s a work night.”
“We won’t keep you out too late,” Kira laughed. “So, what’s going on at work?”
Stef sat at dinner, watching as Em and Kira laughed and talked about acting and graduating, Em touching Kira’s arm when she was making a point. How they giggled at some joke Jared told. She looked across at Jordan and shifted her eyes towards the two girls, and Jordan just shrugged and smiled back.
—
Dinner finished and everyone walked to the hotel, the two couples holding hands.
“Why are you smiling so much? You didn’t drink that much,” Jordan laughed, as they looked at Em.
“I’m just sooo happy to see you guys and to finally meet Jared and Kira.” Stef smiled, thinking of how Em said ‘the hormones have made me a lightweight.’
Jared laughed, “You don’t have to keep saying that.”
Ems looked at him. “Sorry, it’s just a big deal to me.”
He came over and touched her shoulder. “It’s cool. Sorry. It’s totally cool to finally meet you in person,” and Kira agreed.
Stef looked at them. “So what are you guys going to do tomorrow? You can go to Millennium Park or Michigan Avenue or there’s some cool stuff in…”
Jordan looked at her. “We’ve all from here, Stef. Remember?”
Before Stef could roll her eyes. Kira looked at them. “Don’t be an idiot, Jor. Sorry, Stef.”
Stef took her in, this little brown haired girl in her red dress. “Do you think I actually listen to them?”
Jordan, without missing a beat, “You say something?”
When they got to the hotel, they all kissed goodnight. She watched to see if Jared flinched when he kissed Emmy’s cheek. “See everyone tomorrow.”
They walked to their apartment. “You had a good time?”
Jared kissed her. “It was great.”
“You’re not just saying that?”
He stopped and turned her to him. “It was my idea, remember?”
“Still…”
“Yes, I had a great time. It was great to meet Em in person finally. She’s even better than I expected.”
“You’re not just saying that, right?”
Jared rolled his eyes. “No. She is great and so,” and he bounced around. “Are you sure the three of you are related?”
“Shut up,” she laughed. “I could say the same thing.” Except that Jamie and Jared were exactly alike, cynical and smart, with the same strange sense of humor.
“I love her. My family will love her. She’s like a human emoji or something.”
She looked at him. “You are so articulate.”
He laughed, “You have a better analogy?”
Stef paused. “That works. I’d call her California sunshine, but that works.”
Stef looked at her phone, the one she hadn’t taken out of her bag all night. Six texts, one from Arden checking on dinner, three from other friends, and then… “Fuck.”
“What?”
She held out her phone to him. He looked at it. “Oh shit.”
From her mother….’Are we still on for dinner Sunday? Let me know when and where.’
—
The hotel was a former office building, ten stories and narrow, with a lobby barely big enough to hold two small two-seat couches, a front desk and a small cubby with overpriced water and snacks.
Jordan and Kira sat on one couch, Jordan’s arm around her, people watching, blissfully invisible.
Suddenly, Jordan saw something and began laughing. They poked Kira, who tried unsuccessfully, through her own laughter, to get them to stop.
Emily indignantly said, “What?”
Before Jordan could say anything, Kira said, “Um Ems?” Emily stood before them in a skirt, tights, a sweater and boots. And a winter coat. In her hand was a hat.
“What?”
Jordan, laughing, “It's like 40 outside.”
Emily, even more irritated, “That's cold!”
Jordan smiled at his sister, always the first to want to go outside after a snowstorm. The one who their mom had to force into a winter coat. Who could spend all day ice fishing...so long as she didn't have to touch the fish. “You have been…” And they stopped themself, having long since decided that the past would stay there.
Emily looked at them and smiled, “Six years in LA, Jordy. Besides, the hormones have fucked up my body temperature.”
Kira smiled. “At least you layered. If you get warm, you can take something off. Anyway, so I found this cool place for breakfast nearby if you're hungry.”
Jordan held Kira’s hand as they walked, listening as Em and Kira picked up a conversation from last night. Something about some play and finding the center of a character or something. If they were honest, they didn't actually care about theater. They loved Kira and loved seeing her on stage but, if you quizzed them a week later, they might remember fifty percent. Still, they just walked, listening to the sound of the two women's voices melding together.
They walked past a construction site and Jordan stopped, peering through the window in the green wooden fence. “Same old Jordy,” Ems laughed.
“You two can keep talking about acting.” They watched an excavator dig a hole.
Kira stood next to them, peering through the hole. “That's a deep hole.”
Jordan smiled. “Based on the depth, this is going to be at least fifty stories. And, from the footprint, commercial not mixed use.”
Emily, from a distance, “You’ve gotten good at that.”
“Yeah,” and they moved to make space for Emily, who stayed back. “There's a certain size you need for a building this big regardless, y’know for structural reasons, but res are usually narrower because there's fewer units in the building.” They looked around. “Not sure it's right for the neighborhood.”
Emily, “You don't really get this in LA, because of earthquakes and stuff. Uncle Rob says that's fine by him. Easier to build out than up.”
Kira laughed, “Two construction experts in one family. Wow.”
Em’s face darkened slightly and then she smiled, “Just one.”
Jordan walked over and whispered in her ear and she looked at them, “I can be near a construction site, Jor. It's fine.”
“You sure? Kira didn't mean…”
“I know and it's fine and let's stop talking about it.” And she started walking towards the restaurant.
---
Ems waited at the bar for Stef, who had texted, ‘meet me at 7 so we can get some time just us :-) b4 every 1 else.’ She was grateful to be out of the cold, and resting her feet. Uncle Rob had played her that old song, ‘Nobody Walks in LA,’ which was weird and tinny, but nonetheless true.
She watched as everyone came in from work. She had wandered the Loop today, just looking in the windows and watching the people. Maybe she had been in LA too long but there was something jarring about men in suits and ties. In LA, you wore a suit one of three times - wedding, funeral or court. She watched as a man, hairline receding and 15 pounds around his middle too much, approached a woman. The woman looked him up and down and then turned away, the coldness of the gesture making her empathize until…
“Hi.”
She turned to face the man. Maybe 30, if she had to guess. Beady brown eyes. “Hi,” she said.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Really, she thought, that line? She held up her glass. “OK, that was cheesy. Let me try again.” Not waiting for encouragement. “I’m Charlie.”
“Hi,” and she made a show of turning to her wine. “I'm Emily. And I'm waiting for my family.”
He smiled, less charming than homicidal. “How about while you wait, we talk? You can do that.”
Emily nervously laughed as he moved forward, and she put her hand over the top of her glass. “Ummm.”
Now, in her space, “We’re just talking.” The bartender, a woman in her 30s, moved closer. “Can I get you a drink, sir,” the last word spat out. She looked at Emily, who gave a minute nod. Emily knew the drill. All those years in restaurants had taught her. You couldn’t tell him to move away, not without more. Instead, she poured the drink he ordered and hovered close by, watching him. When he moved closer to Emily, she moved nearby to wipe the bar. When he put his hand near Emily’s, she made a show of calling over a waitress to bring drinks to a couple leaving the bar. Eventually, the man took the hint and left, and Emily mouthed ‘thanks’ and tried to remember what she had in her wallet.
Ten minutes later, she saw Stef walk in. Stef came over and gave her a kiss, “Hey, Ems. How was your day?”
She smiled, “Good, good. Walked around.” She took in her older sister, her idol, in her black pantsuit, white shirt and boots. How she had dreamed of looking that put together. “You know.” Stef smiled. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to spend some time with my sister, before they all got here. I like this outfit.” Emily was wearing a green v neck sweater and a black skirt, with black tights and booties. “Very cute.”
Emily looked at her. “What’s up, Stef? I wanna spend time with you but we could do that tomorrow and this text was a little too much.”
Stef laughed, “That hurts, wow.”
Emily took a sip of her drink, swallowed (grateful that she never had an Adam’s Apple to speak of) and said, “Just tell me.” Stef took out her phone, scrolled and handed it to her. Emily shrugged. “So I’ll find something else to do. Me and Jordy and Kira. Or just me.”
Stef put her phone back in her purse. “I want you to come.”
Emily took a big drink. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think it’s a great idea.” The bartender came over and Stef ordered two vodka tonics, not asking whether Emily drank that or even wanted another before dinner.
“I do.”
“I don’t.” She looked at the vodka and moved the glass around, unwilling to drink without some food in her. “Besides, have you told her I’m here?”
Stef took a sip. “Not yet. I wouldn’t do that without asking you.”
Emily watched as a couple came in, twenties, his arm around her waist, while the woman stiffened. “Thanks for that.”
“Emmy…”
“Sorry, it’s just….”
“You know that you’ll have to at some point…”
“I was thinking at the wedding reception.”
“Emmy, no.”
“You really wanna celebrate your birthday with this? Really?”
Stef put her hand on the bar and leaned in. “We need to do this at some point. You’ll have Jordy and me there. You can do this.”
Can I, Emily wondered? Do I even want to? “You know what she said to me before.”
Stef sighed. “I…”
Emily looked at her. “It really hurt.”
Stef looked at her. “I thought you said you told her off…”
“I did,” and tears formed in her eyes, “but it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt a lot. I know she wants nothing to do with me…”
Stef hugged her. “She will not do that. Not on my watch.”
From inside Stef’s shoulder, “You can’t stop her.”
“I’ll throw her out and never speak to her again.” She felt Stef stiffen.
She pulled back and wiped her eyes with the napkin on the bar. “Let me think about it.”
“Please?”
“This is a lot to process, Steffie.” She finished her wine.
—
Jordan, Emily and Kira were walking back from dinner to the hotel, Emily to get a change of clothes. She was dragging her feet, feeling the jet lag and the text combined. Her eyes were starting to droop. All she wanted was to lay down in bed and call Marissa to debrief, to get her opinion. But she wasn’t here for that. She was here for Stef, which meant throwing a change of clothes in a bag.
“I value your opinion,” Em said, pulling her coat around herself, while Jordan and Kira walked, coats open.
Jordan looked at her. “It’s gonna suck, no doubt.”
“So, I shouldn’t do it. That’s what I thought.”
Kira, “I dunno, Ems. It’s gonna suck no matter what. But, at least this way, it’s just the two of them and not the rest of them,” and she looked at Jordan, who gave a smile and a shrug, “and we’ll be there.”
“You guys shouldn’t have to get stuck in the middle of this,” Em said. She looked at Keek, at the way she looked at Jordy. All 5’4” of her, dark hair down below her shoulder blades, petite but with a chest. For someone who hated their mother, Jordy had a type. She made a note to ask her about her dress.
Jordan laughed, “I’d get stuck, no matter what. You really think Da..he would let me out?”
Emily, “You can call him ‘dad’ if you want. He’s your father,” which made Jordan wince and then sigh. “You don’t have to hate him on my account although,” and she laughed, “if you loved me, you would.”
Kira laughed and said, “Jordan doesn’t think much of their mother. That’s gotta be worth something.” She dropped Jordan’s hand and took Emily’s. “Em, I get how scary this is. I really do. But, you kinda have to do this.” She felt her fingers on her palm and smiled.
Em looked down. “You don’t get it. She told me what a piece of shit I was and dead named me and all that. And it hurt.”
Jordan, “Stef told me that you called her a crazy homeless bitch.”
Em, still looking down as Kira tightened her grip. “Still hurt.”
Jordan, “Em, I will kill them if they do anything.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it.”
Emily, smiling, “I know.”
Kira, “Ems, we are here for you. And we will always be here for you.”
—
They walked towards the bridal boutique in Old Town, Emily oohing and aahing at the number of pedestrians, how people would talk about ‘how walkable’ a neighborhood in LA was and that meant maybe five or six blocks. “I love all these brownstones. They’re so cute.”
Stef laughed, “Cute and expensive.”
“Still, it’s so much fun here.”
Stef looked at her little sister, hair in a ponytail, in her jeans and sneakers, light makeup, swimming in the Harvard sweatshirt she stole from Jared this morning, looking maybe 19, maybe, the way she talked and gestured and how excited she was when she suggested looking at bridesmaids’ dresses. Stef had watched the grin come across her sister’s face and felt a pang of sadness, of regret. She remembered when Ems was eight, how she was just singing while she colored and how Grandpa Pete told her to stop ‘being so goddamned fruity,’ and how dad just stood there. How he stood there when Ems had to get stitches in the seventh grade because of what those boys in school did, the fight mom and dad had about what to do. How, for six years, there was a piece missing at every holiday.
Ems snapped her out of herself. “What’s wrong, Stef?”
“Nothing.”
Ems took a sip of coffee from the to-go cup in her hand, her lip . “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” Then, she grinned as she remembered dragging Jordan for the junior bridesmaid’s dress. How her mother paid her $50 to get her to take them for a fitting. And how she had to pay them $20 not to fight her. (‘you’re losing this fight, Molly. Whether to me or to mom. You may as well as make some money.’) She started laughing.
“What?” Em said.
Stef laughed. “I was remembering when I had to take Jor…”
“Ohmigosh, that was hilarious. We should totally tell Keek that story.”
She started to say something else and stopped herself, then touched her sister’s arm. “I told Arden I’d FaceTime her if we did it.”
“K. Of course.” Which led to a long discussion of how residency was killing Arden, how she barely had time to sleep and eat, much less shop (‘I trust you and Ems’). “What do Jamie and Brooke think?”
“You’ll ask Jamie tonight. We’re meeting them and Jar’s cousins for drinks.”
“Will they be OK with me?”
Stef stared at her. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
She watched her sister shrink into the sweatshirt. “I don’t want…”
Stef looked at her. “Jamie knows. And I’m pretty sure Nicki does too. Besides, they’re all super progressive and shit. Like Jamie has that ‘in this house we believe’ sign in her window.”
“I just…”
Stef gave her a serious look. “You are my sister. That’s it. Someone has a problem, they have the problem. Not you or me.”
“I just…”
“They love Jor, they love Keek, they’ll love you.”
“And Jared?”
She rolled her eyes and sighed theatrically. “The fact that he calls you ‘moji’ should be a clue, Emmy.” Jared had decided her nickname was ‘emoji,’ and was fruitlessly campaigning for everyone else to adopt it. “He still isn’t sure that we’re related.’
They walked into the boutique, the bell over the door tinkling. Stef watched as Emmy took everything in, eyes widening at the racks of silk and taffeta and sequins, at how her whole body relaxed, then her posture straightened. She looked at Em’s chest and made a note to ask how it got a half-size bigger overnight. She had been in these stores countless times and wasn't one of those brides besides, but then remembered the trip to the shop in DeKalb when she was a junior in high school, for Stacy’s wedding.
The saleswoman came over. “Hi, how can I help you today?”
Emmy all but bounced. “My sister is getting married and I'm in the wedding…”
The saleswoman smiled knowingly. “First time, huh?” Emmy blushed, which made it only more fun. “Do you go to Harvard?”
“Ohmigosh, no.”
“Did you apply there? Are you waiting to hear?”
Stef covered her mouth and laughed, then said, “She’s very superstitious about it,” which made Em roll her eyes.
“Ah, I understand, my niece was the same way,” then, “any thoughts?” Stef just grinned and pointed at Emmy, who had made a beeline to one dress.
“Ooh, I like this.” It was pale blue halter dress with a high neckline and tea length. Stef thought how Arden never liked going sleeveless (something to do with her mother) but decided she was maid of honor and so they could develop a work around if need be. Emily turned to Stef, “I’m gonna try this on. I mean, is that OK? It’s your wedding.”
Stef smiled, “Go for it, Emmy,” and she watched her little sister bounce off happily to the dressing room. Em came out in the dress and made a beeline for the three way mirror, turning this way and that, checking herself out. The saleswoman handed her a pair of heels, at least 3”, and she slid them on, and turned some more, the grin splitting her face open.
“I like this one,” Emily said.
The saleswoman winked at Stef, and said, “Emmy, right? The fun comes from trying on a bunch of different ones.”
Stef FaceTimed Arden, put her finger up to her lips and turned the camera to face Emmy. She muted it as Emmy came in and out in a variety of dresses, giggling with each one, rejecting a strapless dress after looking at her chest and grinning at a pale green dress with wide straps (‘I mean, obviously, it’s your choice’ halfheartedly offered after each one). She was in a floor length gown with a split, checking out her legs (‘does this make me look short?’), when Stef turned off the mute.
“Hey, Emmy,” said Arden, laughing. “Having fun?”
Emmy rushed over and grabbed the phone, grinning, “Ohmigosh, Arden, omigosh, omigosh,” then, looking at a grinning Stef, “how long has she been watching?”
Arden laughed, “Since the blue one with the sweetheart bodice. You look gorgeous, Emmy.” Another laugh and “do I get a vote?”
Emmy turned bright red. “Of course, of course, ohmigosh. Hang on. I’m gonna go change and then I want to talk to you…”
Stef excused herself and walked outside. Before she could speak, Arden said, “Oh my god, she is so cute.”
“Totally,” then, “I hate that it…”
Arden held up a hand to a screen. “Stop, Stef. It doesn’t matter. You know that…”
A sigh and, “I wanted her to have this, y’know. It just…”
Unspoken was tomorrow. “Stef, I know you. And I know what you want. But you can’t control that. Just enjoy the day.”
Emily came bouncing out of the store. “Hey, Arden.”
“Stef,” came the voice, “take the phone so I can see.” Stef walked back and Emmy posed, arms spread wide, to the confusion of two guys walking past. “Oh my god, the little girl from Ann Arbor is all grown up,” she teased.
“Stop,” Em laughed.
“You look amazing and congrats on the movie and commercials. Stef sent me the link. You did great.”
“Thank you thank you thank you. How’s residency?”
A laughed, “Sucks.”
“When can I see you? I mean, I can’t believe I haven’t seen you.” Arden lived in Culver City, doing her residency at UCLA.
Arden laughed, “I’ve been really busy but I definitely want to see you. I still can’t believe it…” And they talked about school and work, Stef watching as Em bubbled along. She smiled to herself at Arden who called Em ‘she’ that weekend, never slipping up again. Arden, who took the phone from Stef senior year when Em called, crying, and told her, ‘you are a special girl and one day the world will know that.’ Arden, who made sure that Stef never wavered in support (‘she needs you and you know that’).
Emily was looking in a store window, when Arden just said, “Stef.”
“I know,” and she watched a woman being dragged by a Bernese Mountain puppy across the street, through traffic. “I know. Anyway, I’ll call you later…”
—---------------------------
Kira leaned up against the headboard, flicking through the TV. They were in the room, hanging out for an hour before dinner and drinks. “There is nothing on,” eventually stopping on a home improvement show, her mother’s favorite, laughing to herself at her father’s, ‘for all the money she spends on magazines on houses, we could buy an actual house.’
“Don't pick that backsplash,” Jordan said to the TV, “once it's installed, you're gonna regret it.” Kira looked at them. “What? That's too much for behind that sink. They should choose the second one.”
They sat watching the show for a while in silence, Jordan's arm around her while she snuggled in. Jordan kept looking around, squirming slightly. “Everything ok, pook?”
“Yeah.”
“What's bothering you?”
“Nothing,” then, “this is a mistake, isn't it?”
“This what?”
“Em…”
“She will be fine. Stef says…”
“I'm just…she seems so…and…”
Kira looked at them, “She's great.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah. I told you that. I love her.”
“I just feel like this is going to go really bad.”
Kira looked at them. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Yeah, maybe. But what's the other choice?”
Jordan looked at the ceiling. “I…just… I'm just worried.”
“Your mom won't do anything.”
Still staring at the ceiling, “You really believe that?”
Kira, looking up as well, “Not with me and Jared there. She won't embarrass herself like that. Not in front of other people.”
“You're not other people…”
She smiled, “To her, we are. I've been watching her and listening. She's afraid of being embarrassed in public. Especially in front of people she thinks have money.”
Jordan looked at her. “That's harsh. You're judging her?”
“No. And neither is Jared. But she thinks we are. You really think I judge them, care about any of that?”
Jordan, looking at the wall, “No…sorry. I mean your dad judged me,” then regretted their words immediately.
Kira turned their head to face them. “That's not about money. That's about me. You could be rich and he still would've done that.”
“I didn't mean anything… I'm just worried…for Emmy.”
Kira kissed them. “It has to happen sometime.”
—-
Emily stood in Stef’s bedroom, looking at herself in the mirror, at the black skirt and cinnamon sweater she had taken on and off three times. She sighed, “I don’t know why I’m nervous. They should be nervous, not me. Why am I nervous? I’m not.” The beads of sweat on her forehead belied her claim.
Kira sat on the bed. “You shouldn’t be. You look amazing.”
Emily smiled, “Thanks, Keek.” She looked at herself in the full length mirror and smiled. “I can do this.”
Stef came over behind her, and looked at her in the mirror. In the reflection, Stef’s two extra inches loomed disproportionately. She put her hand on her shoulder. “You can. I know you can.”
“Jordan and I know you can,” Kira said. Over the past three days, Emily had come to love her even more, not just the way that she clearly loved Jordan but her calmness and kindness, the way that she slid into ‘we.’ “You have the four of us.”
Emily looked at herself. She had learned how, had taught herself how, to be happy, to know that she deserved it as much as anyone, which made the overwhelming cloud of dread that much scarier, more pernicious. Everyone could tell you that you were strong and powerful but everyone wasn’t you. She took a deep breath and told herself that nothing mattered. She had celebrated Stef’s actual birthday with her - not them, her. No matter what happened, they couldn’t take that away from her. “I know,” she all but whispered.
Stef moved her from the mirror and looked at her. “Emily, we are here. We will always be here. I’m not trying to pick sides…”
“I don’t want you to…”
“But if I have to, I will pick you. I’m serious.”
“I wouldn’t make you….”
Stef smiled, “You couldn’t make me, Emmy,” which made Kira laugh, “but you wouldn’t have to.”
Kira coughed, “Can I say something?”
Em looked at Stef, then said, “K, sure,” with a slightly rising inflection.
Kira smiled, “She won’t do anything. Don’t take this the wrong way but I told Jor, she’d never make a scene in front of me and Jared. She doesn’t want to be embarrassed, especially ‘cuz she thinks we’re judging her. That’s her biggest fear.”
Em looked at her and Stef laughed, “What?”
Kira said, “I saw it at Thanksgiving. She wants to feel superior to them,” her in-laws, “and she figures they make scenes all the time and that’s like her biggest fear, especially in front of me and Jared, that she’ll be seen as them. I mean we’re not judging her or anything but that’s what it’s about and stuff.”
Stef whistled, “That’s cold, Keek.”
Kira turned red, “I didn’t mean it badly.”
Stef, “It’s hilarious though,” and she paused, “and pretty on point.”
Em looked at them, “I hope you’re right.”
Kira paused, “I’m pretty sure. Just treat this like an exercise. Whenever my aunt and uncle are over, I pretend it’s a play or something.”
Em smiled. “Me too. I just have to remember that they’re not them, they’re just them. Right?”
—-
The three women left the room. “I was gonna send in a search party,” Jared laughed. “You OK, Moji?”
Emily smiled at the nickname he kept trying to get everyone to adopt, his sister having told him last night, ‘just stop, this isn’t mom and dad with a dog, no one is listening,’ “I’m good,” maybe.
He kissed her cheek. “Whatever happens, we’re here.”
Jordan smiled from the couch, “I’m a free agent, for sale to the highest bidder.”
Emily looked at them. “Shut up. Like I’d want you.” Six years of not seeing each other in person had easily fallen away.
“Make it worth my while.”
Before Emily could speak, Kira piped in, “I can make it worth your while. Or definitely not worth your while.”
Jordan smiled, “I’ll keep that in mind,” and then looked at Emily.
Emily looked around, “What?”
Jordan looked at her. “What what?”
“You were looking at me,” and she almost ran back in and changed.
Jordan looked at Kira, who glared at them. “I wasn’t looking at you. I was just looking.”
“At me,” and she sat at the kitchen counter.
“I was just looking.” Stef was now glaring at them. “Seriously. You look good. Really. I mean it.”
“Really?” Jared handed her a bottle of water and she took a sip.
“Yeah, really. You look like you,” then laughing.
Stef glared and snapped, “Now what?”
“I started thinking about Johnny Harper,” which made Stef laugh and Emily turn red.
“Who’s that?” Jared asked.
Jordan looked at Stef, who said, “The guy we met when we went to my parents after we got engaged? Remember?” Jared grinned.
Kira laughed, “You have to tell me.”
“No they don’t,” Emily mumbled.
“Ems had this huge crush on him,” Jordan laughed. “Even I noticed.”
Stef grinned at Emily, then, “Kinda hard not to notice. She used to surreptitiously - barely - watch him mow our lawn with his shirt off.”
Emily was now purple. “I’m leaving,” she whimpered.
“It’s funny, Em,” Kira laughed. “Everyone had those crushes. I spent like all summer at the pool when I was 14 watching this lifeguard Paige,” and then, tapping Jordan on the head, “but I was waiting for you.” Which was greeted with a vomiting noise.
Jared stood by, smiling quietly. “This doesn’t bother you, does it?” Emily asked.
Jared laughed. “Why would it bother me?”
“I dunno…”
“Moji,” which got a groan from the room, “I don’t care if you had a crush. I mean, I saw him and he’s a little obvious for my taste…seriously though, no. Why would you think it would?”
“I just…”
“Em,” and he smiled again, “you’re Stef’s little sister. That’s it.”
She looked at him, “If it’s weird…”
He smiled, “It isn’t. Promise.”
She kissed his cheek, “Thanks, Jar.”
—
The buzzer rang. Jordan took a deep breath and exhaled. Stef straightened her shoulders. Jared and Kira looked at each other, and Emily stood up and straightened her skirt.
Two minutes later, the doorbell rang. “Happy birthday, Ste…” her mother said happily, then stopped. Emily stood mute. “Stephanie,” she snapped, then noticed everyone else. Then, she smiled. “Kira, Jordan, what a nice surprise.”
Jordan looked at her. “Jared brought us all here as a surprise for Stef’s birthday. Put us in a hotel and everything.”
Laura turned to Jared, “Well, that was very generous of you,” she said brightly, through gritted teeth. Emily still didn’t speak and Jared said, “Where’s Doug?”
Laura smiled tightly, “Oh, he’s parking the car. He’ll be up soon.”
Stef smiled brightly. “Would you like a drink, mom? Or do you want to wait until dad’s here, so we can toast to us all being together again?”
This was met with a glare and silence. “I assume you two drove?”
Kira smiled, “The other day.”
“I’d ask why you didn’t tell me you were in town, but I can guess.” She still hadn’t made eye contact with Emily. “Have you been enjoying yourselves?”
Stef smiled, “We went out with Jared’s family yesterday. They all loved Emily.”
“Dinner or just drinks?”
“Drinks,” Stef smirked. “The five of us went to dinner at the…”
“Where’s your father?” Laura interrupted. “He’ll make himself crazy looking for a spot and then make me crazy all night.”
The buzzer rang again and two minutes later, Doug walked in. “Happy birthday, sweetie.” He looked over her shoulder and stopped. “Holy shi…”
“Doug, that’s enough. This isn’t a job site. I’m sure Kira,” who smiled, “doesn’t want to hear it.”
His eyes darted from Emily to his wife and back several times. Then, he looked at Jordan and Kira and then Stef, who just smiled. Jared held up his hands in confusion. “Jesus…it’s…”
Stef smiled, “Isn’t it though?”
“So, how about that drink now? Champagne?”
Stef looked at Jared, who looked at the bottom shelf, “This should still be good. I got it at Christmas from a client.” Emily retreated to the bedroom door, where she stood against the frame. He took out seven glasses.
“There’s only six of us,” Laura said sweetly.
“For god’s sake, ma,” Jordan grumbled, to a ‘stay out of this, champ,’ from their father.
Jared looked at Stef, who mouthed ‘seven’ like a curse, and poured seven glasses. He handed one to everyone, getting a beseeching ‘please don’t’ look from his future father-in-law and an eyebrow from Kira. Jared held up his glass, “Happy birthday to the love of my life.”
“The Bears?” Jordan joked.
Doug smiled, “Never love anything that will always break your heart,” and he went to take a sip.
Stef interjected, “Hold on. And to all of us being together.”
Laura looked surprised. “We saw each other at Thanksgiving. I know it wasn’t ideal,” and she looked at Jordan and Doug, “but it was only a few months ago.” Emily took a big sip and shook her head.
“Mom, you can pretend all you want,” Stef said, “but enough’s enough. Say something.”
She smiled and looked at Emily, “And you are?”
Emily momentarily looked like she was punched, then held her butterfly necklace and took a deep breath. You, she decided, are someone seeing a school bully for the first time since graduation. She stuck out her hand, “Emily Berrigan,” which got a glare. “And you are?” The air left the room.
“Enough,” Stef snapped. “This is my birthday.”
“I guess I got the surprise,” her mother smiled. “Christopher.”
Kira and Jared looked down, as Jordan said, “Emily. Her name is Emily. She told you that. Stef told you that.”
“I am aware of the name he uses. You’ll excuse me if it takes me a while to,” and she stripped Emily bare with a glance, “adjust.”
Stef opened her mouth and Emily held up her hand. “Emily. My name is Emily. It has been Emily for the past six years. I changed it legally.”
From by the window, where he was staring out, Doug said, “Rob told me, but damn…”
“I know,” Stef said, “kinda amazing, huh?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about and don’t care to,” Laura said. A look came over her face and she turned to Kira, “So your last semester. That’s exciting.”
Kira smiled, “It’s scary. I’ve been interviewing places. I have an interview at the Center for Performing Arts in two weeks.”
“That's terrific. Production or finance?”
Kira smiled, “Production, I guess. A lot of what they bring in is touring companies so there's not a ton of acting but it's a chance to get to know people I think.” Then, she smiled, “I'm hoping Em can introduce me to people too, since she's actually working.”
Laura's face fell impassive, “It's good to have a network of people. Apparently, that's what Doug’s brother Rob did and it seems to be working mostly.” Emily looked over at her father, who made no eye contact. “And Jared, what's new? How's work?”
“It's busy. I'm headed to London for a meeting in two weeks.”
Kira smiled, “I assume you've been before, right?”
Jared gave a sly grin, “A few. Twice for business, and then twice with the fam. Stef’s going to come next time if they let her out of her cell,” and he walked over and put his arm around her waist.
Doug looked at the room, then walked over, looking at Emily for a second. He picked up a piece of cracker and cheese from a plate and chewed. “Hey, champ, how's work?”
Jordan looked at him. “Good. The conduits are totally in and we’ve started on some interior stuff. Assuming no issues, Q2 2025.”
“They start discussing what happens next?”
“They put me on a new project, I guess.” They took a piece of meat from the plate and wondered when charcuterie became a common term.
“You guess or you know?”
Jordan looked at Stef, then Em. “We've been through this, dad. I'm on salary, not contract. They will move me to a different project but it's a year off.”
“A year comes fast, faster than you think. Be ready.”
Stef came over. “They're ready. Right, champ?”
Jordan rolled their eyes, “Shut up.”
Doug laughed, “Give me the courtesy of making fun of me behind my back, not to my face.”
Stef said, “Em, tell us about the movie.”
She had told them about the movie at dinner Thursday, but smiled. “Right, k. Anyway, it's about this single mom with her three kids, and we see the older daughter repeating her mother's mistakes with guys and stuff.”
Laura got up from the couch and pointedly walked to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, “do you have any wine open?”
“Emmy,” and Laura winced, “was talking.”
“Hmmm. The champagne isn't agreeing with me. Is anyone else having that problem?”
Em shook her head, started to retreat into the bedroom but took three steps out. “Anyway, I play the middle daughter. Cheerleader, straight A student, real overachiever.”
Stef walked over and took Em’s hand. “I don't know how she prepared for it.” Doug gave a small laugh.
Emily gripped her hand, “I know, right? I mean, I had to use my imagination for this one.”
Stef looked at her mom. “I sent Em all of my old cheer stuff. That's why I took it that time. So she could get in character.”
Em saw her mother's nostrils flare and the veins on her neck pulse, and she continued, “Anyway, it's really interesting and it's a great way to learn screen acting…”
From the window, her father spoke, “Do you make money at it?”
Emily was shocked that he said anything, “Not much. It's an indie but if it makes a festival and gets picked up by a distributor, it can lead to bigger things. Jennifer Lawrence did a small movie, Winter’s Bone, and won an Oscar two years later.”
“Huh,” and he turned back.
“I mean, it's not likely…”
Stef looked at her, “You never know.”
“Have you made any progress on finding a place yet?” Em watched as the level of the wine glass went higher as Laura poured.
“We looked at the botanic garden yesterday,” Stef said.
“Are you sure you want outdoors?”
“It's not totally outdoors. You have it in the glassed-in arboretum. It's really nice, we went there for a work thing.”
“What did you think, Jared?”
Jared took a sip of his champagne. “It's nice.”
Laura laughed, “That's all?”
“Moji and Stef did most of the talking. I stood there.”
Doug laughed, “You're finally listening. You have no opinions. She has enough for the two of you.”
“Daaaad,” Stef laughed.
Laura looked confused, “Is Moji a friend of yours? A planner? I've never heard of her.”
Jordan looked up. “Moji is Ems, Emily. Jared says she's like a human emoji, all happy, and keeps trying,” and they looked at Jared, “and failing to get us to call her that.”
“You don't mind, do you Moji?”
Emily walked over to him and touched his arm, glancing at Laura. “It's cool. I like that you gave me a nickname.”
The acid poured out. “Isn't that nice? Christopher is the human emoji.”
Emily walked over, “My name is Emily.”
She looked her up and down. “Oh. It doesn't matter. You're Moji, apparently.”
Everyone watched as the two women eyed each other, twins separated by 30 years and 2,000 miles. Each stood with her right foot slightly back, waiting for the other to speak. Emily smiled then shrugged then picked up a piece of salami and put it on a cracker. “How's work?”
“Are you talking to me?” Her mother asked.
“Yes. We haven't seen each other in six years. I figured I'd start with something easy.”
“It's fine.”
“Are you still working for Mr. Harris?”
“Yes.”
“That's great. He was always really nice. Say hi for me.”
Laura went to say something, then stopped, looking around the room. “I'm sure he'll appreciate that.”
“Emily works for a law firm too,” Jordan said.
“Good for him,” her mother said, to a hissed ‘mom’ from Stephanie, which got, “what did I say that warranted that?”
“Do you want to see what we were thinking of for dresses, mom?”
She formed an N with her mouth, then said, “ohh, we don't want to waste everyone's time with that…”
Her husband said, “Since when?” Jared, Jordan and Kira laughed.
“Another time. When is the dinner reservation again?”
Stef looked at her phone, “Half an hour.”
“Why don't we get a head start?”
Jared looked at her, “it's like a ten minute walk.”
“Maybe they'll seat us early.”
Emily looked at her father, who looked away. Fine, she thought. I haven't seen you for six years, I didn't want to see you again. Jordan looked at her and shook their head. Kira just mouthed, ‘sorry.’
—
Ten minutes later, they left. As they were leaving the apartment, Doug pulled Stephanie back and mouthed, ‘why?’ ‘What,’ she silently mouthed with a smile. His reproachful glare was met with, ‘Jared flew them in as a surprise.’
“I'm going to use the facilities,” he announced. “All of you go ahead. I'll meet you.”
Stef looked at him, then said, “You don't know where it is. I'll come with you.” Jared looked at her and then gave a quick nod.
Everyone left, Emily looking alternately angry and worried as she put on her jacket and picked up her purse to her mother's disgust. The door clicked shut and they stood in a minute of absolute silence. “What the hell were you thinking, Stephanie?”
“I told you, I didn't know they were coming. Jared decided to surprise me.”
He looked at her and jammed his hands in his pockets, “But you knew we were. When did they all show up?”
“Thursday.”
“Your mom confirmed Friday.”
Stef looked up. “I think it was earlier.”
“It was Friday. Her text interrupted a meeting with your grandfather, who made sure to tell me that you should've come to us.”
“Sorry,” then, “you were going to have to see her sometime. Would you rather it have been the wedding?”
He glared at her, “You sandbagged me.”
“I didn't sandbag anyone. I didn't realize I had to clear guest lists with you or anyone else.”
“Stephanie, come off it. This is not a guest list.”
“Either way, it's not her decision who comes or doesn't. Or yours, for that matter.”
He looked at her. “I know you think I'm an idiot…”
In a deliberately patronizing voice, the one that defused every argument since she was 13, “No, I don't.”
Maybe not every argument. “Stef.”
“Sorry. I knew that if I said something, she wouldn't come and it's not like Emmy,” and he grimaced slightly, “lives here.”
“I,” he said sharply, “would've liked some warning.”
She smiled, “Which you would've done what with?”
He sighed, “I don't know, but this is going to be a shit storm bigger than Thanksgiving.”
“You really think she'll make a scene? In public?”
He paused in thought. “I really don’t want to find out.”
“I'm sorry, daddy. You know I try and stop her…”
“Stef, I don't need you to stop her… usually, but come on. This is beyond…”
“I told you. She's really great and really happy and I know you don't like…”
He held up his hand. “Stef, don't try to change the subject. We need to catch up with them but this is not over, not by a long shot. I'm extremely pissed, no, I'm disappointed with you. This is not ok.”
She looked down. “I don't mean to hurt you, you know that.”
He zipped up his jacket and held the door open for her.
—
Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman, who hasn't seen her twin Jordan in six years. Not since she told her parents the truth about herself and they threw her out. Her older sister is getting married and wants Emily there - as a bridesmaid. Will sparks fly?
----
Emily finally confronts her mother and doesn't believe what she hears.
---
It was three months after the debacle of Stef's birthday. Emily could still taste the protein bar she had choked down late that night, when her nausea finally abated.
She was eating lunch with Claire, her friend from the support group, really her mentor, in WeHo. “I dunno,” Emily said, in response to Claire’s suggestion that she call her mother. “How can I forgive her?”
Claire gave her a stern look. “This is not about forgiveness, Emily. This is about Stef. If you want her day to be perfect, you need to take care of this.”
“What's there to talk about?”
“Have you ever asked her what she thought when you told her?”
Emily tore apart a roll into little pieces. “She kinda made it clear.”
Claire smiled. “You're an actress. Don't you create back stories or something for characters?”
Now, she was tearing the little pieces into even smaller pieces. “She's not a character. She's my mother. She threw me out.”
Claire swallowed her lips and then exhaled her through her teeth. “You know how much I love you, Emmy…”
Take a deep breath, Emily. She is not her. She loves you, and has been there with you since the beginning. If she's using that tone, there's a reason. There has to be.
Claire continued, “It took me a long, long time to come to terms with this,” Claire's mother only recently having accepted this was not ‘a phase.’ “I realized that they go through a grieving process…”
Emily counted to five. She is your friend. You stand on her shoulders. She crawled so you could run and all that. “Grieve? What is there to grieve? I'm so much happier now.”
Claire laughed, “I know you are, but I think when you're a parent, you have hopes, expectations about things. You have a son, then she announces she's your daughter. It's a lot to process, it's grieving what you thought was going to be your life, their life. She was still absolutely wrong for throwing you out and cutting you off but then you showed up at dinner and it was all upended again.”
Emily played with her hair. “What does that have to do with me talking to her?”
“I don't know. I guess I'm just thinking about it, since I did it. It made my life a lot better. I think it made her realize that I knew that she was a person just like I was, and I think that went a long way…”
“I’m afraid.”
Claire took her hand and looked at her. “You need to do this.”
—
It was the end of their weekly phone call, when Emily asked her father for her mother's number, her mother having changed it after she threw her out.
He gave it to her and then said, “Why?”
She looked at the traffic ahead, Pico a mess. “Why what?”
Her father laughed. “Why do you want it?”
I'm a glutton for punishment, she thought. “She and I need to talk, it's time.”
“You're not going to start a fight, are you?”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Your sister said the same thing.”
“And did they fight? No? Then maybe ask yourself why you keep asking.”
He laughed, “You're the nice one, remember?”
“I'm not gonna start a fight, I promise. I just, I dunno, we shouldn't leave this until the wedding. I think we’ve talked at each other enough, maybe we can try talking to each other.”
She heard her father breathe and then say, “You really think you can stay calm?”
Emily took a breath, “What does that mean?”
He laughed, “We were all at the same dinner. I heard her.”
“Yeah, well, I feel like we haven’t actually had a conversation in six years. I wanna try. Even if it fails, at least I’ll know I tried.”
“Emily, I’m behind you one hundred percent in trying, I really am, but, and you better not repeat this, you seem like you’re doing well and I don’t want her to hurt you again.”
Emily felt herself tearing up. “Thanks, but I kinda need to do this and not just for Stef and Jared’s sake.”
—
A week later, she was at work when her phone pinged. ‘I hear you want to talk to me.’
That’s why I left the message, bitch. No, don’t think ‘bitch,’ this is a conversation, with actual back and forth. ‘Yeah, I do. I think we need to.’
Three dots. Stop. Three dots. Stop. Three dots and then, ‘I agree. Are we doing this by phone or Teams?’
Huh? Teams? Does she think this is a work call? ‘You know you texted Emily, right?’
‘I know. Do you want this face to face or just a call? I think face to face is better.’
Emily felt her pulse rise. ‘OK. Sure,’ and they set a time later that night.
—
Emily sat cross-legged on her bed, her computer on her lap. She looked at herself on screen and moved the computer to her laptop desk, so that she didn’t have the double chin that shooting from below gave everyone. She turned to Marissa, “I look OK, right?” She was in the “UCLA Sister” t-shirt Liam had sent her and shorts, having rejected the camisole she had worn to work and her vintage boho top that looked really cute.
Marissa laughed, “For the fourth time, yes. Besides, it’s her and you don’t have to impress her.”
“Yeah, I know. Why am I nervous?”
Marissa shrugged. “I dunno but you shouldn’t be. What else can she do to you that she hasn’t already done?”
Emily pulled on a lock of her hair until Marissa grabbed her hand. “I know. I just…”
Marissa gave her a hug. “I’ll be in the other room, you know that.”
Emily hugged back. “You’re the best.”
She smiled, “I am,” and then she left the room.
Emily logged on to Teams and waited, half-expecting her mother not to show. Then, her mother popped up on screen. Emily studied her, her face was fuller and the hair clearly colored, her roots starting to peek out, but it was there. What everyone said about them was true. In her mother’s blank stare, she could see the wheels turning in her head. “Hello,” was all Emily could come up with.
“Hello.” Was her mother nervous or annoyed that she had to do this? She could see a vein in her neck throbbing. “How are you?”
“Good. I’m good. How’s everything,” and she almost said, ‘back home,’ but this was home, “there?”
“Good. It’s warming up finally.”
“That’s good. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about the wedding and everything.”
Her mother looked at the ceiling, then at her. “I think I’ve made my position clear, as have you.”
Crystal clear. I could see for miles around after that dinner. No, be calm, Emily. You’re here to listen, not lecture. “Can we start with the fact that we both want Stef’s day to be perfect?”
Her mother breathed in and out three times. “I think we disagree on how to accomplish that.”
Emily took a deep breath. “Yeah, probably, but we can agree that we want it to be perfect, right? For Stef?”
Her mother laughed, “What about Jared?”
Emily allowed herself a small laugh. “I think he’s taken care of,” then, seriously, “Anyway, Stef.”
“Of course, we both want it to be perfect. So, now what?”
“I dunno. I’m going to be there. I’ll do my best to keep away from you. I mean, we’ll probably be in pictures together but, even then, I’ll try to be on the other side of Stef.”
She heard a sigh. “That’s not why I don’t want you there. Well, not anymore.”
Emily stared at her mother, who looked down then at the ceiling and then at her. “Then why don’t you want me there?”
“I’m afraid for you.”
What? “Bull. What are you so afraid of?” Emily looked at the wall, and then back at the screen.
“I’m afraid that they will hurt you.”
It took her a second, and then it hit her. “You really think they’d do that at a wedding? In front of everyone?”
Her mother gave a brittle laugh. “Because that stopped them so well at holidays.”
Emily felt a chill and then her skin crawled. “Yeah, well, Jackie and them are going to be there and Jared’s family, you don’t think that’ll stop them?”
Her mother stared at her. “Do you think it will? When have they ever behaved like civilized people?”
“I…”
“There you are, in your bridesmaid dress and heels. Do you think you’re going to be able to fight them? Stef? Jordan?”
“They’d get arrested.”
“And what does that do for you, lying in the hospital? I'm actually trying to protect you.”
“I…I can’t not be there for Stef and Jared. They’re my family.”
“I know. But you and your sister, you can't control the world, despite your best efforts.”
Emily started to cry. “I hate this. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. I hate this, I hate you, I hate this.”
She heard her mother sniffle. “So do I, Emily. I would much rather you be there than them, believe me…”
Emily sniffled, “You’d rather anyone there than them.”
“Look at me, Emily. I’m not joking. You should be there, not them, but I can’t not invite them, I can’t do that to your father. This is his last day with his little girl.”
Emily laughed, “Have you told that to Stef? That she’s his little girl?”
Her mother smiled, “Despite what she thinks, I’m not that stupid.”
“So the choice is them or me, and you’re choosing them over me again?”
She saw her mother’s chest rise and fall. “I never chose them over you. I chose your life over your death.”
“Come on. You really expect me to believe that?” Emily stared at her picture of Joshua Tree, the one from the craft fair.
“Whether you believe that, it’s true. Do you remember the football games? All those times in the basement at Kev and Julie’s? I sure do. And you know what’s worse? If I ever went to help you, told them to tell their animals to stop, those bitches would say, ‘you baby him,’ ‘he needs to be a man,’ ‘you’re making him gay.”
“Well, anyway, that’s all bullshit. Excuse me, but it is. Because, when I came back six years later, a grown woman who put herself through college and who supports herself and they weren’t even there, you mocked me and deadnamed me, just like you did on the call when Jeannie was here.”
She could see a tear in her mother’s eyes. “I don’t know why I did that. I think I saw you and everything that they ever said about you had come true. You were me and I couldn’t deal.”
“I heard you laughing as I ran out. People were looking at you.”
“Emily, I don’t know what to say here. I don’t know why I do things sometimes.”
“Because you’re a bitch. You’re a TERF bitch. Well, anyway, again, I guess I’ll see you at the wedding. So, anyway….”
“Emily, please don’t hang up.”
“Why shouldn’t I? Would you stay on if your mother did to you what you did to me?”
“Probably, but I’m an idiot that way.”
So am I, Emily thought as she moved the cursor away from the disconnect icon.
“Look, I was upset that your sister decided to surprise me in front of everyone, but that’s no excuse for what I did. I apologize.”
“Uh huh.”
“And I am truly happy for you, at what you’ve become…don’t roll your eyes, I’m serious. From what Jeannie tells me, in between calling me an idiot and ungrateful, you’re really happy. Are you?”
Emily looked at her closet, at the white summer dress, knee length with a v neck, and smiled, “Most of the time, yeah. I mean I have bad days and stuff.”
Her mother smiled, “No one is happy all the time, not without medication.”
“Uh huh.” She remembered her discussion with Claire, “You really hurt me. Maybe I could accept you telling me to move away, maybe, but that didn’t mean you had to cut off all communication and tell everyone else not to talk to me. Do you know how lonely I was here?”
Her mother was tearing up. “I was wrong. I should never have thrown you out.”
“Not that. I got over that, I had to, I had no choice but to” she lied, as she saw her mother’s face fall slightly. “I mean, at dinner. You really hurt me and it wasn’t just the deadnaming and pronouns and stuff, it was everything, Duncan, everything.”
Her mother wiped away a tear. “My therapist asked me what I was thinking.” Therapist? Emily expected a Bigfoot to walk through the room. Her mother smiled, “That is not for public consumption, I don’t need the hassles from Steffie, but yes, I am seeing a therapist.”
“Good, that’s good. I hope he or she helps you.”
“She...and yes, she does. She’s made me realize that I have two children who want nothing to do with me, and a third who’s on the fence, and that I have no one to blame but myself for that.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, where does that leave us with the wedding and stuff?”
“Emily, I really don’t know what to do.”
“I do. I’m coming and I’m going to be a bridesmaid and whatever happens, happens. I can’t let a bunch of mouth breathing assholes, excuse me,” and she saw her mother smile, “rule my life. I’d rather die on my feet, then live on my knees.”
Her mother laughed. “Is Jordan standing behind you feeding you things to say?”
Emily glared, “I’m serious. I couldn’t live with myself if I wasn’t there because of them. That would just prove them right. I’m too afraid to face them and all that garbage.”
“What if? What if I’m right about them?” Emily shrugged. “You really want to end up in the hospital?”
“Obviously, no.”
“Then what do you plan to do?”
“I’ll always make sure I’m with someone. If I’m with someone, they won’t do anything.”
Her mother gave a brittle laugh. “Again, that stopped them at holidays…”
“They’re older now?”
“That they are. They’re still the same, just bigger and meaner. So what?”
Emily started to speak, and then paused, and started again, and paused. Then she remembered, and pulled her pepper spray out of her bag. “I’ll carry this.”
Her mother laughed, “As much as I would like to see that, and as much as Jared’s aunt would really like to see that, I’m not sure that’s a solution.” Emily shrugged and her mother shrugged back. “Believe it or not, your father has said that he will not let anything happen to you.”
“I believe that. He and I have been talking, y’know.”
“I know. I’m happy. He seems happy too.”
“Really?” Even all these weeks later, she still couldn’t trust him.
“Yes, really. Is he confused? Yes. Does he understand? Not fully. Is what you did maybe his worst nightmare,” and she laughed, “yes. But he’s happy and said that he’s happy you’re happy.”
“Huh.”
“And you? You don’t feel the same way.”
“I’ve been working on it.”
“But you don't.”
“Do you want to know what I was thinking the first time I saw you?”
“I was gonna ask you that, well not that, exactly.”
“What did you want to ask me?”
Emily breathed in and out three times. “What did you think, no feel, when I told you I was a girl?”
Her mother looked up. “This is not happening.”
Emily felt her blood pressure rise. “I think it’s a reasonable question.”
“You asked me what I felt. That’s what I felt. My son, my beautiful, sweet boy is not here telling me he’s a girl. This cannot be happening. He is not telling me he wants to take hormones and become a girl.”
“I am a girl.”
“Again, you asked me. In the moment, you don’t actually think about becoming versus is. You just feel a knot in your stomach, fear, abject fear. I got my greatest wish and my worst nightmare all at once.”
“I don't understand.”
“When they told me I was pregnant with twins, with a boy and a girl, I was over the moon. Your dad would have his son and I’d have another little girl. We, you, Steffie and I, would do fun stuff like go to the ballet and bake cookies together, and dad and Jordan would go fishing and work on the truck. Everything would be perfect and then you were you and Molly was Molly…”
The deadname clanged in her ear. “Jordan and I are great.”
“Sorry, I know you are. And I know their name is Jordan. I used to go to sleep every night praying that you’d wake up you, and Jordan Jordan, but the world doesn’t work that way unfortunately. When you told me, I knew that it wouldn't make a difference because of them.”
“I am so lost.”
“Them. The Nehlens. As soon as they found out, we’d all be in for a world of trouble.”
“They're mouth breathing assholes.”
“They are, but that doesn't change reality.”
“Why does he put up with them? Why do you?”
Her mother gave another brittle laugh. “Because my job won’t, couldn’t, never would keep a roof over our heads. I hate that we need them, but we do and we used to need them a lot more. That’s why.”
“So, that’s why you cut me off? You sacrificed me for them? For a job?” Emily felt her blood pressure rise and did some breathing exercises.
“I could see how you could see it that way…”
“You could see how I could see it that way?” Breathe, Emily, breathe.
Her mother turned pale. “I mean, I understand why you do. But I really did it because I didn’t want you to get hurt. But, I don’t imagine after six years that you’d believe that and you’re probably right.”
Emily felt herself tear up. “I didn’t choose this, y’know. I know you think I did, but I didn’t.”
“I know,” and she saw her mother wipe her eyes, “When I saw you at the dinner, doing your pitch and giggling with Kira, I realized, well maybe after several sessions with Jennifer, she’s my therapist, that you were never Christopher. Chris was a role, and this is the real you.”
“It is. Long before I knew anything, I knew I was a girl.”
Her mother smiled. ““I’m going to tell you a story. You were probably two or so, and we were in that children’s store, you know the one, and you pointed at a velvet Christmas dress and said, ‘I want,’ and I held it up to you and you grinned from ear to ear and…my heart broke. I almost let you try it on but I was afraid that you or Steffie would tell your father. But, my heart broke that you couldn’t have it, you were meant to have it. And I hated that the universe or whatever screwed up and made you you and Jordan Jordan, instead of the other way around.”
“Jordan’s really happy, y’know.”
“I know. And I’m glad you three get along so well. I wish I had taken bets on it when you were kids, we wouldn’t need them anymore, but despite our best efforts, you three seem really happy. In between yelling at me, your sister sent me a picture of the three of you at dinner that Thursday and you really look like you love each other.”
“We do.”
“And when I showed that picture to Jennifer, she asked me why I couldn’t accept three happy children who love each other. She asked if I thought they loved each other.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “That’d be a no.”
Her mother laughed. “I thought you were the nice one,” she teased.
Emily allowed herself to laugh. “There are exceptions to every rule,” and then she got serious. “But when you had the chance to accept me, you didn’t. You told me to get out and never come back. And then you did it again. And again.”
“Emily, again, I apologize. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to hear it, but I mean it. I’m jealous that Jeannie gets my daughter, and that she deserves to get you.”
“I don’t want it to be a competition. I never did.”
Now, her mother looked confused. “What?”
Emily started to tear up, everything she had spent six years getting over breaching her defenses. She sobbed, “All I ever wanted was to be loved by you, the real me. You used to love me and when you stopped, it really killed me. When I got out here and I was all by myself, I cried. And when my first boyfriend broke up with me, and I got my first job, and when my roommate’s mom came to visit, it killed me. I needed you. I had Stef and Jordan and my friends, and they’re all great but they’re not you, they’re not my mother and I knew that I would never have a mother again, that the woman I thought loved me unconditionally, didn’t. And I learned to deal, but I never got over it. And now you’re here telling me again that I’m not your daughter, that I’m Jeannie’s, and I love Jeannie and Rob more than anything, and I should probably never have made this call and…”
Through eyes blurred with tears, she saw her mother crying, then hitting herself in the head. “I messed, no I fucked up, bad. I really and truly fucked up. I get my heart back and I keep fucking it up.”
“Huh?”
Her mother cried, and then wiped her eyes. “Emily, you were me. Stef came out of the womb telling me what to do. Jordan is your father. You were me. You were a people pleaser, you just wanted everyone to be happy and then this family shit all over you and I let them, and now you call me, and I thank you for that, I didn’t have the guts, I keep saying one stupid thing after another. But I never stopped loving you. I was angry, I was hurt, I was, and I’m ashamed to say this, worried about what everyone would say, and I hated that you had to leave, that I made you leave, but you were always my sweet one, my silly one, and even if you rightfully tell me to go to hell now, you’re always going to be that.”
“I am so lost right now,” Emily said.
“Emily, I don’t think you realize how much Jeannie has been beating me up. Stef too, but that’s nothing new, but Jeannie has told me how wonderful you are, how she’s not worried anymore about Liam being across the country, because his big sister will be there. And everything you've done for her with everything with Robbie…”
“I can't even imagine…”
“Don't try. And she told me about the day you spent walking around Westwood and I was jealous…”
“You know that’s all I ever wanted, right?”
“Huh?”
“Whenever you and Stef and Jackie and them would go shopping downtown, all I ever wanted to do was come with you. You’d come back laughing and sharing inside jokes, and I knew that I was supposed to be there, not at some hockey game or whatever. That I was supposed to be with you, not in some foreign country where I’d never speak the language. So, when I got to do it with Jeannie, it was amazing. I was finally where I was supposed to be.”
“Wow. I wish you could’ve been with us. I know Jordan did.” Emily sat there, unsure what to say, and her mother continued, “And Rob, don’t get me started on Rob, he thinks you walk on water.” Emily grinned, remembering their dinner last month. “And you know what he told me and your father? ‘After everything you did to her, she could’ve become bitter or angry. And she isn’t. She is the sweetest person I’ve ever met. And everyone loves her. Except you two idiots.’”
“Wow,” Emily said. “I, just, wow,” and she felt a warm feeling suffuse her.
“Emily, I don’t expect you to trust us. God knows, I wouldn’t. But I’d like to end the war.”
Emily looked at her. “What about all the horrible stuff you said to me when Jeannie was here? You know biology and pathetic and all of that? What are you trying to tell me? You never believed that? Sorry but no.”
“I was wrong. I was cruel and nasty and just plain wrong.”
“But it's what you believe. You were pretty clear, crystal clear actually.”
“It's not what I believe. Not anymore, I'm not sure that I ever really did, but I don't now certainly.”
She studied her mother. She considered herself a good actress, someone who could see the lie in someone's eyes, and she was coming up blank. Is she telling the truth, she wondered, or am I just a pathetic loser? “So why did you say it?”
“Jennifer says when I get scared or surprised, I lash out.” She didn't break eye contact.
Emily took a deep breath, started to speak, then took another deep breath. Don't just speak, that's what she does, think first. “Don't tell me what she thinks. Tell me why you did it, why you were laughing when you made me cry. Why you always laugh when you hurt me the worst.” Her mother took a deep breath and sat there, unblinking and silent. “Well? I knew you were lying.” Well, at least, I tried, she thought.
“If I made everyone hate me, I wouldn't have to hate myself so much.”
“What?”
“If everyone saw me as a horrible mother, a total bitch, I could blame them instead of putting the blame where it belongs.”
Emily sneered, “More Jennifer?”
“I deserve that. No, I realized it in the car last week, on the way home from J…my appointment. And I knew it when I talked about lashing out, but I was afraid that if I told you that I was terrible, you'd hang up for good,” and she started crying.
Do not buy into this, she's faking. You'll fall for it and then she'll laugh in your face again and you can't deal with that again. Well, you can but you don't want to, shouldn't have to, Em told herself. She watched her cry into her hands for a couple of minutes, not sure why she didn't hang up. If this was closure, why did she feel like such shit?
Her mother stopped, then looked up, eyes bright red. “Emily, you don't have to keep away from me. I promise I'll keep away from you. You've been a great sister, a great niece and I'm sure you'd be a great daughter to parents who deserve you. I want to end the war but realize that you can't start a war and then decide when to end it and asking you was absolutely unacceptable.”
Emily sighed, kicking herself, “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”
Her mother smiled weakly, “That’s all we can ask.”
“You know, this doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to be at the wedding - as a bridesmaid.’
Her mother smiled. “You’re her baby sister. Of course, you’re a bridesmaid. Do I think she’s being irrational about not having Stacy and Mia, that’s it’s not tacky?”
Emily laughed a little, “Don’t even try to involve me in that.”
Her mother laughed, “Good, your sister’s your sister for life. Always remember that.”
“How’s Jackie?” Not that she cared.
“She told me not to fuck up this call. Am I fucking up?”
Emily gave a small grin. “So far, no.”
Her mother laughed again. “I guess this is a consequence of letting you spend so much time with Stef.”
Emily got serious. “I mean, I’m willing to try, really willing, but there are rules. First, I’m a girl, I mean, a woman.”
Her mother laughed. “That’s rather obvious.”
“And my name is Emily.”
“That’s a great name. It suits you. Why Emily?”
“I just liked it.”
Her mother said, “I like it, too. It’s a sunny name. Do you have a middle name?”
“Claire.” Her mother made a face. “You and Uncle Rob! What do you have against Claire?”
“Molly Ringwald’s character in the Breakfast Club was Claire and she was horrible. Also, that girl he dated was draining.”
“Well, anyway, that’s my name. Emily Claire Berrigan.”
“Berrigan?” Her mother looked confused.
“Uh huh, Berrigan.”
“How did you choose that?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. Where did that come from?”
“You really don’t know?”
“Of course I don’t know, otherwise why would I keep on asking?”
“I was in like third grade and we had to do a genealogy project, remember? Anyway, I went to Grandma Linda, who told me about her great-great-great or maybe it was four greats grandmother, Mary Berrigan, who came here alone when she was fifteen and worked as a maid and made this whole life for herself on her own and I always thought that was really amazing,” and she saw her mother start crying, “what?”
Her mother wiped her eyes. “I bet she’d be proud of you.”
Emily looked down, “I hope so.”
Her mother smiled. “Enough of that, Stef told me you looked at bridesmaids’ dresses.”
“You really want to hear about this? Really?” Her mother rolled her hand in the air. “Anyway, I know I don’t want floor length, I wore it in a play once and it made me look really short,” which got a smile. “Anyway, I saw this pale green tea length dress, sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline and I really want that…”
Her mother kept smiling. “That would be perfect for you, but that’s not a great color for Jamie and Arden’s self-conscious about her arms, something to do with her mother. Anyway, you’ll find something that works for all of you or more likely none of you really. What does Stef think?”
“She said we could decide.” Her mother went ‘pfft,’ and she said, “What? She really said that!”
“When has Stef ever let anyone make a decision that she disagreed with?”
“Hey! She’s been amazing to me!”
“I know she has. It’s her job. Anyway, what did you think of the Botanic Garden?”
“I really liked it. All the flowers and plants and light, it felt really happy and hopeful. And that’s what a wedding should be. Happy and hopeful and full of love.”
“Oh god, I’ve missed your sunshine. That’s what my grandma used to call you, her little sunshine. You probably don’t remember her, she died when you were three, but she would poke you in the belly and you would giggle and giggle, and she called you her ‘little sunshine.’” Then, she took a breath, “What did Jared have to say?”
“He liked it.”
“Was he given a choice?”
Emily smiled, “I think so?”
“Like a North Korean election. Still, I’d like to see it before the wedding…”
Emily laughed, “Still not getting involved.”
“Coward,” her mother laughed.
“You call me a coward, I call me smart.”
“Can I ask you something, if it’s not too weird?”
Emily took a breath, “Oh boy.”
“Can I ask you to back up, so I can really see you?”
“Huh?”
“I want to see my daughter.”
“Ummm, k.” She got up and took a few steps back. “Does that work for you?”
She saw her mother stare. “Wow.”
“What?”
“I didn’t realize it but…”
Emily smiled. “Yeah, I’ve heard it too.”
“I mean Mia is Jackie, but…wow. I really screwed up, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but if we’re going to try and get past this, you need to stop saying that. If it’s gonna work, it will and if it’s not, it won’t, but we need to start fresh. Both of us.”
“Agreed. You really are a beautiful young woman.”
Emily felt herself turn red. “OK, stop.”
“Can I ask a personal question?”
Emily took a breath and sighed. “I reserve the right not to answer.”
“So I was reading online and they said that most trans women don’t usually get bigger than an AA cup without implants and you look…”
Emily felt herself turn purple. “Oh god. I cannot believe I’m having this conversation with you…”
“I’ll stop.”
“No, god knows my roommate’s mom asks her stuff and I need…well, anyway, I’m a full B cup usually, once in a while C, but usually B. And to stop the next question, these are mine, as are my hips and butt. My doctor said it’s a combination of the fact that I started hormones young, that I had low levels of testosterone and above average levels of estrogen, genetics,” and her mother smiled, “and dumb luck. And that is the last time we’re discussing this, understood?”
Her mother began laughing. “Well, there’s one rite of passage out of the way. Your mother asking you embarrassing questions about your body. Grandma Linda gave me a lecture about birth control after my first boyfriend and it involved her and Grandpa Frank,” and Emily winced. “Exactly! I thought, ‘don’t worry, I’d be too humiliated to have sex now.’”
“We are not having that discussion. Just in case you were wondering.” Her mother laughed. “I have to tell you, what you said about Duncan really, really hurt me. It was like everything I’ve ever thought was in the back of every boyfriend’s mind came to life.”
“I was an absolute bitch. I am sorry. Stef told me he was your first love and I pulled that.” Emily sighed and shrugged. “When my first boyfriend broke up with me, Grandma said, ‘you can’t have rainbows without rain.’”
Emily laughed. “Stef told me that. No offense, it’s kinda stupid.”
“It’s not kinda anything, it's stupid. I told it to her out of tradition. Plus it distracts you,” she laughed. “I don't expect anything to quickly change much, but I really do want to try. So does your father.”
“I can try. I wanna try. I really do.”
“Me too. I really am just worried about them, for you.”
“I told you that I’m coming no matter what.”
“I know you are. I wouldn’t let you not come.”
“So why do you keep talking about it?” Each woman twirled a lock of hair around her right index finger.
“Because I’m afraid. And I can’t say anything to your father, because, well, you get it. And I’m not about to have this discussion with your sister. She’s been very clear about her feelings.”
Emily laughed, “Stef? No!”
“You really are me,” she laughed. “Mostly nice, but…what’s that behind you?”
Emily turned around. “Huh?”
“The dress on the door. It’s cute.”
“The white one? Or the green one?”
“The white one. Can I see it on you?”
“Huh?”
“I want to see it, on you. Can I or is that too weird?” No weirder than the rest of this. Emily shrugged, turned off her camera, put on the dress, and turned it back on. “You look gorgeous.”
“Umm, thanks. You don’t have to keep complimenting me.”
“If I didn’t like it, you’d know,” she laughed. “But I love it. It is so you. Stef couldn’t pull it off. It’s too sweet for her.”
“Ouch!”
“I love your sister more than life itself, but she’s not exactly…”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Do you have white sandals? Kitten heels?”
“Um, yeah. That’s what I was going to wear.”
Her mother sighed. “It’s like looking in a mirror, a thirty year old mirror.” Emily shrugged. “I know, it happens. Tell me about your roommate. Jeannie says she’s wonderful.”
“Marissa. She is. We’ve lived together since sophomore year. She's in the other room.”
“So she’s your Arden?”
“Huh,” she smiled, “I guess so. I never really thought about it like that, but yeah.”
“What about being an actress?”
Emily shrugged, “What about it?”
“What’s it like?”
“I mean, I dunno. It’s a lot of rejection but I kinda like it.”
“I watched the commercial, we both did. You were very good.”
“Thanks. I waited tables for six years.”
Her mother smiled, “Is that what they call method acting?”
Emily almost laughed. “I had to support myself somehow.”
Her mother looked at her. “At least you got tips.”
“Huh?”
She smiled, “Four years, I worked at Burger King. Itchy polyester uniform, cleaning bathrooms, smelling like grease when you get home. All for $3.35 an hour, a whole $3.75 when I got a raise after six months. So spare me your sob stories.”
“Yeah, well…sorry.”
“That’s why I never would take you kids there. PTSD,” she laughed. “Anyway, what's going on with the movie?”
Emily shrugged, “They need money for post, post-production, editing, that kind of stuff, and then it has to get into festivals. We'll see. It was a good experience. What's new with you? How's work?” She figured keeping it anodyne was best, no risk of her pulling out the rug from under her.
“It's good. Gerald, Mr. Donato, is finally retiring.”
“That's good. Isn't he like 80?”
“82. His wife is making him, I'm pretty sure. What does your firm do?”
“Mostly corporate, some litigation.” I can live with this.
“Do you like it? How are the lawyers? You know how bad they can be.”
“It's good. I mean, if, when my acting hits, I'm gone, but I get good benefits and my boss is really good about auditions and stuff. Most of the lawyers are good, a couple of jerks.”
“Out of how many?”
“40.”
“The odds don't get better than that. Tell me about school.”
“I graduated with a BFA in acting last year,” not that you were there.
“You made good friends, I hear.”
“I did. I really did. They really supported me.”
“That's really wonderful,” and she wiped away a tear. “I'm so, so, so, sorry, Emily. I really am.”
“Please stop. Please. I've spent six years accepting that I didn't have you when I needed you. I can't revisit it, I don't want to either.”
“I.. I just…I mean, no I understand.”
“Thank you. We can't go backwards.”
“We can't. And it's not healthy to try.”
“More Jennifer?”
“Grandma. She says hello.”
“OK.” Her mother gave her a look. “She cut me off.”
“That was my f…”
Emily held up her hand. “It was, but it was her fault too. She didn’t need to cut me off completely. She could’ve called me, texted, emailed, anything, but she didn’t. Neither did Jackie or Stacy or Mia. They were adults, what did they have to lose? Stef and Jordan had a lot more to lose and they didn’t cut me off. So, I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but I could’ve really, really used her. I knew that dad’s parents hated me, they made that clear early and often, but I thought your mother and Jackie loved me and they didn’t. So, I mean I’ll ask how they are because they’re your family but, honestly, I’m really, really angry at them and I can’t pretend I’m not.”
“They do love you,” her mother said softly, “please don’t blame them for me.”
“I’m blaming them for them. I mean, I’ll be perfectly nice and polite at the wedding…”
Her mother smiled, “I know you will…”
“But, again, I can’t just forgive and forget.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes, good. People have to earn your respect, your forgiveness, you don’t just give that away.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, Emily. I didn’t do anything worthy of thanks. I like Emily. She stands up for herself.”
Emily felt herself turn red. “I kinda have to.”
Her mother smiled, “Every woman has to, even if most don’t. I’m sorry you learned it harder than most of us.”
“Do you really consider me a woman? This isn’t just to make peace for the wedding?”
Her mother sighed. “Emily, yes, I do. I really have spent a lot of time on this. When I watched you, I saw a girl, a young woman. Not a man in a dress, not a man pretending, not an effeminate man, I saw a young woman. Everything - gestures, language, movement - about you is female. You're no more male than me or Steffie.”
“I…”
“Emily, again, I wish I had realized it sooner. You were always my little girl, Steffie was my daughter, but you were my little girl, my kitchen helper, my singing buddy. Can I tell you another story? You were three or four and we were in the supermarket and you were talking about pretend time at preschool, and this woman, older, probably my age now, came over and said, ‘what an imaginative little girl, were you a princess,’ and I held my breath, then you said, ‘no, my friend Lexie was. She was Sleeping Beauty and she has blonde hair like spun silk like the girl in Rumplestilskin,’ my teacher just read that to us,’ and you went on and on.”
“That poor woman…”
Her mother laughed, “Said how imaginative you were and how I should ‘never let her lose that spark.’”
“Really?”
“Yup, she called you an adorable little doll.”
“And you didn't correct her?”
“About what? You were an adorable little doll.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Maybe I knew it then too.
“Uh huh. Was there a Lexie in my class? I don’t remember her.”
Her mother smiled, “You made her up,” then, “I almost took you for a mother-daughter day and I hate that we never did.”
“We couldn't, I know that.”
“I know you and Stephanie used to dress up. I only wish I could have seen you in Stef’s dress for the dance.”
“Excuse me, what?”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Emily, I know your sister thinks she’s smarter than me, but come on. One day, it’s downstairs and the next day it’s in her closet. Did she think I’d think she was taking a walk down memory lane?” Emily turned red, and her mother said, “What were you thinking when you did it?”
Emily looked at her mirror, then said, “it was the first time I liked my reflection.”
“I cannot apologize enough…”
Emily thought about what Claire had said. “Don't. There's no way I could've done anything. It's not like you should've let me go to school in a dress. Life was bad enough.”
Her mother started crying, “You don't need to absolve me…”
“I'm not. You did a lot wrong, really, really wrong, but I'm not stupid or suicidal. As much as I dreamed about it, I wouldn't have made it off the bus. My friend Claire taught me that.”
Her mother took a deep breath. “Do you ever…”
“No. I'm incredibly lucky that I've read female for almost five years. A lot of people I know aren't so lucky and I hate it.” Her mother sat there silently. “I know you don't understand.”
Her mother picked at her cuticles. “No one should ever have to worry about that.”
“That's not what you said on the phone.”
The color drained from her mother's face. “I…can't, won't even try to defend my behavior and please say whatever you need to say.”
“There's nothing to say. You said what you were thinking, what you were feeling.”
“Like I said, I truly don't feel that way anymore.”
“I hope so.”
Her mother exhaled. “I'm going to try and earn your trust. But I really think we need a plan for them, one that doesn't necessarily involve pepper spray.”
Emily shrugged, “They used to hurt me because I wanted them to like me, but I don't anymore, so they'll say what they'll say. No worse than I've heard right wing assholes say around Pride.”
“I'm not afraid of what they'll say, who cares, it reflects on them. I am afraid of what they'll do and no amount of talking about it is going to make that better.”
“I will never, ever be alone. Not the whole day. I'll try and always be with a guy, Liam or Rob or whoever, but I can't be afraid of them. They made the first 17 years of my life hell but I won't let them do that anymore.”
“I hope you're right.”
Me too, she thought, me too.
—
She went into Marissa's room and sat on her bed. “Well, that's done.”
“That bad?”
“No, it's just more like, I just y’know don't know if I can trust her.”
Marissa gave her a hug. “You don't have to do anything with her, not unless you want to. She has to prove she deserves you, not the other way around. So what did she say?”
Emily repeated everything, Marissa stopping her on the dress. “She really had you try it on? That's weird.”
“It gets weirder,” and she told her the supermarket story.
Marissa laughed, “So little Emily told really long stories too?”
Emily laughed, “Shut up. That's not what I meant.”
Marissa laughed, then said, “It sounds like she wants to try, that she knows she fucked up bad. You know if I thought it was bull, I'd say so.”
“What if you're wrong? I couldn't deal with that.”
“Em,” and she put her arm around her, “it's not first year anymore. You have me and Shaye and everyone, plus you know now that you can do it. She's just someone trying. If she pisses you off, you can tell her off or cut her out and you know we'll all be here for you, plus your aunt and uncle and Liam.”
“I just…”
“Seriously, Em, you can do it. Did she ask you about y’know?”
Emily laughed, “Thank God, no, I stopped that, although she did ask me about my boobs.”
Marissa's eyes widened, “No! Like what did she ask you?”
“Are they real,” Emily laughed.
“That's weird AF. Like you know mine is way too invested in my period and shit, but you ask your own daughter if she has fake tits?” And she shuddered. “Did you answer her?”
“Yup, I think she liked it when I said genetics helped. Like she gave me these or something. Anyway, I guess I don't really have a choice here, I mean if I want to avoid drama at the wedding.”
“Just remember, you control the pace, not her.”
Emily shrugged and gave her a hug, “Thanks, Riss.”
“You're welcome. Do I have hair like spun silk like in Rumplestilskin?”
Emily picked up a pillow and threw it at her.
—-
“Don’t make me regret this,” Stef said to her mother, as they approached the Botanic Garden three weeks later. Against her better judgment, she had agreed to let her parents look at the wedding venue on the day that they were choosing menus.
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” her mother said, rolling her eyes. “I promise to behave myself,” she said, in a singsong, then, “I thought it would be at least 30 years before we’d switch roles, but you were always ahead for your age.”
“Laura,” her father laughed, “sounds familiar?”
She looked at him, “Completely different,” then she smiled. “Your father is developing Alzheimer's because he seems to remember a conversation between me and my mother around our wedding, but they're nothing alike. Besides, she wasn't rational.”
Stef looked at Jared, “Much different.”
Jared looked at her. “I'm staying out of this.”
Her father put his arm around Jared and she was shocked at the difference. Jared looked good, had gym muscles but, even with fifteen extra pounds, her father was just…bigger. “It took you how long, but you've finally learned to stay out of it,” and everyone laughed.
“So we’re looking at the menus today?” Laura asked.
“I told her to bring out the colors and table stuff as well,” even though she had already chosen hydrangeas and peonies, since the wedding was in the fall. “Believe it or not, I do value your opinion. I just wanted…”
Her mother smiled, “To do it yourself. “Jared, what is it your family always says?”
“Ma Nishtana?” From the seder, why is this night different from all other nights?
“That’s it,” and they walked in. Her mother looked around, “It really is beautiful here. It really is light and hopeful. Honestly, if Emily told me she was getting married here, it would make more sense.”
“Hey! I’m light and hopeful!” Just then, a willowy blonde woman in a blue dress came over and gave Stef an air kiss. “Hi, Stef! Jared!”
“Hi, Cara, this is my mom, Laura and my dad Doug. Guys, this is Cara, she’s the wedding manager here.”
Cara gave Stef a glance, then, “So, Stef wanted you to see what she was thinking about…” She led them through the building, “So, this is how your guests will enter, they'll see all the beautiful plants and flowers, obviously, you wouldn't be here if we didn't have these, they change depending on the season, we’ll have someone with champagne…”
Her father looked at Stef, “We’ll discuss that later.”
“It’s not that much, Mr. Nehlen.”
He held up his hand, “I’m sure. Something else, don’t worry.”
Cara looked at Stef, who shrugged, “Regardless, they’ll go to the Rose Terrace,” and she walked them through to it, her mother and father looking around, “for the ceremony.”.
“This is beautiful,” her mother said, leaning over to sniff a rose, which made Stef look at Cara and shrug. “This is gorgeous. How will it look in October though?”
Cara kept smiling. “Don’t worry. There are always roses here. Plus the leaves on the trees will have turned, which makes this ablaze with color.” Stef wondered how she was able to say that with a straight face.
“What if it rains?”
Stef looked at Cara, who said, “Well, weather happens and if it does, we’ll take everything inside to the pavilion.”
“Now,” and she walked them around, “here’s where the chairs will be set up for the ceremony, the chuppah, canopy, will be here. Imagine a trellis with flowers creeping up, and then leading to the cover. Jared, you mentioned something about using your tallit?”
Jared looked around, then said, “Uh yeah, so Doug and Laura, if you don’t mind,” which got a glare from Stef, “it’s kind of tradition in my family that everyone gets married under my grandfather’s tallis, his prayer shawl, and I’d kinda like to honor his memory that way.”
Her mother looked at him, “Even though Stef’s not Jewish? Your aunt won’t mind?” Which got a hissed, ‘ma…’
Jared smiled, “Michelle will deal or she won’t. I’m sure she’ll make snarky comments at the cocktail hour or whatever but my grandma said, when we brought that up, ‘ma nishtana’,” which got a laugh from Laura and Doug.
“And here is where the processional will start. Dad, this is where you and mom will start the walk down the aisle with Stef, everyone will turn around and ooh and aah.” Stef’s mother looked around, while her dad just gave a little smile then looked down.
“Then, you’ll stand here, the officiant will do what the officiant does, break the glass, if you’re doing that, kiss, kiss,” and Stef noticed how her father just kept looking at her with a small smile, “and then the cocktail hour will be over here. Passed hors d'oeuvres, the bar will be over here…”
Her dad smiled, “Will there be pigs in the blanket,” which got a sighed, ‘dad,’ from Stef and ‘Doug’ from Laura, then, “excuse my husband.”
“People like them,” he said.
Cara laughed, “In the entire time I’ve been in the wedding business, I can count on one hand the number of times a dad hasn’t asked that. Don’t worry, Mr. Nehlen. Stef and Jared told me that was a redline for you, I’ll make sure they come to you first,” and she winked, which got an eye roll from her mother.
“After an hour, we’ll take the guests to the McKinley Pavilion,” and she walked them into an outdoor space with a roof but no walls, and before anyone could speak, “if the weather doesn’t cooperate, there will be glass walls, so your guests can look onto the gardens and lake, but not get wet.”
Stef looked at her parents, “She’s done this before, you can tell.”
“No! Really?” Her mother said.
Cara kept smiling, “Stef, it’s a legitimate question. If it’s cold, we’ll have space heaters also. The goal is to make sure that everyone goes home happy, talking about how wonderful the wedding was,” then, “and here’s where the dance floor will be. Dad, here’s where the two of you will do the father-daughter dance,” and he just nodded, and kept looking around.
Cara took everyone to look at the menus and Doug excused himself. He walked out and stood looking at the lake. “Excuse me. Go ahead, and show her the menus, I’ll be right back.”
Stef walked out to where her father stood. “You OK, dad?”
He didn’t look at her, “Mmm hmmm.”
“Is something bothering you? Was it the champagne when guests came in? It’s not that much, we don’t have to have it.”
“Nothing’s bothering me, we’ll talk about that later,” he said, staring out.
She went over and touched his hand. “What’s wrong? Something’s wrong, You don’t like this place. I know, it’s all the flowers and stuff and you don’t want to listen…”
“I like the flowers just fine, it’s a wedding, weddings have flowers, everyone knows that.”
“Then, what is it? I’ll be nice to her the rest of the day, no matter what she does,” she laughed.
He put his arm around her and wordlessly pulled her in tight to him. After a minute, he said, still looking at the lake, “We should probably get back over there. I don’t want to be rude.”
She looked at him, “I love you, daddy.”
“I love you too,” and they walked back over to where her mother and Jared sat. Her mother looked at her father, “So they’ve chosen chicken and salmon for the entrees. Will you be OK if there’s no meat, Doug?”
“Mmm hmmm.”
“You sure,” and she gave Stef a look.
“Yup, it’s fine. It’s not the worst thing to eat less red meat, I’ve heard.”
“OK,” she said, drawing out the words. “Cara said that they’re going to bring out samples of hors d'oeuvres and desserts. You’ll like that.”
Her dad looked at Cara, “Thanks. I mean, that sounds great,” and he looked at Jared, then Stef, then Jared again.
They sampled the hors d’oeuvres, her mother being satisfied with everything except, inexplicably, a beef skewer and a middle eastern cheese ‘cigar,’ which got a “Maaa. We had a deal. Besides, it’s meat on a stick, how can you object to meat on a stick?”
“I just said I didn’t like the flavor. I can’t have an opinion. Jared, what do you think?”
“Nope, not getting in the middle of this, nope,” and he looked at Doug, who laughed.
When Cara showed the centerpieces to them, her mother said, “Hydrangeas and peonies?”
Stef looked at her, “It’s the season for them. I like the idea of something seasonal.”
“Fine…”
“What?” With that, Jared moved away. “What’s,” and she imitated her, “fine?”
“I would’ve thought you’d want roses. I mean, this place is known for its roses.”
“And there are lots of them. This is something different and see, it’s really pretty.”
“Again, fine.”
“I should not have let Emmy convince me…”
“Excuse me, what?” Her mother smiled.
“Nothing.”
“Cara,” Jared said, “can you show me where the DJ will be again?”
“Chicken,” her father said, as he followed them.
“They’re gone. Emily convinced you?”
Stef sighed, then said, “Yeah, she actually said I was being mean not letting you be involved, that you had a right to see everything.”
“Really?”
“I told you. She’s really sweet and she really hated it when you threw her out.”
“I apologized profusely.”
“I know you did. I’m just letting you know that she stood up for you.”
Her mother smiled, “So, if she hadn’t pushed, I wouldn’t be here?”
“I didn’t say that,” Stef shifted nervously, “I just…you know what? You don’t like the beef skewers, we’ll have something else.”
“If you like them, have them. I wasn’t planning on eating one of everything,” she laughed.
“Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”
“Ha ha.”
“Kidding. Anyway, we’ll see if we have them. What’s with dad and the champagne? Of all the stuff I figured would bother him…”
She looked over at everyone, Jared talking to Cara and Doug standing there quietly, “I have no idea. What did he say when you went out to him?”
Stef looked at him, “Nothing. I told him I understood if he didn’t like this place because of all the flowers, because, y’know, I figured someone would say something, and he just said weddings have flowers and kept looking at the lake. Weird.”
“I’ll ask later and let you know. He wasn’t upset in the car or anything. Let’s go rescue Cara.”
Her mother smiled, “Thank you, Cara. This is beautiful and everything looks wonderful…”
“Again, who are you and what did you do with my mother?” Everyone laughed, even Laura.
“I know that this will be a perfect day for Steffie and Jared, right, Doug?”
“Mmm hmmm,” and he looked at Stef and then out at the lake. “Yup. It will be.”
Cara gave a little laugh, “Ah, the strong silent type. Well, anyway, if you have any questions, Stef has my contact info,” and she walked away.
“OK, Doug, what’s up? You’ve been quiet since we got here.”
He smiled, “Like I’ve told Jared a hundred times, I’m not getting involved.”
“Yeah, fine, dad, but what’s up? What’s with the champagne?”
“Hey Jared, you mind going over there?”
Jared looked at Laura and Stef, who both shrugged, “Sure, no worries.”
“OK, what, dad? What’s the big secret?”
“Do we really want to give Trev and P.J. and that skank P.J. dates the chance to get drunk before the ceremony? I’m worried enough about that as is.”
“Huh?”
“You know what. They’re going to be bad enough about Emily as is, do we want to add more alcohol to this?”
“Is that what was bothering you all day, Doug?”
“OK, dad, so we won’t have champagne. Seriously though, what’s up? You didn’t even eat all of everything before we had a chance,” she teased, “Are you feeling OK? Should we take you to the hospital?”
He just took her hand and smiled weakly, “Yeah, that was it. The champagne. We’re all good,” and he gave her another hug.
Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old woman, who hasn't seen her twin in six years. Not since she told her parents the truth and they threw her out. Now her older sister is getting married and she wants Emily there...as a bridesmaid. Will sparks fly?
---
In this chapter, Emily comes to Chicago for the wedding weekend, confronts her mother's family and meets Jared's.
---
After six hours in traffic and in the air, Emily landed at O’Hare. She had tried to get a flight out of Burbank - it was closer, smaller and parking was cheaper, but she would’ve had to connect in Denver and she didn’t want to risk losing her luggage, which left an hour and a half getting to, and through, the hellscape that is LAX. She deplaned and went down to baggage claim, alternating flicking through her phone and staring at the carousel. When she took her suitcase off, she heard, “Emily!”
She saw Jeannie coming in and grinned, giving her a big hug and kiss. “Ohmigosh! You really didn't have to do this. I mean it's way early and I could've taken the train or a cab.”
“I wanted to spend some time with you, especially since the weekend is going to be crazy.”
“Yeah, but you're going to have to get Liam too…” Liam had told her he would've flown with her except he had a class that morning he couldn't skip.
“Stop. I'll spend some time with you and then get him on my way back, unless you don't want to,” she grinned.
“Please, like there's anyone else I wanted to spend time with more,” and she gave her another hug, then, “I'm not making a mistake by doing this, right?” ‘This’ being meeting her grandmother, aunt and cousins. “I mean I didn't want anything to ruin Stef's day. I want it to be perfect and I was not going to let my drama ruin her day. Hers and Jared’s, I mean.”
Jeannie laughed, “I'm sure he'd appreciate being included.”
“I'm not making a mistake, right? You don't think my mom and Stef made them do this?”
“For the tenth time, no. Stef would never do that to you and your mom’s really happy that you two are talking, that you're letting her come with you to get room gifts, she told me, and she would never sabotage that by sandbagging you. Whatever else she may be, she’s not that.”
Emily smiled. “That’s a defense.”
“You know what I meant,” she laughed. “She has her baby back and she's not giving you up.”
Emily shrugged, “Maybe. So, anyway, the velvet dress I showed you is good for the rehearsal, right?” She was meeting Jared's parents for the first time and couldn't decide what to wear.
“No. We talked about this. Come on,” and then she grinned.
“Shut up. I just want to make a good impression.”
Jeannie kept smiling. “You always make a good impression.”
“I'm just…”
“Don't be..anyway, what's going with what's-her-name?” With that, Emily started describing an ongoing argument with a co-worker.
—
Emily stood nervously in her jeans and teal sweater over white cotton button down, Nikes on her feet. This was a mistake, she knew it was a mistake and she had only compounded the mistake by telling Jeannie ‘I can handle this.’ She practiced breathing, hoping her nervousness didn't show through. Then, she thought, whatever. You didn't have them before, you won't have them after, who cares. Then, as she was going to the other hand, she saw them walk in, her grandmother, aunt and cousins and saw her grandmother grip her aunt’s arm tightly.
They all approached her and Emily broke the silence with, “Hello.”
Her cousin Stacy turned to Aunt Jackie and laughed, “Did you get pregnant again and we missed it?”
Jackie spoke first “Thank you for agreeing to meet us…”
“Yes, and for giving your mother - and hopefully the rest of us, another chance, we don't deserve it,” her grandmother interrupted. She moved to give Em a hug and she held her hand out. Her grandmother’s shoulders slumped and she said, “I understand.” Em felt her stomach drop and she cursed herself for that.
Her aunt went to open her mouth and Em looked at her, “Why did you all do it?”
Jackie looked at her, “Your mother was acting irrationally and instead of telling her to snap out of it and do the right thing, we caved. It's absolutely unacceptable but it's the truth.”
Emily felt herself tearing up, then stopped, “I really needed you guys,” and she turned to her grandmother, “especially you. I was alone and afraid and you just cut me off without anything, and I was only 17 and I wondered what I did to make you hate me so much that you couldn't even say goodbye, much less not say goodbye.”
“Emily, first, I never hated you. I never did and I never will. Like your aunt said, we caved. I not only failed as a grandmother, I failed as a mother. I should've looked at your mother and said your daughter needs you so get your head out of your behind and take care of her and, more importantly, I should've looked in the mirror and told myself the same thing. I didn't. And when I finally realized I was wrong, I was too embarrassed to call you. If you want to tell us it's too little, too late, you should, we deserve it, but I hope you won't.”
If this was victory, Emily felt awful. And she looked at the woman before her, the one that called her her ‘little star’ and who baked her cookies and whose hugs had always made Emily feel like she was before a roaring fire on a snowy day, cup of hot chocolate in hand. Emily looked at the floor, “I'll tell you what I told mom, I'll try my hardest but I make no guarantees, I can't.”
Her aunt stood next to her and rubbed her shoulder, “We know, Emily. We're glad you're willing to try,”
Mia laughed, “Your sister wouldn't.” Her grandmother, aunt and Stacy laughed.
“Hey! That's not fair! Ok, well, it's not nice,” Em laughed.
Her grandmother moved Jackie out of the way and rubbed her shoulder some more. “Emily Claire, your mother can't stand that name, for some reason, I like it,” she laughed, “I want you to know that whatever you need to get off your chest, you say it, no matter what. But I also want you to know that we are all so excited to finally have the real Emily.”
“You really mean that? If you don't, just tell me. I can't have that toxicity in my life.”
Stacy looked at her, “Emily, as far as I was concerned, you were always Emily. We cut you off because we were more concerned with not listening to your mother and that was an absolutely shitty thing to do. I’ll apologize as many times as you’ll let me.”
Emily looked at her, “Thanks but you know what? I can’t go backwards and I don’t want to. I told my mother that this will happen or it won’t, but going backwards isn’t good for me.”
Mia looked at her. “Did you tell your dad’s family that?” she laughed.
In spite of herself, Emily smiled. “And THAT is place number one that I don’t want to go,” which made everyone laugh.
Jackie looked at her. “You’re one of us. Steffie got Nehlen hair, but you’re one of us.”
“Again, do you really mean that or did my mom put you up to this?”
Before Emily could speak, her grandmother said, “You are my granddaughter. My beautiful granddaughter. That's it. When I came in before and saw you, I don't think I felt as happy since I saw you in the hospital when you were born,” then she reached into her bag and pulled out a long box and handed it to Em.
“What’s this?” She slid a nail under the wrapping, opened the box and looked at the gold butterfly necklace with small emeralds. “Ohmigosh, it’s beautiful.”
Her grandmother came over and said ‘may I,’ as she put the necklace around Em’s neck. “I get all of my granddaughters a gemstone necklace when they turn 21. Sorry I’m late.”
“Butterflies are my spirit animal, how did you know?”
Mia looked at her. “I remember babysitting you when you and Jordan were four or so. Jordan was busy tearing around our backyard and you saw a butterfly and just smiled, and looked at it until it flew away. Oh yeah, that and Steffie told us all how much you liked them.”
She hugged her grandmother without thinking. “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” and she looked at her reflection in the chrome of the espresso machine.
“Emily, I'm going to earn back your trust and your love and so is Jackie and so are your cousins.”
“I'll try my hardest too,” Emily said.
Jackie looked at her, “We do the work, not you. You just keep being you and giving me diabetes,” and she winked.
“Hey!” She looked at her reflection in the chrome of the espresso machine. Her aunt looked at her and smiled. “What?”
“That necklace really does set off your eyes,” and she touched her hair. “Yup, that settles it, you’re one of us.”
She smiled, “Am I really?” Then she kicked herself for being so open, so needy.
Jackie stood next to her. “Emily, you know I don't mince words, but I mean it. You were a little girl in my backyard, you're a grown woman now, I don't care about some mistake the county department of health made on a piece of paper.”
“Really? You really mean that?” Stand up for yourself.
“Yes,” then, “enough sentimentality. Please tell me your mother has stopped with Stacy and Mia as bridesmaids.” Her cousins groaned.
Emily laughed, grateful for the distraction, “Finally.”
Her grandmother laughed, “That's the Grandpa Frank in her. Get a bad idea in your head and ride that horse until it drops. I told her, Stef told her…”
“Stace and I told her,” Mia laughed. “Maybe you can explain why…”
“I don’t know, maybe it's the whole Jamie and Brooke thing which is stupid, but…” And everyone laughed. “I think she realizes that, two days before, nothing's changing, but,” and she shrugged.
Jackie laughed, “You're being very diplomatic.”
Emily laughed, “What else can I do?”
Then her grandmother smiled, "Thank you for Berrigan. If my father was here, he'd thank you too."
Emily smiled back. "That story always stuck with me. If she could do it, so could I." I'm doing this, she thought, right?
—--
Her grandmother, aunt and cousins left, and then her mom met her, “Jackie said it went really well.”
“I dunno. How do I know it wasn't an act?”
“It was NOT an act. If it was an act, I will never speak to any of them again and your sister….”
“I just…”
“Emily, they apologized…”
‘I feel pathetic,’ she thought to herself. ‘I know you all cut me off and didn’t have anything to do with me for six years, but please love me. “I guess. I just…”
“You’re giving them and me a second chance, that they, we better not mess up. Remember that you set the terms, not us. You’re not a little girl anymore,” which made Emily pause. “You decide. If anyone, them, me, says something, does something, tell them it’s unacceptable.”
Emily thought how she couldn’t do that, not like Stef. “Uh huh.”
“You can do it, Emily. And thank you again. It means a lot to Stef, it means a lot to me.”
“Uh huh,” she said, as she still couldn't shake the feeling that the other shoe hadn't dropped, then resolved to just enjoy the day as much as possible.
“I mean it. There's a reason you're the sweet one and Stef is the smart one,” she laughed.
“Hey, I think that's an insult!”
“It isn't. So what does her highness want us to get for everyone?”
“I dunno. Bottle of wine, some cheese and crackers and she said ‘something Chicago-specific,’ so I dunno what that means, Lemonheads or a Cubs hat?”
Her mother laughed, “Your father would buy them a six-pack of Old Style and call it a day. How about Frangos?”
Emily smiled, remembering how her grandmother always had some in the house and would let them have one before dinner. “OK,” and they walked along Michigan Avenue, looking in the windows of the stores neither could afford. “Those are pretty,” her mother said, looking at a pair of black Louboutins with a 3 inch heel.
Em still didn't trust her but decided to cast caution to the wind. “I actually bought a pair like that, not those obviously, I can't afford a sole on one of those…”
Her mother laughed, “Darn, and I was thinking that, if you could, I was going to ask if your firm was hiring. I have a pair about that high to wear Saturday, obviously in blue. I rarely wear them that high, so I hope I don't fall on my face. That's for your cousins…”
“They're still that bad?”
“Sadly, yes…”
They kept walking, just staring in the windows and talking about work and the wedding and Jared's family. “I love Jar and Jamie and all of them. They were so nice when we went for drinks…”
“Why shouldn't they be?”
“I just…”
Her mother looked at her. “There's no just. You are a sweet, wonderful girl, young woman, sorry…I know we said we wouldn't talk about it again and I won't but I don't think you realize how much everyone loves you and how big a mistake I made. If someone doesn't like you, there's something wrong with them.” Emily looked down and mumbled, and her mother said, “I mean it. We are proud of you, proud of the life you've made, proud that, in spite of us, you are still the same sweet person and I know you don't like talking about it, but what you've done for Jeannie, Rob and Liam…”
“Everyone keeps saying that. They've done a lot for me too.”
“Good,” then, “am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Kinda?”
“I'll stop then,” she smiled, “although I love Nicki, how she came from that witch of a mother, I will never know.” Then, she picked up a conversation they had had about her job about how one of the admins wasn't doing her job and was blaming everyone else.
“Yeah, we have one of those too, Luz. She's constantly trying to get people to talk about the lawyers but we're all like, ‘yeah, we'll pass,’ you tell her something, you may as well yell it.”
“Oh god, you probably don't remember Susan…”
“Fat Susan or Scary Susan?”
Her mother started laughing, “What?”
“Oh yeah, sorry, that's what we called them. Me and Jordy and Stevie Harris. Stef just used to say, ‘I thought fat people were supposed to be jolly.’”
Her mother kept laughing, “I had no idea. I shudder thinking about what people called me then. Anyway, it was I'm guessing Scary Susan,” and she told a story about how she said something to one of the lawyers and got someone fired.
After half an hour, her mother looked at her, “You are so much easier to shop with than Stephanie.”
“Really, why?”
Her mother smiled, “You're really asking that?”
They walked into a gourmet market and her mother put a couple of bottles of Pinot into the basket, “Everyone likes this.”
“We should see what kind of cheese we get first. Like pinot is fine with something like Brie or Grana Padano, the acidity of the wine balances out the nuttiness of the cheese. But if we go with something like Asiago or Fiore Sardo, which is harder and will probably stay better in the room, you want something fruitier like Zin or a rioja, but some people don't love fruitier wines, although I'm sure they'll appreciate it. It's not like a riesling or a Moscato, which is way too sweet…” She saw her mother staring at her. “What?”
“How do you know all that?”
“That's nothing. A good cheesemonger or sommelier could give you twenty minutes on just one. Anyway, I worked at this one place, total old school expense account place that was known for its cheese course, lots of old guys who eat cheese, young guys in LA don't, and you'd always get some guy who wanted to test what the girl knew, make me look bad, so I studied everything about everything so they couldn't.”
Her mother smiled, “Your father will be glad to know there's some of him in you. I would have just curled up into a ball.”
They finished shopping and went back to Emily's room (she was sharing with Arden) to assemble the baskets. Her mother looked at her, “I don't think I've had such a good day in a long time.”
“We just walked around.”
“Exactly. You and me. No one else, just you and me.”
Em, despite herself, felt a tear, “You really mean that?”
“I really do,” and she gave her a hug, “Jeannie told me you were a crier.”
“Stupid hormones, my mood goes all over the place sometimes.”
“Better tears than what Jackie's going through now. Did she tell you? First, hot flashes, then she's freezing, then she's hot again. Poor Uncle Mark says he needs to sleep in shorts and a parka.”
“Marissa's mom's going through it now and she's like,” and she swung her arm in a semi-circle. “Sorry.”
“Why? For what?”
“I just, I figured me, talking about it and my hormones…”
Her mother held up her hand, “Is perfectly normal. Do I think Marissa's mom would appreciate,” and she swung her arm, “probably not, but if you ever have questions or concerns or just want to complain, I'm here to listen.”
“Really?”
Her mother sighed. “You are my daughter, Emily. I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner and I wasn't there to help when you started on hormones…”
Emily laughed, “Trust me, you're not sorry. I was a mess.”
“I dealt with your sister and Jordan, you couldn't have been worse than them,” she laughed. “Anyway, you can't make me feel uncomfortable. I'm your mother.”
Emily paused, started to speak, paused, and then said, “ Is there anything else you want to do?”
“I would love to, but I need to get back home and take care of things before tomorrow.” She gave her a kiss, “I had a wonderful day.”
“I'll see you tomorrow,” and she remembered to smile.
As she was leaving, she stopped. “I almost forgot,” and she fished around in her purse, taking out a small box.
“What's this?” Emily opened it and saw a set of pearl earrings. “Are these your grandmother's earrings?”
“Mmm hmmm. She gave them to grandma, who was the youngest girl, who gave them to me for the same reason, and now it's my turn.”
Emily started tearing up. “Oh wow, I mean, I, are you sure?”
“Of course I'm sure. You're the youngest girl, right?” Emily nodded and wiped her eyes, and her mother smiled. “Then they're yours and if you have daughters, you'll give them to the youngest one too.”
“I… I…” She took out her earrings and put them in. She went over to the mirror. “They're so pretty. I used to love when you wore them. I loved the whole tradition.”
Her mother smiled. “I know, that's why you deserve them. Will you wear them Saturday? I think grandma would really appreciate it.”
“Of course,” and then she wiped her eyes. “I know, I know, I'm a crier.”
Her mother smiled and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Emmy.”
“I love you too.”
–
That night, Stef was taking her bridal party out for dinner, but in the afternoon took Arden to a spa for massages and facials.
“Where’s everyone else?”
“Brooke and Jamie are doing stuff with Jar’s mom and Nicki and the bitch,” Stef laughed, “We need this. Look at your face,” which got a middle finger. “Em has 23 year old relaxed skin. Besides, she's getting room gifts with my mom.”
Arden looked at her, “Wow, that's, wow…”
Stef laughed, then got serious, “They're both really trying. Em won't ever say it, but she really missed my mom and my mom is thrilled she has her favorite back.”
Arden laughed, “Jealous?”
Stef scoffed, “Please, Ar, I've had her all…to…myself for the past six years. Anyway, thanks for splitting a room with her. She wouldn't let anyone pay and I know she's not making a lot.”
“Please, I love her.”
“She loves you too. You'll see her tonight.”
Arden laughed, “Not that I’m turning down a free facial and a free meal…”
“It’s going to be crazy tomorrow. Plus, I wanted everyone to hang out relaxed, because tomorrow’s going to be crazy, with everyone there. Besides, Jamie and I figured Em and Brooke should meet beforehand, without everyone there and without my parents or Jar’s trying to force some connection on them,” and, in an annoying voice, “you both live in LA, and she’s an actress and you’re in film school,” which got a laugh.
They took them first for facials, applying mud masks and then putting cucumbers on their eyes. “You know, when I was a kid and I saw people doing this on TV, I thought it was BS,” Arden said. “Like who would put mud on their face on purpose, except my cousin and he ate crayons.”
Stef laughed, “The first time my mom took me, when I was like 15 or something, I remember the woman coming at me with that little pore cleaning thing. I almost ran out.”
They talked about residency for a while,about her attending physician who was ‘a total asshole,’ and about Stef's job (‘I expect a call during the ceremony.’)
After the esthetician dug out their pores, an activity not conducive to conversation other than ‘hold still’ and ‘ow,’ they went to the plunge pool. “Fuck, that’s cold,” Stef laughed. “So anyway, I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, for being like my sister,”
Arden rolled her eyes. “Oh god, don't tell me that, now that you're getting married, you think you have to have feelings…”
“Shut up,” she laughed, “I'm serious.”
Arden smiled, “I know. So are you,” then, “so what's going to happen with them?” Meaning Stef’s father's family.
Stef took a deep breath, “I dunno. I'm afraid.”
Arden looked at her, “You said everyone is keeping an eye on her. You know that I will and I'm pretty sure your uncle would kill them if they even tried.”
They got out of the plunge pool, put on robes and went to get massages. “Yeah, well, it's just she's so excited and my mom's so excited and I just don't want everybody's memory to be…”
Arden looked at her. “It won't. I promise.”
“But…”
Arden said, “I know you want to make everything right, that's why I love you, but trust me, everyone's family is fucked up and everyone has stories from weddings and stuff.”
“What if my mom is right about violence?”
“She isn't. You said she's never going to be alone and she won't be. You're going to have a beautiful day with just regular embarrassing shit like my toast…”
Stef laughed, “You better not…”
“See, everything's back to normal…Mrs. Gauss. Mrs. Gauss, my mom says I can stay for dinner if you say it's ok,”
—--
That night at dinner, Brooke looked at Emily, and whispered, “I can't listen to any more law or medicine.”
“Definitely. It's like I have to listen to that at work. Can we talk about movies or TV or anything else?”
Brooke laughed, “Speaking of which, Stef said you were in a movie. Real or student?”
Emily found the distinction amusing, given that Brooke was at USC Film School, but said, “Micro-budget indie thing. I met the director when he was a PA on this commercial, he and the DP went to USC. We'll see what happens. Trying to raise money for post and all that, if I ever get called back to loop, I'll be shocked.”
“How was the shoot?”
“Eh, if nothing else, it's experience. I don't see it in wide release, if you know what I mean.”
“Bad horror or overwrought drama?”
Emily laughed. “Not that bad, but drama.”
“Jared says you're a Type A cheerleader, trying to get out of her life.” She looked at Stef, “Must've been really hard to find your character.”
Emily laughed, “Everyone keeps saying that. I did years of research beforehand. Like I said, it's experience, something for the resume maybe. What about you, what's your project?”
“I dunno. Maybe I'll do a movie about two female lawyers who can't talk about anything else… actually, I'm thinking I wanna do a thriller, female detective, that kind of thing, I have to figure out how to make a short of it.”
“That sounds really cool. Would you let me see the script?”
Brooke smiled, “Definitely. How come nobody got us together before?”
“Beats me. I'm like only fifteen minutes from you, the 101 to Alvarado and then like half a mile east,” both of them smiling at the way Californians treated the 101 and the 405 like the Tigris and Euphrates. “We're having a party in two weeks, if you're interested. Bring friends.”
—
Emily stood in front of the mirror Friday night, putting her hair up then down, remembering Stef at Stacy's rehearsal, the way they had put her hair up and Em had suggested little tendrils. After six times, she chose down. She took a look at herself in the purple velvet vintage babydoll dress and her Doc Martens and wondered if this was too casual, if she had made a mistake. Unfortunately, all she had was this, her bridesmaid’s dress and clothes to travel and hang out in. She had put back in her other earrings, figuring the pearl ones didn't really work. She went down the hall to Jordan and Kira. She knocked on the door and Kira opened it. She was wearing a black maxi dress and sandals. “You look amazing, Keek.”
“It's not too Morticia? I mean, you look really good. Also, it's not too Morticia?”
Jordan came over wearing black pants and a solid blue shirt. “I told her she looked just Morticia enough.”
Emily rolled her eyes at Kira. “You know I had hoped time had made you less stupid.”
Jordan laughed, “That was your first mistake. You should have known that was hopeless. You look really good, Emmy.”
“Thanks,” and she looked them up and down. “So do you,” then turning to Kira, “you’re really having an effect on them.” Kira laughed and Emmy continued, “Why am I nervous? None of them are going to be there.” It was just the bridal party, immediate family and out-of-town guests.
Jordan looked at her, “Don’t be. You’ll be fine. They’re actually, I dunno, normal people.”
“I don’t know what to do with that.”
“Me either. No one gets drunk, no one yells, no one fights. Honestly, it’s kinda boring,” they laughed.
Emily laughed, “We'll have plenty of not boring on Saturday, I'm sure, let's just enjoy this.”
They walked to the restaurant. “So what are they like?”
Jordan laughed, “I told you. They’re like nice, normal people. Really smart, like they’re all like Jared and Jamie, and they all talk - a lot.”
“That makes sense, I guess.”
“And they’re all super-progressive and stuff. Like they didn’t even look surprised at me.”
Kira touched their arm. “Why would they?”
Jordan flashed Emily a look. “You’ve met our family.”
Kira smiled and rubbed their shoulder, “Well, they’re wrong.”
They walked into the restaurant and saw Jared. “Jared!” Em said, giving him a kiss, “One more day…”
He gave her a kiss, then Kira. “Don't remind me, Moj,” he said, “Anyway, everyone is in the back room,” and he pointed, “I’ll be back in a minute.”
They walked to the back, and Emily took a breath to calm herself. Her mom walked over and gave each of them a kiss, “You two look beautiful and Jordan,” as she looked them up and down, “you look really good,” and turned to Kira, “you're working wonders. Come in, everyone’s in here.”
Jordan mouthed, with a smile, to Emmy, ‘is she clapped or something?’
A dark-haired woman, 5’4” in a black dress with a boat neck came over and gave Jordan a kiss on the cheek, and said, “Jordan, it's great to see you again. How's Indianapolis?”
“You too, Jen. Good, it’s good. This is my girlfriend, Kira. Kira, this is Jared’s mom, Jen,” and they exchanged kisses on the cheek.
Jen looked at Emily and smiled, “You must be the famous Emily. It's wonderful to finally get to put a face to the name.”
“Hi, Mrs. Gauss. It's so great to meet you. Thank you for having me, and mazel tov!” Jared's mother smiled and Emily said, “I said it right, right? My roommate taught me. Ok, I shouldn't have said that last part out loud.”
Jen laughed, “You said it perfectly, and I'm Jen.” She called out to the man talking to Stef, Jared and her dad, “Mark, come here.” The man walked over with Jared and shook Jordan's hand and asked about work.
He looked at Kira and Emily, and smiled. “You must be Kira, great to meet you,” and he kissed her. Then, he looked at Emily, “It's so nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you.”
“Uh oh.”
Everyone laughed, “No, it's all good. You're the actress, right?”
“I'm trying to be one, a working one, I mean.”
“Moji did a commercial for mayonnaise,” Jared said, “she was great.”
“Moji?”
Jamie came over and smiled, “When Em was in for Stef's birthday, Jared decided she was a human emoji, all smiles, and he tried,” and rolled her eyes at Stef, “to get us all to call her that.”
His mother laughed and looked at her husband, “Dog? Dog? Dog?”
His father laughed, “How was school today? It would be better if I had a dog.”
Emily's parents looked confused and Jared's mother smiled, “When Jared was eight, he really wanted a dog and wouldn't shut up about it until someone,” and she looked at her husband, “finally broke down.”
Em’s father, grinning at Stef, “You know how you could take the dog to the vet? In a car, a car, a car…did I mention everything you can do, I can do for you, with a car?”
Stef laughed, “You can't even not abuse me the night before my wedding…”
Emily said, “Jared just wanted a dog…”
Stef rolled her eyes, “She will always take his side, even against me.”
Jared put his arm around Stef, “That's because she's nicer than you.”
Jamie continued, “Anyway, you have to see Em’s commercial. It was very convincing, other than the mayo on everything.”
Emily smiled, “Have you ever had coffee with mayo? No, then don't judge. I'm just kidding.”
“No! Really?”
“Jamie,” Jared’s father laughed. “How do you like living in LA?”
“Umm, when it's 25 and gray here, it's 75 and sunny there. It's fun. I like it, except during fire season.”
“Fire season?” his mother said.
Emily laughed nervously, “The wildfires. They happen so much now, it may as well be a season.”
“That's awful.”
“Omigosh, yes. All those people losing their homes, I volunteered at a pop-up kitchen helping out…”
Stef laughed, “You in a kitchen? Those poor people hadn't suffered enough?”
“Shut up! Stef and Jordan have started a vicious rumor that I can't cook…besides, I helped serve.”
Mark said, “That's a wonderful thing you did. Besides, I don't know,” and he grinned, “that I've ever had the pleasure of one of your sister's gourmet meals.”
“Hey,” Stef laughed, “I can cook.” The look on her parents’ faces could charitably be called dubious. “Besides, we were making fun of Emmy, not me.”
Jared’s mother said, “I have to imagine it's very scary, with all the fires. Have they ever come close to you?”
“I've smelled smoke but thank goodness, we've never had to evacuate, but we still keep go bags ready,” then, “Anyway, I just want to tell you how much I love Jared and Jamie, they've been so great to me.”
“We love you too,” Jamie laughed.
“I really mean it. I'm so glad you'll be part of my family. Sorry if that sounds weird.”
Jared's mother smiled. “It doesn't.”
An older woman walked over with grandma, both in black knee length dresses, pearls and low heels. She said hello to Jordan and looked at Em and Kira. “You must be Kira,” and she kissed her then, “and, from the look of you, you could only be Emily.”
Emily smiled, “It's so great to meet you, Dr. Gauss, Stephanie has told me sooo much about you, that you were a professor, that's amazing, and really smart. OK, I need to stop talking so much.”
Jared's grandmother smiled at Stef and then at Emmy, “I've heard a lot about you too and it’s Gloria. How do you feel about being an actress? What are you doing to fight sexism?” Jared's father groaned, and his grandmother laughed, “I wasn't talking to you.”
“I mean, I like being an actress, it's fun, y’know, other than the rejection, but, I mean I'm not sure what I can do to fight it,” and she shrugged.
His grandmother imitated the shrug, then said, “It only changes if people fight it.”
Jamie laughed, “Welcome to the family, Em. You just got the speech that every woman in the family gets.”
Emily looked and said, “Obviously, it's totally wrong and if, when, if I get any kind of power, I'll totally fight it. Just right now, I'm just trying to get my foot in the door.”
Everyone talked for a little bit, Em’s grandmother complimenting her on her dress. “You look just like your mom did, when she was your age.”
Her mother and Jared's exchanged glances and Em said, “What?”
Jen sighed, “Time marches on…my face.”
Laura looked at her children, “I remember wearing one just like it. Then something came along and made that dress go out the window. Any ideas, Jen?”
“I have a couple, no, wait, three.” Emily felt mortified and Jen looked at her, smiling, “Don't worry, Emily, that dress is perfect, your mother and I were going down memory lane. While you've got it, flaunt it.”
A few seconds later, Brooke came over. “Hey, Em,” and she gave her a kiss, “come over here and meet everyone,” and they walked away to Arden talking to two guys.
Jen turned to Stef, grinning, “You two are sisters?” which made everyone laugh.
“What's that supposed to mean?” Stef laughed.
“Jamie told me but, my god, sorry omigosh, she's so adorable.”
“Hey! Take that back! I'm extremely adorable. Right, Jar?”
He laughed, “Um, sure, that's definitely a word for it.”
Doug looked at Mark and then moaned, “Jared, Jared, Jared,” and then his grandmother smiled, “Jared, if your grandfather were here, he would tell you to shut up and stop digging,” then she winked at Stef, “but she is a little cutie.”
His dad laughed, “Is she Mormon or something?”
Jamie laughed, “When we went to Utah, everyone smiled all the time and it drove him crazy.”
Doug smiled, “She takes after Laura’s side.”
Stef said, “My aunt Jeannie says that you couldn't have two of me or two of her in a family.”
“I like the one of you I have,” Jared said and he kissed her.
Doug laughed, “Not much of a save, Jared.”
—
In the meantime, Brooke said, “Em, this is Alex,” she said, nodding at a guy, about 5’11” with the same sallow complexion and patchy skin as Arden, “he's Jared's best man, they've been friends since forever, he's doing a fellowship in oncology, which is why,” and she grinned, “he looks like that.”
He laughed and said, “Maaa… can you tell Brookie to get out of my room? Alex and I wanna play Play Station and she's being more annoying than usual!”
The other man, a South Asian about 6’3”, 210, in a medium blue suit, pale blue shirt, no tie, smiled, “While they're on memory lane, I'm Vish Singh. Jared and I roomed together at Harvard, it's great to meet you,” and his eyes took a quiet walk over her.
“I'm Emily, Stef's sister, it's great to meet you, I think we're walking together.”
He said, “I thought he said I was walking with your sister Moji.”
Brooke groaned, “That's what Jared,” and she smiled at Emily, “and only Jared calls her. He says she's the human emoji. Ignore him.”
Vish laughed, “I spent three years ignoring him. Anyway, Stef says you live in Echo Park?”
“You know it?”
“My sister and her family are in Los Feliz, and I'm originally from Scripps Ranch,” a suburb of San Diego.
“It's nice down there. My friend is from Encinitas. What about you?”
She noticed his posture shift, his back straighten, “I'm in New York. After college, I went to McKinsey and then to a PE,” Great, she thought, a finance bro, terrific, “that's a private equity firm.”
Arden looked at her and rolled her eyes, as did Brooke. “Wow, that sounds really,” awful, horrible, “interesting. I'm just an actress.”
He took a sip of his drink, “Have I seen you in anything?” Every actor's favorite question.
“I was on an episode of,” and she named a procedural on which she had all of four lines, playing a college girl whose friend was attacked, “and a commercial for Best Foods mayo.”
“So, basically, if I watched TV with someone's grandpa, you'd be a star,” and he laughed.
She laughed, “Yup, I'm huge with the over 65 crowd. I'm going to get a drink. Brooke, can you show me where?”
They walked away, “Oh my god, is he always that big a dick? That's private equity, you know. I can't believe Jared is friends with him.”
Brooke laughed, “First off, that's way too many people at Harvard, which if you didn't know is where they went. Second, he's not the worst person once you get to know him.”
“Wow, not the worst person… That's a ringing endorsement. If I got him, who did you get?”
She laughed, “Their third roommate, Brett. He's some kind of lawyer, something in DC, woo hoo.”
—
Jordan was talking to Jared's father, their dad and some guest from out of town, an architect who had projects throughout Indiana. “So, you're using,” and the guest named a company, “for your electrical, and Mike's on your floor?”
Jordan smiled, “Yeah.”
The guest imitated a raspy voice, “Effing half points. I'm gonna kill the guy who came up with half points,” which made Jordan laugh. “Has he broken his streak and had a good night yet?”
“I told Kira,” and they took her hand, “I'm kind of in awe of his commitment to the Bulls despite never winning a single bet. I wish I could be that committed to something.”
Doug said, “You're keeping on him, right Champ? It's not your problem that…”
Kira rolled her eyes and the guest said, “Not to jump in, but he actually is good at his job, if he'd…”
Jordan interrupted him, laughing, “Stop betting, he'd be retired in two years. Dad, he's not a bad sub, just the world's worst gambler. Thank God, the websites don't take credit cards, but I have him under control.”
The guest smiled, “You're a fast learner. Next project I have with you guys, I'm going to ask for you, if that's ok.”
Kira squeezed their hand and then looked at Doug. “Yeah,” Jordan said, “I mean, thanks. I'd like to work with you too.”
“Your kid knows their stuff.” Jordan was still amazed at how everyone here just used they/them without stopping and starting, like it was nothing.
Doug put his arm around them, “I guess they do,” he smiled.
—
After dinner, Stef and Emily were talking to their grandmother. “So, Stephanie, how nervous are you?”
“Grandma, it's not like we haven't lived together already,” then, “I can't wait for it to finally be done.” This got a raised eyebrow. “I mean, yeah, of course I'm excited and I want everyone to have a great time but it's also like…”
Her grandmother laughed, “I was just playing, Steffie. I went through it once myself, and twice with your mother and aunt. Getting married is exciting, I didn’t want the weddings themselves to end, assuming the other side behaved themselves, dealing with tables and who likes who, thank goodness, I'm done with that. Emily, what about you?”
“What about me what? I'm just a bridesmaid.”
“Are you excited?”
Emily paused, unsure yet if she could trust her. Her heart said yes, her brain remembered the loneliness. Screw that, she thought. “I am, I really am. The dress is really pretty and I've never been a bridesmaid before.”
“I'm sure you'll be perfect. And your mother showed me the picture of you in the dress, you look gorgeous.” She winked at Stef, “Second only to your sister.”
Emily took a breath. “Do you mean that? For real?”.
Her grandmother put her hands on Emily's upper arms. “The outside finally matches the inside,” then, “I told you yesterday, you are, were and will always be my granddaughter. I made a…no, I was wrong, absolutely wrong, I know you don't want to go there and I understand. Just know something, you are my granddaughter and if anyone ever hurts you, they will deal with me, trust me.”
I hope I can, she thought.
—
Jordan and Kira lay in the afterglow.
“That was a lot of fun tonight,” Kira said, “Jared's parents are so much cooler than mine.”
That's because they're not yours, they thought. Then, “They are. I like that we just were, there, y’know.”
Kira leaned over. “What do you mean ‘were’?”
Jordan thought about how to answer. “Like we were just like every other couple. No one thought twice about it.”
Kira laughed, “You know we've been legal since 2015, right? Why should they treat us differently?”
“They shouldn't. I'm just…”
Kira read their mind. “They are assholes, homophobic, transphobic assholes, but guess what? Who cares? We don't have to deal with them tomorrow. We'll hang out with Jared's side or their friends or whoever.”
Jordan felt their blood pressure rise and then took a breath, “I know, it's just, I can't explain it.”
Kira looked at them, “You don't work with them. You don't live near them. You don't have to deal with them, except maybe holidays and then just ignore them. You're not him.”
Jordan remembered how their mother used to wield that like a sword against them, whenever they failed to live up to her expectations, a moving target they they always missed. “I know that, it's just…”
“It's not just anything, pookie. You're not him, you're not her, you're you,” then laughing, “Em’s her, it's funny.”
Jordan laughed, “Now that she's not in bitch mode,” for now, “you totally see it. Mia calls her little Laura,” then, “I'm worried.”
Kira sighed, “Me too, but we'll be with her and your parents and Liam and Rob and everyone. If I see her get up to go to the bathroom, I'll go with her. Or Jeannie or someone.”
“I hate that…”
Kira ran her fingers through Jordan's fresh buzz, the one even grandma said looked good. “So do I but we can stop them from doing something, we can't stop them from being something. My mom always says that.”
Jordan let out a breath through the”o” of their mouth, “I guess so.”
“I know you want to figure out an answer but there isn't one other than to watch,” then, “who's getting the most trashed?”
They resented the judgment inherent in that. Their cousins were assholes but they still felt judged. Sorry, we can't all be rich and happy like you and Jared, but we're still people, even as they knew their extended family wouldn't reciprocate. “I dunno, probably P.J. or the thot. You know what,” and they paused, choosing their words with care, landing on, “I don't care. You're right, they're them and they're gonna do what they're gonna do. It's not even worth thinking about.”
Kira nodded and smiled, “You're right,” then, “Arden's so funny, so harsh, but so funny.”
They laughed, “I like her and Stef’s college friends. Her friends from home were total stupid bitches,” remembering especially Katie, who called them, ‘him,’ like it was an insult. “I'm just glad none of them were invited,” then, “I'm so happy you're here.”
“Was there ever a chance I wouldn't be,” she teased.
Jordan played with her hair, “I thought about my options.”
She kissed their lips, “True, you could've brought Ronnie or other Kayla, I know how much you like her.”
“That's why I took you,” and they kissed her back, “I mean Ronnie would've made their heads explode, which would've been lit, but I love you and so I figured why not?”
Kira rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, Jordan,” and she kissed them again.
—--
Stef sat on Emily's bed, cross legged, in shorts and a faded Bears t-shirt. “Damn.”
Arden looked at her, “Intellectually, I mean, we knew it would happen eventually, but, yup, 24 hours from now...”
Emily looked at them, “Come on! You guys are amazing together,” then, “are you nervous?”
Stef smiled at her baby sister, her eyes shining with hope, “I'm not nervous, Ems, just more like, huh, this is really happening, like 12 hours from now, we'll all be getting ready and all that.”
Em looked at her, “Uh huh? You love Jared and he loves you, that's all that matters.”
Arden gave her a smile, “You're such a romantic, are you sure you're related? Kidding. I'm just busting on her. She knows how much I love Jared. But still, it's more like well another check off the adult list,” which made Stef laugh. “Do you think Jared's talking about this?”
Stef laughed, “Alex is probably passed out, and Vish would have to stop talking about himself…”
“Why did you put me with him then? He's awful.”
“Because Brooke called Brett, sorry,” she laughed. “He's actually not a total dick.”
Em laughed, “Brooke said he's not the worst person, you say he's not a total dick, wow,” then, “it's fine. It's not like you're setting us up. Like Ar and Alex,” and she grinned, which got a pillow thrown at her.
“Did you guys like your presents?” Stef had bought everyone bracelets with “SN & JG” and the date on a charm.
“They were great,” and Emily looked at her wrist. “I'm so excited for tomorrow.” Stef and Arden smiled at each other. “What?”
Arden laughed, “I don't know about your sister, but I'm just remembering the first time you came to Ann Arbor. It was so cute how nervous you were. What I remember is telling you not to wear the mini to that frat party, you couldn't look like a try-hard.”
Stef, imitating her younger sister, “But I look really cute!”
“I did!”
“And that guy, Brendan…”
“Brian, his name was Brian…”
Arden laughed, “Brian seemed totally fine with you in jeans, he kept checking out your ass.”
Emily remembered the sophomore who picked her up in the airport and invited them to a frat party, how nervous she was that he'd realize who she was, but he didn't and it gave her a glimmer of hope, of normality. “Stop…” She played with the collar on the big Blackhawks t-shirt Duncan had let her wear, that hung to her knees and that she stole when she visited him. It was bittersweet but she would curl up her knees under it and remember how it was.
“Teasing, Emmy,” Stef laughed, “but you were totally flirting with him all night, the way you’d smile and get all giggly. I was like, ‘I guess she's been paying attention.’”
Em gave a sly smile, “Not all night, I mean I did make out with him.”
Arden gave her a high five, then, “Oh yeah, we totally saw you.”
“Why didn't you say anything?”
Stef looked at her, “I was watching my baby sister grow up, and you were so happy, I wouldn't tease you,” then, laughing, “So how was he?”
Em laughed, “There's a reason we fell out of touch.”
Stef yawned, “I'm gonna go to my room and sleep.”
Em looked at her, “I can sleep in your room, if you want to stay here.”
Stef kissed her cheek, “I'm right through that door,” they had gotten adjoining rooms, “if I need you, you'll know.”
Em gave her a big hug. “You're the best big sister, I love you and I love Jared and I'm so, so excited for tomorrow.”
Arden looked at a Stef and winked, “I think she's more excited than you.”
“No! Shut up, Arden!”
Stef thought about playing. “I love you, Emmy. I'm excited too.”
—
Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman who hasn't seen her twin in six years. Why? Because her parents threw her out when she told them who she really was. Now, her older sister Stephanie is getting married and wants Emily there - as a bridesmaid. Will sparks fly?
Stephanie is married. Will everyone live happily after? I know it’s been a while since I posted. Don’t you hate when real life gets in the way?
——
The wedding was winding down and Emily, Stef, Jordan and Liam stood waiting. “I dunno,” Jordan said to Liam, “they said come here, so I came.”
“Your dad told me there was a big surprise,” Em said, “but he wouldn't say what.”
“Why didn't you say something?” Jordan looked annoyed.
“I assumed dad told you, sorry. Anyway, what do you think it is?”
Stef stood smiling. “Do you know something? You know something! I can't believe you know something and didn't tell me, us!”
Before Stef could answer, Uncle Rob and her father came over, her father saying, “So, I bet you're all wondering why we called you here.”
Before anyone could say anything, he continued, “Well, you all know how busy Rob has been since he got over the wall,” which made him laugh.
Rob took over. “And your dad said to himself, ‘he's doing really well, I bet I could mess that up if I really tried…’”
“So, we decided to give it a shot. We figured I was much better at actually doing real work and so I would be the guy managing projects while Rob here will do what he's always been best at, BSing people while other people actually got dirty.”
Liam looked at them, “So Uncle Doug is gonna work for you?”
Rob laughed, “No, no, no. I like my employees happy and I can't afford to have him mess that up. Seriously though, and Stef helped us figure it out, he's going to provide project management services through a joint venture agreement.”
Emily and Jordan looked at Stef. “You knew about this?” Jordan said.
“And didn't tell us?” Em added.
Stef smiled, “Attorney-client privilege. I couldn't.”
“I can't believe you. You knew this and you didn't tell us.”
Uncle Rob laughed, “Here's where you say congratulations, that's amazing, something like that.”
Em smiled, “Ohmigosh, I'm so sorry. This is so amazing. Does this mean you'll be coming out too?” She hugged both of them and heard snickering. Go home, she thought, you made your appearance, go home.
Her father smiled, “Eventually. Right now, I'm going to handle here and Wisconsin. Once I decide it's working, I'll let Rob know and then I'll come out.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “Eventually, I'll bring him out, see how his charm works in California.”
Liam looked at them, “So when are you telling them?”
Doug smiled, “We have a meeting,” the word dripping with scorn, “Monday night. I think Monday night is a perfect night fordropping bombs.”
Jordan grinned, “You know, project management in the real world is not the same as a family business. There are different expectations. Are you sure you're up for it?”
“Shut up, Jor,” Stef laughed, “it's going to be great. They got great legal advice. If they fail, they have no one to blame but themselves.” Everyone laughed. “Please film them when you tell them…or at least record it,” then, “we're all really proud and excited, you know that.”
Her dad kissed her on the head. “Thanks, Steffie. Now all of you go back to whatever. They're looking over here.”
Emily looked at him. “I am really proud of you too.”
She could her father pause for a second, willing himself not to look back. Then, he kissed her on the forehead.
—
Stephanie was finally able to sit for a few minutes, having spent her day going from table to table, she and Jared being reminded that, ‘the last time I saw you, you were four.’ Uh huh, OK, I don’t remember you but whatever, she’d think, then put on a fake smile, ‘Well, I’m so glad you made it today. Thanks for sharing our special day,’ people I will never see again.
She kicked off her shoes when Uncle Rob and Aunt Jeannie came over. “Mind if we sit?”. Stef smiled and spread her arms.
Jeannie looked at her feet, “I remember that feeling. They look really good but by the end, all you want is them off.”
Stef laughed, “Oh yeah. I’m glad I brought tennis shoes for the afterparty. Anyway, I’m so glad you were here.”
Uncle Rob laughed, “Like we would miss it, like we’d be allowed to miss it,” then, seriously, "Thank you.”
Stef smiled, “For what? I wasn’t going to invite you? Oh, you mean, for the legal work? Anything to get him away from them…”
Rob looked at her. “No, although thanks for that too. You know what.”
It took Stef a second, “No.”
“No?” Aunt Jeannie said.
“Yeah, no. I should be thanking you, so thank you.”
Rob put his hand on her shoulder. “No, Stef. Thank you. She’s who she is because of what you did for her.”
“Whatever, fine, sure, but you guys have been really amazing to her, for all of us. You got them back together.”
Rob laughed and looked over at Emmy, deep in conversation with Max, a friend of Stef’s who had taken Em to an acting class at Michigan, the first time she ever said out loud that her pronouns were ‘she’ and ‘her.’ “Nope, that’s you.”
She laughed, “Because I stopped talking to her?”
“No. Because you made her able to stand up to her.”
Stef felt herself get warm. “Fine, we should all be thanking each other and my parents should be thanking us,” she laughed. “Deal?”
“Fine,” Jeannie said. “More importantly, thank you for seating us with normal people,” Stef put them at a table with some of Jared’s parents’ friends and cousins.
“Please,” she laughed, “it was the least I could do for you.” Just then, her cousin Kevin’s girlfriend staggered past Emmy and Max. Stef could see her mouth ‘fags,’ and felt her blood boiling.
Uncle Rob looked at Stef. “Kev better put a ring on that. Prize like her is going to get snapped up if he doesn’t do something soon,” then, “asshole ground zero, you know.”
“How did we end up so normal?”
Jeannie looked at her and Rob. “If you two are normal, god help us.”
—
Emmy and Max were talking and Emmy looked at him. “So is the Disney Cruise job any good?”
Max, who had graduated from SMTD, Michigan’s theater school, was playing Lumiere on a Disney Cruise out of Orlando.
He sighed, “Well, the money is good and I’ve been all over the Caribbean. And you don’t work really except at night. It’s fine but it’s not exactly what I dreamed of.”
“Still,” Emmy said, “it pays.”
“I guess,” then a smile crossed his face, “now that no one else is here, did your mom seriously ask you about your boobs?” He knew what Emily's birth certificate originally said, Stef and Arden having told him, so that he'd keep a close eye on her when they went to class.
Emily started laughing, “I was like please tell me I’m hallucinating or I died and this is what happens.”
He kept grinning, “So?”
Emily laughed, “Max!” She paused, then laughed, “Hormones, genetics and luck. All mine.”
“And?” Now he was leering.
Now she was laughing harder. “Um, is this the first time you've ever wondered what’s in a pair of panties, Max? Anyway, snip, snip, bye bye.”
He smiled, “Good for you. I told you before, you look amazing.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
“Do you remember that guy on the Diag?” The guy in question was a frat boy, 6’3”, gorgeous and muscular, who probably would’ve killed them for looking at him.
Em smiled, “Oh yeah.”
“And you and that guy at the party? The one who swallowed your face, I heard.”
“You never kissed him,” she laughed. “You’re coming to the afterparty, right?”
“Of course.” Just then, Em’s cousin Trevor walked past and bumped her. ‘Oops, sorry,’ he snickered. “Please tell me they aren’t coming.”
“Stef would have a conniption if they did. Thankfully, they are going back under their rock now. I don’t know why they were here, except they thought they had to be. This is just the fun people. Stef says it’s a really cool place in Old Town, I’m excited.”
Just then, Arden walked over, “So what are you two talking about?”
“Well, we were talking about Emily’s lady parts at first, but then we were talking about you and Alex.”
Em laughed, “You’re right Max. They would make an absolutely adorable couple.”
“Oh, Alex, let me run my fingers through your Jewy hair.”
Arden laughed, “You need to stop hanging around him, Emmy. He’s a bad influence. He corrupted me,” memories of an SMTD party coming back to her, “and now he’s trying to corrupt you for his own immoral purposes.”
Just then, Stef came over. “What’s so funny?”
Before Em or Arden could speak, “Well, it’s not funny but the feral sexual passion between Arden and Alex. Quite frankly, when they were dancing that first dance like this,” and he took Emily and held her at arms length, “I, for one, had to drink some ice water.”
Stef looked at him and laughed, “I love you, Max. Anyway, I need Emmy and Arden to help me get out of this dress and into my afterparty dress. I’d invite you but I'm afraid that this,” and she waved her hands up and down herself, “might drive you to the other side and I'm married, y’know.”
They got into the bridal room and Emily unzipped Stef, who let the dress fall to the floor and then stepped carefully out of it. “Thanks, Ems. So you guys had a good time?”
Arden looked at her. “Yes, Mrs. Gauss, thank you for having me, Mrs. Gauss.”
Stef laughed, “Shut up. I’m serious. No drama?”
Em rolled her eyes, almost bringing up the bathroom and then stopping herself, “No more than I expected, y’know. Stupid comments here and there. It doesn’t matter, I’m hoping that’s the last time I ever see them.”
“You sure?”
Emily smiled, “I’m sure, Steffie. Anyway, where’s your other dress?” She looked around and opened up the garment bag. Inside was a white slip midi dress, and she took it out. “Am I like your lady in waiting or something?”
Stef looked at her. “Yeah, that’s it.”
Arden gave a chuckle. “What do you figure, if you wear white, people will buy you drinks or something?”
“I think it’s cute,” Emmy piped in. “Anyway, this was so much fun and it was so great to see Max and everyone.”
“I’m glad you had a good time. Seriously, there were no problems?”
Em debated what to say then decided Stef was entitled to silence, “No, I told you before. I used to let them get to me because I wanted them to like me. Now?” And she blew a raspberry.
Em began undressing, carefully hanging up her dress, then putting on a blue mini dress she had seen with her mother, and ballet flats. Stef smiled, remembering the first time Emmy wore a dress, how she stumbled in the heels for a few seconds before she took to them like a duck to water. “This looks good, right?”
Arden laughed, “Ohmigod, you really are little Laura, aren’t you?”
“Shut up! I am not.”
Just then, someone knocked on the door. “Mind if we come in?” It was her mother, grandmother and aunt. Her grandmother stopped, and looked between her daughters and Emily. “She is really your daughter, Laura.”
Arden laughed, “Told you.”
“K, stop,” Emmy said.
Laura looked Stef up and down and grinned, “I like this dress.”
Stef looked at Aunt Jackie, then smiled, “So this all stops tomorrow morning, right? I don’t know if I can handle all the compliments you’ve given me today, very confusing,” and then she kissed her mother on the cheek, “thanks, mom.”
“You’re welcome.” Then, Laura laughed, “See mom, that’s what you say.” She turned to her daughters and Arden, “Grandma Linda looked at me at my wedding and said, “I’m not sure I like your hair.’”
Jackie looked at them and winked. “I pulled a muscle holding her back. Anyway, Steffie, you looked absolutely gorgeous and this was perfect, even though,” and she smiled at her sister, “probably because you did it yourself.”
Her grandmother laughed, “That’s enough. We’ll let you finish getting ready.” She kissed both of her granddaughters, “You both looked gorgeous, you too Arden.”
—-------
As the wedding wound down, everyone was planning how to get to the afterparty back in Chicago.
“Can I go,” Liam asked.
Aunt Jeannie looked at him. “We’re not going. How do you plan to get back home?”
“I, uh,” and then he just grumbled.
Laura looked at Jeannie. “We can take him back tomorrow.” She and Doug weren’t coming to the afterparty but didn’t want to drive back after such a long day. “We’ll bring him back after breakfast.”
“Cool. Thanks Aunt Laura.”
Rob looked at him. “Where do you plan to stay?”
Jared and Alex were standing nearby. “He can crash with me,” Alex said, “since I think my roomie will be otherwise occupied,” and everyone laughed. “Sorry, Doug,” who just grinned and went ‘la la la.’
“Thanks, Alex.”
Rob looked at him. “You have a flight tomorrow, remember?” He was flying back to LA with Emily in the early afternoon.
“Grrr…fine. Thanks anyway, Alex.”
Rob winked at Jeannie, “Which is why we put your stuff in the car. Come and get it.”
Liam pumped his fist and went off to get his stuff with his father.
Emily, Stef and Arden came out. Jeannie looked at Emily, “I told Liam he could go to the afterparty. I don’t need to tell…”
Emily smiled, “Of course you don’t. I won’t let him get stupid, well, not too stupid.”
Jeannie kissed her. “Thanks, sweetie.”
—-
Jordan and Kira were standing hand in hand, waiting for the valet to pull around the truck and talking to Jared’s cousin. As the valet pulled up with the cousin's car, Jordan heard a ‘humph,’ from behind. They turned to face Aunt Karen and their cousin Kayla. “Hi, Aunt Karen. Did you have a good time?”
“First, your brother shows up in a dress and now,” and she looked down at Jordan and Kira holding hands.
“Mom,” Kayla mumbled, “stop.”
“No, I will not stop. Molly,” she sneered, “and Christopher embarrassed our family enough before and now this.”
Kira saw the vein in the side of Jordan's head pulsing and gripped their hand.
Kayla looked at them, “Sorry, Jordan.”
Jordan took a deep breath, “It's fine, Kayla,” then, “I'm sorry I haven't seen you the past couple of years. I hope it's nothing I said.”
Kayla laughed a little, and watched as Trev and P.J. stumbled out. She looked at her mother and raised her eyebrows.
“Are you two amusing yourselves? Because, Jordan, I imagine your father won't be amused Monday morning,” and she grinned.
Jordan took a deep breath, then another. “I don't follow.”
Now the grin turned evil. “I think you do. You and Christopher seem to think you can pretend to be whatever it is you think you are but, quite frankly, our family doesn't appreciate being embarrassed.” P.J. punctuated his aunt’s sentence by puking in a bush. “And that your father allowed it has made your grandfather question whether he should still be representing the company.” Kayla just mumbled, ‘Jesus, ma, you're unbelievable.’
The truck pulled up and Kira, glaring at Karen, said, “Let's just go, Jor.”
Jordan took another deep breath, then smiled. “That's really interesting, Aunt Karen. I mean, I know, for a fact, that his crews finish faster and more under budget than Uncle Kevin's or Uncle Pete's. I also know that last week, he had to go over to Bensenville and prevent Kev's framers from quitting because he's a jerk. And I know he kept that RFP open in Du Page after Uncle Pete started talking politics to the woman from the county,” and they held Kira’s hand, “and her wife. I'm also fairly sure that whatever decision was made was made the minute they saw Em and me, so nothing else that happened today really made a difference. Whatever will be, will be. My dad will land on his feet. If it was Uncle Kevin, I'm not so sure. Anyway, my truck is here, so it was great seeing you. Have a good night!”
They pulled away and Kira leaned over and kissed them, “I am so proud of you, Jor.”
Jordan exhaled and banged the steering wheel, “What a bitch! What a fucking bitch!”
“She is. But your dad is leaving…”
“That's not the point. Who the fuck does she think she is? It's not her company, she didn't do anything, it's the family's…”
“Jor, you know what? I hope your grandfather does say something and I hope, without your dad, the company goes bankrupt.”
Jordan felt their blood pressure go up and took three breaths the way the sports psychologist had taught them. “Don't say that. I don't want that.”
“Why not? After everything they've said and done?”
They resented the question, she didn't understand what it meant. “Because there's guys on the crew and women in the office and stuff who depend on the paycheck. Because whether my grandfather and all of them are assholes, those people work really hard and I don't want them to have to look for work, k?”
Kira looked down, then said, “Can I hope for a really bad accident on their way back? And your aunt really has to go to the bathroom, poop?”
Jordan laughed, “A really loose, wet one.”
“Are you twelve?”
“You started.”
“Anyway, I don't know who sold her that dress but they are not her friends. Her ass looked huge.”
Jordan laughed, “Don't blame the dress, my mom always says about her. It's just fabric. Her ass makes her ass look huge.”
—
The party was on the top floor of a three story bar in Old Town, the downstairs being open to the public. A DJ played music, and Emily worked up a sweat dancing with one of Jared’s college friends and then Brooke, Stef and Arden.
After an hour, Em wiped her forehead with a napkin and took a sip of her Moscow Mule, grateful for the flats, although her Nikes would have been better. Emily and Brooke went downstairs to get some cool air and to go to the bathroom.
They were leaving the bathroom when they heard, “Brooke?”
Brooke turned around, “Oh my god, Niamh! How are you?” She turned to Emily, “Emily, this is Niamh, she was best friends with my best friend Lily’s younger sister.”
Emily put out her hand, “Hi, I'm Emily Berrigan. I'm Brooke's, as of a few hours ago, sister-in-law. Are we sisters-in-law, or is Stef just your sister-in-law and Jared my brother-in-law? Well, anyway, my sister married her brother,” and the other two women laughed, “and it's great to meet you.”
Niamh smiled and said, ‘it's nice to meet you too,’ then, “What are you guys doing here?”
“The after party is upstairs, you can come up, have a drink. Anyway, what are you doing here?”
“It was my parents’ 30th, we went to dinner, they went home, my brother and I decided to hang out, we don't see each other, blah blah.”
Brooke nodded and said, “Where is he?”
Niamh shrugged, “I think he knows the owner from college or something.” Then, “Oh, there he is. Hey, Dunc, over here,” she waved.
Emily froze. She should have realized it. How many Niamhs could there be in Northbrook? He was wearing a blue button down shirt, tight in the shoulders, black khakis and boots.
Then, he saw her and smiled, “Of all the bars in Chicago...”.
She looked down and smiled. “Hey.”.
As Brooke was saying, ‘do you two know…’ Stef came down the stairs, “I was wondering what happ…” Then, she grinned. Fuck, Em thought, aren't you tired? Can't this be the one time you don't notice something?
Niamh grinned. “Hi, I'm Niamh Connell! You must be Stephanie! Congratulations,” then, to Duncan's hissed, ‘don't,’ “Oh, where are my manners? This is my brother, Duncan!”
Stef grinned cheesily, “This couldn't be…”
In an exaggeratedly happy voice, “Yes, it could!”
“Isn't this just such a great surprise? And on my wedding day, no less? Isn't this great, Emmy?” Emmy looked at Duncan, who looked like he wanted to burrow through the wall - after he killed his sister.
Brooke said, “Is there something here I'm missing?”
Before Em could speak, Niamh grinned, “Emily used to date my brother, when he was in LA!”
“Really? That's amazing!”
Emily, in an effort to gain some control, came up with, “Niamh is applying to med school.”
Stef, in a faux-shocked voice, “That is unbelievable! My maid of honor, Arden, is in residency!”
Brooke, now grinning too, “And Jared's best man is doing an oncology fellowship!” Traitor, Emily thought.
Niamh kept grinning, while Duncan contemplated death - hers or his, it didn't matter, “This is a really big ask, especially at your wedding, and of course you can say no, but do you think…”
Stef looked at Emily, “You could talk to Arden and Alex? Of course! I know,” and she grinned at Em, “Arden would love to talk shop.”
“And Alex would be angry if he didn't get to meet you too. Right, Stef?” Brooke added.
Niamh looked at Duncan, who kept muttering, ‘dead, you are dead,’ and said, “We don't want to bore you guys though, so we'll just go upstairs. Come up whenever.” Em had never heard ‘whenever,’ said with a leer.
The three women went upstairs, giggling. Duncan rolled his eyes, “Subtle. Very subtle.”
Em smiled softly, “I don't care about them. How have you been? How's the restaurant?”
“Busy, really busy. It's work, sleep, work sleep.” He took her hand and she felt his calluses rubbing her palm and smiled.
Em took a breath, “Are you seeing anyone?” Please say no.
“Nope,” he smiled, “You?”
“Nope. Not me either.”
“That's good. I mean, unless you want to.”
She moved closer to him and looked up at him, “Not yes, not no.”
He put his hands on her hips. “Is this ok?” She just smiled and put her hands on his shoulders.
“I've missed you,” he said.
“Me too, I mean I've missed you too.” She had almost forgotten how kind his eyes were.
“So, I'm going to kiss you, if that's ok.” She nodded and leaned in, as he opened her mouth with his tongue. Tongues intertwined, they kissed for an eternity.
When they pulled apart, she looked at him. “God, I've missed that,” then kicked herself for being so open.
“Me too,” then, “I saw your commercial.”
She couldn't imagine where, since his network TV consumption consisted of sports. “Where?”
“In the TV over the bar at lunch. You were really good. I totally believed you as a waitress.”
“Ha ha. Anyway, so how's being sous chef?”
“Like I said, busy. But I'm getting involved in all facets of the business.”
“Do you think your finance degree helps?”
“In pulling apart two angry dishwashers?” He laughed.
“Shut UP, I meant on the business side,” then, “anyway, I'm going to kiss you again…if that's ok.” He pulled her in and the world faded away, leaving only them.
They just kept staring at each other, until they heard, ‘ahem.’ Em turned around to face Arden. She glared at her. Take the hint, she hopefully said with her eyes.
She failed. “Hi, I'm Dr. Arden Winnick. I just had to come down here and tell you how great your sister is.”
Duncan looked at her. “Uh huh. That's great, thanks for talking to her.”
Emily kept staring at her, wondering where sisterhood was. Clearly not here, since she was. “Yup, Niamh is great, thank you for coming down to tell him, you don't want to be rude to her and stay too long here.”
Arden leaned on the bannister and smirked, “Aren't you going to introduce us? I know your mom raised you better than that.”
Emily sighed. “Duncan Connell, Arden Winnick, Arden, Duncan. Arden was Stef’s maid of honor and is like another sister.”
He smiled and put out his hand, “Hi, it's great to meet you. Emily always said how great you were.”
“Mmm hmmm.” Arden kept smiling.
“Is there something else?” Besides getting in my way, Emily thought.
She came over and whispered in Emily's ear, “I'll leave you alone and keep Max away.” Max wouldn't block me like that, Emily thought.
As Arden went back upstairs, Duncan looked at her, “So how did it go with your parents?” She could see him tense up and it made her smile.
“We're better now. I actually speak to them kinda regularly and everything.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, my dad actually came around first. Think he knows how fucked up his family is and didn't want that for us. And she's apparently been seeing a shrink and dealing with all this.”
“That's really good.” His eyes widened, “They're not here, are they? Or your aunt and uncle, right?”
She laughed, “Relax, don't worry. My parents are at the hotel, and my aunt and uncle are back in Dekalb. Liam and Jordan are upstairs but they, unlike some people, won't come down here.” She paused, “Why don't we move away from here, just in case?”
They found a corner and Duncan smiled, “Where were we?”
“Hmmm, I think we were discussing movies.” He shook his head. “Music?” He shook his head again. “Not sports, yuck,” she giggled. He put his hands around her waist. “My goodness, do you think I'm the sort of girl who would just kiss some random guy in a bar?”
“Yup.”
“Well, I never…Have to start sometime, though.” They kissed again, his hands on her ass. He backed her up onto the wall.
She saw a man come over and tap Duncan on the shoulder, and she felt her face flush. The man smiled, “Hey, Dunc, you can use my office if you want.”
“Thanks. Oh, Emily, this is Brendan, we went to ND together, Brendan, this is Emily, we, umm, know each other from LA.” Brendan rolled his eyes at Emily. “I mean, we were dating before I moved to Santa Barbara.”
Emily stuck out her hand. “Hi, I love this place.”
Brendan laughed, “Thank you. Why don't I show you my office? It's really my favorite place here, I hope, heh heh, you like it too,” which precipitated a punch to his arm from Duncan.
He took them to the office, and closed the door. “I'm so embarrassed,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because he saw us and he took us here and now he knows…”
Duncan kissed her. “You were saying?”
She kissed him back, hard. She could feel his hands through the fabric, as he grabbed her ass. She stuck her hands down the back of his pants, and felt his ass. Then, she moved them to the front, pausing at his zipper.
He smiled, “Are you sure?”
She grinned, “I started, remember?”
“I just thought…”
“Don’t think,” she said, never taking her eyes off his, as she unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his underwear. “Oh, look who came to visit…” She began massaging it with her hand and could feel it pulsating.
She started to drop to her knees, when Duncan stopped her. “Lay back on the desk.”
Her eyes widened, “Are you sure?”
“Do you not want to?”
She laid back on the desk and he pulled her panties down. He kissed her deeply, his hands now under her dress. She felt the calluses against her smooth skin and her body tingled. He kissed her stomach, then moved down, his tongue flicking. If she ever worried how good the surgery was, her fears were allayed.
“Now!” She commanded.
He began pumping and she felt connected to him, each of them moaning. She felt his dick twitch, and then him cum. She looked around and saw a box of tissues, gratefully taking some and handing him the box, each wiping themselves as clean as possible, Emily knowing she’d be peeing shortly.
Duncan kissed her neck and she shivered. “That was amazing. Did you cum?”
She nodded, then laughed, “Did you?” The old jokes returned.
“Nope. I faked it.”
She nodded, a grim look on her face, “That’s really too bad.”
“It is. So, was this the highlight of the day,” he laughed.
“I mean, my first time as a bridesmaid and I’m a slutty one, so yeah,” she said, as she pulled up her panties. She turned around, “How wrinkled am I?”
“Not too bad,” and he began rubbing his hands down her back. “Let me press them out.”
“Stop that!” Don’t stop that, she thought, don’t ever stop that. “If you keep doing that…” He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, well, I have to get back upstairs. Do you wanna come with me?”
“Do you want me to?”
She paused. On the one hand, she wanted to take his hand and never let go. On the other hand, everyone would know. On the other other hand, who was she kidding? They knew. “Yeah. I mean, if you want to.”
He turned a little red, “I don’t want to be embarrassed, I mean embarrass you.”
“You never embarrass me,” and she paused, “besides, I’m already mortified from before. You may as well get a free drink out of it.”
They walked upstairs, hand in hand, dreading what was to come. She was greeted by Max, who whispered in her ear, ‘nice.’ “Max, this is Duncan, we, uh, know each other from California.”
“I’ve heard,” he laughed, sticking out his hand.
“Max Basner.”
Duncan smiled, “Duncan Connell. Wait, you’re the guy who took Emily to an acting class, right?”
Emily looked at him. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Em said it was a big deal, how nice you were to her.”
Max looked almost humbled. “It wasn’t that a big deal. I love Emmy.” Then, regaining his bearings, “And what are your intentions with our Emily?”
Duncan fumbled for an answer and then Liam and Jordan came over, laughing. Jordan looked at Max, “OK, Max. You’ve had your fun.” They stuck out their hand, “Hi, I’m Jordan.”
“Duncan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Jordan looked at Em and then smiled, “Me too. You went to that snotty little rich kid school, right?” Liam laughed, thinking of his father.
“And you went to that cow college in the middle of nowhere? Anyway, it’s great to meet you.”
“Same.” Em marveled at how well they immediately got along.
Duncan looked at Liam, “And you’re Liam, right?”
Em laughed a little as Liam tried to make himself seem bigger. “Hey.”
“Hey. How are you liking UCLA?”
“I mean, it’s always 70 there, and it’s not 70 here.”
“True that.” Em stood back as Liam, Jordan and Duncan began discussing college football, smiling at the parts of her life merging. She wandered over to Stephanie, who was talking to one of her friends.
Stef rubbed Em’s shoulder and smiled, “So?”
Em just smiled. The friend held out her fist and Em bumped it.
“I didn't mean to leave the party for so long.”
Stef and her friend laughed, “Emmy, it's fine. It's more than fine,” then, with a sly smile, she turned to her friend, “He is so Emmy’s type.”
The friend looked at her, “You like them big, huh?”
Before Em could speak, Stef offered, “Yup, big, dark haired and light eyes. Always has, except…”
“Why is everyone in this family so fixated on that?” She turned to the friend, “Stef is talking about my alleged crush on one of our neighbors when I was a kid.”
Stef laughed, “You know the expression, ‘don't try so hard.’” She pointed at Em, “Exhibit A.” Then, she watched as Jared walked over to Duncan and them, how they were all smiling and talking. She looked at her baby sister grinning, and smiled and nodded.
—-
The party wound down a couple of hours later and Stef and Jared got an Uber back to the hotel.
“I can’t believe we’re married,” Stef laughed.
Jared smiled and took her hand. “We are, and I’m so happy we are,” and he leaned over and kissed her deeply.
“Me too,” she smiled. “It really was an amazing day, y’know.”
“Yeah.”
“I mean I was never one of those girls,” and he raised an eyebrow. “No, I mean I wanted to marry you but I was never one of those girls who dreamed about her wedding day or anything.”
He smiled, “And..”
“And,” and she kissed him, “it was perfect, amazing, everything went perfectly, no drama.”
Jared had heard about the bathroom and P.J. puking in the bushes (‘One of Stef’s cousins chucked,’ Alex said, laughing) and decided not to say anything. Em seemed fine and Stef didn’t need that today. “Yup. Not my aunt, not…anyone. Just you and me.”
You and me, Stef thought. You and me…and she smiled, and rested against Jared.
—
Emily woke up the next morning, head pounding from the long day, the alcohol and the lack of food, but still smiling from ear to ear.
She showered and put on her blue sweater, over a white t-shirt, jeans and her Nikes, ready to travel. She started to brush her hair and then decided, ‘screw it’ and pulled it into a ponytail.
She began packing her suitcase on Arden’s bed, Arden having taken the earliest flight possible (‘I was gone for three days and that’s gonna cost me’). She finished packing and went downstairs to get a quick breakfast with her parents and Liam.
“Good morning, sweetie,” her mother said, as she kissed her cheek. “When did everything wind down last night?”
“1:30 or so?”
She laughed, then, “Anything interesting happen?”
Em got nervous that someone told her. Then, she remembered that Stef was on a plane to Hawaii, and Arden got up too early, and Jordan and Keek would never. “No, just a lot of fun.”
“That's good. Are you ok from, y’know, the bathroom and everything?”
“I'll tell you what I told everyone. I'm fine. They behaved exactly as I expected and as far as I’m concerned, that’s the last time I’m gonna see them. So I don’t even wanna talk about them. Sorry.”
“Don't apologize. You have nothing to apologize for, I'm just glad you're ok. By the way, I'll say it again, you looked gorgeous.”
Emily smiled and tried not to shrug. “Thanks.”
“And you were right about my dress.” Emily had suggested a floor length A-line chiffon dress with beading at the neckline, “even Jared's witch of an aunt complimented me, and she sounded almost sincere,” she laughed.
“You really looked beautiful.”
“Thank you, and thank you again for letting us back in.”
“K, stop, I mean it. We're here now, let's just stay here or go forward. It was bad enough you all made fun of me about Jamie,” she laughed.
“I'd apologize but nah. You two were so adorable. I only wish you could've been in the wedding instead of Jordan, I know they do.”
Emily laughed, “Oh yeah,” then, “do you remember that awful dress you made them wear to the rehearsal? Did you do that on purpose because they wouldn't go shopping?”
Her mother smiled, “Not totally on purpose but could you ever see them in a cute party dress? You, yes, I'm sure you would've looked beautiful, especially in that dress you picked for Megan. ‘She says that I have great taste in clothes, that's good, right?’ What were you thinking?”
Emily smiled, remembering the mini dress, black, ladder back, with little sequins. “I don't know. Anyway…”
Just then, her dad came in and kissed her on the cheek without flinching. “Hey, Emmy, good morning. Did you have fun yesterday?”
“It was amazing. It was so much fun being in the wedding and everything…sorry if that's weird.”
He looked at her, “Why would that be weird?” Her mother excused herself to check on the table.
“I just thought…I know I said I wasn't going backwards but…”
“But, nothing. You're my, our daughter, you always were. Why wouldn't you like being a bridesmaid?”
“I just…”
He held up his hand. “One last time. I'm your father and you're my daughter. That's it. One day, when you get married, if you'll let me, I'll walk you down the aisle too,” then, laughing, “but will you please let your mother see stuff more than once? Your sister drives her nuts, which means she drives me nuts. Ok?”
She smiled, “I will…but not if she gets too annoying.”
He smiled a sly smile, “Define ‘too.’ Shhh, she's coming.”
Her mother came back and looked at them.
“What?”
“What what, honey?”
She looked at Emmy. “You're an actress? Whatever you're hiding is all over your face.”
“Nothing. Dad’s just marrying me off. I'd like a boyfriend first, if that's ok.” Her father made a growling noise then smiled.
—
Emily and Liam went through TSA and then to the gate.
She looked at him, in his blue UCLA sweatshirt and jeans, his size 13 red and white Jordan 1s making his feet look even bigger. They got coffee at Starbucks and then found a place to sit.
“Did you have a good time, Lee?”
He grinned. “ Yeah. Not as good as yours, though.”
“Shut up,” she laughed, “I’m gonna have to listen to Stef and Jordy, I thought you were on my side.”
He smiled, “I am but like you wouldn’t do the same to me?”
“That’s totally different,” she kept laughing.
Liam just smiled, “I like him. He’s cool.”
“He liked you too.”
“You two back together?”
She smiled and shrugged, “He’s still in Santa Barbara but we’ll see, y’know. You didn’t say anything to your mom, did you?”
He looked offended. “I wouldn’t do that, besides you will, I’m sure.”
Emily felt her face flush, “Shut up.”
“Everything's good with your mom and dad and them?”
Emily shrugged, thinking about the weekend. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“No one was too bad to you yesterday, were they?”
Em held up her hand, “You know what? They're the same them they always were. The difference is we don't have to deal with them, if we don't want to.”
He smiled and put his arm around her. “Think we're done with holidays now?”
“Pretty sure I'm not getting invited. Oh well…”
“Think I can get out of it?”
“Pretty sure your mom's done with them, which means your dad doesn't get a choice, not that I think he wants one, y’know.”
He laughed, “I'm sure.” He looked around. “My dad says I'm supposed to check your brakes.”
She groaned, “I told him like twice that I got them fixed.”
“I know, I told him too and he told me to check anyway.”
“If you drive, then I'm gonna have to spend like ten minutes fixing my mirrors and stuff after. Just tell him you checked them.”
He smiled, “Just let me do it and then he'll leave both of us alone.”
She laughed, “Fine.”
She took out her phone, then stopped and looked around the airport. For the first time, she was going home knowing that she could come back.
A Deep Dive into the Back of the Closet --
by Anonymous
"Hmmm, so this woman you saw. Was she attractive?" Jennifer, my therapist, said.
"Oh yeah, she was about 5'8", 140 lbs. Long dark hair in a ponytail. Blue eyes. She was wearing this white short-sleeved top, full pink print skirt and white heels," I said. "I couldnát take my eyes off her as we walked up the steps from the train."
"What do you mean 'full skirt?'"
"Not a mini. It came down just about knee length and kind of puffed out, instead of clinging to her legs."
"Oh." She looked at the clock. "Our session is over. I'll see you next week. Oh wait...can we make next week at 7:30, instead of the usual 1:00?"
"Sure," I said. "Is there a problem."
"Oh, no, I just have another patient who asked for a lunch appointment. If it's a problem, I'll tell her no."
"No problem. Just curious. See you next week."
Jennifer had been my therapist for eight years, since before I got married. I'd been having marital problems for about a year. I began feeling like Jennifer was getting frustrated by my complaining. I kept expecting her to say, "Shit or get off the pot." But therapists never do that. I once asked her if she was annoyed, and she gave one of those classic therapist answers like, "Well, do you think I should be annoyed?" I guess that something you learn in training - "Always answer a question with a question." Anyway, for the past few weeks, we'd been talking about what life would be like if I left my wife. She asked me to fantasize about people I saw on my way to work. I actually found it liberating to imagine picking up someone on the train. Realistically, it would never happen. It takes a certain alpha male type to do that and I, unfortunately, am not that guy. Still, it was kind of cool to imagine myself working my magic on the people I saw.
The next week, I arrived at Jennifer's office at 7:30. The receptionist wasn't there, so she buzzed me in.
"Where's Cheryl?"
"Oh, she gets off at 5:30. It's just me," she said. "Come in."
I looked around the room, and saw a garment bag hanging from the coat rack. "Oh," I said. "Do a little shopping?" I was just making small talk.
"Sort of," she said, as she unzipped the garment bag. "This is for you."
When she opened the bag, I saw a blue sheath dress. It appeared to be slightly higher than knee length, and had white piping around the collar and hem.
"Uh, excuse me?" was all I could stammer. "What do you mean , 'for me'?"
"Strip," she commanded, her tone becoming stern. "This is for you, and so are these," she said, handing me a Victoria's Secret bag with a bra, panties and stockings inside.
"What the hell is going on here?" I yelled. "What the fuck are you trying to do?"
"Look," she said flatly. "We've talked about your crossdressing fantasies for months. But something always seems to hold you back. You once asked me if I was annoyed. Well, I am. For you. You need to do this for you. And for me. It'll help the process."
I began to strip. I know this seems like I gave in too soon. But, secretly, I had always fantasized that Jennifer would lead me to this. Not in a dominatrix kind of way. More like a helpful friend or older sister.
"Could you at least turn around?" I asked. "This is kind of embarrassing."
She laughed. "I think we're kind of past that, don't you? You've bared your soul to me. I would think your body wouldn't be an issue, at all."
I stripped. My cock shrank to nothing in abject fear.
"So, put on the bra and panties first."
I fumbled with the bra. I could never do it smoothly with the few women with whom I had been, and this was a lot more nerve racking.
"I guess you won't be applying for a job with a bomb squad," Jennifer said with a smile.
I turned angrily on her. "I'm glad this is so funny to you. Really professional."
She came over and began adjusting the bra. "I'm sorry," she said, putting a hand of my shoulder. "I saw you were tense, and was trying to lighten the mood. You're right, though. I crossed the line, and again am sorry. 38 chest, though. I was right."
"Well, if this ever falls through, you can get a job at a bra store. Or maybe guessing weights at a carnival."
"OK, now for the stockings. Sit down, and let me show you how to put on stockings." I sat.
"First, ball the stocking like this. Then point your toe towards me," she said and began slowly running the stocking up my leg. My cock began getting hard.
She glanced at it. "Calm down, that's not what this is about, Steve. Besides, I'm married."
Well, my cock inexplicably complied. It must have been that older sister/mother thing I had developed with her. "Stand up," she said. "Let me put these in," she said, taking out a set of silicone bags and slipping them in the bra.
"What are those?" I asked.
"Breast forms. You surf those websites, and you didn't know what these were," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"I thought that's what they were. I just wasn't 100% sure. So what size am I?"
"D cup. With a 38 chest, you really couldn't be much smaller. Now, put on the dress."
I stepped into it, and slid it up.
"Put these on," she said, handing me a pair of black slingback pumps with a 3" heel. They were a little tight.
"How did you guess my size," I asked.
"Just lucky," she said. "Stand up." I stood up "Perfect," she said. "Oh wait, one more thing," she said, pulling out a tube of lipstick. "This will complete the look," she said.
"Maybe not. I think Beth will notice, don't you?"
"Don't worry," she said with a grin. "We'll take it off before the end of the session. Now look at yourself," she said, pointing to a mirror on her door. "What do you think?"
I looked at myself. "I look like a guy with tits wearing a blue dress and lipstick."
"That's it? Anything else?"
"I like the dress."
"Why?"
"It's a good length. Very classic looking. With the breasts, it falls right too."
"Hmmm," she said. "Anything else?"
"The heels."
"Why?"
"They make my legs look longer, and give them a nice shape."
"You do have nice legs, Steve. Most women would kill for legs like that."
"Boy, thanks. You sure know how to turn a guy's head."
"You pointed it out. Not me. What's your name"
"Steve?"
She sighed in exasperation. "You know what I mean."
"Ummm, Jennifer?"
Again, she sighed. "PRO-jection. Try again."
"Jessica," I said. "I always liked that name."
She looked upward. "Good. Well, Jessica, would you like to begin our session?"
"Yeah."
"Girls don't say, 'yeah,' they say, 'yes, please.' Would you like to begin our session?"
"Yes, please."
"Well, Jessica," she said, going to the door, "I have a surprise for you. Tom, come here please."
In walked a 6'4" brown haired, green eyed guy with a good build. You knew he was extremely well built, because you could see it through his shirt. "Jessica, Tom. Tom, Jessica," Jennifer said, with a leer. "I'll be back in twenty minutes," she said, walking out the door.
"Whoa, Jennifer," I said. "What the hell's going on here?"
"You and Tom can talk," she said, closing the door and leaving.
"Uh, look, Tom," I said, backing up against a wall. "I don't know what Jennifer told you, but, uh, nothing personal, I'm, uh not interested and, as you can see, I'm a guy, and..."
He put his finger to my lips. "Shhh, I know who you are. You don't. But I do. And I like a girl with something extra." He began unbuttoning his shirt. His shirt hadn't done him justice. He had the most gorgeous set of six-pack abs I had ever seen, and his arms were perfect. Muscular, without being cartoon-like.
"What the hell are you doing," I said weakly. "I said I wasn't interested..."
"Really?" he said, with a wink. "I can't help but notice you looking at my stomach. Do you like it?"
"It's, uh, very nice. Do you do crunches, or situps, or..." I began babbling. I averted my eyes downward. I tried not to look at the bulge in his pants, but it was kind of hard to miss.
"Yeah," he said, "You're not the least bit interested," he said, pinning me up against the wall. Even in the heels, he was still 2" taller than me.
"Hey, stop. I'll hit you," I said, as he thrust his tongue in my mouth. "Mmm," I moaned, kissing him back. He put a hand under my dress, and began massaging my thigh. I don't know what I was thinking, but I began playing with his abs. I had wanted to touch those abs from the minute he walked in.
"Still not interested?"
"Shut up," I protested, as he moved his hand from my thigh to my crotch.
"Oh, yeah, Jessica," he smirked, "I can see how uninterested you are. Why don't you show me how uninterested," and he began kissing me again. A gay friend had once told me you hadn't lived until you'd been kissed by another man. He was right. My hand moved from his abs into his pants.
"Ooooh," I said, playing with his cock. "Can he come out to play?" I said, unzipping his pants.
I pulled down his briefs, and an 8" cock sprung out. My throat got dry and tight and my pulse began racing. My mind said, "Run," but my body wanted to stay. I started running my hand all over it, and began to go to my knees. Tom stopped me.
"Hold on," he said. "Let's go slowly. Let me show you what I can do first," he said, unzipping my dress. It fell to my ankles. "Now, lay down to the couch," he commanded.
I laid down on the couch, and he climbed on top of me. He began playing with my breast (forms) through the bra. Even though they were fake, I swear I felt my nipples getting hard. "Please, Tom, please let me touch it."
"No," he said, "I'm going to please you and then, and only then, will I let you please me," he said. He moved his hands down, and began massaging my ass while kissing my inner thighs. I was shuddering.
"Try not to cum," he said gently. "It'll be that much better, if you wait. Now, roll over."
I did as he said. He began massaging my back. I never liked massages. They made me more, not less, tense. But, something about his strong arms made me melt. "Mmmm, that feels so good," I whispered. Suddenly, I felt something rubbing against my ass. He began moving his cock around my ass. Beth always liked when I did this. I never understood why. Now I did. The feel of his cock through the satin panties was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was forceful yet gentle. I kept moaning and whimpering.
"Well, clearly, you're still uninterested," he said.
"Shut up, and do it faster and harder," I said. He complied, thrusting harder and faster.
I couldn't hold back any longer. I began making high pitched squeaks, "Unh, oh, g-d, yes..." I came, but it felt more deeper than any orgasm I had ever had. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. Tom stuck his hand in my panties, and came up with a finger full of cum.
"Lick it," he said. "I want you used to the taste." I gladly licked his finger, running it in and out of my mouth.
"Now," he said, with a devilish grin. "My turn to be pleasured. Or is it yours...Jessica?" He straddled my face so that his cock was looking me in the eye.
I still felt like I should run away. But, I couldn't. Instead, I cupped his balls in my hands and began massaging them. "Oooh," I said, "Can I play with your balls, little boy?" After a minute, I said, "Let me get up. You sit right there." I got on my knees, and stared directly at his crotch. I thought I'd go blind, like if you look directly at a solar eclipse. Instead, I began taking him little by little into my mouth. "Mmmm," I mumbled, taking him deeper and deeper each time. After what felt like an eternity, I felt his cock shudder. Before I could move away, I felt him shoot his load into my mouth. At first, I gagged. But, then, I began greedily drinking it in. After he shot his load, he pulled out. He stood up, pulled up his underwear and pants and began buttoning his shirt.
He opened the door, and said, "Okay, Jennifer, we're all done now."
Jennifer walked back in, with a huge smile. "Thanks, Tom."
"Thanks, Jennifer." He leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. "Thanks, Jessica." He walked out, and closed the door.
"Put your dress on, and let's talk," she said.
I put the dress on and sat down. "What the hell just happened?" I demanded.
"What do you think just happened?"
"No offense, Jennifer, but cut the therapist-speak. I come for my usual session, and you force me into a dress and next thing I know I'm being assaulted by some guy."
"Force. That's an interesting choice of words. Did I in anyway exert physical pressure upon you?"
"Well, no."
"Did I threaten to falsely accuse you of a crime?"
"Of course not. Where are you going with this?"
"I'm just questioning your terminology, Steve."
"Well, I mean, you're my therapist. You know I trust you implicitly and I just thought that maybe if you thought this would be a good idea, then..."
"So, if I told you to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge..."
"Ha ha," I said flatly. "I know we've talked about me seeing you as a maternal figure, but that's a little much..."
"Fine. Let me ask you another question. What kind of dress is that?"
"A sheath."
"Sheath. Yes. And tell me about the shoes."
"Black slingbacks. With a 3" heel."
"Do you think other men know that? If I asked my husband those questions, his responses would have been 'blue' and 'black.'"
"So what? We've covered my crossdressing fantasies. What does that have to do with this?"
"You've talked and talked about going to a fantasy facilitator. You've told me about your fantasy of having a female friend who helps you get dressed. I decided it was time to dress up or shut up. And, by the way, you were right. That dress did look very good on you. Baby blue is perfect for your coloring."
"Fine. That doesn't excuse Tom. I never said I was gay and I certainly didn't expect to be assaulted."
"Assaulted. Another interesting choice of words."
"Oh great, this again," I said, with my eyes rolling.
"Well, Jessica," she said, eyes rolling, "I was outside the whole time, and I didn't hear you scream for help. If you were really being assaulted, you would have screamed."
"Do you blame rape victims who are forced against their will and can't scream?"
"Oh please, Steve," she sneered. "Did Tom threaten to hurt you if you screamed?"
"Um, no."
"Did you want to scream?"
"Maybe not," I said, staring at the floor.
"Did you try and hit Tom to stop him?"
"He's like 3" taller than me, at least."
"Did you try and leave the room?" When I didn't respond, she said, "Oh yes, I see the threat. I also couldn't help but notice that, when I came in, your dress was on the floor. It doesn't appear to be ripped, so am I safe in assuming you took it off voluntarily?"
I blushed. "Well..."
"And I can't help but notice that the lipstick you were so worried about seems to be mostly removed."
"OK, I get your point."
"And I didn't notice too much on Tom's face. Would I have found some in another place, Jessica?"
"This is so embarassing," I said, "I never thought of myself as gay," and with that I told Jennifer the entire story. She made me describe every thought, feeling and sensation in excruciating detail. She especially had me linger over my desire for Tom's abs. I told her how much I loved touching each and every muscle in the six pack, and how absolutely carved his chest and arms were. I told her how I hate massages, but didn't want to Tom to stop kneading my back with those magnificent arms of his. I told her about how I wanted to run, but got dry mouth and a racing pulse I got when I first saw Tom's penis. It almost felt like she was living vicariously.
"You know what's amazing to me," she said, after I finished breathlessly. "How alive you were when you told that story."
"What do you mean?"
"When you talk about your sexual experiences with women, you seem disembodied. Like you were physically there, but mentally elsewhere. But when you talked about Tom, you became animated. It was like a different person than the Steve of the past eight years."
"I don't like where this is going, Jennifer," I said, warily.
"Steve," she said, patting my hand, "I'm not judging you. But let me offer some observations. We've been working with 'real-life' fantasies for the past few weeks, right?"
"Right. Where is this going?"
"When you talk about women, you say how beautiful they are. But you spend as much if not more time focusing on their clothing than them. Do you remember what we ended last session with?"
"The woman on the stairs."
"Yes, the woman on the stairs. You told me she was wearing," as she looked at her notes, "a white short-sleeved top, full pink print skirt and white heels."
"I remember."
"I hate to keep going back to the comparison, but my husband would not remember those details. He'd remember that she was wearing heels, and if she had been wearing a short skirt, but he wouldn't remember colors or types of clothing."
"So, your husband's not observant. Sorry for you."
"That's not what this is about, Steve. I've noticed that, even when you talk about a woman's physical attributes, it's usually part of a discussion of their clothing. Like, 'she was wearing a yellow shift that really accentuated her ass. Or the boots really drew attention to her gorgeous legs.' Quite frankly, it's like listening to one of my girlfriends cut apart a woman we've seen."
"So what, I'm a girl? Thanks, Jennifer. That makes me feel sooo much better."
"Look, Steve," she said sternly. "That's not what I'm saying. Stop projecting your insecurities onto me and listen. I'm going to ask you one question, and answer me truthfully. When you see a beautiful, well-dressed woman on the street, what do you want? To get in her panties, or to get IN her panties."
"Come on. What do you think? I'm married, for chrissakes. And it's not like my parents don't have gay friends. If I was gay, I could be out. I'm not out. Therefore, I'm not gay. See?"
She laughed. "Now, that was an extremely convincing argument. We've talked about this before. You've told me about wet dreams you've had..."
"Hey," I protested. "You said those don't necessarily mean anything. I'm so glad I trusted you. Thanks a hell of a lot."
"First off, you just issued the ultimate qualification - 'necessarily mean anything.' I've asked you to describe the guys in these dreams. You never mention clothes and can, in fact, rarely describe their faces. Instead, I hear about their chests. Their arms. Their penises. And their abs. Boy, you sure go on about abs. I haven't decided what that means yet, but you have a thing about them."
"And that's why you chose Tom. Is this a DSM-approved therapy, Jennifer? Bringing in hunks to seduce closet drag queens?" I said sarcastically.
"First off, Steve, try to limit the pyschobabble. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing," she said drily. "Second, hunk, huh? Another interesting choice of words."
"I was being sarcastic."
"Oh really? If I called Tom in, would he say you weren't satisfied with his service?"
"No," I replied.
"Would he be lying?"
"Great," I said, with my tears in my eyes. "I was a married man this morning. Now, I'm some kind of drag queen cock-sucking bottom. Beth will be so thrilled. My life is over."
"No," she said, handing me tissues. "Your life is most definitely not over. First off, being turned on by women's clothes does not mean you're now a female impersonator. It's something that turns you on sexually, and you should be able to find someone who lets it be part of your sex life. You said you approached Beth about once, and she shut it down completely. Do you think that's fair?"
"I didn't think I should force something she hated."
"Fine, do you think sex is satisfying to her?"
"We've covered that..."
"Exactly. Do you think it's fair to her to be with someone who's not psychologically present during sex? Shouldn't she be able to be with someone who is?"
"Well, no."
"Look, I'm not saying to go home tonight, and say, 'Guess what honey? I'm gay!' I think you need to figure things out first."
"Great. Turn my life upside down in one session, and then tell me hold up. That's really fair."
"That's not what I said. I think we both know how this will end, but you don't just upend someone else's life on a one shot deal, Steve. You need to process this, and connect with your feelings before you go and do something."
"I know. You're right."
She looked at her watch. "I'm sorry to end like this, but session's over. I'll see you next week. Regular time," and she left me. I began putting on my clothes, wondering what the hell was going to happen next.....
[to be continued, if there's interest.] (Probably not since this was originally posted 2004-11-11 -- BCEditor)
“Eight years,” I thought as I left Jennifer’s office. “Eight. Years. Eight. Fucking. Years. And she pulls this shit. Who the fuck did she think she was? If I wanted this, I would have gone to a dominatrix. It would’ve cost me a hell of a lot less, and I wouldn’t have wasted all those lunch hours.”
I could feel myself scowling and clenching my fists. I must have made some sight walking down Broadway to the train. “Fuck her. Just fuck her,” I thought. A woman stared at me. I glowered back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shake her head as she scurried off.
As I passed 74th Street, I heard a woman’s voice, “Steve?”
I snapped out of my misery, “Huh? Yeah...holy shit! Donna? Donna Amalfitano?” I said with a smile. Donna had been the high school and community college girlfriend of my friend Dan Quinlan. We all hung out together when I was back from college on breaks.
“Donna Hicks, now. But yeah, it’s me.”
“Oh wow, it’s been, what, like fifteen years? I thought you moved to San Diego back in 1990.”
“I did. But I came back. My job gave me a chance to come back, and I missed my family. I have a niece and nephew now, and I felt like I was missing out on their lives being cross-country.”
“That’s cool. How’s your family? How’re your mom and Nick doing?” Donna’s dad died when we were juniors in high school.
“Mom’s fine. Nick just got promoted to sergeant on the force.”
“The force? As in police force? Nick? Your brother Nick?” Nick had always had, let’s just say, a difficult relationship with the law.
“Yup, he’s a cop now. Has been for twelve years.”
“Wow, I guess people can change, huh?”
She laughed. “I didn’t say he’d changed. I said he was a cop.”
“Oh. Enough about him. So tell me about the lucky Mr. Hicks.”
She blushed. “Thanks, Steve. I appreciate that. Not much to say. We’re divorced. And you?”
I held up my left hand and tapped my ring. “Seven years or, as I like to put it, two wonderful years.”
“Really,” she said, arching her eyebrows. “That’s, uh, great.”
“What?” I said, girding myself. “What does ‘uh, great’ mean?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Forget I said anything.”
I knew what she was talking about. Back when I was a freshman in college, she attended community college with my friend Quinlan. His given name was Dan but, at some point in high school, everyone started calling him just Quinlan. Teachers, his brother, everyone. Only his mother and father called him Dan. Anyway, I was back on winter break my sophomore year and we were all hanging out.
“Hey, Steve,” she asked. “Do you know anything about American History from 1900 to the present?”
“Kind of a broad area, but yeah I basically do. Why?”
“Well, I’m taking this history class, and my final’s coming up.”
“OK, what do you need? Help studying.”
“Yes,” she said, suddenly grinning. “Actually, I have a better idea.”
I rolled my eyes, “This should be good.”
“We’ll dress you up like me,” she said, cracking herself up. “Leggings, a big shirt. A wig. Makeup. Noone will know.”
I began to sweat, or at least feel like I was. I regained composure. “Great idea. How do you suppose will pull this off? I’m, what, 6" taller and like 50 lbs. heavier than you? Besides, what do we do about Mr. Lucky down there?” I said, pointing at my crotch. Deep down, I was really excited. I wished we could do this.
She pulled out a compact from her bag, and began dusting my face with powder. I was getting more and more excited. “Oh, we could pull this off. So you’ll wear a skirt instead,” she said, looking down at my rapidly growing member. “I mean, if that wouldn’t bother you too much.” I blushed. I knew exactly what I’d wear. She had a black cotton miniskirt and boots that I loved. That, her cute blue top, some bracelets. I was getting really excited.
She giggled. “You would be really cute. And look you won’t need blusher.”
Just then, Quinlan walked in from the bathroom, “What’s going on?”
“I had this great idea for Prof. Rabinowitz’s class,” she said, laughing. “We’re going to dress Steve up like me, and he’s going to take the final.”
“That’s a good idea,” he laughed back. “I mean, so long as I don’t have to sleep with him after or anything.”
I got up, and punched him in the arm. “Yeah, like I’d sleep with you, you dickwad. This is nuts,” I said, protesting too much. “I’m going to wash my face.”
Donna came over. “I was just teasing, Steve.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “Besides, I’m a lot of things, but an attractive woman isn’t one of them. Anyway, I’ll help you study, if you want. Let me know when.”
“How about tonight? The test is day after tomorrow. I’d really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Not like I have plans.” Which was, unfortunately true. I got together with friends from college on the weekends, but during the week I reverted to my high school loser self.
That night, I went over to Donna’s to study. I rang the bell. Her brother Nick answered.
“Hey, Nick, how you doing?”
“Hey, Donna, your girlfriend is here,” he sniggered.
She came down the stairs, and punched Nick in the stomach. “Shut up, asshole. Hi, Steve. Thanks for coming over.” Nick stared at me, shook his head and said, “I’m going out. Ladies.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said. “I don’t put too much stock in Nick.”
“He’s just a dick. Let’s go to the kitchen.”
We studied for several hours. Donna wasn’t stupid, by any stretch of the imagination. She just had no ambition, which was kind of to be expected. The women in her family worked as secretaries and store clerks, and said of any woman who tried to do better “Whaddaya think you’re special?”
After about three hours, she said, “You know, Steve. You’ve actually made this interesting. I think I could do well on this test.” She leaned over and kissed me chastely on the cheek.
I blushed. “Thanks, this stuff really interests me. Besides, you’re smarter than you think.”
“Thanks,” she said. “You’re really a great guy. And I want to thank you.” She reached into her purse.
“You’re welcome,” I said, “You don’t have to give me anything. It’s really no big deal. I like helping you.”
She pulled out her address book, and wrote a name down on a piece of paper.
“What’s this,” I said, looking at the paper.
“It’s my cousin Todd’s number. He’s a sophomore at Yale. I told him all about you. He’s really excited. He likes intellectuals, especially blue eyed ones.”
Subconsciously, I wanted to squeal with delight like her girlfriend. I wanted to ask her all about him, what he looked like, what he liked to do and all of that. But I was in deep denial, so instead I growled, “What? What’s this supposed to mean?”
“I just thought...” she said.
“You thought wrong,” I snapped. “I’m not gay or anything. What the hell made you think that?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that you’re smart and funny. And no one’s ever seen you with a woman. I mean, you don’t try and hook up when we’re all out or anything.”
“So what, Dean and Lucas never hook up. Do you think they’re gay too?”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. Come on. Lucas tries to hook up, but he’s not exactly fuckable, if you know what I mean. And, Dean is, well, Dean. He’s in his own world. Don’t lump yourself in with those two. You’re better.”
“Thanks, but even still...maybe I’m just shy, did you ever think of that?”
“Maybe, but you talk to me and Erica. You’ve talked to my friend Sheri. She was into you, you know. All you had to do was make a move, and you didn’t.”
“First off, I talk to you guys because you’re my friends’ girlfriends, so I don’t feel subconscious or anything. Plus, Sheri was really into me? Really?”
She laughed, “OK, maybe you’re not gay. Just dense. I mean, if you were gay, we’d be cool with it.”
My eyes widened. “Oh, jeez, we? Who else did you share this with? Not Quinlan, please?”
“No, no,” she said, holding my hand. “Quinlan would be all freaked out. I told Erica.”
“Oh no, she’ll tell Jason, and he’ll tell Quinlan,” I groaned.
“No, she won’t. She understands. She’s totally cool with it...”
“There is no it to be cool with, Donna. OK?”
“OK, OK. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just thought...”
“I know. Next time, remember, I like women.”
“Yeah, OK. Whatever...”
After that, whenever we all went out, I made a real effort to try and “hook up,” or at least look like I was. It felt like I was acting, and acting poorly, and not surprisingly I always struck out. I’d catch Erica and Donna out of the corner of my eye, staring at me and shaking their heads. Whenever I’d come back to the table, Donna would always say something like, “Boy, Steve, you have no luck with women. I wonder why. Just bad luck, I guess, huh?”
“Hey, Steve,” Donna said, snapping me out of my reminiscence. “I bet I know what you were thinking about.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Do you live around here?”
“No, actually coming from therapy. My shrink’s on 72nd.”
“You’re in therapy, huh?”
“Yeah, everyone in New York is. You’ll start soon. Or else you’ll have to move back to Jersey. It’s an obscure law.”
“No kidding,” she laughed.
“Yeah, anyway, you look like you were on your way. Let me give you my card,” I said, fishing through my briefcase. “We should get together sometime.”
She looked at the card. “Attorney, huh? I figured you’d do something like that. Actually, you would’ve been a great writer too.”
“Thanks. All lawyers are frustrated writers. Except for litigators. They’re frustrated actors.”
“What kind of law?”
“Municipal bond financing.”
“Wow,” she said, “That sounds, really, uh, exciting.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s not. But good job faking it. All those years with Quinlan must’ve paid off.”
She laughed. “Actually, what are you up to now? I mean, if you don’t have to get home or anything.”
“I was just going to get something to eat. My wife goes out with her friends on Wednesdays.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“That’d be great. Otherwise, it’s just me and the New Yorker.”
“Terrific. How about Italian? Oh, shit...not you, too, Steve,” she said, staring at my face.
“What? What me too?”
“The lipstick, Steve,” she said, angrily, “Therapy, huh? Yeah, my ex used to get the same kind of therapy. I guess I was wrong about you.” She turned to walk away.
“Wait,” I said. “It’s not what you think. Believe me, it’s not.”
“Oh really,” she snarled. “What is it then?”
“This is really, really private,” I said, with tears in my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it on the street. Please believe me.”
I must have convinced her with my tears. She said softly, “I live on 75th and Amsterdam. God help you if you’re fucking with me, though.”
“Believe me, I’m not,” I pleaded. “When I tell you what’s wrong, you’ll know.”
She cracked a smile, “Well, this is getting good.”
I have no idea why I wanted to tell her. Maybe it’s because of what had happened between us. Maybe it’s because I knew her but, fifteen years having passed, I didn’t really know her. Maybe I just needed to tell someone, anyone. We came to her building, and walked up to her apartment.
“Home sweet home,” she said, flicking on the light.
It was a small one-bedroom. Very tastefully decorated. Very feminine. Not Laura Ashley explosion feminine, but you knew a woman lived there. Actually, if you knew Donna, you knew she lived there.
“Nice place,” I said, looking around. “I like your style. My wife’s not much for decorating.”
She gave a half smile. “Thanks. I figured you’d like it.”
I laughed, “I won’t even say, ‘What’s that supposed to mean.’”
“So, what’s with the lipstick?”
“Can I get a drink first?”
“Wine?”
“Great.”
She poured two glasses, and gave me one. “So,” I said, “this is good wine. What kind is it. And, boy, these are nice glasses. Crate and Barrel. I like Crate and Barrel.”
“Nice try, Steve. Speak or get out.”
With that, I let loose. I told her all about my fantasies. I told her about the dress. I told her about Tom. About how his massage made me feel better than I had ever felt. About his chest. About his gorgeous abs, and I how wanted to touch each muscle forever. I began telling her about how he penetrated me through the panties. I told her about blowing him. Everything.
“Whoa,” she said when I finished. “Well, that certainly explains the lipstick.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I should never have said anything.”
“It’s OK, Steve. I’m not so sure what I think of your therapist though. That’s a little, uh, fucked up, don’t you think?”
“I’m not really sure what I think, or what’s right, you know.”
“Go with how you feel. How did it feel when he penetrated you through the panties?”
“Oh, jeez. This is, uh, god, shit. Never mind.”
“Speak,” she demanded. “Just tell me what you’re feeling.”
I stared at the floor. “I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I’ve never cum like that,” I said, blushing.
“You are so lucky, bitch. Most women rarely ever have orgasms like that. And you got it with your first try.”
“Great. I’m a woman now. Just what I wanted to hear.”
“Stop it, Steve. How was everything else? What did you think of the blow job?”
“Taking notes?”
“Stop being so sarcastic. How was it?”
“I gagged.”
“Don’t worry. Everyone does. It takes getting used to.”
“There’s no getting used to anything. It was a mistake.”
“Was it? Come on.”
I began bawling. “What the hell am I going to do?”
She came over and hugged me. “It’s OK, Steve. It was OK fifteen years ago. It’s OK now.”
“But, it’s not fifteen years ago. It’s now. I’m married. I have a job. I have a life. And this will fuck it up royally.”
“It will not, Steve,” she said, continuing to hold me. “I know your family. They’ll support you no matter what.”
“It’s not that simple...”
“Steve, I know. Remember my mom? Mass every day? What do you think she did when I told her I was getting divorced?”
“It’s not the same. It’s not like you had to announce to the world ‘I like sucking dick.’ Besides, I didn’t notice eleven states passing constitutional amendments against divorced women...”
“Yeah, OK, I see what you’re saying. But, still, you need to be happy. You need to be who you are.”
I started bawling again. “I don’t know who I am anymore.” She came over, held me and wiped a tear from my face. She leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. “There, there,” she said. Then, she kissed me again, harder. I opened my mouth and our tongues began probing the inside of each other’s mouths.
She pulled back. “You kiss nice. Soft. Gentle. I like that.”
“Boy,” I said. “Soft and gentle. I feel good now.”
“Shut up,” she said, kissing me full on the mouth again.
I stopped. “I don’t know. I don’t what else I am, but I know I’m still married.”
“That’s fine,” she said, coyly. “Whatever you want.”
I grabbed her, and began kissing her.
“Gently, Steve. I liked it gently. Let me control everything.” With that, she began kissing me forcefully. She put her hand on my groin. “Looks like someone still likes women, too. Come this way,” she said, wagging her finger towards her bedroom.
I shouldn’t have done it. I owed Beth that much. But I did. I went with her.
She pushed me onto the bed, and began taking my shirt off button by button. She ran her fingernails up and down my chest. “Mmmm, do you like, Stevie? Mmm, do you, little girl?”
“Unnnh. Yeah. Mmmmm.”
“Yes, good little girls say ‘yes.’”
“Oh, yes. Donna. Oh, yes,” I moaned.
Then she unbuttoned my pants. “Oooh, someone’s enjoying himself.” I tried to sit up, and take off her blouse. “No, no, no,” she said, pushing me backward and straddling me. “I’m in control, you little, what did you call yourself, bottom. I like that. You’re my little bottom.” With that, she reached up under her skirt and pulled off her panties. She threw them at me. “Smell. You like?”
I took in her musky scent. I loved it. I had always liked going down on Beth. She didn’t like it though. “Mmmm, you smell great.”
She brushed my penis with her vagina.
“Please, Donna, please,” I cried.
“No, no,” she said, inching her way up my chest, “Remember, you’re the bottom.. I’m the top. You will do what I say when I say it.” With that, she put her pussy over my face. I began licking her clit.
“Faster, now slower, now faster,” she said, as she fingered her nipples. “Ooooh, that’s good. Oh, yes, Stevie girl. Oooh, you know what to do.” She jerked involuntarily. “Yes, yes. Yes, yes. Oh, Stevie.”
She crawled off me, and reached into her nightstand. She pulled out a baby doll nightie and a condom. “Put these on.”
I put on the condom. I held up the nightie, “But...”
“Little girl, do you want me to do something about that?” she asked, pointing at my penis.
I reluctantly put in on. It was tight, but it fit. She pushed me onto my back. “Now, put your legs on my shoulders. I’m going to fuck you the way you need to be fucked.” This was one of my deepest fantasies, to have a woman fuck me while I was in a nightie. If she’d throw in handcuffs, I would’ve truly been in heaven. I kept expecting to wake up.
She began rhythmically pushing herself on and off my penis. “That’s good,” she said. “Feel the motion. Start pushing back with just your little pussy there. That’s right. That’s right.” Then, suddenly, she began putting her finger in my asshole. I jerked.
“Calm down, little girl. Relax. Do you like it?” she said, thrusting it in out, while we rocked in time.
“Oh, yes. I like it,” I whimpered.
“Which do you like better?”
“Both, I like both.”
“Say, ‘Fuck me. Fuck me harder.’”
“Fuck me. Fuck me harder. Please fuck me.”
“Nice. I like that.”
“Who’s my Stevie? Who’s my little girl?”
“Me, Donna. Me. Please don’t stop,” I said, arching my back.
“Good girl,” she said. “You know just how to please me.”
I jerked my back one more time, and came violently. “Oh, Donna.”
“That was a quite a little performance there, Steve. You are one little rug muncher. If you switch sides, it’ll be a real shame. Although, there will be some lucky guys.”
That snapped me out of the post-coital glow. “Oh, shit. What did we just do, Donna? Oh, god, look at me,” I said, turning to the mirror.
“Do you like what you see?”
“It doesn’t fit right. But, I like the way it looks and feels.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Would you be with someone who liked it?”
“I just was.”
“Pity fucks don’t count.”
“I don’t do pity fucks, Stevie. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“What the hell did we just do?”
“Are you happy at home, Stevie?”
“Not really.”
“I’m no shrink, but you seem lost. Like someone trying to find his way.”
“Wow, that’s deep...” I said, with a smile.
“I’m trying to help.”
“Sorry. You’re right, though.”
“How many women were you with before Beth?”
I didn’t answer. I looked away.
“Were you a virgin?” she said.
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“Yes.”
“Whoa...sorry, that was mean. How many men had you been with?”
“Before today, none.”
“Wow, you really don’t know what you are, do you?”
“I just want to be happy. To be with the right person. Whoever, or whatever, that is.”
She kissed me again on the cheek. “I want to help you, Stevie. Figure out who you are. Whoever you are, I like you. I always have.”
“Thanks,” I said, “What the hell do I do now.”
“Go home. Don’t do anything rash. If you need anything, call me.” She took a piece of paper. “Here’s my number.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking off the nightie and getting dressed. “Now, I’m really fucked up.”
“You’re just confused. Go.” she said, putting on a t-shirt and shorts.
As she took me to the door, she kissed me again. “Seriously, if you need anything, call. By the way, Todd’s still available.”
“Ha, ha,” I said, with a smile. “Besides, how good could he be if someone hasn’t snapped him up yet.”
She laughed, “You are such a bitch, girl. Leave,” she said, pushing me out the door. “Anytime you want to go down again, let me know. You have one hell of a tongue,” she said, as the door closed.
I walked downstairs. The world seemed all at once better and worse. What the hell was I going to do now?
{to be continued, if there’s interest.}
6:30 AM. The alarm buzzed. I slammed down the sleep button, with every intent of going back to sleep. Five minutes later, I had to go to the bathroom and got up to go. I turned on the light. I looked in the mirror. My wife looked back. I screamed.
6:30 AM. The alarm buzzed. I slammed down the sleep button, with every intent of going back to sleep. Five minutes later, I had to go to the bathroom and got up to go. I turned on the light. I looked in the mirror. My wife looked back. I screamed.
“What’s wrong, Dan?” I heard myself say, from the bed.
“Come here, Jessica. ” I heard my wife’s voice say. “Come here. NOW!”
I saw myself walk in. “What’s wr....DAN! What’s going on?”
“How should I know? I woke up...and I’m you!”
“Well, I’m you! What are you going to do about this?” It was nice to see that, even though we had switched bodies, some things didn’t change. Like this was my fault.
“What am I going to do? I think WE have a problem, don’t you?” I said, with my hands on my hips.
“Sorry, I meant we,” she said, laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. Look at yourself, with your hands on your hips. Is that what I look like?”
I started to laugh, then dropped my hands. “Fair enough. What are we going to do?”
“You’re having a dream. Go back to sleep.”
“How do you know this is a dream?”
“Um, because people don’t switch bodies,” she said, with her voice rising at the end. It was strange. It was my body, with my voice, but distinctively female cadences.
“You must be right.” With that, we went back to bed. Half an hour later, the alarm went off. I rolled over and said, “Honey, you wouldn’t believe the dream I had....holy shit!”
“What?”
“You’re still me!”
“That’s crazy,” she said, rolling over. “Oh...my...god!”
“Fuck...Dammit...what are we going to do?”
“About?”
“You’re me and I’m you, that’s what about....”
“Sorry, I’m freaking here...what happened to us?”
“How should I know? All I know is that we have somehow switched bodies, and now have to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“Call in sick? Give us a day to figure this out?”
“We can’...or I can’t...I have a hearing today that’s already been adjourned once. It’s before Gilberg.”
“Oh...yeah.” Even my non-lawyer wife knew that Justice Gilberg hated adjournments and would make life miserable for any attorney who asked for one for any reason other than death...his or her own.
“How am I going to explain this one...’well, your honor, my wife and I swapped bodies last night and...”
“Well, what am I going to do? I have a meeting with my sales directors about the new launch, and they’re not exactly expecting you either...”
“Maybe, there’s some kind of out for us.”
“An out? Like what?”
“I dunno...let me see if I can get someone to cover for me...give me my Blackberry.”
Jessica handed me my Blackberry. I took it out of its holster and instinctively looked at my e-mail. The first read to “[email protected],” my firm’s e-mail address. “This is weird.”
“What?”
“My e-mail...it has the firm name, but your name.”
“Let me see.” She grabbed the Blackberry. “Huh? This is clearly your e-mail. Something about some kind of case.”
“Check yours.”
“Yup. Here’s an e-mail from Jim,” her boss, “to dan.silverman. It’s like we’ve switched lives or something.”
“That’s impossible.”
“More impossible than switching bodies?”
“Guess not. Check the answering machine. There was a message from your mother yesterday. “
“So?”
“See if that’s changed.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Just check it, OK?”
She pressed, ‘play.’ Her mother’s voice came out. ‘Hi, you two. Danny, call me when you get this.’ “Wow,” Jessica said. She walked into the hall. “Come here. Look at this,” she said, pointing to our wedding photos. We were still in them, but now, in the family shots, I, I mean she...I mean the new me or the old she...was with my family, and she...I mean the old me....I mean, I don’t know...was with hers.
“Oh, shit...we did it. We switched lives.”
“Why did this happen?”
“I don’t know. Since I didn’t know it could happen, I can’t tell you why it did happen, can I?”
“Nice to see you’re still the same pedantic you...”
“Anyway, in Turnabout, this couple stood in front of a statute and unknowingly said the other one had a much easier life...”
“What’s Turnabout?”
“TV show with John Schuck and Sharon Gless. They switch bodies..but not lives.”
“I never heard of it.”
“On for half a season in 1979.”
She laughed, “Oh boy. If you’re going to be me, you’ll have to lose the TV trivia thing...girls don’t do that.”
“Anyway, they wished on a magic statute. Stood in front of any magic statutes lately and wished I could see what your life was like?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. Not that I’m aware of. You? You want my life?”
“God, no!”
“Oh, calm down. I was kidding.” She reached over and kissed the back of my neck.
“What’s that for?” I said, jumping back. It felt good though. “Besides, not now.”
“Boy, you really have become me. Yesterday, you wouldn’t have turned down sex if we had been in a car accident.”
“Yeah, yeah. But, I’m kind of trying to figure out how we’re going to get through today. Look, we need to figure out a plan.”
“Get in the shower.”
“You can go first, if you want.”
“No, you need to,” she said, smiling. “First lesson in being a girl. It’s going to take you longer to get ready,” she reached down to rub my leg. “You need to shave, unless you’re going all dykey on me.”
“Very funny, ha ha. You’re getting to into this. It’s not funny.”
“Just get in there. Call if you need help.”
I walked into the bathroom and my wife stared back at me. She was 5'6", 160 lbs with brown hair and blue eyes. She was reasonably attractive, but she and I, after 5 years of marriage, had both let ourselves go. We both needed to do something, but marriage breeds complacency.
She walked in and handed me a shower cap. “Put this on. You don’t need to wash your hair and getting it wet will just add to your headaches...what’s up? You look depressed.”
“Nothing...just thinking,” I said, putting it on. “Huh...”
“What?”
“It’s funny. Looking at you is kind of like an out-of-body experience.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You know how when you see someone every day, you don’t notice changes. But when it’s someone you don’t see regularly, the changes look pretty drastic.”
“OK?”
“Looking at you now, I see myself through another set of eyes.”
She looked at me. “Yes, I see what you mean.”
“Say ‘yeah.’”
“What?”
“Guys say yeah, not yes.”
“We’d both be better off not saying too much, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes.”
“Sorry, yes. Anyway, looking at you I see what I’ve done to myself.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve let myself go.” And I had. I was 6'1". When we got married, I weighed 190 lbs., now I was 225 lbs and going up. Whenever things got back to normal, I was getting back to the gym.
She stared at me. “I see what you mean. I could lose some weight too. Anyway, let’s get through today first, then deal with resolutions.” She smiled and slapped me on my ass. “Get in there.”
I got into the shower, turned on the water and grabbed my soap. “Use the body wash, honey. Soap will dry my skin out and I want my body back same as I left it,” she yelled. I grabbed the body wash and lathered myself up. I rinsed off, lathered my legs and grabbed her razor. I started to shave my left leg.
“Ouch...shit!” I screamed. as I cut my leg.
She came in. “What’s wr...oooh, cut yourself?”
“Yes...now what.”
“Let me watch you shave...”
“Pervert...I’m not some slut on the web.” I said, giggling. I meant to laugh, but it came out a giggle.
She rolled her eyes. “Mmmm, that’s it baby....just shave.” She watched, then said, “Longer strokes and rinse the razor more often. You’re not shaving your face.” I shaved without incident and got out of the shower. “All yours, you big stud.” I figured if I was stuck, I’d play with it.
“I left you an outfit on the bed.”
“I could’ve picked something.”
She laughed. “I can only imagine what that would have looked like. Either a skank or a homeless woman..a homeless woman with no color coordination.”
“Very funny. I have style, I’ll have you know.” Bad style. But style nonetheless. On the bed was a navy blue pantsuit and white blouse. That and a bra, pair of plain white panties and black socks. “No pantyhose?” I said, walking into the bathroom.
“You want pantyhose?” she said in shock. “That’s a little weird.”
“No. You wear them. I figured I was supposed to.” I looked at myself naked. Damn, no wonder she didn’t want to have sex with me very often.
“I would. You’ll have enough problems today. You don’t need that. That’s why I left socks. You want the whole nine yards, we can do it. Dress. Stockings. Heels. If you don’t trip and break your ankle, you’ll be adorable. Not right for court, but adorable. Just wear what I left, OK?”
I did what I was told. I went to put on the blouse and got confused. Then I realized that the buttons were on the left side. I was grateful she left me a pantsuit. It was just like getting dressed, except there was no zipper. Which of course wasn’t really necessary.
She came out of the shower and looked at me. “You look good.” She looked around. “You couldn’t leave anything for me to wear? Nice to see something’s don’t change.”
“Sorry, it’s hard to see myself like this.” I rummaged in my closet. “You need business casual or a suit today?”
“Please get me a suit. It’s a big meeting. I’m running it. I should look good.” I took out a charcoal gray suit, white shirt and blue tie. “This is boring,” she said.
“You’re a guy, remember. Guys don’t dress very interestingly. You can choose gray or navy blue. Stripe or no stripe. That’s it.”
“OK, OK.” She put on the shirt and fumbled with the buttons.
“Other side. I had the same problem.” She pulled on the pants and then went to tie the tie.
“This is hard,” she said, fumbling with it.
“Hang on, sit on the bed. I’ll do it.” She sat down and I climbed on the bed behind her. I wrapped my arms over her shoulders and grabbed the tie. I don’t know why but, when I saw our reflections, it started to get me excited. I kissed her neck.
She turned around and kissed me. It felt strange. I’d never been kissed with such force. It felt wrong, but right at the same time. “I thought you weren’t interested,” she said, with a grin, as she pulled away. I blushed. “You’re blushing. How cute.”
“I don’t know why I did that. I guess something about wrapping my arms around you turned me on. Anyway, sit back down.” I grabbed the tie, “Take the two ends. Make the skinny end shorter. Over, over, under and through. You look good.”
She stood up. “Boy, that was easy. I could get used to this in the morning.”
“Don’t. This is only temporary, I’m sure.”
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. We need to do your makeup now.”
“Do we have to? Can’t I get away without it?”
“No,” she said, with a grin. “Maybe this isn’t so bad. Maybe you’ll learn something about life on the other side. Sit down and watch.” I must’ve looked nauseous. “Oh, relax, you baby. It’ll be simple. It’s not like we’re going to a formal affair or anything.” She handed me a pencil. “This is eyeliner. Pull down your right eyelid and run the pencil along it gently. You don’t want to look like a raccoon.”
“No, I’m not sticking a pencil in my eye.”
“Grow up. You’ve worn contacts since you were, what, 16. It’s the same thing. We don’t have all day.” I took the pencil and gingerly ran it along my eyelid. That wasn’t so bad. I didn’t poke myself or anything. “Very good. Now the other side. Good.” She handed me a brush. “This is blush. Just lightly dust your face....good. You’re really good at this. Sure you haven’t done this before?”
“NO!”
The vehemence of my response must have thrown her off guard because she looked at me funny and said, “It was a joke. I was kidding. But, methinks the lady doth protest too much, maybe.”
“I’m not...never mind, sorry. This is weird for me, you know.”
“And it isn’t for me?”
“I mean, the make up and all. You’re wearing basically the same thing I am. I mean, I have the makeup and the breasts. It’s kind of scary.”
She grabbed her crotch. “Hey! I’ve got this. Not exactly in my comfort zone, you know.”
“It’s different. It’s not as big...”
She smiled, “You said it. Not me. Look, this is scary for both of us. We’ll get through today and wake up tomorrow and it will all be back to normal. Come on, let’s get some lipstick on you. OK, watch. I’ll do it once, then wipe it off, so you can try.”
“Why do we have to do that?”
“Because, at some point today, you’ll have to touch it up and you can’t look like a clown, can you?”
“I guess not.”
“OK, watch, it’s like coloring. You’re a good artist. Just follow your lips...what?”
“This is getting me hot.”
“Lipstick is getting you hot?”
“I dunno. It’s strange. It’s the closeness of your hand to my lips or something.”
“Pretend I’m gay. OK, let’th do thith,” she said, with an exaggerated lisp. She finished and took a tissue. “Blot your lips on it.” I did it. “That gets rid of any excess,” she said, wiping off my lips. “Now, you try.” My hands shook a little, but I did it. “How’s that?” She looked at me, “Very good...are you sure...never mind. Wipe it off and do it again. You need to do it more quickly in case anyone’s around.”
“Who’d be around?”
“In the ladies’ room, genius. Where do you plan to do this?”
“I can’t go in the ladies’ room.”
“Look at yourself. You can’t very well go in the men’s room. And you can’t hold it all day either, can you?”
“Maybe, I’ll skip the hearing. Or come home after.”
“Just do your lips again...very good. You’re a fast learner. Now, you’re ready to go...wait, you need something,” she said, reaching into her jewelry box. “These are the pearls my mom...or your mom...gave me on our wedding day, be careful,” she said, fumbling with the clasp. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For all the times I thought you were a clumsy oaf when you put these on me. OK, there we go,” she said, putting them around my neck. What was wrong with me? I felt aroused again and turned around.
She smiled, “Are you looking for practice putting on lipstick?”
“Huh?”
“If I kiss you, you’ll need to put it on again. Calm down. Maybe later, OK?”
I felt frustrated. “OK, let’s do this.” I regained my composure. “The way I see it, we need to keep the talking to a minimum today.”
“Why?”
“So, no one figures us out? Duh?”
“Look at us. Listen to us. We may be freaking out, but to anyone else, we’re who we were yesterday. You’re Jessica. I’m Dan. If we act strangely, that’ll be a problem. Just remember, you are Jessica Silverman. You’re an attorney at Sagman Bennett. I’m Dan Silverman. I’m the senior product director for Stone Pharma. If we act like nothing’s wrong, nothing will be wrong. I’m no happier about this than you are, but it is what it is, so let’s do it. Call me when you get back from court. I want to know my girl is safe.”
“Ha ha, Jess.”
“Dan.”
“What?”
“Remember, I’m Dan. You’re Jessica. Keep saying to yourself, ‘Jessica. Jessica.’ You don’t need to make any mistakes.”
“Boy, an hour and half with a penis and you’re already thinking like a man.”
“Meaning?”
“Cool under pressure. Not like me. I’m pathetic.”
“Stop it. Go to court and do your job. Focus on work and the day will be over soon enough,” she said, handing me a pair of flat black shoes. I put them on and went to leave. “Don’t forget your purse,” she said, putting in my makeup. She kissed me lightly on the lips. “Don’t want to mess your lipstick, Jess. I love you.”
“I love you too...Dan.”
We lived on 87th and 2nd, so I went to 86th Street to catch the train to Brooklyn. The 4 train pulled up and I tried to jostle my way in. There was, as always, one of those assholes who wouldn’t move away from the door , no matter how empty the interior is and no matter how many people who are on the platform. I said, “Excuse me,” and he smirked and refused to move. I threw a shoulder block. Both he and his smirk remained immobile. ‘Huh? Why the hell is this so damn difficult?’ I thought. Then I realized. I wasn’t 6'1" 225 lb. Dan, I was 5'6", 160 lb. Jessica. I had no upper body strength. He stepped out of my way with a sneer, and I moved into the middle of the car to make room for other people. At the pole just off the door were all the women, small children and short men. I always hated these people because they, instead of stepping in, rudely made it difficult to fill the train. I pushed my way in to the middle and went for the overhead rail. I had to stand on tiptoes and realized I had shrunk seven inches. I realized that, maybe, all those people in the middle weren’t rude but too short. I lowered my head and grabbed the pole with the women...I guess, the other women. I kept praying that this was still a dream but, by 14th Street, I realized this was not happening. My back started bothering me, when I realized what the problem was. The aforementioned weights on my chest. Maybe Jessica was feeling the same way about her new penis, but I had that my whole life, so I never thought about it that way. I stood up straighter and the back pain went away.
Finally, I got to Borough Hall and went to the courthouse. I went through the attorney’s entrance, and the court officer said, “Pass?”
“Hang on a sec,” I said, fumbling through my bag for my Secure Pass. The Secure Pass is an i.d. card that lets attorneys avoid standing with the great unwashed to get into court. Or one could argue that it was a way of preventing lawyers from corrupting the general public. Either way, I started fumbling, “It’s here somewhere.”
I heard men behind me moan, “Women.....” I wanted to turn around and scowl, but realized that, yesterday, I would have been one of them.
I found it and mumbled, “Sorry. I...uh...switched bags yesterday.”
“Whatever, counselor. Step through.” I felt embarrassed and headed to the courtroom. The calendar call was for 9:30 but, as I learned early on, that was for attorneys. Judges on the other hand took their time. As my first boss used to say, “If you get there after 9:30, you’re late. If you get there before then, and the judge shows up at 11:00 AM, he’s not late, you’re early.” I didn’t see opposing counsel, so I sat down to read my paper. At 10:45 AM, The clerk called, “Step up on Keller Stationery v American Machine”.
“Da...Jessica Silverman, plaintiff.”
“Forget your name, young lady?” saidd my opposing counsel, Ron Di Nardo. Ron Di Nardo was a perfect specimen of a Court Street lawyer. For those unaware, Court Street is the street that, not surprisingly, runs in front of the Kings County Courthouse. Every Northeastern city has its “Court Street” lawyers. The term started as a slur by big firm, Ivy League snobs for the lawyers who graduated from lesser schools who represented poor or middle class people, small store owners and the sort of people a big firm who wouldn’t let cross their threshold. Mario Cuomo, for instance, started as a Court Street lawyer. However, by this point, the “Court Street” lawyer had devolved into the sort of lawyers who have the big sign reading, “Divorce. Personal Injury. Criminal” facing the street to attract people who come to court without an attorney, and who get paid in cash. Court Street lawyers came in two types. One was the sort with slicked back hair, who wore double breasted fake Hugo Boss suits with matching tie and pocket square, and represented the kind of guy who appeared in three episodes of the Sopranos and got whacked. The other type was like Di Nardo, who wore a dumpy, ill-fitting blue suit, usually covered with crumbs from this morning’s bagel, a stained tie and brown plastic glasses most recently seen on junior high school science teachers in the 1980s. In a TV show, Di Nardo would turn out to be a brilliant litigator. This, however, was not TV. Instead, he was a bastard who, to make up for his lack of legal skills, tried lamely to throw you off your game by saying things like, ‘Forget your name, young lady?’
“Counsel, enough,” said Justice Gilberg, looking me up and down with a look of disgust. I wasn’t really sure what I had done to provoke this look. “This is a settlement conference, our second. Have we settled?”
“No, your honor,” I said.
“The last time we were here you two promised me you were close to settlement. I don’t hold second settlement conferences, but you, Miss Silverman, said,” and he adopted a high pitched voice, “Your honor, we will settle this. I promise.” Di Nardo snickered.
I was shocked by Gilberg’s tone, but soldiered on. “Counsel has refused to budge from his intial offer of $10,000. My client suffered $100,000 in lost orders, which I can prove is due solely to client’s defective merchandise.”
“Your honor, Miss Silverman is being too emotional about this. Her client has no case. But my client, to avoid the expense of trial, has made the eminently reasonable offer of $10,000. She needs to think rationally. Perhaps you can help.” Sexist bastard. I’d heard him make comments like this before but, as a guy, I just ignored him.
“Mr. Di Nardo, keep the comments to a minimum. Clearly, Miss Silverman has rejected your offer. If this is where we are, counsel, you should have cancelled this conference and moved for trial. Miss Silverman,” he said, again looking me up and down disdainfully, “what will your client take, for real.”
“$50,000.”
“Mr. Di Nardo?”
“$15,000, your honor. Although my client will be upset.”
“Well, we certainly don’t want that, do we? Perhaps, you misunderstood Miss Silverman. I asked for a real number. She said fifty, which seems quite reasonable. Fifteen is not. You’ve been around the block, Mr. Di Nardo.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning if that’s your final offer, I assume we’re going to trial. And I assume that you have informed your client that, if we go to trial, I will not be happy. And I will not be happy with the party that wouldn’t be reasonable.”
“Is that a threat, your honor?”
“Advice, counsel. So?” Gilberg stared at him, and drummed his fingers on his desk. “Trials are inherently risky, and it seems this young woman has recognized that. Take some time, think about it.”
Di Nardo breathed out. “Forty-nine five.” He smirked. Way to go, you hack. Got me down five hundred.
I smiled, “Your honor, I cower in the face of Mr. Di Nardo’s brilliant legal skills. Rather than face him at trial, I will accept forty nine five.”
“Calm down, Miss Silverman,” said Justice Gilberg with a smile. “See, counsel? When we all work together, we can settle. Draft a stip. Step down.”
We drafted a stipulation of settlement and handed it to the clerk. As we were leaving, she said, “May I see you a second, Miss Silverman?”
“You’d best not change that, Miss Silverman,” said Di Nardo, leaving the courtroom.
“Get your meds adjusted, Di Nardo. Paranoia’s getting worse.” With that, he left.
“What’s wrong, ma’am?”
“May I offer you some advice?”
“About?”
“Your outfit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve been before the judge before. He hates pants on women. He’s old school that way.”
“Shit, that explains why he kept looking me up and down.”
“Exactly,” she said, with a smile. “He likes skirts or dresses and heels. You know that. You’re lucky opposing counsel was Di Nardo. Judge hates him.”
“I woke up late this morning. I totally forgot what a sexist he was.” I knew that. Every attorney who appeared before him knew that. But, I never cared. I wore suits. Who cares what he made women go through?
She laughed. “You’re not wrong. But you know, his motto...” Together we said, “He who wears the shmatta makes the rules.”
“Next time, I’ll remember.” I left the court shocked. What right did he have to set what counsel wore, as long as they look professional. That and the cursing. It’s incredibly unprofessional, but neither I nor women didn’t need to have my dainty ears protected.
I got back to the office and called my boss. “How did it go, Jess?”
I paused at ‘Jess.’ “Um, fine, we got forty-nine, five.”
“Forty-nine five, not fifty? Oh wait, Di Nardo,” he laughed. “Way to go, Ronnie. Regular F. Lee Bailey. Did I tell you I went to law school with him? Nice to see things haven’t changed. Anyway, where’s the Techno-slate memo? We want to file it tomorrow, and I need to check it.”
I checked my e-mail. Rachel, my first year associate, was supposed to have finished it this morning and e-mailed me it. It wasn’t there. “Let me call Rachel and see what’s going on. I’ll get back to you.” I hung up and called Rachel into my office.
Rachel was a mousy little blond girl, about 5'2" and 100 lbs. dripping wet. She was twenty-five and looked about sixteen. She was very sweet, but afraid of her own shadow. I tried to explain to her that, if she wanted to litigate, she would need to toughen up. Get a bigger set of balls, as it were. Not that I was one to talk anymore.
“Rachel, where’s the Techno-slate memo? Mike asked me for it. You were supposed to have it for me for this morning.”
“I’m sorry, Jess, but Steven,” her boyfriend, I think. I met some guy who was with her at a firm party “and I had a big fight last night. He’s so awful,” she sighed, looking at me hopefully.
I ignored that. “Look, I’m sorry you two had a fight. But, we have work to do. Get to it.”
She looked shocked. “Bill gave me another project.”
“I don’t care. This came first, and should have been done,” I said forcefully. “I’m sorry you have personal issues, but the Southern District isn’t interested in Steven.”
“What’s wrong? Did you and Dan have a fight?” I wanted to say, ‘No, we’re able to see things from the other’s perspective.’ But I didn’t. Besides, what did my personal life have to do with anything.
“No, we didn’t,” I said, annoyed. “What’s wrong is there’s a motion looking for a memo. A memo from you. This is what you get paid to do. So go do it. I’ll cover with Mike, but I need it ASAP. Order in, if you have to, but just do it.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry ‘my life,’” she said, making air quotes, “got in the way. I’ll go do it now,” she said, walking away like a kicked puppy.
“Thank you,” I said, wondering what just happened. I called Jessica at her office.
“Dan Silverman’s office,” said his secretary.
“Hi, Lena, it’s D...Jessica. Is s...he there?”
She laughed. “Hi, Jessica, you OK? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I just woke up funny today.” By way of example, with tits and a vagina.
She laughed again. “You and Dan both. Hang on.”
“Hey, sweetie. Glad to see my girl’s safe. How was your morning, princess?” he said, laughing at his own joke.
“Very funny, J...Dan. Hang on, let me close my door,” I said, getting up. “You wouldn’t believe what happened.” With that, I recounted my whole day so far, from the train to the unspoken dress code, when he interrupted me.
“Congratulations.”
“On?”
“You’ve now learned some of what I go through. Guys getting pissed when you can’t find something in your purse. Older guys calling you ‘young lady’ and wanting you dressed in skirts, not pants. Like pants on a woman threaten their manhood.”
“Way to go, Camille Paglia.”
“I’m serious. As long as you’re me, you’ll see it. And, maybe when this is done, you’ll know better.”
“I didn’t do that before today. Anyway, I get back here and Rachel feeds him some bullshit story about not doing a memo because of a fight with her boyfriend. That’s never happened before. What the fuck’s up with that?”
“Welcome to my world. You’re her female boss and female subordinates see female first, instead of boss. Like you’re supposed to let them get away with things a man wouldn’t. Speaking of which, I had a weird conversation with Wendy this morning. She was wearing a cute top, and I said, ‘cute top,’ like I always do and she looked all freaked.”
I laughed, “Jesus, honey. You can’t say that.”
“Why not?” she said, sounding hurt. It was strange to hear my voice sounding so hurt.
“First, no straight guy has ever used the words ‘cute top,’ ever. Second, she works for you. She could call HR on you for harassment.”
“I get it. I get it. What am I supposed to say?”
“Honestly, good morning. How are you? No comments on clothing.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding deflated, then she brightened up, “So, how is it being me?”
“Weird, I’m not used to being so short. I feel powerless.”
“Powerless?”
“Doors feel heavier. I can’t reach the overhead rail in the train. And I have to change the whole way I walk because of your tits. You?”
“First, tell me about. This thing of yours keeps getting in my way. I went to pee and had to remember to stand up. Although, that’s really convenient. Have you peed yet?”
“Not yet. How’s everything else, besides my penis?”
“Actually, it’s really fun. The secretaries asked me to change the water in the cooler and I lifted it no problem. People got out of my way and my meeting, not that you asked...”
“Sorry. How did that go?”
“Great, everyone listened to me. Cameron, that asshole, didn’t interrupt me once...”
“That’s weird.”
“I know. I felt, I don’t know, more respected or something,” her voice lilted.
“Stop ending sentences like questions. Guys don’t do that.”
“I understand.”
“Got it. Say, ‘got it.’ Speak in more clipped sentences.”
“Thanks, dear. Anyway, how do you feel?”
“I told you. Everyone seems more condescending. I have to see how the rest of the day goes. I have a meeting with Sandy Feldstein today, let’s see how that goes.” Sandy Feldstein was a client, who was a self-made construction mogul. He hated being sued, but hated lawyers’ fees more. He was crass and brusque but, once you showed him that you did your job efficiently, calmed down. “Let me get ready. I just want this day over.”
“Tell you what, let me take my girl to dinner tonight.”
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Oh, calm down. Go get ready. I’ll see you later...oh, don’t forget to check your face before your meeting. Bye, my little Jessie”
I groaned. “Bye....Dan.” My meeting was in 15 minutes, so I figured I’d better go pee and..eech..check my face. I walked to the bathroom and, by rote, pushed on the men’s room door. Luckily, I saw the man icon and instead reluctantly went into the women’s room. I looked around the room. Two women were in there. I expected the two women in there to shriek or yell but they ignored me. I instinctively searched for a urinal, but realized (a) there weren’t any and (b) I had nothing to use in one anyway. I went into the stall, pulled down my underwear...I mean panties...and the pee came in the kind of powerful stream that I hadn’t had since I was 20. I finished and went to stand up until a voice in my head said “wipe.” I must’ve used half a roll of toilet paper to make sure I was dry and stood up. I walked out and went to the mirror to check my lipstick. Check my lipstick. I felt ridiculous.
Robin, a bitch in the real estate group said brightly, “Hey, Jess, how are you?” Robin was beautiful. 5'10", 150 lbs. Jet black hair and emerald green eyes. Every guy in the firm lusted after her. She had never said more than three words to me. I didn’t know why. So, I decided she was a bitch.
“Um, good and you,” I said, somewhat shocked.
“Great. How’s life in litigation?” By that sentence, she said more to me than she had in my seven years at the firm.
“Fine. How’s real estate?”
“Boy, you’re a woman of few words today. Busy. We have a Feldstein project today. You know, Sandy, I want everything but hate paying.”
I relaxed. She wasn’t so bad. “Tell me about it. I have a meeting with him in ten minutes. He gives you guys headaches. When litigation gets involved, something went wrong and it’s our fault.” This was actually nice. She was really not so bad. I pulled out my lipstick.
“Isn’t it?” she said, laughing. “That’s a great shade for you. What is it?”
I looked at the top, “Um...Bobbi Brown...sexy coral,” I said, blushing.
She smiled. She was even more beautiful when she smiled. “Sexy coral makes you blush? What do you do in bed?”
Now, I really blushed. “I...I...just stop,” I giggled. Again with the giggling. “I have a meeting.”
“OK, OK. This will relax you. Think of Sandy Feldstein naked. His gray, hairy chest. His pot belly. His shrunken balls and shriveled penis,” she said, laughing. “Do you think he takes the big gold chai off?”
I laughed out loud. “You are unbelievable, Robin, you know?” She was really funny and crude. I don’t know why everyone thought she was a bitch.
“Behave yourself,” she said, laughing. “Go get ready. And just remember, ‘oooh, Sandy. Take your Viagra and make me yours....wait a second,” she said, fixing the shoulders on my jacket. Normally, this would’ve made me hot. But, strangely, I felt nothing. “That’s better.”
“Thanks.” I walked out laughing. That was, needless to say, more of a conversation than I ever had in a men’s room. The most I said was, “You don’t buy beer, just rent it.”
I got my files and walked to the conference room. Sandy was sitting at the conference table. I had to stifle a laugh thinking about what Robin said.
“Something funny? Me getting sued funny to you?”
“Sorry, how are you,” I said, sticking out my hand and instinctively gripping his tightly. He looked at me askance. What was so strange about a handshake? “So, a sub is suing for the cost of cement provided. Tell me what happened,” I said, taking out a legal pad.
“What happened? What happened? I’ll tell you what the f...happened! Sorry....” With that, he went into a strange diatribe about how everyone was out to get him and how the ‘greasy guinea’ sub-contractor gave him watered down cement and how he had to re-pour four foundations. What made the diatribe strange wasn’t his paranoia, racism or his complete denial of any responsibility, it was his stifling his language. Normally, Sandy sounded like second place in the Bad Mamet festival. Today, however, he kept stopping and apologizing.
After a tenth apology, I said “What are you sorry for?”
“For talking the way I do. My wife tells me to stop. I tell her I’m seventy-four, I’m not stopping. But I should act nicer. Especially around pretty women.”
I smiled. He relaxed. Amazing what a woman’s smile will do. “I’ve heard worse. I’ve said worse. Although I’ve never seen someone use the word ‘fuck’ so creatively. But, let’s get to it. He...did,” I paused to remember to add more words, “he really provide watered cement?”
“What the f....did I just say?”
“I understand that. I’m asking this between us. It’s privileged. I wanted to know, because if this the usual ‘I don’t want to pay him because I just don’t’ thing, you’ll be caught with your dick in your hand at trial.”
He looked shocked. “Dick in your hand?” grumbled Sandy. “Your mother know you talk like that?”
“Sorry.” His shock amazed and, for some inchoate reason, bothered me. “Excuse me, you’ll,” I took a deep breath, “be embarrassed at trial and you’ll lose and it will cost you lots and you know he’ll ruin your rep with every sub on the Island. Of course, you don’t need me to tell you that, ” I said sweetly. I knew that playing to his ego would calm him down. Always worked on me.
He broke into a smile. “Despite what your boss says about me, I pay my subs. I need sh...things from me.”
“So, I’ll file a standard denial and counterclaim. Relax, I’ll take care of it.”
“Every time my wife says that, it costs me money.”
“She lives with you? She doesn’t get enough.”
“I’m not paying you for that. Send me the fu...papers before you answer. Tell the fat fu...man I’ll call him.”
“Goodbye Sandy, and you can say fuck all you want.”
“My age, saying’s all I can do.” He actually looked ashamed. “Sorry about that.”
“Not as sorry as your wife is, I imagine,” I laughed.
He looked shocked, “You have a dirty mind. You shouldn’t talk that way.”
I went back to work and found the memo from Rachel in my in-box. “Sorry,” she wrote, ending it with a frowny face emoticon. I rolled my eyes. She needed to act professionally. I’d have to talk to her about that. Forty-five minutes later, Mike called me into his office.
“I just got off the phone with Sandy Feldstein,” he said, looking displeased.
“What’s wrong?”
“You cursed. He was very upset.”
“I cursed? He curses like a longshoreman with Tourette’s.”
Mike laughed. “Longshoreman with Tourette’s. That’s funny. Anyway, he’s from the old school. Hard enough to get him to accept women lawyers. But one who curses, I had to calm him down. Don’t do it.”
“Excuse me, but would you be having this conversation with David or Jim or Kevin? Or is it just because I’m a woman” I said, my voice rising with offense. I heard myself, and was shocked at the tone.
“Calm down,” he said. “Look, I don’t like his cursing. And I hate it in meetings under any circumstances. But, he’s the client. And it’s the golden rule - he has the gold, he rules. If it makes you feel better, I told him he can’t curse and expect that no one else will.”
“You know he didn’t hear you.”
“Thanks,” he said ruefully. “Kill my mood. Anyway, he likes your work, so keep the cursing to a minimum next time, OK? This case his usual garbage or legit?”
“Who knows? I got his usual Christopher Columbus Foundation approved rant against subs. I’ll deny everything. His name. His address. The whole thing.” With that, I left his office and worked for the next four and a half hours. I went home on the train, this time standing at the pole to start. When I got home, I, or should I say, my body, was sitting on the couch.
“Hey, sweetie, how was the rest of your day?” he said, leaning down to kiss me. It was strange. I had to stretch to look into my own eyes. “Get through everything OK?”
“Fine. You wouldn’t believe what happened with Sandy Feldstein. Sandy Fucking Cocksucker Feldstein. He kept trying to stop cursing, and then he kept apologizing. He’s never done that before. Then he got pissed when I cursed. Called Mike and everything.”
“I’m not surprised. The older guys in my company do it all the time. They apologize like you’re some dainty flower. It’s a way of subjugating you while seeming like they’re just trying to be polite or something. Then they get angry when you curse. Welcome to the world of double standards.”
“Look at you. You’re no dainty flower.”
She grabbed me. “You know it, baby.” I tried to push away but couldn’t until he loosened his grip.
“On the upside, I had a really nice conversation with Robin.”
“The one you lust after? I thought you said that she was a bitch.”
“No, it’s funny. She started it. Was really nice. We made fun of Sandy together. Then, she straightened my jacket for me.”
“You must’ve gone through the roof with that. Isn’t that like the fantasy of every guy in your office?”
“Nah, it’s weird. I would have thought I’d lose it, but it just felt like a nice gesture.”
She looked at me quizically. “Huh? Anyway, she was nice?”
“Yeah, she’s funny and crude and really sweet. I wonder why.”
“Maybe, because you weren’t leering at her or hitting on her. Maybe, if you, Dan not Jessica, treated her like a person and not a sex object, she’d be nice. Jeez, you’d think you’d know this.”
“Sorry. How was the rest of your day?”
“Good. Fine. Fun. Like I said before, it’s fun being big. Walk where you want. Stand when you pee. Not have to check your make-up all the time. Speaking of which, nice job on the lipstick. You have a real knack for it.”
“Great....”
“Oh, relax. I think today was good for you. You sound like you’ve dealt with some of what we deal with.” With that, she slid next to me and started to give me a back rub. “This OK?”
“Actually, it feels really good....”
Then, she leaned down and kissed my neck. “Don’t jump. We have no place to go.”
“I’m not jumping. Keep doing the backrub. I feel tingly all over.”
“Tingly?” she said, laughing. “Cute.”
“Shut up and keep doing it,” I said, as she kept kissing me and rubbing my back. I turned to face myself. She leaned down and kissed me full on the mouth. Lipstick be damned, I didn’t move. On the one hand, being kissed with such force by a guy scared me. On the other hand, it felt good. She grabbed my waist and pulled me closer.
“Mmmm,” I moaned, as she put her hands under my shirt and began rubbing my back again. I did the same. It felt off-putting rubbing a guy’s back, but it felt like reciprocating was the right thing to do.
Then, she put her hands in my pants and began rubbing my ass. “Hey,” I said, weakly, as I pulled my lips away.
“Trust me, you’ll like it,” she said, kissing me again. She was right. It felt good. Then, she moved around her hand to my vagina. “Stop it,” I said. “That’s weird.”
“Just try it. It’s mine. I know you’ll like it,” and with that, she began rubbing my clit. I moaned, “Oh...oh...oh, that feels so good,” I whimpered. She began moving me towards the bedroom. “Where are we going?”
“I’ve wanted to do this all day,” she said, roughly.
“What?”
“Make love to you. Fuck you.”
“No...”
“No?” she said, rubbing my clit some more. “No? You don’t like this?”
“No...I mean...this feels so good....but...”
“But what? If this feels good, let me fuck you. Come on, it’s my body, I’ll know what feels good.” It’s weird, not only had we switched bodies, it was like we’d switched minds. She wanted sex and I didn’t.
“Yeah, but it feels...gay.”
“Gay?” she said, pulling away. “Gay? What does that mean?” she said, sounding irritated.
“You have a penis. Someone sticking his penis in you makes you gay.”
“And me sticking something in a vagina makes me a lesbian?”
“No, you’ve used a vibrator, it’s different.”
“That is unfuckingbelievable,” she said, tucking in her shirt. “You killed the fucking mood.”
“I’m sorry. This is weird for me. I don’t know. I feel weak. I know that’s really obnoxious. But, you sound like you had a good time today. You got to be stronger and taller and listened to. I got treated like a little girl. And now you want to fuck me and I want you to fuck me, but then I feel like if I let you, it’s like I’m being totally emasculated. Which is funny because I have a vagina. But, am I making any sense?”
She sighed. “I know you’re scared. Believe it or not, I’m scared, too. But, this is just some weird dream or something. If we make love, we’re making love to each other. I’m not a guy fucking you, Dan. I’m your wife. Maybe, I don’t look like it, but this won’t make you gay. Besides,” she said, smiling slyly. “I know what I like. If you’re a good girl and pay attention, when we change back, I’ll let you try out your lesson, OK?”
“I don’t know,” I said coyly. “I mean, you’re this big strong man and I’m just this little girl...”
“That’s it, baby. Get into it,” she said, pulling me closer, sticking her hands back down my pants. Thankfully, she started fingering me again.
“Mmmm....get me in bed before I change my mind.”
“That’s my girl,” she said, moving me backwards, kissing me and fingering me. This felt so amazing. Note to self: Finger the clit...finger the clit. We went into the bedroom and instinct took over. We started stripping each other. She threw me on the bed, and scared me with the ease with which she did it. She went to her drawer and threw her pink negligee on the bed. “Put this on...”
“Why?”
“Trust me.” I put it on and liked the way the silk felt against my smooth skin. It actually put me more in the mood, which scared me.
She started to rub her hands over the lingerie. “Do you like the way that feels?”
“Oh yeah...”
“Say I like it when you rub your hands over my lingerie.”
“I like it when you rub your hands over my lingerie.” Where was she going with this? Who cared? I liked the way it felt.
“Do you feel all girly?”
“What?”
“If you want me to keep going, say it.”
“Oooh, I feel all girly.” I didn’t like where this was going, but I did like the feeling. “What about you? Do you feel like a big strong man?”
She grunted, “I am a big strong man,” she said, sticking her hands under my lingerie and pinching my nipples.
“Fuck me, Dan. Fuck me hard,”I moaned, almost involuntarily.
“Not yet,” she said, spreading my legs and eating me out. “How’s that?” she mumbled.
“Oh...oh...oh...please...please....please...fuck me. Fuck me now!” This was amazing. I never felt this good and I never heard Jessica moan this much. She kept licking me, faster and faster. “Now...oh god, please...please...NOW!” Suddenly, I felt her hands push down on my wrists and she looked down at me with an evil leer. “Hang on. Tell me how big I am.”
OK, that was momentarily weird. “Huh?”
“Tell me how big I am. Bitch.” Someone’s getting into it too much.
“Oh, you’re so huge. I don’t know if I can handle you.” Now, I was getting into it. She touched the tip of her cock onto my clit. I involuntarily bucked, taking her into me. She pulled out slowly, then slid it back in. I was scared, but couldn’t deny the pleasure.
“That’s it,” she said, “Arch your back.” She started thrusting and I started bucking. We kept at it, as she pinched my nipples and teased my clit. I kept bucking my hips, as my body took over my mind. I stopped thinking about who we were and enjoyed the moment. I wished I had a pad to take notes. I figured if I could do this, we’d be at it every night. After ten minutes, she grunted like a rutting pig and we both came. She rolled off of me and said, “So, was it good for you?”
I leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. “That was amazing, actually...we should do that more often.”
“Were you a good girl and paying attention?”
“Yes. I promise when things get back to normal, I will do everything you did. That felt phenomenal. How was it for you?”
“I came, didn’t I?”
“Wow, you’re really taking on the guy role, aren’t you?”
She laughed. “All that thrusting’s so much work, and my arms are kind of sore.”
“See? It’s not so easy, is it. You get used to it though. Although I hope you don’t.”
“Why? Was that so bad?”
“Oh, jeez...yes...I mean, no...I mean, it felt great, but now it feels backwards...”
“You were definitely getting into it...fuck me...fuck me...now. Come on, admit it.” I blushed again. “You are so cute when you blush,” she said, kissing my neck again. “I’m hungry,” she said.
“Me too...but unless you got someone else’s body, you haven’t reloaded yet, if you know what I mean.”
She laughed. “No, I mean I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat. You might want to clean yourself up.”
“Huh?”
“Wipe yourself. Like I always do.”
“Oh,” I said, standing up. “Yeech,” I said, as cum started leaking out of me. “This feels gross.”
“Welcome to my world. See, you’re learning so much,” she grinned.
“These are some fucked up lessons, you know?”
“Go pee. I’ll get you some clothes to wear.”
“Do you need to me get you anything?”
“I’ll throw on some jeans and a shirt. Hey, I like this. Dressing without thought.”
“I’m so happy you’re happy.” I peed and when I came out, I saw a black skirt, sweater and red bra and panties on the bed. The bra and panties were all lacy, unlike the plain bra and panties I wore before. “What’s with all this?”
“We’re going out. I wanted you to look nice.”
“Why can’t I wear pants?”
“If this is only a day, I want you to understand everything I go through. And with a skirt you’ll be much more aware of what you’re doing, how you’re walking, how you’re sitting.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much. I’m not making you learn things.”
“What’s to learn? Be insensitive to your partner’s needs. Wear whatever you want. Walk like you’re in charge.”
“Ha ha? What’s with the bra and panties?”
“Well, you know what they say about a girl who wears a red bra and panties....” she leered. “Oh, you’re blushing again, how cute.”
“Stop,” I said, putting on the bra and panties. “I hate to say this...”
“What?”
“These feel, I don’t know, sexy. I’m sorry, that’s got to freak you out.”
“Sort of. But let’s just treat this as a game. You’re a girl. I’m a guy. We’re going to dinner. Let’s leave it at that.” She kissed me again. “But, if I buy you dinner...”
“You men are all the same,” I said, starting to leave.
“Don’t forget your lipstick, sweetie. I want you to look good.” I quickly swiped on the lipstick.
“How’s that?”
Now she looked concerned. “Good. Good. You did that really...well.”
“Stop it. Let’s not get self conscious about this. It’s a game. Remember?”
We walked outside and I realized she was right. I could feel the wind up my skirt and it made me more aware of how I walked. It felt bizarre, but liberating at the same time. My legs were free and the wind tickled my legs. I felt her eyes on me. “What?”
“I...you’re walking so femininely.”
“Huh?”
“Shoulders up, chest out, ass wiggling oh so cutely in that skirt. It’s getting me hot but it’s scary to think my husband’s in there.” The glow of sex had worn off, and now I think everything was hitting us. We weren’t playing a game. Somehow, we had switched bodies and all that we had just done was repeating on us. Would she ever be able to have sex with me knowing I had said I was girly and wanted to be fucked. We could pretend it wasn’t anything, but it was.
[to be continued, if there’s interest]
I woke up the next morning and, before I opened my eyes, felt my chest. “Shit,” I said, feeling breasts. “Shit shit shit.” Another day in drag. OK, I knew it wasn’t drag since I was Jess, but it may as well have been.
The alarm went off. Jess rolled over, opened her eyes and said, “So, it wasn’t a dream…”
“Nope. The nightmare continues.”
“That’s upbeat,” she said, getting up to pee. As she walked out, I walked in and sat down. The seat was wet.
“Would it kill you lift the seat?” I said.
She giggled. “Oops…maybe you’ll remember next time.”
“Having fun?” I said, washing my hands.
I walked out and she was waiting to give me a kiss. It felt weird to look up to get kissed. “A little,” she said. “Come on, it’s not that bad…is it?” she said with an edge.
“Not bad. Just weird. It’s just weird,” and I almost started about last night. Then I saw the panties in the laundry and decided not to go there.
“It’ll be over soon.”
“How do you know?”
She scratched her armpit. There’s a habit I now realized that I needed to break when this was done. She was right. I looked like an ape. “I don’t, I guess. I just figure it has to be.”’’
“Let’s hope.”
“Do you mind if I shower first? I have an early meeting. I’ll be quick.”
“I know. You have it easier.”
She laughed. “Glad to see you’re paying attention.”
I watched my naked self walk into the bathroom and close the door. While Jess was showering, I stared at the ceiling and thought, “did I do something? Say something?” I was still staring at the ceiling when Jess came out. “Thinking about this?” she said, sitting next to me.
“Yup. What else?”
“Me too,” she sighed. “I was trying to think about this meeting, but this,” she said, grabbing her crotch (or, more accurately, mine but who’s nitpicking) “kept getting in the way.”
“So, what do you think?”
“I don’t think. I think we do what we have to do and hope that it changes. You want it to change, right?” she said, with a smile.
“Of course I do,” I said angrily. “You don’t?”
She smiled. “I was trying to make a joke…”
“It’s not funny.”
She looked at me seriously. “It’s not. Do you think I wanted this?”
“No, sorry, we’re both on edge.”
“Sorry too. Go pick out an outfit.”
“What?”
“Pick out what you’re going to wear. I want to see what you pick. I want you to understand what I go through every day.”
“I’ll wear a navy suit.”
“You can’t. You wore that yesterday. People will notice.”
“Yes, they will and you know that.” She was right. I knew that. “So pick something else.”
I went to her closet and took out a cream colored suit and a blue shirt. For some reason, “shell” came into my mind. It was called a shell. 24 hours as a girl and I was calling it a shell.
I took it out and showed her. “Does this work? This shell works with this, right?”
She looked surprised. “Yes, it does...good job,” she said, in a tone of surprise and a little discomfort.
“What?”
“What what?”
“You seem annoyed.”
She shook her head. “No, not at all. Just surprised. That’s a good choice.”
I held my hands on my hips…on purpose, for effect. “I’m not completely unaware, you know.”
She gave me a kiss. “I know. I know. I just didn’t expect ‘shell’.”
I laughed. “Me either. That came into my head while I picked it.”
I showered and got dressed. I came out, “Do I look OK?” She was wearing a blue Ralph Lauren oxford shirt and khakis. I missed that.
She pointed to her dresser and said, “Makeup.” I went over and stood there. “Yes?” she said.
“Do it,” she said matter-of-factly. “I showed you yesterday. Teach one, do one. So do.”
“I don’t know how. What if I mess up?”
“Then, I’ll fix it. But do it first.”
I stood there and put on eyeliner first, then blush and then lipstick. I looked in the mirror. Jess came over.
“How did I do?”
She looked surprised. “Fine. You look…pretty,” she stumbled. “You look good. Good job.”
“What?”
“You’re a fast learner is all.”
“Please,” I said. “Please. Let’s not go there. I don’t want this to be a thing when we change back.”
She put her arms around me. “It won’t be.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. I know you’re a fast learner. It’s just…”
I stopped her. “I know what it’s just. We didn’t choose this. Whatever it is chose us. But I love you no matter what. Do you?”
She looked really upset. “Of course I do.”
I decided to tease her. I pouted and said, “Then why won’t you say it? Is it because you (sob) don’t (sob) love me?”
It took her a second then she said, “uh, you know it’s not that…it’s just…uh,” then she stopped. “I love you no matter what, Dan. You know that.”
I smiled. “Don’t get all girly on me. Man up. You have work. Dan has a meeting.”
She smiled back. “Grow some ovaries, Jess. You’re a litigator.”
We went off to work. I won’t tell you it was easy. It started in the train. I hated standing in the middle and getting bumped and getting dirty looks for standing there. But that wasn’t it. I got out of the train and was walking towards the stairs, when I saw a woman with a stroller. Her child appeared to be about two years old. A bunch of guys looked at her then walked past. “Do you need help?” I said. I always helped before.
“Do you mind? He’s kind of heavy.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I said, with a smile. She thanked me and I went to grab the front of the stroller. “One, two…” I said, struggling.
“It’s OK,” she said. “I appreciate the offer.”
“No, it’s OK,” I said. “We can do this. It’ll just take a while.” And it did. Which frustrated the hell out of me. Two days ago, I would’ve lifted the stroller myself. Today, it took two of us to do it and we had to stop half way up.
We got to the top and she said, “We did it. Girl power,” she said, with a smile. “Seriously, thank you.”
“Please. I can’t believe all those guys walked past.”
She looked rueful. “Believe it.” Then her son looked at me, smiled and said, “pretty.” I don’t know why but that made me happy.
“Why, thank you.”
His mother laughed, “he’s a flirt, this one.”
I smiled and leaned down and said, shocking myself, “you’re a smart one. Always tell a girl she’s pretty. We like that.” One day and it’s we?
I went to work. Mousy little Rachel alternated between giving me death stares and looking like she wanted to say something. Eventually, I called her in and said, “Rachel, I’m sorry if I took your head off yesterday.” She looked expectant then crestfallen when I said, “But, believe it or not, I’m trying to help. Everyone fights with their gir…boyfriend some time. But, you can’t let it affect you here.”
She looked upset, “I thought you’d understand.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a woman?” she said, upspeaking which I hated.
“I’m also your boss. As are Kevin, Jim and Mike. Would you have used that excuse with them?”
“I just thought…”
“Rachel, you’re great,” which was kind of lie. She was alright, a hard worker but not much for initiative. “But you need to understand. They already think you...we’re all emotional. If you did that with them, you’d be in deep trouble. Whatever goes on outside can’t come inside. Do you understand that?”
“I guess,” she said with upspeak again.
“Don’t guess. Know. Be more confident. If you want to litigate, be confident. Say ‘I know.’” I smiled, hoping that would show her that I was her friend.
“I know,” she said with a smile.
“Good. I’m here to teach you. Help me do that.”
“OK,” she said. “You seem different today. Is everything OK?” Sure, if you don’t count waking up again with breasts and no penis.
“Everything’s fine. I just thought about yesterday and wanted to clear the air. Because Mike wouldn’t. He’d just wait until your review,” which was true, especially when it came to female associates. He wasn’t a bad guy just afraid of getting sued for discrimination.
“Thanks.”
“Also, one more thing. Try to work on upspeak.”
“Upspeak?”
“Saying sentences like they’re questions.”
“Do I do that?” she said nervously.
“Lots of women do. My sister does. It says you don’t believe what you’re saying.” And then, in the ‘not believing what you’re saying’ category, I said, “you know what’s different between us and guys?” She giggled. OK, I had that coming. “No seriously,” I said laughing.
“What?”
“They say things with confidence. Even when they’re wrong and know it. We know we’re right and say things like questions.” Where the hell did that come from? “Be confident. That’s 50% of this job. Now go back to work.”
She smiled. “Thank you. You’re right,” she said, hitting ‘right’ a little too hard. OK, this was a long-term project.
She walked out of my office and I thought about what just happened. “Where did that come from?” I thought. Was I getting into this? No, that wasn’t it. I rolled it around in my head and decided that I only told her what Dan (male Dan, I was still Dan, just Jessica Dan) would have wanted to say but wouldn’t for fear of her crying or complaining. I resolved to mentor her no matter what. She needed a mentor. Jess had a mentor, her first boss Ken. He always pushed her to take on bigger jobs. That’s it. That’s what I was doing. The rest of the day was uneventful. I had few calls and could focus on paperwork which was good. The computer didn’t know if I was male or female.
At 7:00, I packed up and was leaving when Dan called. “Hey beautiful.”
“OK, stop.”
“I just want you to know what to say,” she said, laughing.
“Fine, you well-hung stallion.” She made retching noises.
“Touche. Dinner?”
“I was planning on eating, yes?”
“I meant, do you want to go out? PJ Clarke’s?” Dan worked at 53rd and 3rd. It was two blocks away. It wasn’t necessarily my favorite place. Great burgers but a loud after work crowd.
“Sure. I could use a drink.”
We met up in front. He kissed me on the lips. His stubble tickled. We went in. While we waited for a table, I sat a high top while Dan went to the bar. He came back with a bay breeze and a Stella Artois. He brought them over and handed me the beer. People looked at us. He took a sip of the bay breeze and I the beer. We both winced and switched them. Change is a thorough master.
“How was your day?”
“Actually, really good.”
“That’s great. What happened?” I related the Rachel story. I was proud of myself. Dan looked surprised and said, “That’s, uh, terrific.”
“What?”
“I could never do that.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I could never do that.”
“You think I hurt her? I didn’t mean that.”
She held up her hands. “I know you didn’t. And you did a good thing for her. You let her know how guys perceive her. That’s actually really good.” She held up a fist, smiled and said, “Sisterhood!”
“Ha ha ha. How was your day?”
“Weird. It was weird not talking about anything.”
“I thought you had a meeting?”
“Not that kind of talking. Melissa, Ramona and I always talk over coffee about stuff. Today, the two of them did. I walked over and it was awkward. They were polite but I left in thirty seconds. They looked at me funny.”
“I’m sorry. I assume it’s girl stuff?”
“Home stuff. Marriage stuff.” She paused. “Yeah.”
I touched his arm the way she always touched me when I was upset. I found it calming and hoped she did. “I know you’re hurt. But it’s not you. It’s me.”
“Huh?”
“They’re not excluding Jessica, they’re excluding Dan. And they’re not even doing that. They’re just…being them.”
He sighed. “I know. I want to be them. I want to be me too.”
“Hopefully, tomorrow. I want to be me too.”
Well, I woke up the next morning and guess what? I still wasn’t me. The next day, still not me. Friday morning? If you guessed I was still Jess, you’d be right! I made it through every day at work fine, but I hated this. I hated having to get up a half an hour earlier to get ready. I hated being bumped around on the train. I hated being smaller and weaker. And I hated that Jess seemed to be dealing with it without a hitch. She’d say things like, “It’s so much fun not having to think about clothes,” and “I like being able to walk down the street and not have to think about it.” I resented this and was starting to resent her.
Saturday morning came and I woke up. There they still were and there it still wasn’t. “Goddamn it!” I yelled. “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.”
Jess rolled over, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? I’m still you. And I can’t take it anymore! I’m tired and I hate it!”
She laughed, “Is it so horrible being me?”
“Yes, it is! It’s not funny! It’s horrible and I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I absolutely hate it!”
She gave me a cold stare. “Do you think I like being you? Do you?”
“You seem to be enjoying it. ‘I like no makeup. I like being strong.’ You get the better end of the deal.”
“The better end of the deal? Keep digging that hole, Dan. You’ll find out that being you is no bed of roses.”
“Sorry, I just want to be me again. And you seem fine,” I sighed.
“I like being me too. I miss my clothes and makeup. But, welcome to Holland?”
“What? What does that mean?”
“Mikey’s bris.” Mike was our friend’s son, who had Down’s syndrome. They didn’t know until he was born.
“Still lost.”
“At the bris, Jodi’s father read this story called ‘Welcome to Holland.’ Basically, it’s you plan for this trip to Italy. You pack everything. You read guidebooks. You plan where you’re going to go. And then the plane lands in Holland. You can either complain and regret, or you can accept and embrace it. I’d rather be in Italy but I’m not. I’m in Holland. Don’t know for how long but here I am, so I’m dealing.”
“Holland.”
“Yup. Holland.” She went over to my dresser and took out a t-shirt and shorts.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going for a run. I figure, if I’m going to be you, I’m going to take care of myself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She leaned over and kissed me. “You said it the other day. We’ve let ourselves go. Let’s use this to get back in shape for when this goes back.”
“Like returning someone else’s car washed and filled up?” I said, with a smile.
“Exactly! Come on! We used to love running together.”
“You’re right,” I said, going to her drawer and taking out shorts and a t-shirt. “Let’s go.”
She went to the drawer and took out a sports bra. “You’ll need this. Otherwise, the gals will bounce around.”
“Thanks, I think.”
We got dressed and ran up to the park. I watched her run. She was running with her form. Like she had breasts and hips. I stopped her. “You’re running like you. You don’t have tits and hips anymore. Run with your arms closer in, like this,” and I showed her the form. “Got it?”
She laughed, “you look ridiculous, but yeah, I’ve got it,” she said, running off.
I tried to catch her. It was impossible with these shorter legs. Eventually, she slowed down for me to catch up. We ran for an hour. It was arguably the best run I’d ever had. It really helped me clear my mind. I felt in control for the first time in a week. It was just me, Jess and the road. It was, to use a cliché, cathartic.
When we got home, we were both tired and sweaty. “That was a great idea, honey. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We both needed that. You shower first.”
I showered and picked out an outfit. When Jess got out of the shower, she looked at me. “Wow,” was all she said. I was wearing a blue sleeveless cotton dress. It came to mid-thigh.
“Is there something wrong with this? I’ve seen you wear this on weekends, I thought.”
“There’s nothing wrong,” she said, kissing my shoulder. “It looks fine. I’m just surprised is all.”
“You’re right. We’re in Holland. I hope for not too long but we’re here. So I figured I’d see what it’s like. Is this freaking you out?”
She smiled. “Not at all. I’m glad you’re willing to try. You look cute. Pick out some shoes to go with it. I want to see how much you’ve paid attention.”
I took a pair of sandals. “Do these work?”
She looked surprised. “Good choice. You’ve been…paying attention.”
We spent the afternoon walking around the city and talking.
“How are you doing Dan,” she said.
“I’m Jessica, remember? We have to be careful.”
“Sorry, how are you doing, Jess?”
“Fine. My feet are tired, but fine. I don’t like the thing between my toes.”
“Being a girl isn’t all fun,” she said. “How is it otherwise? How do you like wearing a dress?”
“It was weird at first, but now I don’t even notice. Does it look weird?”
“Not at all. You look like a girl. My girl,” she said, taking my hand. That sounded weird.
“Am I your girl? Is that weird for you?”
She smiled, “Not at all. Is it for you?”
I thought about it. “No. I figure we’re us. Are we us?”
“We are,” she said, taking me in her arms and kissing me. “Does that tell you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry I’ve been crabby the past few days.”
“It’s OK. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot.”
“It’s no excuse. How can I make it up to you?”
She smiled. “Kiss me again.”
We kissed long enough for someone to say, “get a room, you two.”
“You heard him, Dan. Let’s get a room,” I said, with a flirty smile.
We went home and made love. I wore her sexy baby doll nightie. She was on top. When in Holland….
We went to dinner. While we were eating, I said, “I have an idea. We both need to lose weight, right?”
“Yeah, and?”
“Let’s make it a competition.”
“Competition?” she smiled
“Yeah, we weigh in once a week. Loser has to do something the winner wants.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Whatever they want.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Whatever they want?
“I mean not like run around outside naked or something. Within reason.”
“OK…” she said, sticking out her hand, which dwarfed mine. “Deal.” And we shook.
I made a mistake. A big mistake. I worked out three times that week. Jess was busy at work so she only went to the gym once.
Jess had a dinner meeting on Wednesday. She called me while I was eating.
“Hey, babe.” Babe? I’m ‘babe?’ “What’s up?”
“Eating dinner. Grilled salmon and vegetables.”
“Oh boy. We’re at Mastro’s. I just ordered chicken parm. We had really good appetizers.”
“OK,” I laughed. “Remember the bet…”
She chuckled. “I remember.”
“You’ll be sorry.”
She chuckled again, which should have told me something. “We’ll see.”
Saturday came. I got on the scale. I lost 2 pounds.
“Two pounds? How is that possible? I worked out. I ate fish and vegetables? How?” I paused. “The only saving grace is that you have done absolutely nothing…”
Jess smiled and got on the scale. “Five pounds,” she smirked.
“How is that even possible?” I shrieked.
“I don’t know. I ate light Thursday and Friday. Worked out yesterday.”
“That is sooooo not fair!”
She smirked some more. “Fair or unfair, bet’s a bet.”
“Oh g-d. What is it?”
She picked up my hand. “You are not taking care of me. You need a manicure and pedicure…”
“That’s it? That’s easy.”
“I’m not finished,” she grinned evilly. “I noticed when you went into the shower. You need a wax.”
“What kind of wax? Eyebrow, right?” I said hopefully.
“Not exactly. You know what kind…I mean you don’t have to. You’d be going back on our deal though…”
“No, a bet is a bet. And, next week, when I win, I’m not going to be kind…”
“Uh huh. Sure.”
“I can do it. You do it. Women all over Brazil do it. I can totally handle it.”
I could not handle it. This was easily the worst pain that I had ever suffered. Picture someone yanking the hair out of your head…while kicking you in the balls.
I got home and Jess was on the couch. She smiled and said, “So, how did it go?”
“I. HATE. YOU.” I went over to the couch and started hitting her. Unfortunately, I was hitting her girly-style, swinging from the elbow. I kept saying, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” while she laughed.
“Good. It’s not all fun being a girl, is it? You like it when I’m clean? Now you know what it involves?”
“I thought you like it too.”
“I do. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck doing it…Can I see?”
“Seriously? I just had hair yanked out of my groin and you want a show?”
“Aw come on…”
I pulled down my yoga pants and flashed a little bit. “Happy, you pig?” I laughed. “Enjoy it now, because next week, you are going to pay.”
Jess did not pay. I went to the gym every day. I ate salads. I walked home. I read that water helps you lose weight. I drank an ocean. She went to the gym three times that week and skipped desserts.
Saturday came. I knew I was going to win. I was formulating what I was going to make her do.
I stepped on the scale. Three pounds. OK, not great. But I knew I had her beat.
“Five pounds,” she said, doing the ‘raise the roof’ gesture.
“How the fuck did that happen? I was on fire. How could this happen?”
She smiled cryptically. “How is not important. What is important is that it did. Want to know what you have to do?”
“Not especially.”
She walked to her closet and pulled out a short blue lined lace dress. “You have to wear this to dinner tonight,” and then she picked up a pair of blue 3” heels. “And these.”
“OK. I’ll need some practice in the heels but I can do this…”
She smiled, “And one more thing. No panties.”
“What?” I had to give her credit. I couldn’t have come up with this. “No way.”
“Bet’s a bet. Is my Danny afwaid?”
“I. can. do. This,” I said gritting my teeth.
She spent several hours teaching me how to walk in the dress and heels.
“Imagine you’re on a tightrope,” she said. “Little steps. Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe.” We practiced sitting. After what seemed to be several hours, she looked surprised.
“What?” I said. “I thought that I was doing OK.”
“That’s the thing. You are. You’re doing great. If I didn’t know, I’d guess that you’d been wearing a dress and heels for years.”
“Maybe, it’s sense memory from having your body?”
“Maybe. Anyway,” she said, shaking her head. “Tonight will be so much fun.”
“Are you sure the panties are that important?”
She laughed. “Not at all. Just leave them home.”
We went out. “Let’s walk to the restaurant,” she said, snickering.
Initially, it was, as expected, very frightening. I feared that I’d fall. I feared a wind. I feared someone figuring it out. Then, after about ten blocks…
Jess looked at me, “How does it feel?”
I smiled seductively at her. “Actually, it feels really good. It feels…transgressive.”
‘Transgressive?” She looked intrigued.
“Yes,” I said, licking my lips. Hey, if you’re going in, go all in. “Here I am, walking down the street, in my little dress and heels. And people are looking. But, little do they know, I’ve got nothing on. But I do. When I’m walking, I can feel the wind blow right up. And there’s nothing to block it….”
Jess was sweating, “Dan…” she whispered.
I smiled. “I’m not Dan. I’m Jessica. Look at me. Do I look like a Dan to you, silly boy?”
She sweated. “Tell me some more of how it feels, Jessica…”
“Well, the wind blows right up. You can feel it go…right…through…you. It makes me feel so good. It’s making me very excited.” I looked her right in the eye. “It is a shame that we’re going to dinner though. I mean, I imagine I’ll get used to this feeling by then…”
We went home. Jess didn’t even take the dress or the shoes off me. All she said was, “I want to fuck you dressed, you slut…” This was not love-making. It was sex. Raw, rough sex and it was amazing.
We lay there in our wrinkled clothes. “Wow. What came over you?” I said.
“I don’t know. What came over you?”
“I don’t really know. But it felt really good. Is that too weird?”
She smiled, “No, I mean that’s why I did it.”
“Seriously? You’ve done it? Why didn’t you tell me? Or was it with someone else?”
“No. I’ve never done it. I’ve never had the guts. That’s why I made you do it. I figured I’d see what it was like. Clearly, it’s…transgressive.”
“Shut up,” I said with a smile. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
“I will,” she said, with a lascivious grin.
I got up and put on a pair of jeans and a shirt. “You going to buy a girl dinner or what?”
I went to work on Monday. At lunch time, Robin peeked her head in. “Lunch? Or are you too busy?” She and I had become friendly since I became Jess.
“I’m not busy. I just need to go someplace where I can get something light. Stupid bet.”
“What stupid bet?”
“I’ve had an ongoing bet with Dan. We’re trying to lose weight. We weigh in once a week and loser has to do what the winner says…”
She laughed, “Jessie, what were you thinking? He’s a guy. You can’t beat a guy at weight loss. They can skip like one meal and lose four pounds.”
“Shit.” She was right. Now I knew why whenever I lost weight, Jess’ sister always looked like she wanted to cut me.
“So what have you bet?” She said, as we went to the elevators.
I blushed. “It is beyond embarrassing…”
“It can’t be that bad…”
“Well, the first week, I had to get waxed…”
“Big deal.”
“It had…been…a while.”
“Oooh,” she winced. “What did the sick bastard want for week two?”
“You have to swear that you will never tell anyone.”
She smiled. “Well, this has to be good.”
“Seriously, no one. Not even Gib,” her husband.
“Oooh…”
“Seriously, or I’m not talking.”
She laughed, “I swear.”
I looked at the ground. “I had to go out. In a mini, 3” heels and,” I took a deep breath, “no underwear.” She laughed loud enough that people turned around. “Come on…people are looking, Robin.”
She was gasping, “Now…that…is…a…bet. You poor thing.”
I smiled, “It wasn’t that bad. It actually felt really good. “
She looked shocked. “I had no idea you were such a little exhibitionist, Miss J. What has gotten into you?” I wanted to tell her the better question was what had fallen off of me, but chose not to. Then she paused, “So what is it you’ve been doing to lose the weight?”
I told her my regimen and she said, “OK, so tomorrow morning, 6 AM. My pilates class.”
“I’m not a big class person. I just like the machines,” I said. And I meant it. Classes were for women and gay guys.
She smiled. “And how’s that working for you? Or do you want to see what he comes up with next?”
The next morning at 5:30, I was up and getting ready.
Jess rolled over. “Where are you going,” he yawned.
“Pilates. With Robin.”
“Seriously? Why?”
“Why? Because I am NOT letting you win this week!”
“Uh huh. As I recall, you liked the last bet…”
“That is so not the point. I am NOT going to lose again. I don’t even want to think about what you’re going to come up with.”
“Whatever,” she said, rolling over. “I’m going back to bed. Good luck.”
“’Good luck?’” I thought. “That’s weird.” I soon realized why.
I got to the Pilates class and Robin was waiting. “Glad you made it.”
“OK, so what do we here?”
“Just follow my lead.” Class started. I figured there’d be some warm up. There were some stretches but even those hurt. Then the torture began.
“OK, we’re starting with swimming,” the instructor said. She came over to me and said, “lie on your stomach with your forehead down.” ‘OK, I’m tired,’ I can do that.
“You keep your pubis on the mat, and keep your thighs tightly together.” Ouch. “Stretch your arms out and palms down. Feet pointed together.” Really ouch.
“Lift your arms, legs, chest, and head up on one count, and hold. Inhale and exhale normally as you alternate lifting right arm/left leg, then left arm/right leg without touching them down to the mat.” I felt pain in my core like I never had before. “Start swimming. Count slowly from 1 to 10…doing great…lift higher and reach longer…excellent job.” I felt every muscle in my body.
We finished class and Robin said, smiling, “So what did you think?”
I was sweaty and my body ached. You’re supposed to say it was a good pain. And maybe it would be down the line, on the scale. But now was not that time. “It hurt like hell.”
She smiled, “Good. If you want to beat Dan, you’re going to have work hard.”
“I know. Thanks.”
“Are you going to do this again?”
I thought about it for a second. “Yes, definitely. I may regret it later, but I’m in.” And I meant it. Between the running and this, I felt like I was in control of myself for the first time since everything happened.
The week was hard. Did I like getting up at 5:30 every day? No. Did I like not being able to move my arms and legs? Not really. But two things kept me going. First and foremost, I was not going to lose the bet. If I had to cut off my foot, I was not losing. The second was a sign I saw in a store – “nothing tastes as good as thin feels.” Which was a very girly thing to say, but for some reason it motivated me.
Wednesday was the hardest. It was our office manager’s birthday and they had cake in the conference room.
Jasmine, one of the administrative assistants, handed me a piece of cake. “No thanks Jasmine.”
She looked hurt. “You’re not going to have cake with us?”
“Sorry, I’m trying to lose weight, but thanks.”
Chanique, one of the other admins, said, “Not even a small piece?” She looked genuinely hurt. I almost gave in. “I’ve been really good this week,” figuring that would end the discussion.
“Diets don’t work. You won’t keep it off,” she said.
“Thanks Chanique.” Ouch. I kept my calm and said, “Debbie, Happy Birthday. I think I’m going to finish some work,” and I left.
I went to back to my office and closed the door. How dare they? Why is my weight loss their business? I heard a knock on the door. “Who is it?”
“Robin. You busy?”
“No, come in. What’s up?”
“What happened in the conference room?”
“How did you hear about it?”
“That’s all the admins are talking about. What happened?”
“I didn’t take a piece of cake. I said I was trying to lose weight. This is a big deal?”
She smiled, “You’ll notice that I wasn’t there. I told Debbie happy birthday before. I told her that I had an assignment Steven needed done.”
“I can’t believe that I have to make up a story to not eat cake.”
She shrugged, “I’m proud of you, for what that’s worth.”
I smiled, “It means a lot.”
“How do you feel?”
“Sore. Good but sore. I’m not losing. If I have to cheat, I’m not losing.”
She smiled. “That’s my girl.”
“I keep telling myself nothing tastes as good as thin feels.”
“Good for you. It’s working.”
“Thanks. I can’t believe that they’re talking about me. They wouldn’t say one word if a guy did it.”
She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Duh.”
“Whatever. I’m doing this.”
She leaned over and touched my arm. It felt nice. Not sexual. Just comforting. “I know you are.” It felt good to have support.
Saturday came and we went to the bathroom.
“You first,” I said. I figured maybe the change would work.
“Two and half pounds,” she said, with a smile.
I got on. “Three pounds,” I cheered. I started dancing around. “Threee pounds. Threee pounds. I win. I win. I win.”
She smiled, “So what’s my punishment?”
“Hmmm.” I thought ‘make her get all dressed up and go to a gay bar? No, wait, she’s a girl. She’s been treated like a piece of meat before. Serve me breakfast in bed? Bo-ring. What could I come up with that was humiliating? Wait, why did it have to humiliate her? Why not make it something I wanted, but would never have asked for?’
“I want you to spank me.”
“What?”
“I want you to spank me. Then tie me to the bed and fuck me.”
“That’s weird.”
“Bet’s a bet. Or are you afwaid?”
“I’m not afraid. Just wondering. Where did this come from?”
“I don’t know. I just always wanted it.”
“Wanted to do it to me? Or have it done to you?”
“Done to me,” I said, taking off the t-shirt I slept in and putting on a sexy nightie. I started moving my hips. “Are you up for it?”
She looked shocked then smiled. “You little slut. What kind of slut dances around like that?”
“Excuse me?”
She grabbed me roughly, which turned me on. “Look at you. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I…I…I’m sorry.”
“That’s not good enough,” she said, sitting down and pulling me down. “You have been a very bad girl and need to be punished.” She started spanking me. It was just what I expected. It felt amazing.
“Oh g-d,” I moaned.
“Is this OK?” she said, sounding concerned.
“Shut up and do it harder.”
Jessica was always a good loser and complied. “You are a very bad girl. OK, eight (slap), nine (slap), ten. That’s enough,” she said, flipping me over. She took our t-shirts and tied my wrists. Tight. I had no idea why I liked this so much, but I did. Then, she surprised me and took off her underwear. She tied it around my face, so I had to smell her…I mean my…I mean her scent.
We then had the most amazing sex that I had ever had. I came three times.
When she rolled off me, she said, “Wow,” and untied me. “That was…”
“Amazing,” I cooed.
“Yes. Weird but amazing.”
“What do you mean weird?” Now I felt self-conscious.
“Whoa whoa,” she said, holding me. “Not bad weird. I just did not expect that.”
“What did you expect? What would you have chosen?”
“I don’t know. Breakfast in bed?”
“That’s boring.”
“Served on me,” she said, with a grin.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next week.”
“Seriously? You always wanted that?”
“Yup.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“I figured you’d think it was weird. Creep you out.”
“Dan, we’re married. I love you. So long as you’re not cheating, you can always ask.”
“Seriously, are you weirded out?”
She grinned. “Not at all. I like you all girly and submissive. Makes me hot.”
“This won’t be weird when we change back?”
“We’re just playing, Dan. So long as you don’t expect to spank me,” she said, starting to tickle me.
“Stop,” I said, giggling like a girl.
“Say, I like when my big strong man spanks me.” She was enjoying this too much.
“No,” I said, squirming and giggling. It worried me that I was getting too into this.
She kept going, “Say it.”
“Fine, I like when my big strong man spanks me.” She let me go.
I caught my breath. “Seriously, are we OK?”
“We’re fine. This is just a game. Go for a run?”
“Let’s.”
We went out for a run. While we ran, two thoughts kept going through my head. The first was that this had brought us closer together. We hadn’t gone running together in years. The second was that I was doing this that we wouldn’t be able to undo. That I was acting too girly and that no matter what she said, when we changed back, she’d never be able to see me as a man again. That she’d leave me for someone else.
She looked over at me, “Are you OK, Danny?”
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“About,” I paused. “How great it is that we’re running together. It’s been fun doing this again. We need to keep doing this.”
“Yeah, we do. What else?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not a nothing tone, Danny. I know you.”
“I’m just…”
“Dan, I love you. Like I’ve said, you’re learning how the other half lives. That’s a good thing.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” she said. Then she sped up. “Come on, you girl!” she said, with a laugh.
We finished the run. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that we had gone somewhere from which we couldn’t come back. I decided, however, that I had to believe that we were what we were and that wouldn’t change.
We both came back and showered. I put on a blue t-shirt and blue and green skirt.
“Nice choice,” she said. “The working out is working. You look cute.”
“Is that OK?”
She sighed, “Yes. I like my girl looking cute.” My girl? Cute? “So what are you going to do today?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
“I’m meeting Mark for lunch, remember?” Mark was a friend of Jessica’s from college. Initially, I was bothered by her having a single guy friend. Fine, call me sexist and insecure, but I was. After one dinner, I realized they were like brother and sister.
“Oh yeah. Have a good time.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Walk around, I guess.”
“Have a good time,” she said, getting up. “I’ll be back around 4.”
He left and I walked around. I put on a pair of flats and remembered to put some lipstick in my pocketbook. It felt strange thinking my pocketbook. I walked around the Village and SoHo. I found myself looking in clothing stores and thinking how things would look on me. I walked past Anthropologie and saw a long sleeveless dress. I don’t know why but I felt an overwhelming desire to try it on.
I went it to the store and looked around. I felt self-conscious, like sooner or later, someone would realize I was a guy. I don’t know why. No one did anything but smile or ignore me. Like every other woman in the store.
I took the dress off the rack and held it up to me. I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw. Which worried me.
“May I help you, miss?”
“I was just looking at this. Do you have it in a 10?” I knew what size I was, which also worried me.
She handed it to me. “Try it on.”
I went it into the dressing room and put it on. I looked in the mirror. I liked the dress but it was tight around my stomach.
I came out and asked the clerk. “I don’t know. It’s a little tight?” I upspoke. Now I was getting very worried.
The clerk looked nervous, “Um…”
“Be honest.”
“It’s a little tight.”
I smiled. “That’s why I asked. I’m trying to lose weight. Do you have it in a 12?”
“Only on-line. Plus it’ll be too big.”
“I appreciate your honesty. I’ll be back.” And I wanted to come back. I wanted to try on other dresses. Which was yet another thing that worried me. Did I want to be Jessica? I tried to put it out of my mind and kept walking around. I tried not to look in store windows but found myself looking at clothes and shoes and wondering how I’d look. Not how Jessica would look, but me.
I went home and was reading a book when Jess came home.
“How was lunch?”
“Weird.”
“What was weird?”
“Mark was. I could tell something was bothering him…”
“And?”
“And I asked if he wanted to talk about it?”
“And,” I sighed. “What did he say?”
“Not really. I told him he’d feel better if he did. He always does, by the way. And he looked at me weird and changed the topic.” She looked hurt.
I reached over to put my arm around her but she was so much taller, so I put my hand on her hand instead. “You have to remember you’re not you. You’re me. And guys don’t talk about that with other guys.”
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
“I was trying to help.”
“I know. But we don’t do that. We help by asking if you need something and telling you to call if you do.”
“I hate that. What did you do?”
“Walked around.”
“Just walked?”
“Looked at stores.”
She laughed, “Since when do you window shop?”
“I know. But I was walking past and I felt drawn to it. Must be genetic or something,” I laughed.
“That is sexist,” she laughed. “True but you don’t get to say it yet.” I let that go. “So, where did you look?”
“In SoHo.”
“Where?”
“A bunch of stores. Anthropologie.”
“Anthropologie, huh?”
“I don’t know. I just liked it.”
She smiled. “They have very nice stuff. Very feminine. Oh stop, it’s fine,” she said, picking up her iPad. “So show me what you liked.”
I showed her the dress. “I tried it on…”
“Really? How was it?”
“A little tight in the stomach.”
“Keep up the pilates and you’ll look great in it.” I let that ‘you’ go too. “How was trying it on?”
“Like trying on clothes.”
“It didn’t bother you?”
“No. I mean I’m you. I’m a woman. I mean I’m physically a woman. It’s a women’s clothing store. I just tried it on,” I shrugged.
“Good. I mean that. I’m glad you’re getting more comfortable. What else did you like?” I showed her a velvet peasant dress and a couple of swing dresses and a floral print. She smiled, “I had no idea you had such good taste. They’re very cute. In ten pounds, you’ll look adorable in them.”
“So will you.”
She smiled. “Not really my style.” I’m not sure what she meant, but I liked them. I wanted to lose the weight so I could see.
I woke up Tuesday morning and I felt like someone was wrenching my abdomen. The pain was unbearable. I thought I had food poisoning and went to the bathroom. I looked in my underwear and saw blood. “Jess!” I screamed.
She came in, “What’s wrong?”
“My abdomen is killing me and…”
She looked down and smiled. Then she looked up like she was calculating something. “Yup, there we go.”
“What?”
“Flo’s in town.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your period. It’s been four weeks, I had right before all of this,” she said, with a smile.
“I’m glad you find this funny.”
She kissed me on the forehead. “Not funny. Just now you get the full experience. Everything.”
“I don’t want the full experience,” I moaned.
“No woman does. Now do you want to try a tampon or a pad?”
“What?”
“Tampons feel less bulky, but you have to put it up there.”
“Ick.”
“Grow up.”
“What about pads?”
“It’s easier. You just put it in your underwear, but it feels like a diaper.”
“I guess a pad. How often do you change it?”
“You’ll know.” I looked pleadingly at her. “You look pathetic. Every few hours today. Less so over the next couple of days.”
“How long does this last?”
“You really never paid attention? To your mom? Your sister? Me?”
Sheepishly, I said, “No…”
“Good, now you know.”
“Shower. Then put a pad in and get dressed.”
“I can’t go to work. This is killing me.”
“Man up. Every woman does it every month. Take some Advil and move on.”
“But…”
“No buts. Being a guy is cool,” she laughed.
“I hate you, you know.”
“I know. But this is part of it. Maybe now you’ll realize why I’m in such a bad mood when it happens.”
I went to work. It was painful. I felt like someone was punching me in the stomach hard. Jess was right though. I did feel it when it was time. Those were, however, the longest three days of my life. I felt gassy. My stomach pooched out. I felt awful, not just physically but mentally. I promised myself that, when we switched back, I’d be nicer when it happened.
After that period, something strange happened. Something changed between Jess and me. We didn’t talk as much about what we would do when we changed back. I called her Dan and she called me Jess. She didn’t comment on my clothes or makeup, and I stopped thinking as much about them. I won’t say we crossed a Rubicon. More like this was the new normal.
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.
"Do I look OK?". We were going to my parents for Rosh Hashanah. I was wearing a blue v neck three quarter sleeve top with a black wool skirt that fell 2” above the knee and white Tory Burch espadrilles with a black toe. I was wearing a blue quartz necklace. I was down another 3 pounds. “Should I have worn the blue dress?”
“You are so adorable.”
"I’m serious. They haven't seen me like this."
"You look beautiful. Plus, it's not like you transitioned or something. As far as they know, you're the you that you always were. The only thing they haven't seen how amazing you look," she kissed me on the cheek.
"Thanks. I don't know why I'm nervous. This is my family. I'm Jessica."
My parents lived in New City, about twenty-five miles north of the city. My mother had asked that we stop at Rockland Bakery and pick up two cakes she had ordered. We walked in and I froze.
"Ohmigod," I whispered. "That's Angela Maresca.".
"You mean the one you took to prom and threw up on?" she said, barely suppressing a laugh.
"Very funny."
Angela saw me and broke into a huge smile. "Jessica? Jessica Richman? Oh my god, you look amazing!". She gave me a huge hug.
I relaxed. "Angela? You haven’t changed". My mother joked that everyone said that at her reunion and she said, “so we were all gray and bald in high school?” She had a little boy holding her hand, and a little girl on her hip. She still looked good, just tired.
She looked at the two kids and smiled, “I’ve changed a little. This is Michael, Jr. and this is Anna Maria."
"Hi, Michael, I'm Jessica. How old are you?". He held up three fingers. "Are you five?". He smiled and shook his head. "Six?" Bigger smile. "97?".
"No, I'm three!"
I theatrically shook my head. "You don't have to yell.". He laughed that pure laugh. "And who said you could bring your dog into a bakery," I said, pointing and smiling at the baby.
"That's not my dog."
"Who is it then?"
"MY SISTER," he yelled. "Her name is Anna Maria."
"After your mom?". Her mom loved me...well, until prom. Then she gave me a death stare when she saw me.
"I can't believe you remembered. You were always so smart." Jess started whistling.
"Oh, this is my husband Dan."
She hugged her too. "I'm a hugger," she said. "He's handsome.” Jess smiled. “Where do you live? What do you do?"
"I'm a lawyer. We live in the city.," I said
“I could see you as a lawyer.”
“Not sure how I take that. What about you?”
“I take care of these two. Do you have any kids?”
"In the car," Jess said. Angela looked shocked. Jess said, "we cracked the window.” Angela switched to worried. “Kidding, Angela. We didn't crack the window".
I rolled my eyes, “No kids yet.”
“Oh,” Angela said, sounding judgmental. Maybe that was me projecting but it felt like she thought that I was less for not having kids. Anna Maria started squirming. "Well, this one is fussing. Are you on Facebook? Friend me," she said, giving me a kiss. "Bye."
We got our cakes and went back to the car. Jess cracked up.
"What?"
"The look on your face..."
"I was nervous."
"That's the hilarious part. You're not Dan. You're Jess. I'm Dan and I'm no one. Some other guy puked on her... maybe. You're just the smart girl from high school."
That made me stop. I had been like this for almost three months, but I hadn't been home. My parents usually came in for dinner. I had only seen people that I saw regularly. I never had to face my past like that.
We walked in. It was weird. There were childhood pictures on the walls – camp, school, trips, etc. Everyone was the same, except I saw Jessica aging across them. She and I looked at each other and shuddered.
I saw my nephew Tucker, who was two and a half. He and I had a game where I would pick him up, turn him upside and ask him for money. He'd say, "I don't have any," and I'd shake him. He had no idea what money was but thought this was hysterical.
He came running over...and ran right past me. "Unca Danny!" He screamed as Jess flipped him, then put him right side up. He laughed along with Jess. That laugh belonged to me.
"Hey Tucker? Do I get anything?"
Jess held him to me. He blew a slobbery kiss on my face and said, “Hi, Messy,” then “again, again” to Dan.
My sister Laura came over and kissed me. “Tucker and Dan have something…you’re not being fair to Dan.’” she said, in an exaggerated version of my aunt Vivian’s accent.
“I don’t think it’s good for Tucker to be an only child.”
“Funny.” She looked me up and down. “Wow. You look amazing. How much now?”
“Sixteen pounds.”
“You look great. Seriously. Those shoes are really cute. Can I borrow them sometime?” It felt funny for her to ask me to borrow clothes.
“Sure. Thanks. So who’s coming?”
“The Richardses.” The Richardses were our neighbors. Michelle and I had been friends, since they moved to the neighborhood when I was seven. Everyone was always surprised that we were friends, first because we were boy and girl and then, as we were older, when Michelle came out. I didn’t care. She was my friend.
I laughed, “It wouldn’t be a holiday without them. Who else?”
“Don’t you talk to mom?” She would never have asked this before I became Jess. It was assumed that I didn’t. “Anyway, the Bernsteins. Aunt Helene and Jordan, the Bernsteins, Uncle Simon and the girl,” she said, making ‘air quotes.’ This was our joke. Uncle Simon was my grandfather’s brother. He was 90 and had a health aide, Celia, who was on the north side of sixty. He still referred to as “the girl.” This was a family joke. I called it “the adorable racism of the elderly.” Jess and my mother disagreed. They called it “adorable sexism.”
I smiled. “Can it be…”
“Nope, he’s coming,” she sighed. No explanation was necessary. ‘He’ was my mom’s first cousin Matty. Matty was an asshole. Everyone thought Matty was an asshole, including my mother.
“Oh boy. And with the election too…”
Just then, my mom came over and looked me up and down.
“I’m not sure how I feel about this outfit,” she said, as Laura stood behind her, mouthing that.
I was a little thrown. As Dan, this hadn’t been a problem since I was 12 and even then, it was just ‘change your shirt. It’s stained.’
“Um, OK, mom. What would you like me to do about that?”
“Nothing. I’m just saying.” ‘I’m just saying’ was my mother’s favorite line. ‘I’m not going to insult you outright. I’m just going to say something and, if you take it as an insult, that’s on you.’ No dinner with my parents was complete without Jess ranting afterwards about ‘I’m just saying.’ “You’ve decided to keep the bangs.” Laura rolled her eyes.
“Yes, mom. You asked that last time. I’m keeping them until I get old like you.” Laura pursed her lips and mouthed ‘oooh.’
“Fine, be that way,” she pouted. That was not the response that I expected. I used to make comments like that all the time and she would roll her eyes, laugh and ask Jess how she dealt with me. “I need you in the kitchen.”
We went into the kitchen. “Start making the salad, and then I need you to mash the potatoes.” Normally, I’d ask if I could help and she would tell me to sit with my father.
“So, Matty is coming…”
“Yes. Of course, he is. What would you like me to do? Grandma Rosie would have wanted this.” This was my mother’s go-to line. My grandmother, who died when I was seventeen, was one of the kindest people you ever met. She would always give to everyone she saw on the street, would never let someone be alone on holidays and never had a bad word to say about anyone. Even Matty. Him, she’d say, “you never met Tante (Yiddish for aunt) Irene,” Matty’s mother. ‘If you knew Irene, it makes sense.” When my mother wanted you to do something, she’d use Grandma.
I sighed. “He’s such a jerk, ma.”
“That’s just who he is.”
“Why is that an excuse? If he killed someone, would you say that?”
“Don’t be melodramatic.”
Just then, my father came into the kitchen and gave me a hug and a kiss. “You don’t come in and say hello to your daddy?” I hadn’t called him daddy since I couldn’t remember.
I decided to play it up. “Daddy!” I said, giving him a big hug and kiss.
“OK, OK, how’s everything? How’s work?” OK, at least this was getting back to normal. Conversations with my father went as follows – ‘How are you? How’s Jess? How’s work? You see the game?’ It didn’t matter what game. Any game would do. When I was in college, it went ‘How are you? How’s the school? How’s the car? Getting laid? They didn’t look good against [fill in name of opponent]. Here’s your mother.’
“Work’s good. Busy. I’m working on a new case involving a building on 23rd Street. They oversold units and now the AG is involved and…”
“That’s great. Your mother tells me the Bull is pregnant?”
“I was in the middle of a sentence.”
“Sorry. I just remembered that. How is she doing?”
“She’s fine. Tired. Goes to the bathroom a lot. But fine. Anyway, as I was saying,” and I started to finish my story. I could tell he wasn’t listening. He had the same look on his face that I would apparently get when someone was telling a story that bored me. “You know what dad? We have things to do in here and you’re in the way. Go back in the living room.” He left.
“What was that, Jessica?” my mother said.
“What was what?”
“You interrupted your father and then sent him away.”
“I interrupted him? I was in mid-sentence and he interrupted me. Then, when I went to finish, he wasn’t listening, so I sent him out.”
“He’s excited about Sammie. I would think you would be too.”
“I’m very excited about Sammie. I told you how excited I got. But it doesn’t mean it’s the only topic of conversation.”
“Fine. How is she anyway? I spoke to Ruth. She said it looks like she’s having a boy.”
“If, by that, you mean she’s carrying in front, then yeah sure.”
“All around means boy. In front is a girl.”
“Well, I think, based on the way she looks and the way she’s walking, that she’s having…a baby. She agrees, by the way.”
My mother laughed, “Funny, Jess.” While we made dinner, she and I had a conversation about everything. I mean everything. She told me about how she and her friends were planning a trip into the city to go to an exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum. She went into mind-numbing detail about who was driving, what they were seeing, where they’d eat (‘because you know how picky Joyce gets’).
After five minutes, she looked at me and said, “Am I boring you, Jessica?”
“Excuse me?”
“Am I boring you?”
Busted. “No, of course not. I was just thinking about…”
“I’m sorry that my story isn’t interesting as yours. Keep an eye on the soup. I’m going to the garage to get some soda. Shop Rite had a sale.”
“Ma,” I said, to her back, as she walked away. I looked at the soup. Still soup.
I was stirring absent-mindedly when Laura came in, “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything. She was droning on and I must’ve looked bored and she got upset.”
She laughed. “So then we were trying to decide whether to get Serafina or go to Sarabeth’s. I like both but Ruth went to the doctor and…” We both started giggling. “So, how’s everything?”
“Good. Crazy busy. New case came in. What’s with dad?”
“What’s with dad what?”
“I was telling him about the case and he interrupts me and starts asking about Sammie.”
“And?” That response surprised me.
“And what’s up with that?”
“He wants a grandchild.”
“What’s Tucker?”
“I mean he wants one from you. You’re his favorite.” I was surprised by this.
“No, I’m not. He doesn’t like either of us.” This was his line when we were kids and asked who he liked better.
“Please. You’re Daddy’s girl. You always have been. I get her. Lucky me.” He and I were closer but that was just because we were both guys. Until now.
“That’s not true…”
“Please, who does she call with every story? Who does she call when she can’t decide what to wear?”
“Sorry”.
She paused. “Sorry. She’s just been driving me nuts over Tuck and pre-school lately,” and then she told me about the pre-school process. “And of course Jeremy’s mom has an opinion, too. It’s not enough that she gives me shit that Tuck isn’t fully toilet trained yet. ‘Jeremy and Jason were toilet trained by two.’” It’s funny. When I was Dan, I was her brother. We talked but not about anything substantive. We talked towards each other. Now, we talked to each other.
“Jeremy has OCD. And Jason doesn’t like being touched. Yup, that’s a ringing endorsement for her parenting.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I don’t care what she says. That outfit is cute on you.”
“You think?”
“Yes. I love the stuff you’ve bought recently. It’s really you.” The last time we went out, I wore a green A-line dress from Madewell with a pair of booties. I didn’t want to know what that meant as far as being ‘really me.’
We both saw my mother come back in. “Shhhh,” Laura said, in a stage whisper.
“What?”
“Nothing, mom,” we said in unison.
She smiled. “If it’s nothing, then help your sister, Laura.”
While we were running around like crazy, Jess, my father and Laura’s husband were in the living room, eating cheese and crackers and watching television. I know this because it’s what I always did. Jess came in and kissed me on the cheek, “Anything I can do?”
My mother smiled. “Thank you Dan. There’s noth…”
“Set the table. I’ll help,” I said, handing him some plates as we walked to the dining room.
She smiled, “Having fun?”
“Shut up. This is bullshit,” I whispered.
“Which part?” She said, grinning. “I heard the Sammie conversation…”
“It’s that. It’s the stories. And what’s wrong with this outfit?” Jess just laughed.
I thought it would be get better. The first people to arrive were the Richardses.
“Dave,” her father Carl said to mine, “L’Shana Tova.” There was something weird in hearing him say “L’Shana Tova.” Did I mention that Michelle was Black? Her family was the only Black family in the neighborhood. When my grandfather first met them, he was a little put off until her father spoke to him in perfect Yiddish. It turned out that he had been a Shabbos goy at a synagogue in Baltimore, where he grew up. If you don’t know, a Shabbos goy is a non-Jew who performs tasks on Shabbat, when Jews are forbidden from doing so.
“Chag Sameach, Doctor.” This was a joke between my father and Carl. Carl was a tenured professor – of English – at Columbia. He had a PhD. My father was an accountant with a bachelor’s. Despite Carl’s many protestations, my grandfather insisted on calling him “Doctor.” My father used to joke that, between the Yiddish and the PhD, Carl was the son his father always wanted.
Michelle and her mother Mona rolled their eyes. They each gave me a kiss.
“JJ, you look gorgeous,” her mother said. I assumed JJ was my childhood nickname. “Michelle told me how terrific you look. Turn around.” I willingly complied. “Keep at it. I like that outfit. Those are really cute shoes.”
“Tell my mom that, please.”
She laughed. “Is she in the kitchen?” I nodded and she went in.
“Hey, Shell,” I said, giving her a kiss. Michelle was absolutely gorgeous. She was 5’9”, 150 pounds. She was a runner and kickboxer and was in terrific shape. She had amazing legs. She was wearing a blue shift and flats. “I love that dress.”
She smiled and said, in her mother’s voice, “I don’t think I like it.”
“At least she takes a stand.”
“Is Barbara just saying?”
“Yup. You mean you didn’t pack a whole wardrobe of stuff for her to reject? By the way, where’s Amanda?” Amanda was Michelle’s wife. They had been together as long as Dan and me. Amanda was a doctor, specializing in thoracic surgery. She and I had a tense relationship for a while. I always felt like she couldn’t understand why Michelle and I were friends.
“She’s covering today. She’ll switch with someone for Christmas. How’s it going here?”
“Eh, fine. Weird. I was telling my father about work and suddenly he interrupts me about Sammie.”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “And? Mine are doing the same thing. Same conversation every time. I thought I’d get out of it but nope.”
“You wanted marriage equality? That’s marriage equality for you. The right to be nagged.” We both giggled.
“What’s going on?”
“Oh, she’s pissed at me. She was droning about going to the museum and she caught me looking bored. Apparently, I’m a bad daughter. You?”
“She’s upset because Amanda’s not here for the holiday.”
“Did she forget that you’re not Jewish?”
She laughed. “Well, her daughter-in-law is a doctor…”
“I ran into Angela Maresca today at Rockland Bakery.”
“No kidding. How is she?” Even though I knew Jess was right – that I wasn’t the guy who puked, but the smart girl – I was surprised at the reaction. I expected a laugh or something more.
“Two kids. Kept looking at me funny because we don’t have kids.”
She looked surprised. “Yeah, and?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been feeling a lot more pressure lately.” It’s like ever since I grew a uterus, everyone expects me to have a baby. People!
She then did a perfect imitation of her mother. “You know you’re not getting any younger. And, not that it’s any of my business, but you two need to plan a little more than your father and I did…”
“Ouch.”
“Uh huh…”
Just then, Mona yelled, “If you two have time to imitate me, you have time to come in here.”
We spent another twenty minutes getting everything together. As people came in, the women all migrated to the kitchen to help, while the men went into the living room. I shouldn’t have been surprised since that’s what always happened.
My aunt Helene came in. She was my father’s sister. “Jessica, you look amazing. Turn around.” It was funny. As Dan, I had gained and lost weight a few times. I’d get the occasional “good work,” but, with women, they asked you to turn around. I wasn’t sure if it was affirmation or appraisal.
My cousin Jordan was with her. He was five years younger than me and doing his residency in neurosurgery at North Shore-LIJ on Long Island. “Hey Jordan,” it felt weird to be so much shorter than him. When I was Dan, I was two inches taller than him. Plus, he had always been like a little brother I never wanted. What was weirder was when he gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey Jess. How’s everything?”
“Good. How’s residency?”
“Tiring.”
“I can imagine. You ever make it into the city?”
“I wish. I work 36 hour shifts then sleep. Then do it again.”
I decided to play with him. “Seeing anyone?”
“Thanks, ma,” he said, laughing. He surprised me when he threw me over his shoulder and took me into the living room. “What the hell, Jordan?!” I said, hitting him playfully on his back. “Take it back,” he said.
Jess laughed. “What did my wife do?”
“Asked me if I was seeing anyone…after a car ride with my mom.”
“Oh, carry on, then,” she said, with a smile
“You’re taking his side?”
“Bros before hos,” he said, giving me a kiss. “Even my ho. OK, Jordan, put her down.”
The whole exchange felt weird. Not good weird but not bad weird either. Just weird.
“Jess, please get back in here,” my mother yelled. “I need you.”
Jess smirked. “Duty calls,” she said, sitting down.
I whispered in her ear, “Can I tell you how much I hate you?”
Eventually, Matty came in with his wife Marlene and his two children, Michael and Melissa. Like I said, I hated him. I hated everything about him. I hated the fact that his whole family was named with “M”.
Marlene came over and gave me a kiss. “Hi, Jessica. How’s work?” Marlene was OK. No one knew why she put up with him, especially since their money was her family’s.
I started to tell her what was going on, when Matty interrupted. “Michael’s applying to law school.” Michael shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“That’s great, Mike. Anyway, as I started to say, there’s a lawsuit over a big project on 23rd…”
“I think there are too many lawyers,” Matty said.
“I think there are too many people who interrupt, so there you go,” I said, just as my mother walked in.
“You let her talk this way to people, Barbie?” My mother hated when he called her that.
“What did I say? I was talking – to your wife – and you interrupted. What would you think is the proper response?”
My mother’s response surprised me. “Jess…come on.” When I was Dan, I could rip his head off and no one said ‘boo.’
“Seriously? He interrupts me and calls you Barbie which, by the way Matty she hates, and I get come on? Seriously?”
“Seriously. Go see what Shelly is doing.” Shelly was Michelle’s nickname. Our mothers were the only ones who still used it.
I walked into the kitchen, to find Michelle transferring the mashed potatoes to a serving dish. I was livid.
She smiled, “I see he’s arrived.”
“Yeah. Did you hear her?”
“You know she’s never going to let you do that, right?”
Actually I didn’t know that but realized that Jess did. “He drives me nuts.”
“Try being a Black lesbian around him.”
“I thought you preferred lesbian of color,” I smiled.
“Shut up,” she laughed.
Almost in unison, we both said, “Not you. You’re not like the ones I’m talking about.” Once every holiday, Matty would say this to Carl. Carl would turn to my father, smile and say, in Yiddish, “every family has one.” Matty didn’t speak Yiddish, which drove him nuts.
Melissa came in. She was nineteen and a sophomore at Binghamton. She gave me a kiss and said, “Sorry, Jess. Sorry in advance, Michelle.”
“Thanks. It’s not your problem, Melissa.”
“Really?”
I laughed. “Well, I mean, it’s not your fault…how’s school?”
We then had the longest conversation we’d ever had. She told me about classes and her love life (or lack thereof.)
“Tinder screws everything up,” she said. “Everyone just wants to hook up.”
“Tinder? Wow, I feel old. Are you looking for a relationship?”
“Not really, but I want something more than swipe right, y’know?”
Michelle laughed. “This is sooo out of my league. You know the old joke? What does a lesbian bring on a second date? A U-Haul.”
Melissa laughed. “Seriously, though. I don’t know what to do.”
I smiled. “Say no.”
Melissa looked at me like I was nuts. “What?”
“Say no. If you don’t want to do Tinder, don’t.” I decided to break the guy code and let her know what to do. This would probably backfire on me if I ever changed back, but what the hell. “If a guy says he just wants to hook up, look at him and say, ‘OK, go ahead.’”
“That’s it?”
“Yup, he’ll probably say something like, ‘if you won’t, someone else will.’ And you say, ‘I’m sure. Enjoy yourself.’ Don’t get upset or anything. Just smile and say OK.”
“You sound like my mom.”
“Ouch. That’s cold. This is not some cow and free milk thing. Look, when I went to college, everyone was hooking up too. It’s not like I’m your mom, but this is control. They want to see you get bothered. It’s an ego thing. Don’t let them. Make them feel rejected.” I knew this sadly from experience. I had enough noes to know.
“What if I just want to have sex?”
“Then go ahead. If you want to just hook up, go for it. But, make it on your terms.”
“I’m calling you when it happens,” she said, laughing.
“I expect nothing less. By the way, I like your dress. Where did you get it?” It was a red striped sweater dress. Which was something I wouldn’t have known before.
“Thanks. Vineyard Vines. You don’t think it makes me look old?”
“Marlene?”
“Why do you want to dress so old? Then, if I wear something else…”
“It shows too much,” Michelle said. I imagine Jess could have contributed something more to this.
“Seriously, I like it. It’s cute. I should stop in there.” I walked past the one in Grand Central on my way to work. I had noticed a gingham strapless dress that was cute, but couldn’t decide if it was too young for me. Oh G-d, I was becoming such a girl.
Jess walked in. “What’s up in here?”
I smiled, “Girl talk. Go away.” She smirked and left.
Just then, my father said, “Come in everyone.”
We sat down to dinner. My mother did it buffet style, because of the number of people. I never noticed how many of the husbands said things like, ‘[fill in name of wife], get me some [fill in food here.]’ And they did.
Jess saw me get annoyed and smiled. “Honey, can you get me some brisket?”
“Wow, did you break your legs, honey?”
Steve Bernstein smiled, “You let your wife talk to you that way?”
Jess laughed. “How long have you known her? No one ever ‘lets’ her do anything. She just does.”
Dinner was uneventful. It was October, so it was inevitable that the election would come up despite everyone trying to avoid it. The table was, not surprisingly given its location and makeup, pro-Hillary. We were talking about Hillary’s issues in the upper Midwest. Even though I had graduated twelve years ago, I still kept my eye on things out there. It was where I became an adult – sort of – so I had an attachment to it. We were discussing the hollowing out of manufacturing there and the death of unions.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m worried. I think she’s going to have real problems up there.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matty said. He had to chime in. I never knew what his politics were other than being a jerk.
Steve Bernstein cut him off. “What makes you say that?”
“Look at the primaries. She only carried four of five counties in Michigan. Bernie beat her by 13% in Wisconsin. People are angry and they’re looking for someone to blame and someone who tells them what they want to hear, and he does that.”
Marlene said, “She’s not the one who closed the plants.”
“Agreed. I think the people up there blame NAFTA for the job losses and you can’t run on the good stuff from the 90s without people holding you responsible for the bad too.”
Steve said, “it’s more complicated than that. Those jobs have been going since I was in Michigan in the 70s.”
“Obviously. But if for generations I had a good paying union job with benefits and now it’s gone and I’m making eight bucks an hour at Walmart, I’m looking to blame someone. And that’s what he does. That and tell them it’s going to be cake and ice cream for everyone.”
Matty said. “Good.”
“Good what?”
“That’s progress.”
“What is?”
“Businesses fail. Find a new job,” he smirked. Like marrying rich, I guess. “They should’ve let it fail in 2008.”
“You wanted a depression in the Midwest? Letting GM fail would have done that.”
“I don’t live there,” he smirked. “Besides, something else will come up.”
“You know that the auto industry used to employ one of every seven people in America?”
“So what? So did buggy whips. Should we protect that?”
“That’s a false equivalence, Matty. The auto industry isn’t disappearing. It’s moving to cheaper places.”
“So what? Besides the unions are too powerful. They hurt business.”
Uncle Simon chimed in. “Your grandfather was in the needle trades.”
“That was then.”
“And now you’re a putz,” Simon said.
I took a deep breath. “That wasn’t actually my point, Matty. Again, my point was that it’s going to hurt her up there.”
“I don’t like her anyway. She’s shrill.”
“She’s shrill? That’s what you have?”
“Dan, tell your wife to calm down. She’s getting emotional.”
Jess blanched. She fumbled for words. She was conflict averse.
“Matty, ad hominem attacks are the last refuge of the incompetent,” I said, with a smile. Dr. Richards looked at me, nodded and smiled.
“Excuse me?”
“I mentioned facts. You come up with ‘so what?’ Then you call Hillary shrill and say I need to calm down. That’s because you have no facts.”
My mother, in an effort to calm things down, said, “let’s just say we have a difference of opinion.”
“Mom, you can have a difference of opinion. You can’t have a difference of fact.”
Dr. Richards laughed, “My deconstructionist colleagues would disagree.”
I laughed. I didn’t want to let Matty feel like he won but I knew that it would only get worse. So, I stood down. “Stop. I’m having flashbacks to Madison. And not good ones.”
My mother said, “Why doesn’t everyone go into the living room while we clear up?” The men got up while the women cleared. Jess flashed me a smile and a shrug as she left.
Marlene turned to me and said, “You know Matty…”
“Don’t worry about it.” Marlene took dishes into the kitchen.
My mother said, “Jess, why do you have to do that?”
“Do what? Have a conversation with everyone?”
“Start with Matty.”
“I didn’t start. Steve and I were talking about her problems and he started.”
“Just ignore him. Grandma Rosie would’ve said ignore him.”
I took a deep breath. “I walked away. But I wasn’t wrong.”
“I’m trying to have a nice dinner. You were so helpful before. Why start?”
“Fine, mom.” I heard Laura downstairs with Tucker. My dad had set up a whole wooden train set for him. “I’m going to see what Laura’s up to.”
“What did I miss,” she said, with a smile.
“Matty being a putz. And when I called him, she starts blaming me. Like I’m the one ruining the dinner.”
“Just ignore her…”
“If you say Grandma Rosie would have said ignore her, I’m going to hit you.” We both laughed. “Hey, Tuckie, what are you doing?”
He had this focused look on his face. “Playing with Thomas.”
“Cool. Can I play?”
“Yes. Work bridge,” he said, pointing at a draw bridge.
“Got it.” We played for a while. I made clanging noises like a draw bridge was going up. He gave me my laugh. After about ten minutes, Laura said, “I’m going to go upstairs for a minute. Keep an eye on him.” This was surprising. She didn’t usually leave me alone with him.
“You sure?”
She looked shocked. “Of course. Why not?”
“Nothing, nothing.” After another minute of trains, Tucker got up and handed me a book. Curious George. “Read!” he said.
“OK. Did you know this was my favorite book when I was little?”
He sat down in my lap and I started to read. He put his head on my arm and looked up at me. I started to melt.
Michelle’s mom came down. “That agrees with you, Jessica.”
“Stop,” I blushed. It did though.
“We’re having C-A-K-E, if you want it,” she said, with a smile.
“In a minute. Tuck and I are going to finish our book. Right, Tuck?”
He gave me a hug. “Keep reading!”
“Yessir!” We both laughed. We finished the book and walked upstairs. He held my hand. It was so sweet…until he saw cake. Then it was all over. It was OK. I’d been dumped worse…and for less.
I sat down and turned to Mike. “So where are you thinking of applying?”
“I dunno. I was thinking Fordham, GW, that level. Any advice?”
“If you want to be a lawyer, go. But realize that it’s a different profession than even when I started. It’s hard to get a starting job.”
Matty interrupted, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” If he had said this to me as Dan, my mother would have cut him off. Now, she was silent.
“Congratulations, Matty.”
“For what?”
“I had no idea that you graduated law school, much less passed the bar. I’m impressed.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Actually, that question is better addressed to you. I’m a lawyer. I practice. You’re a whatever you are, but what you are most definitely not is a lawyer, and your son asked me and I’m giving him advice or at least trying to, and you keep offering your opinion. Your ignorant, ill-informed opinion. Like your ignorant, ill-formed opinion before. But this time you are truly ignorant of the topic at hand. So, stop and let me answer.” Everyone at the table was looking at us.
My mother looked at me and said, “Jessica, I’d like to speak to you in the kitchen please.”
“What?”
“In the kitchen, now.”
As we were walking out, I heard Matty say, “While you’re in there, get me some coffee.” I knew he was baiting me. I shouldn’t have risen to the bait. But I did.
I went back in. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Coffee.”
“Matty, no one else will say it, so I will. Can you please shut up? For the love of g-d, just shut up. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Not about law school. Not about the election. Not about anything. So just shut up. And get your own damn coffee.”
We went into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing what?”
“With Matty.”
“He’s an asshole. Mike was asking me a question and he started bloviating…over me. What would you expect me to do?”
“Don’t curse, please.”
“How would you describe him?”
“Just ignore him. Grandma Rosie would’ve said ignore him.”
“You know what, ma? Enough. Maybe she had the patience of Job, but I don’t. All day he says something stupid and I’m supposed to ignore him. He’s a sexist, racist putz and I should ignore him. Why?”
“I’m just trying to have a nice dinner. Why start?”
“I didn’t. I’m sticking up for myself. Maybe back me up.”
“Stop being a drama queen.”
Before I could say anything, Michelle came in. “Excuse me Barb, but mind if I take Jess for a second?”
She led me up to my room. It was my room but the walls were yellow, instead of blue. All of my basketball team pictures were up but instead of me on a boys’ team, it was Jess on a series of girls’ teams. My sports biographies and science fiction were replaced by the Baby Sitters’ Club and Jane Austen. I really was English major girl, wasn’t I? There was a sorority composite from Wisconsin. Apparently, I was D-Phi-E. My prom picture was up. This time, I was wearing a black slip dress and I was with my best friend Danny Wassserman. Oh, please tell me that I didn’t do anything with him. I knew he was a pig. It was disconcerting to say the least.
“What’s up Michelle?”
“Just getting you out of there before you two did WW III.”
“Thanks. He drives me nuts.”
“Every year, and you let him.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“Yes, he is. And you won’t change him.”
“He’s a racist, sexist pig.”
“So’s my uncle Leon. And?”
“I’m more pissed at her. He’s obnoxious to me and I should just sit there?”
“You know what the definition of insanity is, right?”
“It’s just…” I smiled and shook my head. “Thanks.”
Just then my father came in. “Like old times. Sorry, I see you two and I see two ten year olds giggling. Shelly, excuse us for a minute, please.”
He sat down on the bed. I moved down.
My dad said, “What? You’re too old to sit next to me?” I moved back and he put his arm around me. I cuddled in. It felt nice. “What’s up, Jessie?”
“He’s a shmuck. And I’m tired of hearing about Grandma Rosie…”
He smiled. “You and me both, kid. Maybe Grandma Rosie would have tolerated him. You know what Grandpa Harry called him? ‘Shmuck.’” I laughed. “No, seriously. I don’t think I ever heard him call him anything but ‘shmuck.’ Or ‘your son,’ if he was talking to Irene.”
“He drives me nuts. He’s a sexist. And a racist. Why do you let him do that?”
He leaned over and kissed me. He hadn’t kissed me in years. “That’s why we love you. Fighting everyone’s fight. Even if they didn’t know they had a fight to fight. Let Carl fight his fights. He’s not even fighting.”
“I’m not putting up with him.”
“You don’t have to. But tone it down for your mother’s sake. You know this is her thing.”
“What’s your thing?”
“A grandchild,” he said, and I punched him on the shoulder. “Hey, you asked.”
“Stop it.”
“Tell me about this case,” and we talked. He and I talked about work all the time when I was Dan. But somehow it felt different. I don’t know. We were less competitive. I felt less like I was trying to prove something. It seemed like he was prouder. Not that he wasn’t proud before, just different.
We went back downstairs. Jess came over. “Everything OK?”
“It’s fine.”
“For what it’s worth, Mona took Matty’s head off. Told him he should stop talking so much. Gave him her mother’s, ‘G-d gave you two ears and two eyes and only one mouth for a reason,’ speech.”
“Did it work?”
“Not really, but it’s the thought. What did your dad say?”
“He wants a grandchild.”
“And?”
“And stop.”
“You’d be a great mom.”
“Seriously, stop.” But I thought about it. I thought about coming next year with a baby. With my baby. With Jess schlepping a portable crib in. “We also had a really nice conversation about work. Much more relaxed than usual.”
“That’s because you’re his daughter. He can just be proud without thinking about himself.”
“I guess. How about you?”
“It’s weird. I mean I don’t mind not running around. But it feels sitting there. No one really talks to each other. What were you and Melissa talking about?”
“Tinder.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup. I went to college too soon. Apparently, everyone just hooks up now. Too soon. The story of my life.”
She kissed me on the cheek. “You say that. But that’s not you. You’re too much of a romantic. That’s why I loved you before and I love you now.”
I let that pass. “I’m tired. This is stressful.”
She smiled. “I know. Welcome to one of the shitty parts of womanhood. Smile and shut up. Sorry you had to learn on the fly. You’re doing great though,” and she kissed me.
The next week Jess had a business trip. She left Sunday night and was due back Tuesday.
Monday night at 10 she called . “Hey beautiful.”
“Hey yourself,” I giggled. I couldn’t believe I did that. “How’s the trip?”
“The usual. Meetings. Dinner. The bar. I wanted to call you before it was too late.”
“Thanks. I always like hearing your voice before I go to bed.” I always did.
“What are you wearing?” She had become such a guy.
“A t-shirt?”
“Not one of your nighties?”
“Nope. Just a t-shirt. And nothing else…”
“Oh really?”
“Yup, it’s just me in my t-shirt. Too bad you’re not here.”
I heard her gulp. “Oh really?”
“Yes, really. If you were here, you could kiss my neck.”
“I could. I could nibble your earlobes.”
I imagined that and got excited. “I’d like that. Then you could suck my nipples. You like that, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“Then, you could start nibbling my inner thighs.” I heard her moan. “What are you doing next?”
“I think someone wants it rough,” she said.
“Oh really?” I started to finger myself.
“Uh huh. I think you’re putting your legs on my shoulders and I’m going to fuck you good and hard. You like that?”
“Uh huh…”
“Tell me how much.”
I was fingering myself even more quickly. “Oh G-d. Oh G-d. Fuck me. Fuck me hard. No harder. Harder. Yes. Yes,” and I shuddered. I came.
“Wow,” she said. “That was hot. Were you playing with yourself?”
“What do you think?”
“Cool.”
“Cool?”
“Yes, cool. I love you,” she said.
“I love you too. Know what I’m doing now?”
“What?”
“Putting on the pink nightie you love so much. I’m going to sleep in it and think of you.” Where did that come from? I truly began to think that I had crossed over.
“That’s my girl. I love you. Good night. See you tomorrow.”
I went to sleep. The next day, I couldn’t wait for Jess to come home. It was weird. She traveled regularly but I never missed her this much. Huh.
She came home the next day around eight and I met her at the door with a big kiss.
“Welcome home!”
“Wow. That’s a welcome. What got into you?”
“I missed you is all.”
“I missed you too.”
We walked into the bedroom. Jess dumped her laundry into the hamper and went to the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something red. I picked it up and walked over to the bathroom.
"What are these," I said, holding a pair of panties. She stared at me and said nothing.
"I asked you a question. What. The. Fuck. Are. These?"
"Those aren't yours?"
I walked over and picked up the laundry basket. I had done laundry the prior night and hadn't emptied it, so it was full. I dropped it in front of her and it landed with a thud. Unfortunately, it missed her feet.
"Now answer my fucking question. WHAT. THE. FUCK. ARE. THESE.?"
She stared at the floor and mumbled, "I made a mistake."
"A mistake? Are you fucking kidding me? What? Did you fall into her skanky twat by accident? You made a mistake alright. A big fucking mistake."
She started to cry. "I... I..."
"Was she in the room when I was talking to you? That's why you were laughing, wasn't it? Look at my stupid wife. Talking dirty to me while you suck my dick. Jesus fucking Christ. I'm such a fucking idiot."
"It wasn't...I wouldn't... I'm..."
"Get out."
"What?"
"Get the fuck out. Of this apartment. Right now."
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"That's not my problem. Why don't you go to your skanky, cheap underwear wearing whore? Or to hell? Whatever. Just get out!"
"This is my apartment too."
"Stay here and I'll cut your dick off."
"Uh, you'd be cutting your dick off..."
"No. You just did that," I said flatly.
Her shoulders slumped and she left. She threw some clothes in her bag and left. And I cried. I realized just how screwed up my life was and I cried. For an hour.
I called Sammie and told her what happened.
"That doesn't sound like Dan."
"Do you think I'm lying?"
"No. No. Not at all. I'm just shocked is all. Are you OK, Jessie?"
"No.". I wasn't going to lie.
"Do you want me to come over?'
I was going to say no, but I had enough lying for one night. "Yeah. I would. Thanks. Sorry."
"For what?" She seemed annoyed.
"You're... I mean you have to be...I mean it's a lot because..."
She stopped me. "Yeah. I'm pregnant. And you're in pain. And that matters a lot more.”
"Thanks," I said, sniffling. I felt pathetic.
"I love you Jessica. It's going to be OK."
"Maybe. I hope so. We'll see."
"You want anything?"
"Ice cream". That was not a Jess thing. That was a Dan thing. I was the guy with a cone in a snow storm. I thought for a second. "I'll be damned if I'm going to sabotage my hard work because of some whore," I said.
"Good job, Jessie! Fuck him...ok, poor choice of words". We both broke out laughing.
I hung up the phone.
I stared at the mirror and looked at the woman looking back at me.
'You are a freak! A fucking freak! A fucking pathetic loser,' I thought.
'No wonder she fucked someone else.'. I started stomping around the apartment. The people downstairs must've been thrilled. "You're embarrassing. I like being pretty. I like being feminine," I said in a sing-song voice.
I went to my closet and stared at my clothes. I looked at the velvet dress and tore it out of the closet and threw it on the bed. I stared at the lace dress. 'Pookie and Sebastian? 'Pookie and Sebastian? 'Pookie and motherfucking cocksucking Sebastian?, I said, throwing it out of the closet'. If Sandy Feldstein heard me, he would've dropped dead.
I just started throwing things. Fuck pretty. Fuck sweet. Fuck Anthropologie.
I saw THE dress. The one I fell in love with. The princess dress. "Guess what Jess," I said. "The princess is gone," and I threw it down.
I was now going around the bend. I was out of breath and stared in the mirror. "I thought I'd look cute with bangs," I sneered. Jesus Christ. There's something wrong with you, DAN. No wonder."
I went to the drawer and got a pair of scissors and thought about cutting off all my hair. I was about to hack my hair off and then I stopped myself. 'What the fuck are you thinking? You're thinking like a girl. You didn't do anything. SHE did. She fucked around on you. She fucked around on you and you're going to cut off your hair. You like your hair. You like your clothes. You like you. You've been working your ass off and she pulls this shit? Cutting your hair off is a win for her. She freaked when she saw it. Throwing your clothes away? She wins. And she's not winning". I fell back on the bed.
Just then the buzzer rang. It was Sammie. "Come on up."
"Thanks for coming," I said. She gave me a long hug, which helped a little.
She looked annoyed. "What is this 'thank you for coming' bull? What is this - open school night?". Sammie was now six months pregnant. She had a round belly and was, as Ruth said, carrying in front. Yup, she was definitely carrying a baby. G-d bless her though. She was wearing a gorgeous knit dress, heels and a leather jacket.
"Sorry, I'm a little upset, in case you didn't notice.". My hair was a mess and I was out of breath.
"You hide it well. Seriously though " she said, sitting. "What happened?"
"I don't know. I really don't and I don't care."
"I just am in shock. What did he say again?"
I shook my head. "It was a mistake is all I got."
"What the fuck? A mistake? Seriously?"
"Seriously. I never fucked someone by mistake. You?"
"Um. Anthony Amentario."
I laughed. Anthony was the kind of person you sleep with to get back at someone else. in Sammie's case, it was her father for not being at her high school graduation. "Regret is not a mistake."
"He didn't say anything else?"
"He tried."
"What did you say?" I wasn't interested in going over every word. I listened to people all day and got bored. But they paid me. On the other hand, she was here for me.
"I called her a skanky twat. Told him to get out. Told him I'd cut his dick off if he stayed."
"What did he say"? I couldn't tell her that he said that I'd be chopping off my own dick and that he already did. That'd be weird. Not the rest of this. Just that. "Nothing. He just left like a beaten dog."
"No reason at all?"
"Nope. Besides I don't want to hear it. What could he say to make it better?"
"I don't know. Why do you think he did it?"
"Don't know. Don't care."
"Did you guys have a fight or something?"
I glared at her. "Would that matter?"
She looked shocked then chastened. "Absolutely not. No way. I'm just still trying to figure out how...I mean I would never expect Dan. Lori's boyfriend..."
I smiled. "No, that would be homicide."
"True. Um, this is really...and don't take my head off..."
I knew where she was going. "The sex was fine. Great. We even had phone sex while he was there.". I started to get agitated. "She was probably blowing him while we were doing it."
"No. There has to be a reason. I'm just...". Sammie was never at a loss for words.
"A reason? OK, he's an asshole. He got drunk. He has a pe...no. That's bullshit. Not every guy cheats. My dad didn't. Mitchell (her brother) doesn't, does he?" I never cheated.
"Lindsay would cut his dick off, so no."
"Has Jon?"
"He'd wish I'd cut his dick off."
"Exactly. Did you tell him?"
"Not yet. I started to but wanted to come here first."
"Thank you. For everything. I didn't mean to drag you in."
"Stop," she said, taking my hand. "No kidding. You would do anything for me. I would do anything for you. That's what we do".
"I know," and I started bawling. She rubbed my back.
"It's OK. Let it out. It's going to be OK."
I kept bawling. "It won't. It won't be OK. He fucked someone else. He brought her panties home. Into my house. Our home."
"Shhhh..."
"I'm just...I thought...and now it's all shit. How could I...". I kept crying. I don't know for how long because apparently, I passed out. I guess the stress got to me.
I woke up and heard her on the phone in the kitchen. "Yeah, she's not doing great. Yeah, I'd kill him. Ha ha. You do have the right idea..."
I woke up. "Who are you talking to?"
She looked at me and said, "Michelle. She's worried. We're worried."
"Thanks.".
"She's meeting you for dinner. Thursday. She can't do it sooner. Will you be OK"?
"Are you afraid I'm going to hurt myself or something? Because I'm not." I would never. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
"No one thinks that. We're your friends. We're here for you.". That was nice. A guy wouldn't be here. And he wouldn't have called other guys. "It's not your fault."
"I just don't know what I...," then I realized that I was internalizing this, which was wrong. "No, FUCK THAT! I DIDN'T DO SHIT! He did it. Not me. He did it. I'm done."
Sammie looked surprised, then smiled, "Good. That's my Jess."
"Seriously, I am. He did this. He can fix it. Or not. I guarantee you that he's not crying."
"Where is he?"
"Not my problem. You want to screw someone else? Stay with her."
"That's great," she said. "Now I have a question..."
"What?"
"You know I have to pee like every three seconds. And I held it before, which is not easy. But you passed out and I went into the bedroom and," she said, laughing and opening the door, "um..." she said, pointing at the mess.
The next day, Jess tried to call me while I was getting dressed. I saw her number on the phone.
"Fuck you for calling," and I hung up. I was trying to decide what to wear. I was not in the mood for a dress. Given everything that transpired, my brain was not in dress mode. I put on a white blouse, black wool skinny pants and a pair of black boots with a 3" heel. I looked at myself in the mirror.
"You are ready to kick ass. You are ready to kick ass. You are ready to kick ass," I repeated. I was armed for battle.
It didn't take long. I was going to get on the train. I had already missed one because of the crowd. A man was standing in the door. 5'11". Stringy runner build. Green eyes. Chin beard. And brown hair in a man bun. I hate man buns.
"Excuse me," I said. He smirked.
"Excuse ME," I said, elbowing him in the sternum.
"What the fuck" he said, as the train pulled out. When you're armed for battle, amazingly it finds you.
"I said excuse me nicely. Don't block the door and you don't get it.". He moved closer. People were watching. I thought I saw someone take out their phone. Great, now I'd get to be "crazy bitch on the N train" on YouTube. "Move closer and I'll geld you," I said, pointing at my boots.
He got off at the next stop, mumbling, "crazy bitch". I felt good, powerful. In control. Ironically, I could never have done that as Dan. Not without a fistfight.
I got off the train feeling good about myself. I got my coffee and an egg white sandwich from Starbucks, ready to face the day. Rachel came into the elevator.
"Wow Jess, you look great. Those boots are fierce," she said. There's nothing like a tiny little white girl trying to sound like a cross between a black woman and a gay man. Normally, that would annoy me. I hated when white people tried to sound black, but it was meant to be a compliment. And I felt fierce.
"Thanks, Rachel. I'm feeling fierce," I said with a smile.
The morning went well. I focused on my work.
Robin called. "Lunch"?
I wasn't ready to talk and I knew I'd want to so I begged off. "I am swamped. How about tomorrow"?
At 2 pm, Michelle called. "Hey JJ. How are you doing?"
"Fine.". I wasn't ready to talk again.
"For real?"
My "kick ass" endorphin high was wearing off. And it was Michelle. "I don't know. I just don't know."
"Has he even called"?
"Once."
"That's it"?
"Yeah, well I said fuck you and hung up, so there's that."
"Do you want him to"?
I thought about it. "No. There's nothing to say. Nothing I want to hear at least."
"Are you going to be OK tonight? I can reschedule."
"No, you have something. I'm fine. I was going to go to the gym anyway. Work off some of this.". I was down to 138. 34Cs. 24" waist. 26 percent body fat.
"Good for you. That's a great idea," she said, a little too brightly.
"You could never hide it, but I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow. Let's talk about it then.”
At 3 pm, Jasmine brought in a bouquet of roses.
"Ooh, those are so pretty. I wish Jaquan would send me roses". 'No, you really don't,' I thought.
"Thanks," I said.
"I'll get a vase."
"Don't worry about it."
"You sure? They could die.". Yeah, a lot of things could die. My marriage. My sense of self. Flowers - not a big deal.
"Yes I am sure. Thanks.". And she walked out.
I read the card. "I am so sorry. I fucked up. Please forgive me, my beautiful rose. Love,
Dan.". My beautiful rose? I almost lost my beautiful lunch.
I took scissors from my drawer and cut the flowers in half. I took a picture and texted Jess. 'Fuck you. Contact me again and I go for a restraining order - and I can get one, remember? I am serious. P.S., Flowers? Seriously?'
Mike came in to talk about a case. He saw the flowers in the garbage. "So, on a scale of 1 to 10, how deep in shit is he?"
That made me laugh. "44."
"Sorry to hear that. Anything you need, you let me know".
"Thanks. I’m good. I'll call if I need bail," I said, with a smile.
I left work and went to the gym. I had no reason to go home. I took a spin class then went to lift. Lifting always relaxed me when I was Dan. There's something primal about lifting a lot of weight then dropping it.
I loaded up one of the machines and went to lift. I couldn't move it. The guy on the next machine smirked. He was about 5'10" and 230 with a gut.
"Something funny over there?"
He looked surprised. "No."
"Didn't think so". I halved the weight and started lifting. I pulled down. Fuck Jess. And up. Fuck Jess. It was very therapeutic. I walked around afterwards to avoid going home. I didn’t want to face our home alone.
Eventually, I went home. I went into the bedroom, took off my makeup and got undressed. I couldn’t even look at the lingerie drawer. I put on a t shirt and underwear and laid down. I stared at the ceiling for an hour and couldn’t fall asleep. The picture of Jess and me on the dresser stared at me. Jess’ (well, my former) clothes felt like I was being taunted. Being in our bed made me feel worse. I went out to the couch and fell asleep with the TV on.
I woke up the next morning feeling like death. I stared at my closet for a while and remembered that I was seeing Michelle tonight. It made me remember a time when there was no Dan and Jessica and it made me feel better. I put on a blue and white print wrap dress with a v neck. I tightened it to show off my hard work. I put on a pair of 3” heels and went off to work.
Once again, a guy was blocking the train door. Puerto Rican, 5’8”, 165 lbs. Medium brown skin. Short hair. At this rate, if the law didn’t work, I was going to be a cop.
“Excuse me.”
He smirked.
This time, I didn’t elbow him. “You know what? I’ve had a shitty couple of days and you’re making it worse and worse than that, you’re impeding the flow of traffic. So how about you move in so everyone can get to work. K?” People on the train stared at me. But he moved.
Another man got up, laughing, and offered me his seat. “I did not see that one coming, miss. Maybe this will make your today better.”
It didn’t. Well, I mean it did a little. But I was still dealing with the fact that everything I knew, that I had a couple of months ago was now gone. Before this, I was a happily married man. Now I was a woman in her 30s with a cheating husband and a marriage on the rocks. I had become a country song written by David Lynch and Jill Soloway.
That afternoon, Michelle called. “So where do you want to go tonight? You choose.”
“Capital Grille in the Chrysler Building? 7:00?”
“I’ll make the reservation. Do you want to talk?”
“No. Yeah. At dinner.”
We went to Capital Grille. I had grilled swordfish and broccoli. We ordered a bottle of sauvignon blanc.
Two glasses apiece in, Michelle said, “So, I’m sorry I keep repeating myself. But what exactly happened again?”
“I told you already. I found panties in his luggage.”
“And you’re sure they weren’t yours? Like maybe they got stuck to his underwear and he packed them by mistake?”
I was feeling the wine. “Are you serious?”
“That’s not Dan.”
“So you don’t believe me? Really? Your best friend? Since we were six?” I was getting angry.
“Of course, I believe you. This is just so…weird.”
“They were NOT mine. They were cheap underwear from g-d knows where. But they were most definitely NOT mine.” Now I was beginning to wonder. Were they mine? No, they weren’t. I know my brand. “Besides, if he didn’t say, why would he say ‘I made a mistake’? Huh? Why wouldn’t he say, aren’t those yours?”
She laughed. “You think he knows what underwear are yours? Really? Amanda’s a girl and she doesn’t know what I wear.” That confirmed it for me. Michelle was definitely the wife. Yeah, yeah, it’s a stereotype but whatever.
“Ha ha. He still said, ‘I made a mistake.’”
“I know. I know. I guess I just don’t want to believe it. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just angry.” Angry that my marriage was floundering. Angry that I was sitting here getting buzzed on two glasses of wine. Angry that I had lost everything I thought I had. “Why would sh..he risk everything we had for some one night stand? Why?” I started to cry.
Michelle moved over to my side, and held me to her shoulder. “It’s going to be OK…”
“Is it?”
“Whatever happens, you’ll be OK. You’re a great woman and you’ll be OK.” A great woman. Great. It hit me. I could be Jessica forever. Or I could wake up tomorrow as Dan. But either way, I’d be without the man…the woman…the person I loved. Or thought I did. I cried some more. People in the restaurant stared.
I gathered my composure. “Sorry…”
“For what?”
“I embarrassed you in front of everyone.”
“What everyone? There’s no everyone here. I don’t know anyone here and if I did, so what? You’re JJ. I’m Shelly,” she said, smiling. “We are the Super Girls.” We were the Super Twins when we were little but I guess things had changed. She held out her fist. I bumped it and we went “pow,” like when we were seven.
“Thanks,” I said, wiping my eyes. “What did Amanda say?
“She wanted to call him.”
“Really? Why?”
“Read him the riot act. She’s pissed. Called him phallocratic.”
“Wow. And I always feel like she doesn’t like me.” She didn’t like me. Maybe I was inadvertently phallocratic. G-d knows I never felt like I ruled, much less with my penis.
“Would you stop? She likes you. She’s a surgeon. She has knife skills, not people skills. Have you told Dave and Barb yet?”
“Oh G-d no! I don’t need that now. Can you imagine?”
She laughed. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” In a perfect version of my mom’s voice, she said, ‘I don’t understand. What exactly did you do? What color panties were they? What brand? Because Mona said that you can’t get those in most stores and I said….”
I laughed. For the first time in what felt like forever, I laughed. And I kept laughing.
Michelle laughed. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“I know,” I said, laughing. “That’s what makes it funny. That or the wine. Either way, that was hysterical.” And we both kept giggling. Like ten-year old girls. And it felt really good.
We split a slice of chocolate cake and left the restaurant. We walked past McFadden’s and I said, “You want to go get a drink?”
“You haven’t had enough?” she said, giggling.
“Come on.”
“OK. But McFadden’s? Seriously? When were we there last? 2007? Why?” McFadden’s is a bar on 42nd and 2nd. It’s incredibly popular with the post-college crowd. We used to joke that it had an age requirement. No one over 24 allowed.
“Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Fine. If it’s too loud, can we leave?”
I pulled her by the arm. “Come on, old lady. Let’s have a drink.”
“You’re lucky I love you, Jess, y’know,” she said, as we walked in.
As I expected, it was a loud Thursday night crowd made up of kids in their early twenties. The women were all wearing too short skirts and too high heels. They were standing clustered in groups of three or four, daring guys to come over while simultaneously hoping for it. The guys were all walking around with the supreme self-confidence that only comes from being completely ignorant.
“Oh g-d,” Michelle said. “This is like a bad college, pre-coming out nightmare. One drink, Jess.”
“Fine,” I said, slurring slightly. “My treat. Bay Breeze?”
“What are you, 23? I’ll have an old fashioned.”
I got us our drinks and brought them over. Just then, two guys walked over. They were in their 20s, 25 at the oldest. One was 6’2”, 200 lbs with blue eyes and brown hair. The other was 5’11”, 165 lbs. with thinning brown hair and muddy brown eyes.
Blue eyes said, “Hi, I’m Michael and this is Jake. Can we get you some drinks?” Please tell me that I was never that bad. Michelle wordlessly held up her drink and arched her eyebrow.
Jake said, “Allow me to apologize and try again. I’m Jake. It’s nice to meet you.” I liked him. Reminded me of someone I used to know…
“Nice to meet you. I’m Jessica and this is Michelle. Would you like to sit down?” Michelle looked at me and shook her head.
“Thanks,” he said, giving Michael the ‘see I can do this too’ look. Maybe it was the wine, but I liked him.
“Sit down. Tell me about yourself.”
Michael interrupted. “I’m a doctor.”
Michelle looked him up and down. “Oh really? What kind? Where?”
“Well, I’m a resident at NYU. In surgery.” Poor guy. Amanda was at NYU.
“Interesting.”
“I think so.” What a jackass. “It’s very difficult.”
Michelle grinned and said, “I imagine so.” I knew that grin. It wasn’t a too much wine grin. It was the grin of the hawk when it sees its prey.
“What about you, Jake,” I said. “What do you do?”
“I’m in law school.” Bingo. “I’m a third year. At Columbia.”
“Really. I’m a lawyer. Small world.”
“Yes it is.” He shuffled his feet. It was cute. “What kind?”
“I’m a litigator. Construction and real estate mostly. What do you think you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I summered at Weil in m & a. They made me an offer.”
“Weil? Good luck. That’s a shark tank.”
“It is. But the money’s really good.”
“It is. But nothing comes for free, remember that. They’re not paying you $200,000 because you know a lot. No offense.”
He smiled. “I know. Would you like to dance?”
Michelle looked horrified and gave me the no sign with her hand.
I smiled, “Sure,” and we went out onto the floor. There isn’t a dance floor there as such. It’s more people dancing in place to the jukebox. Either way, we moved away and started dancing. He was kind of clumsy and stepped on my feet every so often. He apologized. I found it endearing. I saw Michael try and impress Michelle. And fail.
We went back to the table. “Thanks,” he said, shyly. “Sorry to leave you two here.”
Michelle quickly glared at me. “Hey, Jess. I’ve got to get up in the morning. Can we head out?”
I looked at Jake. “I think I’d like to stay, if you would.”
He gulped then smiled. “Sure.”
Michelle said, “Jessica, can I talk to you for a second?”
“Excuse me,” I said. I felt a little woozy. Between the weight loss and the fact that I was already seven inches shorter, I couldn’t hold my alcohol.
“What are you doing?”
“What? I’m having another drink.”
“You’ve had enough.”
“I’m fine.”
“What are you doing? You’re leading on that poor kid.”
I smiled. “Who said that I’m leading him on?”
“Please Jess. Please come with me. This is not you.” ‘You’re right,’ I thought. ‘None of this is me so why not?’
“Maybe it needs to be.”
“You’re upset. You should be upset. I’m upset. But this is not you. This will not make it better. You’ll hate yourself. I know you, Jessica. Please don’t do this. Please,” she said, holding my hand.
“I’ll be fine, Michelle. I know what I’m doing.”
She looked at me sadly. “I wonder…” She shook her head. “Please don’t.”
We walked back to the table. “Is everything OK?” Jake said.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Girl talk.”
As Michael smiled, Michelle picked up her coat, turned to him and said, “Say hi to Dev for me.”
Michael looked shocked. “Dev?”
“Yes. Dev Parikh. Your chief,” she said, giving him that hawk-like grin.
“Uh, OK.”
“Tell him to tell Anuja we wouldn’t miss the birthday for anything. Tell him I can’t believe Raji is three already. Tell him it seems like just yesterday Amanda and I were at the hospital visiting Nuj after he was born. You can remember that, can’t you? Because,” she said, staring at Jake and Mike, “I can. And Amanda – she’s my wife, she’s a surgeon there too – can. So, I’m sure two smart guys like you can.”
A couple of hours later, I came back into the apartment, took off my heels and turned on the light. Jess was on the couch. I jumped.
“Where were you?”
“None of your business,” I said, slurring slightly.
“Have you been drinking? Who were you with?”
“That’s none of your business either. What the hell are you doing here? I told you to leave me alone.”
“Please. I have nowhere to go.” That felt good.
“Not my problem. Get out.”
“Please. Let me explain.”
“Why should I?”
“Because. I don’t know. But maybe you shouldn’t. But please. Please let me.”
My buzz was wearing off. I was tired. “Fine…why? Why did you do it?”
“Because I could.”
“Because you could? Get the fuck out. Because you could? And you thought that would be OK?”
“That’s not what I meant.” I should have thrown her out but some part of me felt like after all these years, I should let her explain…and then throw her out.
“Fine…you have two minutes and then leave.”
“What I meant was that, for the first time in my life, I could do something without being judged. You know what goes at these meetings…”
“I thought ‘what happens on the road, stays on the road,’” I said, sneering.
“Yeah, well, if you’re a guy, it does. When I was you…”
“You are me. Or did you forget that? Oh yeah, you did.”
“What I meant was when I was a girl. Anyway, what happens on the road applies to men only. When I was Jessica, I mean me, I couldn’t do it. Even when I was single. If I did it, I’d be a slut. A guy gets to be a player. And, for the first time in my life, I could be the player. I could do it and not be judged and I did it.”
“So, you didn’t cheat on me before not because it’s wrong but because your coworkers would judge you? That makes me feel so much better.”
She started to cry. “No. That’s not it. That’s not it at all. I never cheated on you. I would never have cheated on you.”
“Really? So what happened this time? What made this so unique?”
“Sunday night. We were in the bar having drinks. This woman comes over and starts reaching over me. ‘Excuse me, can I have some of those peanuts?’ ‘Can I borrow a napkin?’ She was rubbing her tits all over me.”
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Anyway, she offered a key and everybody was egging me on and I was drunk and I did it. I’ll leave now.”
“Did you get a blow job? Have sex? Anal?”
“Oh g-d Dan. Yuck. We had sex. Shitty sex. Honestly, it felt like I was masturbating into someone. That’s how bad it felt.”
That was an image. “Good.”
“I deserve that.”
“Does our marriage mean nothing to you?”
She slumped. “Of course. I mean no. It means everything to me.”
“So it meant so much that you cheated. So much that you took my body, my dick and fucked someone else with it. Because you could. Why should I believe you about anything?”
She went to take my hand. I yanked it away. “Don’t. Not now. Maybe not ever again. But definitely not now.”
“Sorry. I don’t know why you should believe me. I just know that I fucked up and would give up everything just to not have you hate me, forget take me back. But I have never been more sorry about anything in my life.” She got up to leave.
I looked at her. Something in me broke. I didn’t exactly believe her but I wanted to. “You can stay.” She walked towards our room. “Not in there. On the couch.”
“You’re right.”
I turned and sat back down. “I’m going to ask you some questions. If you lie to me, if I think you’re lying, not being 100% honest, we’re over. You leave - now. And you don’t come back. I file papers and we’re over. No more. Understood?”
She looked at me gravely and said, “Understood.”
“Did you ever sleep with anyone else after we were together?”
“Never.”
“Not just after we got married or engaged or lived together? Even after our first date? Ever?”
“I have not slept with anyone since before our first date. I swear.”
“If you could have, would you?”
Without blinking, she said, “No. Never.”
“How can I trust you again? How do I know that, if we never change back, you won’t keep doing it?”
“I don’t know. All I can say is that, when I saw the pain and anger in your eyes – in my eyes – I saw what I had done. I knew that I had hurt the person that I love and that I would give anything to make that pain go away. That I’d rather feel ten times that pain every minute of every day of my life than to ever make you feel that way for one second. All I can do is promise and show you that I won’t. If you wanted me to live stream my life, I would. If you wanted to be there with me every minute, I would welcome it.”
“If we’re at that point, we’re already done,” I sighed.
“My point is that I can’t say anything that’ll make you trust me. I can try and show you if you let me.”
“If the roles were reversed, would you trust me?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I hope so. But I don’t know. I can’t imagine you doing it.”
“Why? Because I’m too romantic? Too feminine?”
“NO! Because you do the right thing. Because you’re a good person. Because you’re better than I am. I never thought you were feminine and I’m sorry that I’ve said it. I thought, I think you’re a caring, kind, beautiful person. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Can I ask you a question?”
“What?”
“Did you ever do it?
“Ever what?” I knew what.
“Did you ever have sex with anyone else?”
“Live with the uncertainty,” I said, going into the bedroom and closing the door.
The next morning Jess was waiting with coffee when I got up. Which was good because I was hungover.
“I thought you might like some coffee.”
“Thanks.” She leaned over to kiss me. “No. Not now.”
“OK. When you’re ready.”
“That may be a long while, if ever.”
“I know.”
We sat at the table and stared at each other. I wanted to say something, anything but, for once in my life, words failed me. Jess looked like she had something to say too. She stopped and started several times.
“It’s supposed to rain today,” she said, to break the silence.
“Thanks.”
We both got dressed and went to work. She waited until I was done before she even went in to get dressed.
I came in at 9:30 to a voice mail from Michelle.
I called her back. “To answer your question, nothing happened.”
“Thank G-d…what happened?”
“You left. Mike left right after you. He looked at me like ‘please don’t let her get me thrown out of residency’,” I said, laughing.
“Good,” she said, with a laugh. “And then?”
“Jake and I talked. He’s a nice guy. Reminds me of Dan kind of.”
“Duh.”
“Meaning?”
“You have a type.” I didn’t know what to do with that. Too weird. Unlike the rest of this.
“Yeah, well, anyway, we finished our drinks and we went back to his place…”
“Oh no…”
“Yeah, and we got there….”
“How was it?”
“Like reliving my 20s again. Law books everywhere. Flat screen with an Xbox.” I had a PS2. “Lots of framed prints that he bought from the art store. Y’know, those ‘look at me, I’m cultured’ black and white pictures of the Flatiron in the fog…”
“He really is Dan,” she laughed. “You couldn’t even pick someone different. Such a girl.”
I ignored that. Too creepy. “Well, anyway, we got up there and I was looking around and I felt nauseous…”
“Mentally or physically?”
“Both. More of the first though. It hit me. And I said to him, ‘I’m sorry…’”
“What did he say?”
“He smiled and said, ‘that’s OK. you’re married.’”
“What? How?”
“He took my hand and said, ‘I just noticed the indentation from your ring. It’s fine. Plus, you’re drunk. I don’t sleep with other guy’s wives and I don’t want to be something someone regrets in the morning. No matter how beautiful she is.’”
“Really? For real?”
“I know,” I said. “I wish I wasn’t married. That was really sweet. He took a cab back with me to make sure I got home.” And, when I thought about it, that’s what I would’ve done. Stupid morals.
“I’m glad you didn’t do it.”
“Me too. You were right.”
“It’s OK. You were angry. I get it. Sorry if I was all judgy.”
“You weren’t judgy. You were being my friend even if I was too drunk and pissed to get it. I hope you’re not angry at me.”
“Stop. I was never angry at you. I was just worried. Power Girls have to look out for each other.”
“Thanks.”
“Now what?”
“I came home and he was there.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup.”
“Where was he?”
I realized that I never asked. “Huh. I don’t know.”
“And?”
“We talked.”
“Did he explain?”
I couldn’t tell her what he said. “Not really. I asked if he had done it before and he said no. And he made all these promises about how he’ll never do it again…”
“And?”
“And we’ll see. I don’t know that I can trust him again.” And I still didn’t.
“I hope…I hope…I don’t know what I hope. Other than you’re happy.”
“Thanks. Power Girls. Life was easier then.”
“Yup. I love you JJ.”
“I love you too Shelly.”
The next month was torture.
We settled into an uneasy rhythm. We’d get up in the morning. She’d make me coffee, which I appreciated. We’d watch New York 1 for the weather. Then I’d get ready, then she would. We were never in the bedroom at the same time.
We never called each other at work. Before this, we used to speak a couple of times a day, even if only to talk about the mundane details of life, like what to have for dinner. But we’d always say, “I love you to each other.” I missed “I love you.” I wasn’t sure whether she loved me or I loved her right now, but I missed it.
For the first two weeks, I didn’t care. I appreciated it, in fact. It allowed me to focus. After that, I went to pick up the phone a few times to call her but couldn’t. Beneath my pretty exterior was still my male brain. And my male ego. I felt like calling would be like letting her win and I couldn’t do that. She never called either.
One Saturday, about two weeks in, I got up to go for a run. I was getting dressed, when Jess said, “Hang on. I’m going to come with you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” The sole saving grace of this torture was that I had been going to the gym every day and working out even harder. Combine that with my lack of interest in eating and I was down another five pounds, to a total of twenty.
What she said next surprised me. “I don’t care. I want to go for a run. And, more importantly, I want to make sure you’re safe.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Your brain may think it’s Dan, but your body is Jessica. And I know you don’t care what happens to me, but I care what happens to you.” My brain wasn’t sure what it was. Other than hurt.
“I do care what happens to you. I’m angry but I don’t want something to happen to you. Unless I do it.” That was the first time that I had articulated that.
She smiled. “I’ll run behind you. Like the Secret Service.”
“You’ll run behind me because I’m faster.”
We went for a run. She ran alongside me. We didn’t speak much during the run but, for the first time, since it happened, I felt like, maybe out of the destruction of our marriage, we could start rebuilding. I didn’t know whether what was built would last or be inhabitable. But, at least, we could start clearing away the rubble.
What helped the process was a call from my father one Monday.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said.
My dad was not one for using the phone, except for clients. “Is everything OK, daddy?” I had taken surprisingly easily to calling him that.
“I can’t call one of my two favorite daughters?”
“Sorry. It just that you usually don’t. Usually I get mom.”
He laughed. “So then this is a double bonus. Don’t repeat that. Anyway, I’m going to be in the city for CPE on Wednesday and your mother is having dinner with the girls…” It was funny. These were women in their 70s who were the ‘girls.’ My grandmother played cards with the ‘girls.’ But, a girl in her 20s is a woman. I said that once and my father said, ‘It’s simple. Any girl younger than you is a woman. Any woman older than you is a girl.’ “Anyway, so I’d thought I’d see if you’d like to go to dinner.”
I smiled. “I’d love to. Dinner with my favorite daddy.” OK, that one made me retch a little.
“Dan going to join us?”
Uh, no. “Let’s just make it father-daughter night. Where’s the CPE?”
“The Hyatt in Grand Central.”
“How about Pescatore? I’ll meet you in the lobby and we’ll walk over. 6:30?”
“Great. I can’t wait.”
“Me too.” I hung up and felt a little better. I always liked having time alone, just me and him. This was the first time I’d being do it as Jess.
We met at the hotel. I was wearing a green knit dress from Ann Taylor and booties with 3” heels. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, daddy.” I don’t know why I felt the need to be so girly, but it felt better.
My dad looked at me and said, “Wow, sweetie. You look fantastic. How much so far?”
I smiled proudly. “20 pounds.”
“You look terrific. What is it? Diet? Exercise?”
“Both.”
“Well, whatever it is, you look amazing. I need to do something,” he said, patting his stomach. He needed to lose about ten pounds, but for a 68 year old, he looked good. He was 5’11” and about 200 pounds. I was sixteen when I passed him in height. That always made feel better. That and when he begged off from wrestling me.
We were sitting at dinner when I decided to tell him what was going on. I took a deep breath and said, “I have something to tell you.” His face lit up. ‘Oh shit,’ I thought.
“No daddy, not that. In fact, it’s definitely not that.”
He looked concerned. “What’s wrong, Teddy?” Teddy was my family nickname when I was little. Apparently, when I was 1 ½ or 2, I had a stuffed dog. I decided it was a bear and called it ‘Teddy’. Every time someone tried to tell me it was a dog, I adamantly said ‘Teddy,’ so I became ‘Teddy’. I hadn’t been called it in years. “Is everything OK?”
“I want to talk to you but you have to promise not to tell mom.”
“I don’t know that I can do that. That’s not fair.”
“OK, well, I’ll tell you. I’m asking you not to say something but I trust your judgment. If you think she needs to know, tell her and I’ll deal with the fallout.”
“Fair enough. What is it? Are you OK? Is Dan?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Dan’s fine. Well, not really, he cheated on me.” It felt weird yet cathartic saying that. I don’t think I could’ve had the same conversation with him as Dan. It would’ve felt weak.
He shook his head. “Jesus. Really? No….”
“He did. You believe me, right?”
He looked shocked. “Of course, I believe you. Why would you lie about that? You’re my daughter. I believe you. I just don’t want to believe that. What happened?”
“On a business trip.” I started to sniffle.
“When?” He looked angry. And hurt.
“Three weeks ago.”
“And you didn’t say something?”
“I wasn’t ready…”
“To listen to your mother?” He said with a smile. “This is privileged, right?”
I laughed. “How would either of us benefit from repeating that?”
“That’s my girl. So, what happened?”
“I don’t know. Other than he did it.” Obviously, I did but saying to your father, ‘you won’t believe this but your daughter used to be your son and your son-in-law was your daughter-in-law and she felt like, as your son-in-law…’ is always difficult.
“Are you getting divorced? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Because you know we’re here for you no matter what, right?”
“I know you are. I just don’t know what to do here.”
“Has he done this before?”
“He says no.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I think so.”
He took my hand. It felt nice. “What do you want?”
“I want us to be us again. Sorry, I know that sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t, sweetie.” I liked being sweetie and Teddy. It made me feel safe. “This is not my strong suit, you know. But, I want to help. Let’s analyze this.” I smiled. My dad was an accountant. Everything could be analyzed. “Do you still love him?”
“I think so. I don’t know.”
“You can love him and be angry at him, honey. Ask your mother. After 40 years of marriage, I know that.”
“I guess.”
“Can I tell you a story? Don’t take my head off though.”
“Uh oh…”
“You probably don’t remember this. You were maybe five when this happened. No, around six, because Carl and Mona had moved in. Anyway, what was the name of the fat girl that lived down the block? The one with the foul mouth?”
“Dina Levin.” Dina was a friend of my sister. She was fat. She did have a nasty mouth.
“Yeah, Dina Le-VIN,” he said. In addition to her foul mouth, my father thought they were ridiculous. ‘It’s LEV-in or Levine. French. By way of Poland.’ “Anyway, Grandpa Ike was over and Dina and Laura weren’t letting you and Shelly on the swing set and Dina called you dumb little babies or something like that and pushed Shelly down. So, Shelly starts crying and you,” and he started laughing, “are 3 foot nothing and weigh 40 pounds. And she’s already 5 feet tall and 100 pounds. And you,” and he was really laughing.
I started laughing too. “What?”
He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You get up in her face and you push her and you say, ‘I may be a dumb baby but you’re a big fat bully and this is my swing set and get off. It’s OUR turn! And, damned if they didn’t.”
“OK…” I was lost how this related to me.
“Grandpa Ike and I were sitting on the deck watching this. He turns to me and says, with a big smile, ‘That one is going to be fine. Laura, she’ll need a man to take care of her. But that one. She’ll take care of herself.”
“That’s a funny story.” My recollection now was that I called her a big fat pig and my father told them to get off the swings and me not to call girls fat, but I didn’t remember a lot lately. “I’m not sure that I follow how this relates to now though. Sorry.”
“I was getting to that. My point was you can take care of yourself. You always could. Whatever happens, stay or go, you can take care of yourself and you’ll be OK. It’ll take a while but you’ll be OK. Which brings me back to the point which is, even if you’re angry at him, even if he screwed up, do you still love him?”
“I think so. Yeah, I do…what do you think?”
“I don’t have to think. You have to know. But, for what it’s worth, he fucked up, excuse my French…”
“I deal with construction all day, daddy…”
He rolled his eyes. “SOR-ry, my big shot lawyer daughter. So, you love him. Do you believe him? That this was one stupid mistake?”
“Should I?”
He paused. “My opinion? Yeah, you should.”
“I’m surprised. I didn’t think you liked him.”
“I like him fine. You don’t understand. It’s tough seeing your little girl love someone else.”
I started to tear up. “Stop…”
He started to tear. I hadn’t seen him do that since Tucker’s bris. “I mean that. He’s a good guy. A mensch. He made a stupid mistake. But he’s not a bad person.”
“I know. I want to forgive him but I can’t.”
If your mother was here, she would,” and he took on a singsong voice, “’Grandma Rosie would’ve said ‘forgive and forget.’ You know what though?” He smiled devilishly. “She’s not here. Grandma Miriam would’ve told you don’t forgive and you don’t forget. You move on and keep the card in your back pocket because you never know when you’ll need it. Laura’s Rosie. You’re Miriam.”
I laughed, “So I’m a bitch?”
He smiled, “Hey, that bitch is my mother! No. She wasn’t a bitch. But she was smart. She took care of herself. Like you.”
I laughed and leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Thanks, daddy. You can tell mom if you want.”
He gave me a kiss back. “I think we’ll keep this one between us.”
He walked me back to my apartment. “Are you going to be OK, Teddy?”
“I think so.” I gave him a kiss.
“Call me if you want.”
“I will.” He turned to walk away. “Hey daddy?” I said, touching him on the shoulder. “I love you and thanks.”
“I love you too.”
I walked in and Jess was on the couch.
“Where were you? I got worried.”
“Dinner. With my father.”
“OK. Can I ask how it was?”
“You can. It was good. We had a nice conversation.” She looked nervous, like she was afraid to ask anything.
“That’s good.” I walked into the bedroom to get changed. I took off my clothes and put on a t shirt and yoga pants. I laid down on the bed, looked at the door and thought, “Do I still love you? Yes, you piss me off but I still love you. But, do I still want to be married to you? Do I want to spend my whole life with you? Can I? Or am I just afraid of being a 33 year old divorced woman, when I had never been one – or any kind of woman – without you?
I sat in the bedroom for an hour going over the pluses and minuses. The obvious minus to staying – did I trust her? Could I? The pluses – we had been together for seven years and married happily, I thought, until this happened. She knew me. She understood me. Even after the change, she understood my moods and knew that I was Dan. Would another man or would he think I was some weird woman? Did I want to be with another man at all? With Jess, we weren’t man and woman, we were us. Could I be an us with someone else?
Then I thought, ‘we don’t know what this is. We don’t know how it happened. If we’re not together, does this become permanent? Am I OK with that? Do I want to be Jessica, to be a woman, no matter what? Or, maybe, if we split up, we change back. Do I want to be Dan without Jessica?’ I stared at the ceiling and just thought. My dad seems to think it was a stupid mistake. Everyone else thinks it was a stupid mistake. Do you?
I walked out. She was flipping through a magazine. I sat down next to her. “I’m ready to try again if you are.”
She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”
“I’m making no promises. But I’m ready to try. That’s all I’m offering for now.”
She smiled. “Can I give you a hug?”
“Yes.” She hugged me. It felt good to be hugged again.
The next month it was like we were dating again. Except this time she was wooing me. She still slept on the couch.
Two weeks in, she called me at work, “Hey, Jessica. I was looking on line and Film Forum is doing a Scorsese retrospective and ‘Raging Bull’ is Saturday…”
“Cool, thanks for letting me know. I’ll see if Mark wants to go.”
“I was thinking we could go together.”
“You don’t like Scorsese,” I said. “And this one gets kind of brutal.”
“Yeah, but you do. And we don’t do enough stuff you like.” Which was true.
“Really?”
“Really. And we’ll go wherever you want for dinner.”
“OK. I’d like that.” It felt nice to be wooed.
We went to the movie. I was wearing a long floral print skirt, blue peplum top and sandals. Jess had worn an oxford shirt and black khakis which, to be honest, is nicer than I would have worn. I would have worn jeans and whatever button down shirt I found in my closet.
We left the theater.
“So what did you think of it,” I teased.
“I, uh, didn’t mind it that much.”
“You’re lying. You looked nauseous and bored.”
She smiled. “OK. So maybe I wouldn’t have seen it on my own. But I appreciated the performances. I get why people think Robert De Niro is so great.”
“And I appreciate that you saw it,” I said, kissing her on the cheek.
She smiled. “Thank you,” and she took my hand. “Is this OK?”
It felt right. “Yes, it is.”
We had Thai for dinner and walked home the 3 miles from the theater. Hand in hand.
We went into the apartment. Jess sat down on the couch to take off her shoes.
“I’m going to get ready for bed,” she said.
“Do you want to sleep in here tonight?”
She looked shocked. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Don’t get the wrong idea. We’re just sleeping. Nothing else.”
She smiled and walked in. “Thanks.”
We laid in the bed. I was wearing one of my old t-shirts. I didn’t want to lead her on.
“I’ve missed you,” she said.
“I’ve missed you too,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Physically, I wanted something more but mentally something held me back.
Jess kept wooing me. A week later, she sent me roses again. This time, I asked for a vase.
The next day, my phone rang. The phone said, “Stone Pharma.”
I picked it up, “Hey, Dan.”
All I heard was loud laughter. “Hello?”
More laughter then Dan’s boss Melissa got on the phone. “That was…hilarious,” she said, gasping for breath.
“What?” I said, innocently.
Jess got on the phone, laughing. “Do you know how much shit I’m getting?”
I had sent her flowers. That night, we had sex again.
“Are you sure this is OK?” Jess asked.
“I’m ready,” I said, with a smile.
“Um, this may hurt a little. It’s been a while.”
“So? I went eighteen years without sex?”
She smiled. “Um, it’s a little different for you now…”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re not that big. Sadly, I know this.”
“It’s not that…”
“Shut up and kiss me.” She did. And she was right and I was wrong. It hurt. Not mentally. It felt good to reconnect. Physically, it hurt like hell. Another lesson in womanhood, I guess.
That night, after she passed out, I put one of my nighties again for the first time in two months. It felt good. Right. I slept like a baby.
Thanks to Lizzy Bennet for her comments. They are much appreciated.
We were walking into the apartment after dinner with my parents.
“What’s wrong with this outfit?” I was wearing a blue women’s oxford shirt, black skinny jeans, boots and a black blazer.
“Nothing,” Jess said, with a smile. “You actually look really good. Clothes look good on you.”
“Why did she say something then?”
She laughed, "That is a separate question.”
“Why is she pushing my buttons?”
Jess grinned widely. “She installed them.”
“Why did she never bother me this much before?”
“Before you were Dan. She had Laura. Now she has you too. And she really hates that you’re daddy’s girl.”
“Stop.”
“No. It’s cute. You really are.”
“Stop. Anyway, now she has me freaked out about partnership.” At dinner, she had asked me how many women partners there were and how many had children. When she asked, I had to think for a second. There were nine women out of sixty-five. I had never thought about it before all of this. I always saw the partners as ‘partners.’ When everyone is like you, you don’t have to see anyone. “Like, if we …and I’m the one…am I jeopardizing my chances?”
She sighed. “Let’s look at this logically. You said there are 10 female partners, right?”
“Nine.” That one suddenly made a difference.
“OK, nine. How old are they?”
“Two are in their 60s. The rest are, I don’t know, between 40 and 55, I guess.”
“OK. You said five of them have kids, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that the older ones or the younger ones?”
“The younger ones.”
“OK, so, we’ve established that, as we approach you, a female partner, all things being equal, is more likely to have kids. What about the most recent partners?”
“They both have kids.”
“OK, so, now we’re increasing our odds even more. Now, how many people made partner last year?”
“Two.”
“Out of how big a group?”
“Fourteen.”
“So, your odds are not great but, if you do make it, and you will,” she said, kissing me on the cheek, “the data shows that, all things being equal, having a kid will not impact that.”
“Thanks, I always forget how analytical you can be.”
“That’s sexist. Or it used to be.”
I kissed her. “Yeah, well whatever. What do you mean clothes look good on me?”
“You are such a girl,” she said. “It means you pick the right clothes. And you look cute in them. And they hang well on you.”
“Really?”
“Don’t ‘really?’ me. I see you checking yourself out. I see the way that you fuss over your scarves. You do it and you like it.”
“No, I don’t.” I did.
“Yes, you do. And so do I. I like my stylish, sexy little wife.” It had been a while since she had said something like that. It surprised me and felt good. It felt like we were getting back to normal.
“It really doesn’t bother you? At all?”
“Nope. This is us. Whatever we were, we’re not now. Maybe we will be someday again. But for now, you’re a girl and I’m a guy. And this guy loves this girl just the way she is,” she said, giving me a kiss.
“I love you too.”
“So, have you bought a dress for the thing Friday yet?” We were going down to Jess’s parents the following week for Thanksgiving. They lived in a gated community in Key Biscayne. They had a party every Thanksgiving when families were down. It wasn’t black tie or semi-formal. Jackets for men. Cocktail dresses for women.
“Yeah. I went to Bloomingdale’s the other day.”
“Can I see?”
“Sure,” I said. I unzipped the garment bag. It was a black halter cocktail dress with a keyhole neckline. It was knee length. “What do you think?”
“Very pretty. Can I see it on?”
I took off my clothes and put it on. “What do you think?”
Her eyes bulged out. “You look gorgeous.”
“Really?”
“Really. Did you put on Spanx?”
“No, should I? Do I need them?” I felt self-conscious.
“No. I’m just amazed at how good you look without them. Your hard work is paying off. I am so proud of you. What shoes?”
I took out a pair of black Manolos with a 4” heel and put them on. “How do I look?”
“Walk for me.”
“Pervert,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah, but let me see.” I walked back and forth. “That looks perfect. What else are you bringing?” I took off the dress and was standing in a bra and panties.
“My white skirt. The one that goes with the blue top. Although, it could go with really anything…”
“Uh huh,” she said, with a smile.
I ignored her. “My blue floral swing dress. The one from Old Navy that you like so much?”
“OK.”
“Some jeans and some tops. And I went past Vineyard Vines the other day and I saw these three really cute dresses and I can’t decide which to keep. Do you want to see?”
“Vineyard Vines, huh? I could see that.” I ignored that. “Let’s see.”
I went to my closet, got the dresses and put them on the bed.
The first was a green, blue and yellow horizontal striped shift dress. Mostly green and blue. “Try it on.” I slipped it on. “OK, give me a turn. OK, definitely that one. You look beautiful,” she said, grabbing me.
“Hey come on. I want to show you the next one.”
“Fine,” she sighed, smiling.
It was a pink polo dress. “What do you think?”
“Meh. What else?”
The last one was a blue dress with a print of angelfish on it. It ended a couple of inches above the knee. I held it up to me and said, ““OK, what do you think of this? Is the print too cutesy?”
“Cutesy? No. I like it. Try it on.” I put it on. “Wow.”
“What?”
“I can’t explain but I find that incredibly sexy.”
“Sexy? This?”
“Yeah. I can’t explain it. I mean it’s not slutty sexy. But there’s something about it that I find really hot. Is that weird?”
I thought about it. “No. Women don’t get it. Sometimes a t shirt and yoga pants is hotter than a dress and heels. I can’t explain it. You feel what you feel. Lots of guys feel that way. You’re a guy. You have guy parts.” That felt weird.
“OK. You know what else?”
“What?”
“I think I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Those dresses are you.”
“Thanks.”
She seemed surprised. “No, ‘what does that mean?’”
“I know what it means. I’m me. You’re you, or you were you. Just because I look like you used to look doesn’t mean we like the same stuff. Any more than me and Sammie or me and Michelle or me and Lori.” She looked shocked. “Sorry, I don’t mean anything bad by that.”
She smiled. “I didn’t think you did. I’m glad you get it. Speaking of Lori, have you heard from her?”
“Not since she canceled plans on me abruptly. She said ‘something came up.’ I said to call me. She hasn’t. And I’m not chasing after her.”
She sighed. “She does that. That’s her. If you called her, she’d make plans.”
“Then I guess we won’t make plans. Sorry, but she’s been nothing but negative to me since I lost all the weight. I don’t need that. And neither did you.”
“I know. Maybe this is one of the good side effects of this. Maybe I needed this.”
“I’m not telling you what to do. I just can’t deal with her.”
“I know. It’s just strange. 24 years. By the way, did you get bathing suits?”
“Yes and it sucked. Big time.”
She laughed, “Yup. Definitely don’t miss that.”
“Shut up. Seriously. What the hell? What is up with that?”
“Women. You all really dress for each other.”
“I don’t.” To be honest, I wouldn’t know how.
“You’re different. Anyway, can I see?” I showed her. “One pieces? Really?”
“What’s wrong with them?”
She looked surprised. And sad. “I figured that you would have gone for a bikini?”
“Seriously? No. No way. Nuh uh.”
She smiled devilishly. “After all that work, you don’t want to show it off. You’d be hot.”
“Yeah, well no. I am so not there. I am nowhere near there. And will never be.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“The lady wanteth you to be quiet.” Actually, the lady started to wonder. Could I pull it off? Was this the trip? Maybe in another five pounds. The lady got depressed thinking about how she was thinking about this like this. I thought about asking Jess whether she would have done it, then decided to not go there. Nothing good would come from that.
“Sorry,” she said, with a smile, grabbing me by the waist. “I think you’re hot. And I want everyone to be jealous.”
“Who everyone?”
“Other guys…”
“The old men at the pool? Nice try. I think you mean Jill.” Jill was Jess’ older sister. She was a PhD in economics, naturally thin and pretty in a mom sort of way. She took after their mom. Jess resented her. I always felt like it was a one-sided feud.
She smiled. “That’s not it at all…” It was.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever. I’m not wearing a bikini.”
A couple of days later, Jess’s mom called.
“Honey, it’s the judge,” I said, looking at her phone. Jess was in the bathroom. Her mother was a federal judge in Miami. We all called her mother, ‘the judge.’ Even her father.
“Can you get it?”
I picked up. “Oh, hi, Evelyn. How’s everything? Oh, that’s good. How’s Marty doing? Sorry to hear that. Yeah, I could see how that’s annoying. I don’t know why. Why do any of them do anything?” I laughed. This was maybe the longest non-work conversation she and I had ever had. “That’s really interesting. I can’t wait to see them either.” She and I were now talking about Jill and her family. “I know they live near here. Schedules have been crazy.” Oh yeah, and your son who used to be your daughter cheated on me and I haven’t really been interested in seeing any of you guys, nothing personal. “Well, we’ll have plenty of time together. A black halter dress with a keyhole neckline. Knee length. Oh, that sounds pretty. I can’t wait to see it. No, I’m sure it looks beautiful. Send me a picture.” My phone buzzed almost immediately. “I don’t know, silver shoes would definitely work, although blue could give a hint of color too. Royal. Not navy.” I was scaring myself. “Drop earrings definitely. I was thinking studs. I don’t know. I just think they work. (Sigh) I’ll bring both. We hadn’t planned anything unless Dan made plans with his high school friends or anything. Ha ha. You’re right. That is funny. No, none of them plan anything except maybe to watch a game.” I used to be them. Now I was us. And this conversation was interminable. “We are totally open. I think we’re renting a car. No, you don’t have to send Charles,” Marty’s driver “to get us. Well, won’t they need the SUV? Oh, they’re renting one. OK, fine, send Charles. We’re on, hang on let me check my phone. American flight 697. It lands at 2:30. Of course, I’ll text you once they tell us that we’re ready for takeoff. I’ll let Dan know that they’re golfing on Friday. Does Marty have a set of clubs he can borrow?” Jess couldn’t use mine since I was lefty. I lied, “His are in storage. OK, great. Work is fine. Busy. Hopefully, they’ll let me relax. How’s the bench? OK, we’ll talk about it when we’re there. Love you. Love to Marty too.”
I turned to see Jess with a huge smile. “Why did I miss that?”
I laughed. “We’ve now spoken more than we did in the past seven years collectively.”
“Get used to it. What would blue shoes work with?”
“Shut up.”
“Seriously.”
I showed him the phone. His mother was wearing a silver dress with short sleeves to the party. “This is what she’s wearing.”
She paused and said, “I wouldn’t have thought blue shoes, but that could really work. Wow. Good call. And the drop earrings?”
“I just thought with her hair and the dress that they’d look pretty…oh god.” I put my head in my hands. “I’m scaring myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m giving the judge fashion advice that works?”
“So?”
“So? So?”
“Yeah, so. You have great style. Better than me.”
“But, it’s one thing when it’s me and another when it’s her.”
She paused again, “OK, whatever,” she said, with a smile. “Why didn’t you send her a picture?”
“Because…”
“Because why? Because you want to surprise them. You want them to ooh and aah over you. I get it. You are such a girl.”
“Shut up,” I said. She was right.
“Let me guess. You’re already deciding between the new green and blue dress or that little white skirt for the flight, aren’t you?”
I blushed. “I said shut up.”
“Go with the skirt. Save the dress for when we’re not going to be sitting for several hours.”
“Oh, you’re golfing with your dad on Friday. Lucky you.” Marty was one of the more annoying people to golf with. He wasn’t a bad guy except that, on the course, he alternated between offering you “advice” on your game and gloating over his. “Do you want to go to Chelsea Piers tomorrow to practice your swing?”
“Do I need to?”
“You haven’t played since we went last summer. And you’re not you. You’re me. And your father is going to give you lots of advice and give you shit. So, yeah.”
“No he won’t.”
“He may not have given Jessica shit. But I guarantee you he’ll give it to you now.”
We went to the range the next day.
“You’re swinging like you have breasts.”
“What?”
“Your swing is messed up. There’s nothing blocking you. Just swing easily. Practice.” She started swinging the club.
“Now you’re getting the hang of it. Now hit the ball.” She drove it about 220 yards and straight.
“Wow!”
“You’ve got the perfect combination. My body and your mind.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “It’s about time you realized that.”
“Don’t get full of yourself. What I mean is that you’re not trying to crush the ball, just hit it straight. Keep doing that and you’ll do great. Everything else, and I mean everything, I’ve got the perfect combination. My brain and your body.”
She smiled. “You’re even better. You’ve got your brain and an even better body.” She kissed me.
“OK, you win.”
The following Wednesday we were on our way to the airport. I was wearing the white skirt, with a blue top and flats. “Do I look OK?”
“You look amazing.”
“Seriously? The judge and Jill can be brutal.”
“I don’t know that? You look fantastic. Girl.”
“Stop. I’m just nervous.”
“You’re Jessica. They’ve known you for seven years. As Jessica. You’re just a hotter you,” she said, giving me a kiss on the lips.
“Stop…”
The flight was uneventful. One of the pleasant side effects of all of this was that I had a lot more room to sit. Jess looked miserable, crammed into her coach seat.
We landed and Charles picked us up. It still felt weird to have a driver. We pulled up to the house. It was seven bedrooms with a pool and cabana and 100’ of frontage on Key Biscayne. Dan’s father was an ophthalmologist who, when Dan was in junior high school, opened a chain of laser eye surgery centers. They moved to the house when Dan was fifteen. It was beautiful but I always felt like I was in a museum rather than a house. My parents’ house was comparatively nothing, but at least I wasn’t afraid to touch anything.
Jess’ mom was at the door. Evelyn, the judge, was 68 years old. She was 5’5” tall and maybe 110 lbs. She wasn’t healthy, just thin. I was getting stuff out of the back, so Dan went up first.
“Dan,” she said, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “You look like you’ve lost weight.” Every time she saw Jess the first thing she noted was weight. The second thing was clothes. Neither was ever good enough.
“Hi, mom. Yes, about 25 lbs. I’ve been working out and running.”
“Well, it looks good.” I walked up to the door.
“Hi, Evelyn,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“My g-d Jessica, you look spectacular. Turn around.” I happily complied, turning left then right. Jess was right. This was what I wanted. I was such a girl. “What have you been doing?”
“Running. Spin. Pilates. Stopping eating.”
“Well, it is working. How much so far?”
“26 lbs. Plus, I’ve lost three sizes.” Dan stood behind her, mouthing “girl,” and smiling.
“You look absolutely gorgeous. And I love that outfit. And the bangs. Everything is perfect. Good job.”
I blushed. “Thank you. It’s always hard to see it on yourself,” I lied.
“Dan, you should be very proud of her. Beauty and brains.” OK, that was weird. She never said much to me when I was Dan, unless we were talking about caseloads.
Jess smiled, “I am.”
Just then, Dan’s sister Jill came out. “Hey stupid,” she said, grabbing him around the waist from behind. Jill was six years older. Like I said, she was a PhD in economics and worked as a consultant. She was 5’8”, probably 145-150 lbs with brown hair and green eyes. She was married to Yoram, an Israeli high-frequency trader. They lived in Chappaqua and had two kids, a twelve-year old named Sarah and a five-year old named Yonatan, Yoni for short.
“Shut up,” Jess said, playfully but with an edge that you’d hear if you knew to look for it. They kissed each other on the cheek.
Jill saw me and went, “Oh my g-d, Jess, is that you? You look phenomenal!” OK, that felt good. “Turn around.” I never realized how much women said that, but I liked doing it.
“Hey, Jill,” I said, giving her a hug and kiss. “Thanks. You look terrific.”
“Please. How much? How did you do it?”
“26 pounds. Three sizes. Like I told your mom, running, spin and Pilates. Dan totally motivated me.”
She looked at him and said, “That’s great, Dan,” then she turned back to me. “That is a really cute outfit. And I love your hair. What made you decide on bangs?”
“Thanks. I just decided one day to see how they looked.” Jess rolled her eyes. This was fun. “I love your sandals.” She was wearing cute sandals. What? They were cute.
Jess looked me up and down, shrugged and said, “I’m going to take our stuff to the room. No, it’s OK. You girls continue on without me.”
We talked for a couple of minutes and then I excused myself. I came into the bedroom to find Jess putting her stuff in the dresser. This was Jess’ old room but you’d never know. It looked like a guest room in an expensive hotel. Very nice but very austere.
“Hey, honey,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey. I’m unpacking.”
“I see that. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not nothing. What is it?”
“Nothing. Did you have fun?” She said, with a subtle edge.
“What did I do?”
“Nothing. You didn’t do anything. You just got more of a greeting than I did. Sorry.”
“That’s just because they haven’t seen me.”
“They haven’t seen me either.”
“Yeah, but you’re a guy. They totally treat guys differently. I guess I never noticed.” Or cared. “Maybe it’s because it’s so much easier for you to lose weight. You can lose three pounds by skipping a meal. You said it yourself.”
She smiled, “True enough. You were so cute the way that you were lapping it up.” She started twirling. “26 pounds. And three sizes!”
“Shut up…I’m proud of myself. Shoot me.”
“I’m proud of you too. Three sizes? Really?”
“Yup, the stuff from Vineyard Vines? Sixes.”
“A six? I don’t think I ever was a six. No wonder they were so impressed. They were never that impressed with me.”
“Yes, they were.”
“No, they weren’t. Sorry. Enjoy it. Don’t let my shit get in the way.”
“It’s not your shit. It’s your feelings.”
“Wow, we really have switched places.”
I laughed. “Jeez.”
“It’s fine. I’m teasing. And I am proud of you, for real.”
“Thanks.” I could tell that she was already getting upset about being here. “Let’s find some stuff to do while we’re here. Just us.”
“We’ve only got four days, but I appreciate the thought.”
“Do you want me to tell them you’re taking a nap?”
“Nah, I may as well go down. I’ll have to do it sooner or later.”
I walked out the door and Jess pinched me on the ass. “Excuse me?”
She grinned. “I couldn’t resist. First time I’ve pinched a size six ass.”
We went downstairs and Yoram came in from the pool with the kids. The kids went to their rooms to change.
I gave him a hug and kiss. “Ma nishma, Yoram?” ‘How are you’ in Hebrew.
“Kol b’seder. Ma shlomech?” ‘I’m fine. How are you?
“Kol b’seder.”
He grinned. “At hama.” Jill playfully slapped him. It means ‘you’re hot.’
“Funny, Yoram,” Jill said.
“Seriously, Dan, your wife looks amazing. You lose weight too?”
Jess batted her eyelashes, as she gave him a hug. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“You know I love you too. Just different.”
Jill laughed, “What he means is he never misses a pretty girl.”
“You want me to?” He played the stereotypical macho Israeli, but he was actually a brilliant computer scientist who spoke English, Hebrew and Russian. He and I always got along. We were the outsiders in the family.
Just then Sarah came in. She was 12 years old, 5’2”, 125 lbs. with brown hair and blue eyes. Basically, she looked like Jess at 12.
“Hey, Sarah,” I said, “How are you?”
She came over and gave me a hug. “Hey, Aunt Jessica,” she said, timidly. “You look great.” I knew she meant it but she said it in a sort of rueful tone.
“So do you. How’s school?”
She looked over at her parents. “It’s…fine.” I made a note to try and talk to her. To be honest, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t get 12-year old girls when I was 12 and I doubt time had made me any better at it, but she looked like she could use someone.
Jess smiled. “Nothing for me?”
I didn’t know why, but Sarah gave him a quick look of disgust. Not that anyone else would notice but I had been on the receiving end of it from Jess, when she was Jess, more than a few times. Then she gave him a hug. “Hey, Uncle Dan.”
“What are you up to these days?”
“Nothing. Stuff.” She turned to Jill, “Can I go take a cookie?”
“How many have you had today?” Evelyn said.
“I don’t know.”
“I do. Four. So no.” Sarah looked mortified. Jill just sat there. I was going to say something but stopped.
“I’m going to go text Emily.” She left the room. Poor kid.
Evelyn turned to me. “She’s getting a little chunky.”
“She looks OK to me.” I started to say, ‘maybe if you didn’t make her feel bad, she wouldn’t sneak down here later and gorge like your daughter used to,’ but figured I’d hold off. For now. Jess sat there mute, like she always did.
“Anyway…” Just then, we were saved when Yoni came in.
“Uncle Dan!”
“Yoni!” Jess said, as Yoni tackled her. “Ow, ow. Let me up.”
Jill smiled. “Yoni and Dan. Between them, they’re thirteen.”
“Hey,” Jess said. “I am at least…nine. Which makes us fourteen,” she said, wrestling with Yoni. She seemed happy.
“So, Jill, what’s new in the world of consulting?”
“Ah, the usual. Actually, I just got offered a position at Vassar. Adjunct.”
“That’s amazing. How did that come up?”
“One of my old mentors at UC heard about the position and called me. I’m trying to decide though.”
“Why? I’d love to teach.” I had thought about it but not seriously. But it would be nice to be asked.
“The kids. It’s an hour each way.”
Yoram piped in, “I keep telling her we’ll figure it out. It’s not night school. Yoni’s in kindergarten now. We’ll be fine. We’ll pay Cora some more.”
This both alarmed and comforted me. It made me think about partnership but it also made me realize that we could make it work. “You should totally do it. You’ve always talked about it.”
“Ah, we’ll see. How’s work going, Jess?”
“Good. Busy. We have this litigation involving fraud in this big condo being built in the Flatiron.”
“Federal or state?” Evelyn said, her eyes brightening.
“Right now, state. AG is looking over the books now.”
“I’d think you’d have a wire fraud action at least. RICO. Bring it to a real judge,” she said, with a grin.
“I’d say I disagree, but I don’t. Anyway, I’m on the civil side. That’s a state thing for now. Get some international buyers and we’ll try and remove it.”
“Keep me in the loop. It sounds fascinating.”
“Macro level, yes. Micro, it’s just motion practice for now.”
“Will they let you try it?”
“Second chair. Depositions. Probably some questioning, should it get there.”
“If you came down here, I could ensure that you’d be first chair.”
That came out of left field. We had never had this discussion before. “Um, what?”
“New York trained lawyers are valued down here. We have a work ethic.” Evelyn was born in the Bronx, went to Columbia Law School and only moved down here when Marty was offered a position at Mt. Sinai. “I could make sure that you were some place you wanted to be.”
Jess piped up, “And what would I do?”
“You could get your MBA.”
This was a sore spot among Jess and her parents. They were big on grad school. Jess was not. “Wow, mom, less than two hours. Won’t Dad be upset that you took first crack?”
“I just don’t understand what you have against it. We all have graduate degrees.”
“Yeah, OK. And I don’t.” I could see Jess getting upset.
“Dan is doing great at work. He’s taking the lead on a product launch,” I said.
Yoram looked at me, gave me a quick smile and said, “That’s great, Dan. Can you discuss it?”
“It’s a targeted cancer therapy. Goes after basal cell carcinomas.”
“That’s terrific, Dan,” said Jill. “So what do you do on that?”
“I’m in charge of coordinating marketing to physicians and working with the sales directors to detail it.”
“I’m really proud of him. This is a big deal,” I said.
Evelyn said, “I’m proud too. I’m just thinking of the future.”
“My future is fine. If I thought I needed it, I would get it. But I don’t. So leave me be, OK?”
“Fine…we’d pay, if that makes a difference.”
“It doesn’t. The company would too. I just don’t want to do it. When will you ever learn that?” Jess said, her voice rising.
“There’s no reason to get upset.”
Jess said, “Fine. Whatever.” This was going to be a fun trip. “You know what? I’m tired from the trip. Wake me up when Dad gets here.”
I followed her to our room. She laid face down on the bed. “Do we have to stay?” She said.
“I’ll look for rooms,” I said.
She rolled over. “That’s not an option,” she said. “I just can’t deal with it.”
“Do you want me to say something?”
“Absolutely not. That’ll make it worse.”
“How?”
“Stupid Dan can’t fight his own battles. He needs his wife.” It was interesting that she said Dan without pause. I still vacillated between thinking of myself as Dan and as Jessica.
“That’s not it. I was just trying to help.”
“I know.”
“Try and relax. We’ll have a good time,” I said, kissing her neck.
“Thanks, but not now.”
Ouch. I tried to joke. “Well, being back here brought back an oldie but a goodie.”
“Ha.”
“You want me to leave you alone.”
“Can you stay here and not talk?”
“Ouch.”
“Sorry. I just don’t feel like talking but I want you here. Is that OK?”
I got it. Sometimes you wanted someone there, even if they didn’t say anything. “Sure, I’ll read.” I read while Jess fell asleep. I looked over at her sleeping form and hoped that it would get better.
After about half an hour, I tiptoed out and walked past Sarah’s room. She was sitting on the bed playing with her phone.
“Knock knock,” I said, “Mind if I come in?”
“Hey, Aunt Jess.”
“Hey, so how’s everything going?”
“Good.”
“What are you doing?”
“Looking at Instagram.”
I leaned over and saw selfies of 12-year old girls. “Interesting. Wanna talk?”
She looked like she was going to say something then stopped. “Um, not really?”
“I won’t say anything to anyone.”
“OK?”
“Well, if you want. Don’t let Grandma bother you.”
“I don’t.” She did. I could tell.
“OK, well, if you want to talk, I’m down the hall.”
“Thanks,” she said, in that teenage way that said “No way.”
I went downstairs to find Yoram on the couch. “Where is everyone?”
“The judge is in her office doing whatever it is she does. Jill went to nap. Yoni is, I don’t know, playing with the iPad or setting a fire.”
“It’s a good skill to have. He could get lost in the woods. What do you think?”
“I think it never changes.”
“Nope.”
“I’m waiting for Marty. That’ll make it better,” he said, with a grin.
I was curious to see how he reacted to Dan. He always kind of ignored then condescended to Jess. “Oh yeah. What did she do to Jill?”
“She’s a bad mother. Sarah. Yoni. She needs to lose weight. He’s a wild animal. Blah blah blah.”
I started to say something about Sarah then stopped. I figured I’d see what happened over the next few days. “Because she was the perfect mother. Which is why her son and daughter are napping,” I said, making air quotes, “at 4:30 in the afternoon.”
“I know. I’m staying at a hotel next year.”
“Can I come?” He laughed. “How’s work?”
“Work is work. Mostly good. Sometimes bad. We’ll see with this lunatic. But, it’s always work.” That was a very Israeli answer.
“I hear you. Promise me you won’t gang up on Dan at golf.”
“Why would I? I want to get in the middle of them?”
“Thanks.”
“He’s good to you?” That was weird.
“Uh, yeah.”
He looked at me and said, “Then I’ll leave him alone.”
“Thanks.” We sat for a while. I read. He played with his phone. Neither one of us spoke. I think we worried about what was coming next.
At 6:30, Jess’ dad walked in. “Hey you two.”
Yoram got up and gave him a handshake.
I stood up and gave him a kiss, which felt weird. “Look at you,” he said, “You look terrific.” Evelyn walked back in. “Evelyn, did you see her?”
“No, Marty. Jess, when did you get here?” Did all couples do this kind of shtick? Would Jess and I? If so, who would I be? Marty or Evelyn?
“Well, anyway, you don’t even look like you. You look beautiful.”
“I’ll take that as the compliment I assume you intended and not the insult it came out as,” I laughed.
Yoram shouted, “Sarah. Yoni. Grandpa’s here.”
“Where are my children?”
I was about to say they were napping, when Jess came down. “Hey dad.” I was surprised she didn’t call him ‘daddy.’ She gave him a hug.
“Hey Dan. You look good. How’s work? Flight OK?”
“Thanks. Fine. Uneventful.” She moved into the grunts and abruptness that characterized my relationship with Marty with ease.
“We’re playing the Doral on Friday.”
She looked at me. “Great. Mom says you have clubs I can use.”
“Yes. By the way, my swing coach has been teaching me some techniques I can show you.” Yoram smirked. I knew why. By the end of a round, we were fighting over who’d get to beat him first. Yoram used to joke, “Can I offer a suggestion?” That was Marty’s favorite. “Use a 5 iron to beat him, more control.” I’d respond, “Open the club face. You’ll draw more blood.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
“Work’s good?”
“Yeah. I was telling mom I’m taking the lead on a new product launch.”
Marty didn’t listen, he waited to talk. “Terrific. Work is great for me. We’re opening a new center in West Palm soon. You had your MBA, you could come work for me.” Yeah, that was a selling point.
“I like my job. I like New York. I don’t want an MBA.” I could see her withdrawing.
“I don’t understand. We’ll pay. My parents didn’t pay for med school. Most people would appreciate it.”
I tried to stop this. “It is appreciated, Marty…”
“See Dan? Your wife gets it.”
Jess looked at me. I said, “What I was saying was while it’s appreciated, he doesn’t want to get it. Anyway, tell me about the new center…” I knew that would distract him. And it did. He talked about it for fifteen minutes. Evelyn left the room.
Dinner was miserable.
Every time Sarah went to eat anything but a vegetable, Evelyn would say, “Sarah. You don’t need that. You have a pretty face, don’t waste it.” Then, when no one was looking, she’d take a piece of bread. She really was Jess.
Every time Yoni acted like, well, a five-year old, she would say something like, “You’re in my house. Stop behaving like an animal. You can do that in your own house, I suppose.”
Neither Jill nor Jess spoke. I knew that they were both trying to avoid a fight. I wanted to say something, but knew that would only make things worse. Not with Evelyn and Marty. I didn’t care about them. I was concerned about me and Jess, especially after everything.
After dessert, Sarah said, “Can I take Yoni for a walk?” What she meant was, “Can I please get out of here?”
Yoram said, “So long as you bring him back.”
Evelyn, Jill and I cleared the plates.
Evelyn turned to me and said, “What does he have against graduate school?”
I wanted to say that Jess had enough school and that should be enough but figured we had another three days together. “It’s not his thing.”
“Make it his thing.”
“Have you met your son?”
Jill laughed, “Seriously, mom?”
“I’m glad you think this is funny. I’m concerned for his, for your future.”
I thought, ‘our future is still not 100%.’ “If I thought it would make a difference, I would push him. But it doesn’t. Also, for what it’s worth, he doesn’t respond to being pushed.” No, she retreats and eats. Like Sarah is doing. So stop. Which came out as, “If it’s time to get it, it’ll be time.”
Jill looked like she avoided a bullet. She hadn’t. “Jill. You need to do something with your children.”
“I’ve offered them for sale, but there are no takers.”
“I’m serious. Sarah is going to balloon up if you don’t do something.” And she’s going to balloon up if you do, Evelyn. Not my fight though. Not yet, at least.
“Ma…”
“You need to explain that to her.”
“Ma, if I say I will, will you stop?” She wouldn’t.
Eventually, we went to bed.
“Your mother is driving me nuts,” I said.
“Wow, we really have switched. That’s usually my line,” she said. “Why? She’s been nothing but ‘Jess, tell me about work,’ ‘Jess, you look fabulous.’ ‘Jess, tell Dan he’s being stupid.’”
“She didn’t say that last thing…”
“Well, she didn’t spend twenty minutes talking about MY job.”
I tried to joke. “It’s a lawyer thing. We only get discrete jobs, like doctor, lawyer, fireman…”
“She talked to Jill about her job and no one gets that…”
This was going to get bad. “I tried…”
“I know. I’m just annoyed. What is she driving you nuts about?”
“Sarah. That poor kid.”
“What?”
“Giving her shit every time she puts food in her mouth.”
“I know, but that’s what she does.”
I started to say something but stopped. “That doesn’t make it right.”
“My sister doesn’t say anything. Why would you?” She said it in a way that left it that she didn’t want to talk.
“I guess I just feel bad for her.” And for Jess.
Her face softened. “I know. I do too. But there’s nothing you can do. One day down.”
I kissed her on the cheek, “It won’t be that bad. Tomorrow’s another day.”
It was another day and it was that bad.
I came into the kitchen in the morning before my run to see Sarah eating a cookie.
“Hey Sarah,” I said, taking a drink of water.
“Please don’t say anything,” she pleaded.
“Why would I?”
“Really?”
“I get it. If you want to talk…” I really wanted to talk to her, but wasn’t going to push.
“Thanks,” she said, “maybe later.” She said that in a way that would serve her well at college parties when she wanted to get away from a guy. I knew that ‘maybe later.’
That was the highlight of the day
Dinner was a mess. Marty started in on Yoram and Dan.
“So, Yoram, have you fixed that hitch in your swing?” Yoram had no hitch in his swing. It was the swing of someone who played golf when he had to, not because he wanted to.
Yoram was an old pro in dealing with Marty, so he smiled, “No. I’ve decided to keep it. It’s my gift to you. The gift of criticism.” Evelyn and Jill laughed.
“I’m trying to help you. It’s no fun beating you when there’s no challenge.” He turned to Jess. “So, Danny, what about you? Have you been working on your short game? I hate seeing you in the bunkers all the time. Once you get there, it doesn’t get out of your head. By the back nine, you’ll be crazy.”
I knew that this was just Marty being Marty. Don’t get me wrong – I hated it, but I could ignore it. Jess couldn’t. “What, dad?”
“Last year. You spent more time in the bunker than Hitler.” This was Marty’s favorite joke. I used to respond, “Moses spent forty years in the desert. One hole won’t kill me,” which drove him nuts.
“Whatever. I’ve been working on my swing.”
“You always do what you always did and you’ll always get what you’ve always got.”
In the meantime, Sarah and Evelyn continued.
Evelyn brought out a chocolate cake and fruit for dessert. She gave Yoni cake and, when Sarah asked, told her, “Why don’t you have fruit?”
“Can I have a small piece?”
Evelyn said, “That’s your decision,” and gave her the thinnest slice of cake I had ever seen. Honestly, I don’t think Marty cut that thin during eye surgery.
Later on, Sarah volunteered to clear. I found her in the kitchen eating half-finished cake.
She looked at me in fear. “Please, Aunt Jess…” I mimed zipping my lip. “Thank you.”
We were in bed later. I had brought the teal nightie Jess liked. When I came to bed, she didn’t even respond.
“Wow, make a girl feel welcome.”
“Sorry,” she said, in a rote way.
“Do not let him get in your head. Just do what we did at Chelsea Piers. Play Jess’ game with that amazing body you have.” That got no response. “I’m serious. He’s trying to get in your head.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re his son. Remember what you said to me about my dad? How now we’re not competing? Well, now, you are. Well, he is.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You are though. But do it your way. Play your game. Don’t worry about distance. Worry about accuracy. Worry about getting it in the hole.”
She smiled. “Getting it in the hole?” She grabbed me by the waist and kissed me. “Can I get it in the hole?”
“Shhhh. Everyone will hear,” I said, pulling off her shirt.
“So?” She said, kissing my earlobes then my neck.
I was getting excited. “They’ll look at me…”
She started fingering me. “Come on.”
I rolled over, “Oh g-d…” I wanted her in the worst way.
We were so excited and stressed that she didn’t put on a condom. It felt good.
After we were done, she said, “Wow. That was amazing. Thank you. Oh shit….”
“What?”
“I didn’t use a condom.”
“Oh, g-d. Hold on, I had my period like two and half weeks ago. I don’t think I’m ovulating. Oh g-d, I hope not.”
“Why?”
“Because…because..because I wasn’t planning on getting pregnant.” That wasn’t entirely true.
“Really? You seem pretty into it with Sammie.”
“Yeah, well…I just thought…I thought…that it would be a little more planned than this.”
“I’m sure you’re not. Would it be so bad if you were?”
“What if this is what changes us back? Would you be OK?”
She looked briefly horrified. “I asked first.”
“I don’t know,” I said, with a smile. I knew. I wanted it more than anything.
“I do. You’d be amazing. You’d be an amazing mommy. Better than Jill. Better than mine.”
“Speaking of which, poor Sarah.”
“She has a mom.”
“I caught her sneaking cake off the plates in the kitchen.”
Jess sighed and just said, “Yup.”
“Yup?”
“Yup. Been there, done that.”
“And that’s OK?”
“No, but what can you do about it?”
“I just…”
She kissed me on the cheek, “I love you,” and then fell asleep. Men. All the same. Even those who weren’t born that way.
By the time we got up in the morning, I was gunning for Evelyn.
Jess, Yoram, Marty and Yoni went to the pool and then were going for golf. Marty had bought a set of kids’ clubs for Yoni and told him that, “Grandpa’s going to teach you golf.” Great – another generation tortured.
The women were going shopping. Evelyn wanted the Aventura mall, but Jill and I vetoed that, on the grounds that it was Black Friday and would be a mess. We settled on the Lincoln Road Mall. The Lincoln Road Mall isn’t a shopping mall per se. Rather, the city had closed off streets to all but pedestrian traffic so you could walk between the stores and restaurants.
We got there around 12:30. "Why don't we have lunch beforehand then walk around?" Jill said.
We had lunch at Spris, an Italian place. The food was good but it was one of the more uncomfortable meals I'd had in a long time. Every time Sarah looked at the bread basket, Evelyn gave her a look and a shake of the head.
"Can I have pizza?" she asked Jill. The pizzas were small and thin crust. As Dan, I would've eaten one myself.
"Do you really need that?" Evelyn said.
"How about if we split it," I said. "So long as you don't want anchovies or pineapple."
Sarah smiled, "Ewww, gross. Can we have sausage?"
"Sure." Evelyn glared at me. Jill intently studied the menu, mute.
The waitress came over. Evelyn pointedly ordered "the chicken and beet salad, dressing on the side," while looking at me. Honestly, that's what I would have ordered, had she not given Sarah flak.
"We're going to split the pizza with sausage," I said with a smile, looking right back at her. The waitress looked like she wanted to run. Jill, like she wanted to hide. Sarah, like she was watching a fight where she didn't know which side to take.
The meal was no better.
"So what are you doing in school again?" Evelyn asked.
"Um, like math and Social Studies and Chemistry? The usual stuff."
"Like chemistry? What's like chemistry?"
"Chemistry."
"Then say that. Like is for comparisons.". She wasn't wrong. I hated when people did that. But I wasn't going to say that. “Also, stop answering like you’re asking. Have confidence in what you’re saying.” OK, that was frightening.
I decided to try and change the topic. "What are you reading in English? That was my class."
"Lord of the Flies."
"I loved that book." I did. Every guy in my class did. It was still a go to reference in meetings. That and sports. Everyone wanted to think they were Ralph, maybe Simon. The reps were all Jack. I was more Piggy than I wanted to acknowledge.
"Yuck. It's a boy book."
It was. "What makes it a boy book?"
"I don't know. It's all boys and they beat each other up and stuff. It just is."
"That's a weak argument. Wait until you get to Hemingway and Kerouac. Those are boy books.". That got a laugh from Jill and Evelyn.
"Huh?"
"Never mind. What's a girl book then?"
"The Crucible". She was right. All it needed was a princess.
"Fine. Don't worry so much about girl books and boy books."
Lunch was uneventful. Evelyn kept grilling her.
At the end, there was one slice left. Sarah went to reach for it when Evelyn said, "you don't need that. Put it down."
Sarah dropped it and started to tear up. Then she got up and ran across the plaza.
I looked at Jill. "Mind if I talk to her?"
"Stay right here," Evelyn barked. People turned. "She's being ridiculous".
"JILL, do YOU mind?"
She looked at me, then her mother. "Good luck." I wasn’t sure for who – me or her.
I went over. Sarah was sobbing. "I'm not coming back."
"I wasn't here for that."
"Really?".
"Nope. In fact, why don't you and I walk around?"
"What about mom and grandma?"
"They'll do what they do. We don't get enough time together alone.". Counting this time, it would be...Once.
"Um, OK?"
"Don't make me feel so wanted."
She smiled. "I didn't mean that."
"I'm just teasing.". I looked over at Jill, pointed to Sarah then me and mimed walking with my fingers. Jill looked at me and mouthed, "go."
Sarah and I started walking around, looking in the windows. "I'm ready to talk when you are," I said. "No judgments. Thoughts if you want them. Just listen if you don't."
"I need to lose weight."
"Why?"
She looked shocked at the question. "Why what?"
"Why do you need to? Did the doctor say so?"
"No?"
"Are you having trouble doing things? Walking? Gym? "
"I suck at gym."
"I didn't ask if you sucked at gym. I asked if you had trouble running or something. I sucked at gym but I could run or do exercises. Can you do that?"
"Yes. Did you really suck at gym?".
"Yup. I was always picked last. Ask anyone." I wasn’t but Jess was, so it was true. Sort of. "So we've established that you're healthy and can do stuff. So, why do you think you need to lose weight?"
"Well, grandma says I do."
I thought for a minute. This was a fraught statement. I knew what I wanted to say which was the truth. But that would open a whole other can of worms. "Ok, look. I'm going to say something but it stays here..."
She smiled, "ooooh."
I smiled. "I'm serious. I'm talking to you like an adult. What we say here stays here. Deal?"
"Deal. What?". She was pulsating with excitement. It was cute.
I smiled, "your grandmother. Women of that age...um, have no idea what they're talking about, especially about weight. They think thin is healthy."
"Uh huh...".
"Yeah. I know you were expecting something worse. Sorry. But seriously, it's not just weight."
"But you lost weight. And everyone tells you how good you look."
I smiled. "I didn't start out losing weight.". No, I started out losing my penis. "I woke up one day and felt blah. So, I decided to start running again. And I felt better. The weight came off because I did stuff to be healthier. I could starve myself like your grandmother, but I wouldn't be healthy. Uncle Dan and I ran five miles yesterday. Do you think she could?"
She surprised me. "She can't drive five miles."
"You're funny." She smiled. "Sarah, I will never tell anyone to lose weight. I've fought it my whole life. I won't even tell anyone to exercise. I mean I feel better when I do it, and don't get me wrong, I like the way I look, and if you want to join me tomorrow, I would love it but I am not telling you to do lose weight."
She sighed. "Why does she do it?"
"Your grandmother?"
"Yeah. And my mom."
"Like I said, your grandma is 70. When she was your age, that's what people knew I guess. Thin equaled healthy. Exercise was weird. Watch a movie from even the 1970s. The women have no tone. They look gross. But that's what she knows.". She looked unhappy with that excuse. "But that's no excuse for saying what she said. Like I don't get what she thinks that is going to accomplish. "
"Did your mom do it?"
I tried to remember what she did to Laura. She gave her shit about outfits and makeup and how she spoke, but weight surprisingly was never there. "No. She was bigger on how you dressed and stuff, plus my mom has gone up and down - a lot."
"I still don't get it. Why does she do it?"
"Mothers and daughters? If I could figure that out, I'd be rich. Did you ever ask your mom?"
"No. My mom doesn't have a weight problem. Besides, she and grandma are fine."
"First, you're old enough to know this," I said with a smile. "Every woman has a weight problem. Second, watch them sometime. Grandma knows how to push her buttons just like my mom does and yours does. Know why?"
"Why?"
"They installed them. But, you can fight back. Next time, when your grandmother says something, look at her and say - politely - 'respectfully, I don't appreciate that and I wonder why you said it.'"
"I can't say THAT."
"Why?"
"Because... because..."
"See? If you want to l...be healthier, let's talk strategy. Do you want that?"
"Yes..."
"Ok.". We walked past a CVS. She looked at a Snickers bar. "Do you want that? You can have it. My treat."
"I can't have that. It's bad."
"First things, there are no bad foods.". I picked up the Snickers and a banana. I started wiggling the banana and saying in a stupid voice. "You're bad."
She looked mortified. "Stop," she hissed.
I smiled. "Nope." Now I made the Snickers say, "I'm not bad. Maybe it's my childhood.". An older woman watched us and smiled, trying to figure out our relationship.
"You are sooo weird. You are embarrassing me...". She was turning red.
"Your childhood? Mine was worse. My parents were BANANAS."
She pulled me out. "That was awful. That joke wasn't even dad bad. It was GRANDPA bad.". But she was laughing.
"My point was that there are no good foods or bad foods. Some are healthier than others. Some have more calories. But they're not bad. If y.." I started to say you, but figured she'd heard enough about her today. "If I want something, I have it. But I think, 'do I want this or am I upset or stressed or something?'. And if I still want it, I have it."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. I mean I don't keep stuff around because I know me." I was a compulsive eater. Even as Dan, I had to stop buying pints of ice cream or big bags of chips. "But I have it when I want it."
"But people say stuff when I get stuff. Like my friends will be all like 'how can you eat that?''
"Are you eating gross stuff?"
"No, just like if I get ice cream instead of yogurt, they say something about how much fat it has."
"Look at them and say, 'then don't eat it.'. Say it enough and they'll stop. But you can fight it. Don't let other people tell you what you should do." I knew that that was nearly impossible for any 12-year old. We'd all like to think we had that kind of strength then. We didn't. Most of us still don't. But I figured it was worth a shot.
"Um, Ok."
"Seriously. How's school going?"
"I hate it. Boys stink."
"They do.” In retrospect, I did. “Any particular reason?"
"You won't tell?"
"I won't"
"You have to promise."
"I promise."
"Not mom. Not grandma. Not even Uncle Dan."
"This isn't anything where you could get hurt, right?""
"No."
"Then I promise."
"Berkowitz has saggy tits," she said, in a singsong voice. Yup, that was 12-year old boy behavior.
"Who says that to you?"
"Boys."
"All of them?"
"No, just these three stupid ones."
"What do you say to them?"
"Shut up?"
"Now, that doesn't work, does it?" I knew it wouldn't. I was a 12-year old boy. Once.
"No..."
"So, let's figure out how to stop them. Tell me about them. Who's the weakest of them?"
"Huh?"
"Who's the biggest follower? You start by picking off the weakest of the herd."
"I'm confused."
"He makes fun of you for how you look. Do the same."
"Mom says I should just ignore him."
"Do not repeat this. But she's wrong." I smiled. "Promise you won't repeat that."
"I promise."
"Good. So what does he look like?"
"He has a bunch of zits."
"Next time they start, smile and say, "hey look at that. I never noticed but if we connect all the dots on your face, it makes a cat!"
She started laughing. "That's mean!"
"And?"
"And uh... I don't know."
"Tell me about the next weakest."
"Justin Gordon. He's fat."
"Does he have moobs?"
She giggled. "Yes.". Boys. Girls. Moobs are always funny. The word still was to me.
"OK. When he does it, look at him and say, 'yours are so big. I'm so jealous. There’s a sale at Pink on bras. Wanna go next weekend?" You want to kill a 12-year old boy? Compare him to a girl.
"I can't say that!"
"Why?"
"Because I'll get in trouble!". She said stretching out the last word.
"Don't say it in class," I said, smiling. "We've gotten rid of the followers. Tell me about the ringleader."
"Jordan Glick.". Jordan Glick? This was going to be like shooting fish in a barrel. A proper use of simile.
"Jordan Glick...Jordan Glick...Lights a candle wick. No, that's stupid. Doesn't even really make sense. Jordan Glick knows a cool trick. No, that's not really an insult. Jordan Glick has a small..."
"I can't say THAT," she said, laughing. "I'd get suspended."
"He won't tell. Trust me. He's going to tell the principal that he made fun of your...chest and then you said he had a small penis?"
"What if I get caught?"
I put my arm around her. "Luckily you have access to a great lawyer."
"Even if you and Uncle Dan get divorced?"
That threw me for a loop. "Where did you get that from?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not an idiot. I'm twelve.". I couldn't speak. "And he slept at our house and mom was yelling at him and he was crying..."
"He was crying"? I tried to suppress a smile.
"Yeah. And you guys haven't touched each other."
"Huh?"
"You used to always touch each other on the arms and legs and kiss each other and now you don't. What happened?" I never knew she was so observant.
"It's complicated."
"You don't want to tell me. Adults always say that whenever they don't want you to know something."
I smiled. "You're right. I hated that. But it is complicated...And not for me to explain, y'know?"
"Fine. Did Dan do something?"
In response to my sigh, she said, "why are boys so stupid?" I didn’t know I was before this. Now I knew I was. I just didn’t know why.
We walked through the mall after that. We talked about life - well, as much life as a 12-year old has. She talked about how she hated the fact that her best friend Emily would drop her if a more popular girl wanted to hang out, and then they'd turn on her. It was like "Mean Girls" in real life. I thanked g-d that I got to be a 12-year old boy. We'd just hit each other.
We walked past "Forever 21".
"Can we go in"? She pleaded.
"Sure."
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Jill.
'How's it going?'
'Fine.'
'Anything I should know about?'
'No. 12 y/o drama. Totally normal.'
'Lmk'
'I will. In Forever 21 now. Loud. Very loud. And bright.'
'Good luck. :)'
'How's the judge?'
'Calm before the storm :("
"Who was that"?
"Your mom checking in. I didn't tell her anything."
She smiled. "I know. I trust you." I liked that.
We walked past a rack of skirts. She held up a short blue skirt with buttons up the front. "This is cute. I'm going to try it on, OK?" She ran off with a big smile.
She came out. It ended at the bottom of her thigh.
"That's cute."
"Y'think?"
"Totally. I saw a top that would totally go with that.". I was scaring myself. "Hang on.". I got it and she tried it on.
"Definitely. That definitely works. Take it off."
"Huh?"
"We need to pay for it."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Can I pay you back from my birthday money?"
"What?"
"I don't have any money with me."
"And if you did, it wouldn’t matter, because you're not paying. I am."
"Really? I don't know if my parents will be OK with that". Her smile betrayed her feelings and made it worth it.
"Yes, really. And I will deal with them". I handed her two more tops. "Go try these on."
We left the store and walked past a store with pocketbooks. She saw a black leather Coach tote bag.
"This is pretty."
"It's an old lady bag. Try this," I said, handing her a small two tone blue leather Tory Burch cross body bag. "That is definitely better."
"Can I get it? It's so pretty."
I looked at the price. $325. "OK, this needs your mom's approval."
"For my bat mitzvah?"
"Sure. IF she says OK and your grades stay good, yes.". Her bat mitzvah was in March. If Dan and I stayed together, I was going to surprise her with it for Hanukkah. I hated that I still thought that way sometimes.
"Thank you!" She said, hugging me. "Thank you!"
Just then, Jill texted.
'Time to go. Please.'
'That bad?'
'Yesyesyes. :)'. Funny how a 38-year old PhD could be reduced to emojis by her mom.
'We'll meet you by H & M.'
"I think your mom has had enough grandma time," I laughed. "We're meeting by H & M"
"Can we do this again?"
"Any time, Sarah. You can come in to the city if you want."
"No matter what?"
I smiled. "Stop being a drama queen.". I thought about what she was saying and it saddened me. I'd miss Jess's family but knew a relationship wouldn't, couldn't and probably shouldn't happen.
We met up with Jill and Evelyn. Evelyn was quiet. Jill was right - calm before the storm.
"Wow, what did you buy?"
"Aunt Jess bought me a skirt and some tops. She is soooo cool," and she hugged me.
Jill laughed. "Aunt Jess is a sucker."
"You have no idea," I laughed. "Remind me to talk to you about what she wants for her bat mitzvah," I whispered in her ear.
"How much do I owe you?"
"Zero. My pleasure."
Evelyn said, "Can we go please?" Uh oh.
Jill and Sarah talked the whole trip about what we saw. Evelyn drove, with a death grip on the wheel. I was going to text Dan to see how golf was but didn't want to be that person who interrupts a round.
We got home. Sarah ran into the house to send selfies to her friends of her new outfits.
Evelyn curtly said, "I have sentencing memos to review."
Jill looked at me and said, "Oh boy...."
We walked out to the pool. "So what did Sarah have to say?"
"I told her I wouldn't say anything but don't worry. Like I said, twelve-year old drama. Nothing to be concerned about. If there was, I would tell you."
"I know. I'm glad she'll talk to you. She wouldn't talk to me."
"Would you have?"
She looked at the house and raised an eyebrow. "You?"
Well, I was never a 12-year old girl but went with, "Uh, no."
She laughed. "So what does she want for her bat mitzvah?"
"A Dooney and Bourke cross body bag."
"How much?"
"$325."
She laughed. "Seriously?"
"I told her you had to approve and she had to keep her grades up."
"Sure. Make me the bad guy," she smiled.
"Come on. I want to be the cool aunt."
"If you have to buy their friendship, then they're not really your friends, are they?"
"Ha ha. Come on. It's her bat mitzvah."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. You are such an easy target. I can't wait until you have kids." I must've flinched because she said, "Sorry. That was stupid. Speaking of stupid things, how are things with my idiot brother?" Jill said. We were dangling our feet in the pool.
"Um, fine..."
"I mean since everything happened."
"Oh yeah. Sarah said he was at your house crying?" I involuntarily smiled. "Sorry."
She laughed. "Please. I'd be dancing. "
"I didn't know he came to you."
"You never wondered where he was? Really?"
"Nope. Would you have if Yoram did?"
She laughed. "I know where the hospital is. And the morgue. I just can't believe he did it."
I got annoyed. "I know he's your brother but he did."
"Oh, I know he DID it. He told me. In between crying fits. That's just not him. Did he give a reason?"
"Not really. There's not really a reason, is there?"
"I guess not."
"Does the judge know?"
"Not from me. No way."
"Really?"
"My PhD is in economics, not stupidity. I was not going there."
"Thanks."
"So what you do from here?"
"I don't know. Wait and see, I suppose." Wait and see if I was pregnant. Wait and see if she cheated again.
"I don't know that I could do that," she said, swirling her foot around.
"What other choice do I have? I can get divorced which I don't want to do at this point. And I can't just let it go. It hurt. A lot. Sorry."
"For what?"
"He's your brother?" I wasn't upspeaking. I just couldn't believe she didn't know why I was apologizing.
"So? He was wrong and I love you Jessica. If I could have a little sister, I'd want her to be like you. Not that you're not but you know what I mean."
"Thanks. I know what you mean. Me too. I mean I love you and I'd want a sister like you too."
"What about Laura?"
"Oh shit," and we both laughed. I thought about it. I couldn't picture having this conversation with Jill before. She and I never talked to each other before. I mean we talked about things. But not to each other. And I couldn't picture Jess and Laura doing it either. There was always an undercurrent of hostility there. It was no one's fault or both of their fault. But it was there.
I excused myself to get something to drink. I went to our room to get my Kindle and walked past Evelyn's study.
"Can I speak to you, Jessica?" Oh shit.
"Sure. What's up?"
"Close the door. Sit down."
"Is everything OK?"
"I don't appreciate being undercut in front of my granddaughter."
"What?"
"I don't appreciate being undercut in front of Sarah."
I started to apologize and stopped. I wasn't sorry and was going to defend myself. "How did I undercut you, Evelyn?"
"Excuse me?"
"How did I undercut you? You've made an accusation that I undercut you and I respectfully disagree. So, please explain."
She looked angry. "You went over after I said no to her. And then you went off with her."
"I will agree that I did that. However, I disagree that that constitutes undercutting." I took a Webster's off the shelf. I thought she was going to strangle me.
"Undercut," I said, thumbing the pages. "Did I offer goods and services at a lower price than you?". OK, that was obnoxious. "I didn't. Did I cut away or weaken the part below or under you? Also, denied. Did I weaken or undermine you?"
"Yes. Yes, you did."
"How? How did I do that? Did I tell her to eat the last slice? No. Did I tell her to ignore you? No I didn't."
"You went over to her after I said not to."
"I went over after I asked HER MOTHER if it was OK, and she said yes. I asked her parent and was given consent. Ergo, I didn't undermine you."
She got up and came around the desk. "You undermined me by asking," she said, looking me in the eye. "The act of asking is per se undermining."
"I will stipulate that you perceive it that way. But, I acted solely to comfort Sarah. A reasonable person, reviewing the evidence, would agree. As I lacked the requisite intent to knowingly undermine you, I object to your characterization."
"Overruled," she snarled. Then she started laughing.
"What?"
"I just overruled an argument,” she said, laughing so much that she was gasping.
I laughed. "Well, I objected..."
"Did you hear us? Per se undermining? Stipulate that I perceived it? Requisite intent? Normal people do not argue that way," she said, giving me a hug.
I exhaled then laughed. "You're wrong. Normal people don't TALK that way. Don't limit it to arguing. Please tell me I don't sound that way with regular people."
She laughed, "I can't. Know why? Because I can't tell anymore.". In a mock-AA voice, she said, "My name is Evelyn and I'm an attorney."
"The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem..."
We both sat down. "Seriously, Jess, what got into you today?"
"Honestly, Evelyn? I see a lot of," and I almost said Jessica, "me in her. This poor kid. She sees all this stuff in the media about what she should look like. And her friends tell her all the wrong things about what to eat. And she's getting her period. And boys stare at her chest. And the one person who's supposed to be in her corner makes her feel worse."
"I certainly didn't intend to."
"I know that. I don't think you said let me figure out how to make my 12-year old granddaughter feel terrible. But, I get it. People tell you that if you eat one candy bar and you'll be 300 pounds and you end up screwed up. You binge in secret and then you hate yourself and it's a vicious cycle. Trust me, I know."
"I understand that. But the world judges us on our appearance. When I started out, we were sure that we'd change everything and forty-something years later and we're still here. A 300 pound male lawyer and a 200 pound female lawyer are trying a case. Who does the jury believe? I see it all the time. I see it on their faces - men and women. Tell me I'm wrong."
I sighed, "You aren't. But..."
"And look at what they said about Hillary. Do you think a fat woman with a bad spray tan and hair like that would even be a candidate? Maybe it's easier now..."
"It isn't.". I realized that now. As I lost weight, people treated me better. It wasn't right but I took advantage of it.
"Again, I don't mean to be mean but I want Sarah to get everything. And women are worse than men."
"I hear you. You're right. I see it with the women in my office. One of the partners is one of those...uh...big women you were talking about and I've heard associates - female associates - call her Sasquatch. I get it. And I don't want Sarah to deal with that either. But you giving her..flak..."
"You can say shit," she said, with a smile.
I smiled. "You giving her shit doesn't help. She's twelve years old. Like I said, she's got her friends and the media and all this other crap to deal with. She's got the rest of her life to realize that the world sucks and men are sexist and women are catty and cruel." Wow, I don't know where that came from but I knew it was right. "Let her be a kid. Let her have hope. I was just trying to get her to think healthy."
"Is that how you got to this? Because you look great. Although I watched you and Jill do Pilates and, sorry, no thank you," she laughed.
Well, no, technically I got here by losing my penis. The first eight inches..OK, six...were the hardest. "It's a good pain," I said, laughing.
"Yeah, that's what they told me about sex."
I laughed. "OK, TMI, Evelyn. Anyway, it took me 20 years to get here. If I can help her a little, so that she can maybe have it easier than... I did, sorry, but I'll undermine you, Jill, everyone if that would do it. I know you don't get it but I know what it's like...". Obviously, I didn't know. I know what people said to Jess. But she didn't know that.
She smiled ruefully. "Don't assume facts not in evidence."
"Huh?"
"Look at me. Boys may have stared at your chest but I didn't have a B cup until after Danny. You don't think boys noted that? I would have killed to have your chest."
Huh. "Point taken."
"You couldn't pay me to be twelve again."
"Me either". I mean, technically, I never was. Not in the way she thought. I wanted to go back and apologize to every girl I knew.
"Jessica, Dan is lucky to have you."
"I'm not sure he feels that way always."
"I'm serious. I told him as much after he did what he did. I told him that he made the stupidest mistake of his life and that he better try and make it right or he'd be sorry forever."
I was, for the first time in a long time, without words, without thoughts. All I could say, "Wow. Thanks. He told you?"
She laughed, "You seem surprised."
"Kinda. I mean I can't imagine telling my mother that I... I mean... I... I don't know. Sorry."
"I know what you mean. I certainly wouldn't have told my mother. I was surprised that he did, to be honest. By the way, I saw the flowers. Nice touch on the TRO."
"Please tell me that you didn't tell him to do that."
"Now, THAT offends me," she said, laughing. "No, that brilliant move was all Marty."
"Sorry I cheated on you. Roses'll fix that! Sorry, Evelyn, I mean he's still your son...."
"Please. He did a stupid thing. No, he did the wrong thing. And you know that's not how we raised him."
"I know. I never blamed you or anyone other than him."
"Can I ask how things are going?"
The question felt weird. But it also felt like she sincerely wanted to know, with no malice behind it. "Better. I told my dad better getting to good."
She gave me a hug. "I hope it gets to good soon."
"Me too."
"Jessica, we're on the same team with Sarah. Let's try not to offer goods and services at a lower price than each other, OK?"
"Agreed. I love you, Evelyn." I don't think that I had ever said that before. And I meant it.
"I love you too, Jessica," she said, hugging me. "I'm glad you care so much."
I went back out to the pool.
"You were in there a while," Jill said. "Everything OK?"
"Yeah, I was talking to the judge."
She whistled. "Still in one piece...wow."
"Nah, we had a good conversation. Tense for a while."
"About?"
"Sarah."
"Um, I'm glad you two are deciding things for my daughter," she laughed. "You want her? She just started her period."
"Oh wow, um, that's so nice but....no, we were just talking about how she handles things with her. She means well."
"I know. And she's wrong. And I don't do anything. I don't know why I let her do what she does."
"For the same reason I let my mom get to me. She trained you. Anyway, I told her I see a lot of me in Sarah. She's trying to figure things out and she's got all this shit coming at her and she wants to have a cookie and your mom gets in her face..."
"I hear you. Thanks for sticking up for her."
"She's a good kid. I told her that she can come in any time she wants. You too if you want."
"Thanks."
"The judge asked me about Dan."
"What?"
"He told her."
"No!"
"Yup."
"Jesus. And?"
"And nothing really. Like I told you, there's nothing to say. It happened. Either we'll be good or we won't. I don't blame anyone but him. I told you that."
"I'm glad you and her honor resolved things. I was worried when we were walking around. She really likes you. I think that's why she got upset. That and you're like her."
"Hey!"
She laughed, "I mean the good stuff. The smart. The caring. The passionate. Not the controlling. Not the sarcastic. Not the eating disorders."
"Thanks, I guess."
We sat by the pool reading for a while, when I heard the car pull up.
"Leave me the fuck alone," I heard Jess yell. Then I heard the clatter of golf clubs.
"Oh shit," I said to Jill.
I walked out to the driveway to see Jess snapping a Callaway driver over her knee.
Marty angrily said, "That was a $300 driver."
I saw Jess take out her wallet. "Here's $200," she said, throwing it in Marty's face from about two inches. "I'll Easy Pay you the rest."
"I don't want your money, Dan. I need your $300?"
"That's what it's about with you. That's all it's ever about. Fuck you. Fuck. You. I don't want anything from you."
I turned to Yoram and, under my breath said, "so I'm guessing golf didn't go well."
Evelyn came outside. "Bring this inside. NOW."
I followed them in. Marty said, "What the hell is your problem, Dan?"
"My problem is you."
"That's enough," Evelyn said. "What happened?"
I went over and took Jess' hand. "What happened?" She pulled her hand away abruptly, which hurt.
“He’s overreacting,” Marty said.
What Jess did next surprised me. She got in his face and snarled, “I’m overreacting. You couldn’t take it that I was kicking your ass and you just had to fuck with me…”
“Dan, stop the cursing,” Evelyn said.
“Sorry, you just couldn’t take it so you had to mess with me. Pathetic old man.”
Marty looked right back at Jess. “Poor baby. Can’t handle when someone doesn’t pat him on the head and give him a cookie. How do you expect to succeed at work when you can’t handle golf?”
I walked over to Jess and put my hand on her back. She pulled away. “OK. I’m going in the other room.” I was hurt.
I heard Jess yell, “I can handle work – not that you give a shit about it. I can handle golf too. You pulled that shit at my company, you’d be out.”
“You and all the little snowflakes. My outings, people can handle it.”
“They don’t handle it. They TOLERATE it. Because you pay them. Well, you don’t pay me. I don’t need your money. We do fine without you.”
I came back out. “Dan, please, let’s go outside.”
Jess snarled, “Fine. I’m done. I hope you enjoyed the round, DAD. Because it’s the last round I’m playing with you.”
“Damn right it is,” Marty yelled. He walked into his office and slammed the door.
“Let’s all calm down,” Evelyn said.
“Yeah, mom, well, it’s the last time we’re staying in YOUR house. I’m done,” she said, as she walked out. I followed behind. Evelyn and I looked at each other.
We walked outside and Jess took a 3 wood and hurled it into the neighbor’s yard.
“Wow, someone’s getting a nice club,” I joked.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not now.”
“What happened?”
“I said not now. That means not now.”
“OK,” I said meekly.
We walked around the community. After 45 minutes of silence, Jess said, “We should get back. We have the thing.”
“We don’t have to go. Let’s go to dinner. Just us.”
“No. We should go. My mom wants us too. You bought a dress.”
“I’ll return it. I kept the tags on.”
“Now you’re my grandmother?”
“Shut up. Seriously, let’s not go.”
“No. We don’t go and he wins. And that’s not going to happen.” Jeez, we really had switched places.
The party was at 8. At 6:30, I said, “I have to start getting ready.”
For the first time all day, Jess smiled. “I know. I don’t miss that part at all.”
“Shut up.”
I showered. I shaved my legs. I plucked out stray hairs, pumiced my feet, brushed my hair and put on make up. Then I got into the dress and put in my studs. Jess? 25 minutes before we had to go, she shaved and showered. I liked being pretty. I didn’t like this.
I came out into the living room. Everyone oohed and aahed.
Jill was wearing a black cocktail dress and heels. “I hate you,” she said, with a smile.
“Please, I hate you too.”
Jess came over and said, “Wow, you look fantastic.”
Evelyn laughed, “Daniel, tell her you’ll never complain about long it takes for her to get ready.”
I laughed, “He knows better.” And she did.
Evelyn was wearing the blue shoes and the drop earrings. She turned to Jill and said, “What do you think?”
“I like it.”
“Jessica suggested it. She has great taste.” I liked that too. Jess rolled her eyes.
I whispered in Jess’ ear. “Are you sure you want to go?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Besides, I have the hottest girl there.” I don’t remember ever saying things like that. Should I have? Is that why this happened?
We circulated around the party saying ‘hello’ to all the usual suspects. The women mostly complimented me. The others looked me up and down.
Dan and I were talking to the son and daughter-in-law of Marty’s business partner when Evelyn came over. “Excuse us. Jessica, I have some people I’d like you to meet.”
We walked over to a couple. “Larry Hernandez, Debbie Weissman, I’d like you to meet my daughter-in-law Jessica. Jessica is an attorney in New York. She and Dan are down for the holiday.”
Larry smiled, “Evelyn has been telling us a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope.” I was wondering what this was about.
Debbie laughed. “Mostly. Which for a mother-in-law is pretty good.”
Evelyn laughed. “Larry is the head of the Dade County Democratic Party and Debbie is a finance chair at the DNC. I, of course, am studiously non-partisan.”
“Wow. It’s been a tough few weeks, I’m sure.”
Debbie said, “You have no idea. I’ve got donors who can’t handle the fact that it was taken from under us like that.”
I took a deep breath, “Respectfully, I disagree. It wasn’t taken. It was lost.”
“What are you saying?” Larry said, with genuine interest.
“I mean, we can all sit there and talk about how she won the popular vote and how the electoral college is garbage but that’s the system. And we like it when it works for us. So, you have to deal when it doesn’t. And we can talk about what she did or didn’t do in the Upper Midwest, like not campaigning in Wisconsin since before the convention, and how she lost districts that Obama won there by double digits, but I don’t think that’s useful to be honest.”
“Why?”
“Well, because it’s over. Because Bill and Hillary are over. Which can be a good thing.”
Debbie smiled, “Meaning?”
“Meaning, we can focus on the future and what we need to do. And, with all due respect, there’s too much focus on the top of the ticket. Like, since I don’t know, JFK, the party has been focused on the top of the ticket. Like we’re looking for Jesus to save us, whether it was JFK or Clinton or Obama. That’s the wrong focus.” They were all looking at me. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” said Larry, “keep going. I’m interested.”
“I can stop. I’ve talked too much.”
Debbie said, “No, please keep going. What would you do if you were us?”
I took a deep breath. Evelyn seemed OK so I kept at it. “Down ballot races. Not just Congress but state and municipal races.”
Evelyn said, “Interesting.” They all nodded. “Explain.”
“First, in four years there’s a census. That’ll be used to draw district lines. You want to control district lines, you control a statehouse. And those are relatively cheap races to run. They’re not as interesting as getting a chance to ride on Air Force One, but they’re important. And people need to realize that. Plus, you develop a bench. I mean I like Bernie and Warren but they’re not exactly young.”
Evelyn smiled, “That hurts.”
I blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way. But they aren’t. And neither is Pelosi or Steny Hoyer. Meanwhile, Cruz is around 44, Rubio’s about the same and there’s a whole bunch more behind them. I hate them but they’re here for the long haul. We need our own and focusing on finding a savior doesn’t do that. I mean I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”
“You are and you aren’t. So, what do you plan to do about it? And don’t tell me you liked a Facebook post or signed a moveon petition.” Larry said.
I smiled, “No. This,” I mimed tapping my finger on a phone, “is literally the least you can do. You need to be active.” I believed that. Too many of my friends thought that constituted activism.
“So what’s your plan?” Debbie asked.
“I’m here. Tell me how I can help.”
The three of them laughed. What Larry said next shocked me. “Run for office.”
“Um, excuse me?”
He turned to Evelyn, “You’re right.”
“About?” I said.
“Evelyn told us how smart you were. She didn’t tell us you were so passionate and knowledgeable. We need a bench? Be that bench.”
“Uh…” I was gobsmacked. I never used that expression before, but it fit. “I live in New York. It’s tough to break in up there.”
Debbie smiled. “Then move here.”
“I’ve never lived here. I’m not from here.”
She laughed. “This is South Florida. No one except Larry is from here. And even his parents moved here. You’re a young, smart, telegenic Jewish woman. I could do a lot with you. Do you speak any Spanish?” I was telegenic?
“I mean I couldn’t read Gabriel Garcia Marquez in the original, but I can get by…”
“I’m serious. You’re what we need. You can make a difference or do you just want to point fingers?”
I smiled. “Can I think about it? Also, I apologize but I haven’t seen Dan in a while. Let me go make sure someone hasn’t trapped him in a corner to complain about drug prices…”
My head was swimming. Someone thought I could be elected? I found Jess standing by herself, holding a glass of vodka.
“Hey, honey,” I said.
“Hey. You were gone a while.”
“Your mother wanted to introduce me to some people.”
“I gathered that. Who?”
“Larry Fernandez and Debbie Weissman.”
“The two Democratic people? Oh.” I should’ve let it go there but I was excited.
“Yeah. We were talking about the election and stuff.”
“Great.”
“What were you up to?”
“Not much. Talked to some people about golf. Drug prices. How great you look.”
“Well, that last one sounds promising.”
“Uh huh.”
“Where’s your father?”
“Over there.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“No. And I’m not going to.” Boy, she really was me.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Please. I’m just not in a good mood.”
Just then, Evelyn came over.
“You set me up,” I said, grinning.
“Guilty as charged. You did great. They loved you. Dan, did Jessica tell you what happened?”
Jess looked at her and flatly said, “No. What happened?”
“I brought her over to meet Larry and Debbie and they started talking and they’ve told Jessica she should run for office.”
“Wow, honey, that’s great,” Jess said, with minimal enthusiasm.
“It was just talk. I’m sure they say that to everyone.”
Evelyn said, “They don’t. If you moved here, you’d be in office in two years. They wanted to know your issue.”
“I don’t know. Infrastructure, I guess. Expand broadband to rural areas. But, I’m processing it.”
“Jessica, I’m telling you should come down here. Your talents are wasted up there. You have a New York brain. You would do very well down here. You too, Dan.”
“Thanks for including me,” Jess said. “Excuse me for a minute. I’m going to the bathroom.”
He left and Evelyn kept talking. “Jessica, this would be great for the two of you. We’ll pay for whatever you need. When you have kids…”
I smiled, “Um, hello? My body, my choice.” Evelyn had been big in the pro-choice movement.
She smiled. “That doesn’t apply to you. Your mother and I talked about it. Anyway, what I was saying, when you have kids, we’ll pay for them to go to whatever school you want.”
“Evelyn, thank you. This is a lot to process. Just let me think about it, OK?”
“I’m very proud of you, Jessica.” I wonder if she ever told Jess that.
“Thanks. Dan seems out of it. Mind if I go find him?”
I looked around and found Jess outside, staring into space.
“Hey,” I said, touching her on the arm. “Is everything OK?”
“It’s fine. That’s great about Larry and Debbie.”
“That sounded sincere.”
“It is. I’m sorry. I’m just thinking about golf.”
She was lying and I knew she was, but I wasn’t going to push. “Next time, you’ll know better.”
“There is no next time. I said it and I meant it. I can’t deal with him.”
“You’re just not used to it. It’s part of the learning curve we’ve both had. I had my whole life to learn.”
“Well, you’ve learned your side of things,” she said, waving her hand up and down. “Sorry. I mean that in a positive way. I mean you’re doing great.”
“So are you.”
“Clearly, I’m not. My father thinks I’m a loser.”
“He doesn’t. He’s just binary. You need to lose for him to win. It’s fucked up. Ask Yoram how bad he is. We used to plot killing him.”
She smiled. “That’s my father you’re killing….”
“My point was that that is just who he is. You’re doing great at work. You were doing great at golf. You just let him feed you macho bullshit. Let me guess. He gave you shit about not using your driver.”
She nodded, “I really don’t want to talk. Sorry.”
“Do you want another drink?”
“No. I just want to be left alone. OK?” The ‘OK’ was said in a way that left no room for opposition.
Evelyn and Marty introduced to me to several more people. I wanted them to meet Jess too, but she was nowhere to be found. And Marty and Evelyn seemed in no rush to find her.
-----
I woke up at 6:30 Saturday morning to go the bathroom. I looked over and Jess wasn't there. I went to the bathroom, then went downstairs. I walked into the living room and found Jess sitting on the couch in the dark, absent-mindedly flicking her phone.
"Hey," I said. "I looked over and you weren't there."
She stared at the phone. "I didn't want to wake you."
"How long have you been up?"
"Since 3:30.". She looked depressed. Not tired. Depressed.
"What's wrong?"
"Everything."
"Talk to me."
"No. Yeah. I've been alone with my thoughts long enough. Can we take a walk?"
"Sure. Of course. Let me just put on a bra.". That got a small smile.
We left the house quietly and started walking around the neighborhood.
"What's up, honey? Why can't you sleep?"
"I thought it would be different this time."
"What?"
"Being here. I thought being you would be different, but it isn't. Or it is. It's worse," she looked like she wanted to cry.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't do anything right."
"What?"
“All the shit with golf. All the shit about my MBA. That’s all he talked about during golf. ‘Dan, when are you going to grow up? Your wife has an advanced degree. That the kind of father you want to be? Are you going to be that guy?’”
"Jesus. That is horrible. How dare he? I'm going to say something."
"No, you aren't. That would be worse. Like my wife, my lawyer wife, needs to defend me."
"Ouch."
"I'm sorry. It's not you. It's them. And it's last night."
"What? You mean what Larry and Debbie said to me? That's just bullshit. I mean I didn't think anything of it.". That was a lie. I thought about it a lot and it made me feel good. "I didn't know it bothered you. I would have walked away."
"THAT didn't bother me."
"I'm confused."
“You know, I've known Larry for years. He never said more than, 'how's school' or 'how's work ' to me. And he didn't listen to my answer. You know why?"
I was scared to ask. "No, why?"
"Because my MOTHER never thought to involve me. Last night, she was so proud to include you. She couldn’t wait to introduce you to people. The smile on her face when she told me about how they wanted you, YOU, to run for office. I never got that smile. She has the daughter she wants, that she always wanted. The one who can talk about what's important. Smart, gorgeous Jessica. Not fat, stupid Jess.". She looked broken.
I hugged her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't mean to hurt you."
She took a deep breath. "No, I'm sorry. You didn’t hurt me. You were smart. You were funny. You were passionate. You were you and you were great and I'm not taking that away from you. My problems are my problems."
“No, OUR problems are OUR problems. We’re a team. And if I make you feel bad, even inadvertently, I'll stop."
"No, you won't. I'm proud of you. I was proud of you before. I'm prouder now. You can do anything."
"So could you."
She sighed. "No, I couldn't. And I can't. I'm good at what I do, but you're good at a lot. And before no one cared about me. No one noticed. You should run for office. I’ll support you, proudly. I’ll do all the wife stuff. Even like this. I can bake cookies.”
I smiled, “Since when?”
“OK, I’ll learn,” she said, cracking a small smile.
"Seriously, honey. I'm sorry. What can I do?"
She sat on the ground and looked down. "Nothing. I'm an afterthought in my own house. And it's not even mine. I mean, when you went home, yeah, the pictures and the stuff were different, but it was your house. Your room was your room, even if the color was different. The family room was the family room where you watched cartoons. Those were the stairs you slid down. You could see the marks on your doorframe where your dad measured you. I don't get even that. I never had that. I'm just some stranger in their house. Before, I wasn't much. My mom was the judge. My dad was the doctor and the business man. Jill was smart. Who was I? I was the fat, stupid one. But at least I was something. Besides my husband was smart, so they could placate themselves with that. Now, who am I? Just some guy in a place where no one else remembers him.". She started to cry.
I held her. "I didn't know."
"I know. And you didn't do anything. And I am proud of you. Don't feel bad because of me. I'm just...". And she kept crying.
I took her hands in mine. "I do feel bad. Because we're a team. Like I said, there aren’t your problems and my problems. There are our problems. When one of us feels bad, the other feels bad. Because we love each other. Right?". She nodded. "You are the best person I know. You were never fat, stupid Jess to me. You were smart and kind Jess. And you're smart, kind Dan now. And, if they don't know that, fuck them. I'm behind you all the way."
"I know. I guess I'm just facing myself for the first time. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah. I did it..." I almost said, 'when you cheated,' but that would be cruel. I looked at her and I can't fully explain it, but I realized for the first time why she did what she did and that she wouldn't do it again. I realized that she really had no idea who she was. She wasn’t Jess and she wasn’t Dan. Sure, she made jokes about periods and helping my mom but all she was doing was trying and discarding identities like a teenager to find what fit. It didn't make what she did right and nothing ever would. But, in the broken person sitting on the ground, I saw my Jess and I knew she wouldn't do it again. It's a cliche but I felt a weight come off me.
I took a deep breath. "Maybe this isn't the time, but I really...forgive you." I couldn't say forgive easily. My ego was in the way. But I meant it.
She smiled, a truly happy smile. "Seriously? You're not just saying that because I was crying?"
"How long have you known me?"
She got up and hugged me. "Thank you! Thank you! I will never stop showing you how much I love you and appreciate this, no, appreciate you. Thank you!". She kissed me deeply, with real love. Not just passion, love.
"I love you, Dan." I was surprised I said Dan, not Jess.
"I love you too, Jessica." She hugged me.
I smiled, “One thing. The driver? If you’re going to throw money in someone’s face, have all of it or don’t do it.” She started to laugh. “I mean, why didn’t you take out change?” I mimed, counting out change. “And here’s seventy-four cents.”
“And here’s a $50 Amazon gift card!”
We were both laughing. “And here’s 10% off Starbucks, so that’s like another 50 cents, 75 if you get a cookie…”
We walked into the house and Evelyn and Marty were sitting at the kitchen counter.
“Where were you two so early?” She said.
“Taking a walk.”
Marty said, “Do you want some coffee? We got this fancy coffee maker. I can make anything.”
“You sure?” I said. Evelyn smiled.
He puffed out his chest. “I can make you anything.”
“OK, a cappuccino, then.”
He fumbled around. “The one at work’s a lot easier.”
Evelyn said drily, “It’s a one-button. ‘Caroline, can you make me an espresso?’ See, easy.” She got up and made me a coffee.
“Anyway, so when Jill and Yoram and the kids get up, we’ll get breakfast and then go out on the boat.”
“Actually,” I said, “we’re seeing Adam and Vanessa today.” They were two high school friends of Dan’s. Years later, they reconnected and got married.
Jess smiled. “When did that happen?”
Evelyn looked at me and rolled her eyes. “When the magical plan fairy called them and made plans,” I said.
Evelyn chimed in, “Yes, the same fairy who buys food and does laundry.”
Jess smiled, “I don’t like you two ganging up on me. Seriously, when did that happen?”
“After your mom called, I called Vanessa. We’re going there for lunch. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Thanks,” she said, putting her arm around me.
Marty came over. “You calmer today?”
“Are you?”
“Yeah, well, we both got hot under the collar.” That was as close to an apology as he was going to give. Which seemed surprisingly fine to Jess.
“Yeah, we did. I can play my own game, you know.”
“I know. You were playing good. Don’t let people get under your skin so much.” That was it. That was all that I would’ve gotten from my dad. And it would have been enough. And Jess seemed to accept that.
Thanks again Lizzy Bennet for all of your feedback, encouragement and kind words
Dan and Jessica make a huge decision...but not without drama
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It was Charles’ day off, so Marty offered to take us to the airport.
It was only twenty minutes from the house to Miami International, but those were the longest twenty minutes of my life. South Florida traffic is, at its best, a harrowing experience. It’s a mix of people too old and blind to drive and people driving according to the law – the law, as Dave Barry says, of their home country. The speed limit is viewed as, at most, a suggestion. I was not a shy driver. I had cut my teeth driving in New York where defensive driving is viewed as a sign of weakness. Marty made me look like a little old lady. He was the perfect combination of New York trained aggressiveness and Miami obliviousness. He, as was the wont of many surgeons and successful people, believed that it was imperative that things be done immediately. A friend who had gone to medical school in Miami said that, during his surgical rotations, he observed Marty doing surgeries in 45 minutes that would take other surgeons 2 hours. He drove his Range Rover the same way. He would drive at 85mph, weave in and out of traffic and pull up an inch behind the bumper of whomever he wanted out of his way. Normally, I would have been in the front with him and thanked g-d that Jess now got to do this. I saw her grip the bar above her seat so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Finally, against all odds, we arrived at the airport. Marty opened the tailgate and Jess went to take out the suitcases. She lifted the large one with a grunt and gave me a look. I knew that look – the look of ‘how much stuff did you take?’ I just smiled a self-satisfied grin, taking out my wheelie carry-on bag. No, I didn’t miss that part at all.
Marty came around and gave Jess a hug. He leaned down and gave me a hug and a kiss and wished us a good flight, telling us that Evelyn told us to text when we landed. He and Jess hadn’t spoken about everything since the abrupt conversation over coffee and I knew they wouldn’t, any more than my father I would have. I couldn’t tell how Jess felt about that. She never discussed it and I wasn’t asking.
We walked through the airport to check-in. Yet again, Jess had to lift the bag on to the scale. She gave me another look, this time accompanied by a slight smile as if to say, “I get it.”
We were walking to security when one of the women for whom Miami is known walked past. She was some sort of South American – Brazilian or Venezuelan, if I had to guess. She was 5’11” with dark hair, tan and gorgeous dark eyes. Flawless face. Long, toned legs. Flat stomach and perfect breasts. She was wearing a short blue mini-dress and 4” heels…and I felt nothing. No attraction, nothing other than ‘I like that dress’ and ‘now I feel like an elf.’ Jess’ head, on the other hand, pivoted to follow her, looking her up and down. Apparently, my wife was now an ass man.
We made it through security and walked the interminable hallway to our gate. It is a truth universally acknowledged that your gate will always be the farthest from your entry point. Your luggage will never be the first down the chute and you will always be farthest from the gate.
We stopped at a newsstand to buy gum and water. We finished paying and were walking away, when Jess turned to me and said, “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For everything this week. I’ve been shitty company. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I know how tough it was,” I said, taking her hand.
“That’s no excuse.”
“You keep calling me daddy’s girl. You get to be the son. It’s not all sitting on the couch while women bring you food,” I said, with a smile.
“Why did it have to be like that,” she said, unscrewing the top of the water.
“I had my whole life to learn how to deal with my father. You had four days. And your dad’s much tougher than mine.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, thanks. I’ll make it up to you,” she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“There’s nothing to make up.”
“Uh huh. Thanks for what you did for Sarah. Jill told me.”
“I was trying to help. That poor kid.”
“That’s why I love you. I don’t think I could’ve done that, even before.”
“I’m not the judge’s daughter. You are. She trained you. Anyway, I’m glad I helped. I hope it sticks.”
“I hope so. It’s more than I got from anyone,” she said, kissing me. “Oh yeah,” she said, with a smile. “Jill lectured me about how great you were. She told me if I fuck up again, I can’t stay there.”
I smiled. “Good.”
A week and a half later, my period came. I stared at the blood on the toilet paper and got depressed.
“Dammit,” I said.
“What?”
“My period came.”
“Is it heavy?”
“No it’s not,” I said, walking into the bedroom.
“Then,” and I heard recognition creep into her voice. “Oh,” she said, hugging me. “I’m sorry.”
"I mean I figured I would. I wasn't ovulating or close to it. I mean I guess it's OK."
She rubbed my back. "It's OK to be upset." She was trying to be helpful.
I walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. My hands were shaking so badly, that I had to put the gallon of water down. She followed me in. Something in me snapped. "What's that supposed to mean?" I picked up the jug again and my hands were still shaking.
She took the jug from me, poured me a glass and handed it to me. “I just meant that it's OK for you to be sad that it came, that you're not..."
"Who said I wanted to be?" I grabbed the glass from her. I don’t know why I was suddenly so angry.
"I didn't say that. I just...You just...If you were," she stammered. I was being a class A bitch and she didn't deserve it.
I took a sip. "Did you want it?"
Our kitchen had French doors at one end. She stepped back so that she was standing in the door. She was gripping the frame tightly. She was trying not to say the wrong thing. She didn’t realize that that was impossible. "I... I don't know. If you were, I would be happy..."
I pushed past her. More accurately, she moved out of the way. "Why? So you could be off the hook? So I'd be the one to go through with it? Is that it? This is what you wanted, isn't it? Me pregnant. You probably think that's hysterical. Besides, who said that I did?". Besides me, by my actions, whenever I was around a baby or Sammie.
To her everlasting credit, she didn't take the bait. She walked over to the couch. "I never said that. I think we should stop now. Maybe go take a walk?”
“Fine.” I grabbed my coat, left the apartment and just thought. Who am I? Am I deep down a girl or deep down a guy? What did I want? Jess was right. I wanted a kid. Badly. And she didn’t. Not that she didn’t want kids, but if she were her and I was me, she would’ve looked at the toilet paper with relief, not mixed feelings. Did that mean anything?
I saw a man and his son walking. The boy was about seven and holding a basketball. I could hear the father saying, “remember to keep your eye on your man, not the ball.” I always pictured having a conversation like that with my son, like my dad did with me. And, for the first time, it hit me that I might never get to. There was nothing stopping me from having it as the mom. Lots of women play sports. Clearly from the pictures in my room, I was one of them. But it wouldn’t be the same.
I kept walking. I liked being Dan Silverman. I was Dan Silverman for 33 years and I was OK at it. I could play sports, I was funny, people generally liked me. On the other hand, no one ever asked me as Dan to run for office. Assuming we could control this by getting pregnant, and I wasn’t sure that we could, was I ready to give up Dan? To be Jessica Silverman? To be the wife, the mommy, the grandma? To be defined by those roles? It was true. I never thought about it before but had come to realize that stories about successful women would talk about their families a lot more than the same story about a man would. Dan could be Dan. Like this, I’d be “Dan’s wife” or “so and so’s mother,” as much as I’d be “Jessica, the attorney” or “Jessica, the candidate.”
An older woman walked past, probably in her 70s. Her hair was perfect. She was wearing a beautiful grey tweed blazer and black wool pants. She was beautiful. And no one gave her a second glance. She was invisible. After a certain age, women just became invisible. I remember Jess making me watch “First Wives Club” once and a line stuck in my head. “For women in Hollywood, there’s only three ages – babe, D.A. AND “Driving Miss Daisy”.” Was I OK with eventually becoming invisible? Could I stop that or was I just deluding myself?
But, would I be happier as Dan again? Could I do it? Had I gone too far? Jess could tell me that she’d love me no matter what but would she really? Or was I projecting on to her? The question was really whether I could see myself as a man again after everything.
After another hour and half of walking in the cold, I went home.
Jess was still on the couch. “Hey,” she said. I could tell that she was trying to decide whether to get up or not. She didn’t.
“Hey,” I said, taking off my shoes and then hanging up my coat.
“Do you feel any better?”
I sat down next to her and stared into space. “Not really. I’m actually really freaking out.”
She sat on her hands. “About?”
“About this. You and me. And this and what it means.”
She looked concerned. “What about us? I thought we were OK. I made a huge mistake but I thought we were OK.”
“Sorry. We are. I meant us as a man and a woman, not us as a couple. Does that make sense?”
Jess looked up. “It does. What were you thinking?”
“I’m all over the place. I guess I’m really processing this.” I sighed. “Whenever I think I’ve figured it out, something bigger comes up, y’know.”
“I’m there too. But I get it. This is big. Switching bodies was big. But remember what Rich,” her old boss, “used to say? You’re not really married until you have kids. Because then, no matter what happens, you always have that link. Well, this is that at a whole other level.”
“That’s what’s freaking me out. Like I’ve gotten used to this, but I don’t think I’ve ever thought about everything that this means.”
“Meaning?”
“Like what it means to be a woman, to be a man. Forever.”
She smiled, “That’s deep.”
I got annoyed. “I’m serious.”
“Sorry. What do you mean?” She kept moving up and down the couch, like she couldn’t decide whether to sit close to me or far away.
“Like I was watching people. For the first time ever, I was really watching them.”
“You’ve always been pretty observant. I mean about people’s thoughts and stuff. You used to write.”
“Yeah, but this was different. That was looking for material. This time I was watching how everyone is with each other. Like I saw this woman, this beautiful older woman, and she’s invisible. I mean I would never have noticed her before and now I did and I knew, because she was older, she was invisible to everyone and do I want to be invisible like that?”
“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation, Dan.”
“Huh?”
She smiled. “You’re not the only one who’s ever read a book, Dan. It’s Thoreau.”
She got me. I smiled. “I know that. What do you mean?”
“I mean we’re all kind of invisible. I can’t tell you I ever thought about a good looking older guy all that much, other than maybe to compare him to my father and even that not very often. Are you afraid that if you stay like this, you’ll be invisible? Is that it?”
“When you say it like that…”
“I’m serious. You’re not invisible and you won’t be. Not to the people who matter in your life. Who cares about everyone else?”
“I’m scared. I’m worried about becoming someone’s something.”
“Someone’s something?”
“Your wife. Someone’s mother. Someone’s grandma.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I have no idea why I remember this, but remember on ‘Mad Men,’ when Pete went to tell Bert Cooper about Don’s real identity? Remember what Bert said. ‘A man is defined by the room he’s in.’ We’re all in a room, men and women. My dad is Jill and Dan’s father. The judge’s husband. The eye surgery guy. Your dad is Dave the accountant. Barb’s husband. Jessica’s daddy,” she said, stretching out daddy and smiling. “We’re all someone’s something. If we had a kid, would it matter which room you were in? Jessica’s room or Dan’s?”
“Does it?”
“Not to me,” she said. “I’ll keep saying it. I love YOU. Whoever and whatever you are,” she moved down, and took my hand.
“Me too. I guess I just feel like, even if we went back, we’d never be back. We’d be here with all that entails, y’know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like we can say it would all be normal but it wouldn’t. On some level, we’d always see each other like this,” I said, playing with my hands.
“And…oh wait, this is your ego again. I’ll say it for the thousandth time. If we changed back, I wouldn’t think any less of you. I’d probably be happier because now you understood me and what I go through better. Because you’d changed the way I deal with people and how you deal with people.” Then she smiled. “Would I keep the clothes? Some of them. But some are just not me. But I would be as happy then as I am now. Would you? Would you think less of me?”
“No, of course not.”
“So, what are you scared of.”
“I don’t know. But I know I’m scared. Really scared. I’m sorry to be all crazy.”
“Stop it. You said it in Florida. You don’t have your problems and I don’t have my problems. WE have OUR problems.”
“Thanks, but this is mine. I need to figure out what I want.” I stood up then sat down.
“OK,” she said warily.
I took a deep breath. “I know that I want a kid…”
She smiled. “Everyone knows that. Your biological clock is like Big Ben.”
“Ha ha. I think though I want to table the whole kid discussion for a while.”
“Really?” She looked shocked.
“You seem surprised.” I know I was.
“I am. Why?”
“I think I need to think about everything. I think I hoped that I was so the decision was made for me.”
She smiled. “That’s not the way it should happen. It should happen because we wanted it not because we got lazy in my parents’ house. That’s not how we want to bring a child in to the world.”
“I know. You’re right. Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For making a decision about this,” I said, curling up against her.
She laughed and put her arms around me. I felt safe but bad about what I said. “You didn’t decide this. You said what you were feeling. Anyway, since it’s likely, given the way things are, that you’d be the one having it, you should get the deciding vote.”
“Thanks. Are you OK with this?”
“Yeah. This isn’t forever, is it?” I shook my head. “Then all we’re doing is taking our time. And, when we decide, when we’re ready, it’ll be the most loved child. No matter who’s who.”
“Thanks. I’m doing the right thing, right?”
“We are.”
I said, “then, why do I feel so bad?” I started to cry. She just rubbed my back and said “shhhh.”
I was in a funk for three days. What snapped me out of it was a call Friday night from Jon.
My phone rang. I was in the bathroom.
“Honey, it’s Jon,” she yelled to me.
“Can you get it?” That was weird. Jon never called me. Even when I was Dan. I was Sammie’s friend not his, except by proxy.
“Hey Jon. What’s going on?” I heard Dan say. They talked for a while then Dan hung up.
“We need to go to Sammie and Jon’s place. We need to get her some clothes and her toothbrush. And her book on her nightstand.”
“Why?”
“Apparently, they were at dinner and she lost her mucus plug.”
That sounded gross. “What’s a mucus plug?”
She smiled. “Maybe you’ll find out. Basically, when the plug falls out, it means the baby’s dropped. Sammie’s in labor. They’re at NYU already.”
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod. That’s amazing. I can’t believe it,” I started babbling like when she told me she was pregnant.
“OK, Aunt Jessica,” she said, with a smile. “Calm down. Let’s go. Sammie needs you. And she needs you to focus.”
We went to the apartment. I packed up some t shirts, underwear and sweats. Her toothbrush and book. I went to her dresser and took some makeup.
“Makeup?” Jess said.
“Sammie?” I responded. We both laughed and Jess helped me pick some out for her.
We got back to the hospital in an hour or so. We texted Jon and met him at the nurses’ desk on the maternity floor.
“How’s she doing?” I said. “How far along?”
He looked nervous. “The contractions really haven’t started seriously yet. They’re about every minute I guess. Do you want to see her?”
“Can I? I mean I don’t want to mess anything up.”
Jess and Jon both smiled. “This is happening whether you’re in there or not,” Jon said. “I don’t think you can do anything. I think she’d like to see you.”
I went in and Sammie was lying in bed. I’d say she looked beautiful. And she did, if you ignored that she was sweaty and her makeup was coming off and she looked like she wanted to kill someone. Then she saw me and smiled. “Ohmigod, Jess. Thank you for coming.”
I smiled. “What is this? Your wedding and I’m your mom’s third cousin?” I took her hand. “So, what have you been up to?”
She laughed. “Not much. You?”
“Nothing really. In the neighborhood, figured I’d stop by. You busy?”
She laughed and kissed me on the cheek. “I am so glad you’re here. Thank you for getting my stuff.”
“Please. You would do the same. I brought you some lollipops. I think I read somewhere that you can suck them during labor to keep your mouth moist. Want one?”
“Thank you.” Then a contraction hit. “MOTHERFUCKER,” she yelled, gripping my hand. The contraction passed.
I shook my hand out. “Well, I’m glad I’m not a surgeon,” I said, smiling.
“Sorry. Did Jon tell you to bring my makeup?”
“No. But I did. Come on.”
She smiled. “You’re the best, Jess.”
“Seriously though. How are you doing?”
“I’m scared.”
That threw me. Sammie was never scared. Never. Not even in private, when nobody but me was around. “What are you scared of?”
“I’m scared of this. This hurts like hell. And I’m scared that something will happen to the baby in labor,” and she started to cry.
I rubbed her back and kissed her. “It’s going to be OK. Millions of babies are born every day. It’ll be fine. They have all the best doctors here. Nothing’s going to happen. Shhh.”
“And I’m scared about what happens after?”
“After?”
“Like when we have the baby. It’s scaring me. What if something’s wrong with it? What if it’s deformed?” There was a quiver in her voice and real fear in her eyes.
“You said the sonograms said everything was fine,” I said, rubbing her hand.
“I know. What if I don’t love it? What if I’m a bad mother? I’m really freaking here.” I was shocked. She was never this vulnerable, this open.
“You’re going to be a great mom. The best mom.”
“What if the kid hates me?” She squeezed my hand again.
“You hated Ruth. Was she a bad mother? Did she not love you?”
She laughed. I felt better. “That’s different.”
“And I have to tell you, 1997-2004? You were not that lovable. And she still loved you.”
“Shut up. Thanks for being here for me.”
“Stop it. You’d be here for me.”
“I will be.”
I thought about it. I still wasn’t there yet. I knew that if I ever did get pregnant, I knew that she would be. And that made me smile.
I stayed in there until the contractions were about 20 seconds apart. The nurse looked at me and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s just mommy and daddy and the medical team here.” Mommy and daddy. That sounded nice.
As we were leaving, Sammie said, “Please don’t go, Jess.”
“We have to leave the room. It’s the home stretch here. Just you guys and staff.”
“Will you wait in the waiting room? Please. I’m freaking and it would help.”
I smiled. “I’ll be out in the waiting area. I won’t leave it until you have the baby.”
We went out and Jess said, “Do you want me to stay with you?”
“You don’t have to,” I said, settling into a hard plastic chair for who knew how long.
She did. After a few hours, she started to doze off. I slept fitfully. Every time I fell asleep, a noise would jolt me awake. I must have fallen asleep because, at about 2:00 PM, I felt someone shake me.
It was Jon. He was wearing scrubs and had a huge smile. Jess was smiling too. “Wake up sleepy head. I’ve got someone for you to meet.”
I started to tear up. “Everything’s OK? Everything went OK?”
He smiled. “Well, I mean I’m the evil demon hell spawn son of a bitch bastard who did this to her and she’s going to have my balls waxed and then kill me. Yes, everything went great,” he said, taking my hand. He was so proud. His chest was puffed out. It made me think about what I would do. Or Jess.
That all went away when we went into the room. Sammie was sitting up in bed. She was pale and sweaty, with her gown off her shoulder. She was beautiful. There was a baby on her chest. This tiny little baby. It was swaddled in a blue and pink blanket.
“Aunt Jessica,” Jon said. “Meet Charlotte Leigh Simon. 8 pounds 4 ounces. 20 and ¼ inches. Came into the world at 1:45 PM. Came out screaming at me like her mom.”
I started to cry. “Ohmigod, she’s beautiful,” I said, kissing and hugging Jon tightly. “Mazel tov!”
I walked over to Sammie and kissed her. “Mazel tov. She’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. Are you OK?”
She smiled. “Tired. But I’m good. Did you really stay out there?”
“I said I would,” I smiled.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Oh wow, she’s so little and so beautiful. Hello Charlotte,” I cooed. ‘I’ve been waiting to meet you. I’m your aunt Jessica. You are so beautiful. You are. And we are going to be best friends, like me and mommy. And I’m going to spoil you and love you and there’s nothing mommy and daddy will be able to do about it.”
Everyone laughed. Sammie said, “You are sooooo weird, Jess.” Jess (my Jess) put her arm around me.
“Shut up,” I said. “Don’t listen to her Charlotte. You are the most beautiful baby.” She looked kind of like a space alien like all babies but she was still beautiful.
Jess smiled, “She really is gorgeous, Sammie. Mazel tov,” she said, kissing her.
Sammie said, “Do you want to hold her?” I teared up again. I don’t know why I was so emotional. I chalked it up to being happy for Sammie and Jon. It was easier than thinking.
“Is it OK?”
She smiled. “You need to get used to it, Aunt Jessica. Go sit in the chair first though.”
Sammie gently handed the baby to Jon, who held her like a bomb about to go off. He walked slowly to the chair, muttering, “I can do this.” When he got to the chair – all of three feet from the bed – and handed her to me, he let out a huge sigh of relief. It was adorable.
I looked down at her in my arms. She had a little head of dark hair. Her eyes were closed, in the way that newborns are. I cradled her in my arms and put my hands under her bottom and legs. I traced her little body with my finger. I felt a calm feeling wash over me. I looked up to see Jess taking my picture.
“I didn’t know you were taking a picture. I would’ve smiled.”
She handed me the phone. “You did.” I had an ear to ear grin in the picture. I was looking down at her and smiling. He showed the phone to Sammie and Jon, who both smiled.
Jon surprised me. “It looks good on you, Jess. You guys are the best. Thank you for everything.”
We stayed there for another half an hour talking. Charlotte was named for Sammie’s grandpa Charlie. When Jon’s parents arrived from Westchester, Jess said, “Let’s let grandma and grandpa have some quality time with Charlotte now.” I didn’t want to leave but I guess that they were entitled to some time with her too.
“I’m hungry,” said Jess. “There’s a diner on 2nd. Can we go?”
“Sure. Do I look like hell?” Jess’ clothes were wrinkled and she had bags under her eyes. I could only imagine what I looked like. I felt gross and couldn’t wait to shower.
“You look beautiful. You looked beautiful holding Charlotte. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy. It was the most natural picture in the world,” she said, kissing me.
“Was I a dork in there? I was, wasn’t I?”
She smiled. “No, you weren’t. You were you. You were beautiful. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about…you know.”
“So was I. You looked really happy.”
“I was. I’m trying to figure out what it means.”
She took my hand. “Everything doesn’t mean something. Plus, you slept in a chair all night. You were happy for your friend. Leave it there.” She was right. Not that it didn’t mean anything. Just that now wasn’t the time to try and parse it.
We were eating when I blurted, “Emma Riley.”
Jess was shoveling eggs into her mouth. “What?” she mumbled.
“I was thinking of that name for a baby, when we have one – Emma Riley Silverman. What do you think?”
“It’s pretty.”
“Is there a name you like?”
“I don’t know. I was always told the mom gets to choose kid number one,” she said. I started to say something but didn’t. Then she said, “I like it. Who’s it for?”
“Emma for Grandma Miriam and Riley for Grandma Rosie.”
She smiled. “Your dad will love that. Barb not as much. Daddy’s girl.”
“Stop. I’m not daddy’s girl. I’m your girl,” I caught myself. “Like you were mine.” That was convincing.
“Yes, you are. You’re my girl and daddy’s girl and I love you.” Which would have been much more romantic without the little particles of toast flying from her mouth. “What if it’s a boy?”
I had to think. “Harris Ian?”
“Grandpa Harry and Grandpa Ike? I think I like Ian Harris better. Flows better.”
“You’re right. That is better. Is that OK?”
“And you’re not daddy’s girl?”
“Shut up.”
We walked home up Second Avenue, hand in hand. At one point, out of nowhere, she twirled me around. When we got home, Jess said, “Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m so happy for Sammie and Jon. Charlotte is beautiful.” I smiled, “and I’m really horny for some reason. Interested?”
She grinned devilishly. “Well, I don’t want to be rude.”
We went into the bedroom and I put on a nightie. It was the middle of the day but I was feeling incredibly girly. I blamed it on the baby. Must’ve released some hormones.
Jess started kissing my neck, then nibbling my earlobe, which always got me excited. She lifted the nightie and started rubbing her hands over my hips. She started playing with my nipples.
“Oh g-d, you are getting me so wet,” I moaned. “Please. Please.”
She turned me around and kissed me deeply. I could feel her penis. She kept rubbing her hands up and down me. I jumped and wrapped my legs around her. She threw me on the bed. She reached into the drawer and put on a condom. The sex was amazing.
We finished up and I was resting with my head on her chest. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah,” she said, with a well-earned, self-satisfied smile.
“Seriously. And thanks for remembering the condom.”
“I’m using them until you, we come to a decision. No accidents. This needs to be something we decided to do.”
I smiled, “I’m glad one of us is thinking. I’m such a mess.”
She kissed me gently. “Stop perseverating honey. Just breathe and be mindful.”
“Thanks, Zen Master.”
“I’m serious. Don’t think about it. Just be for a while and you’ll figure it out. But stop trying to figure out what everything means.”
“Who said I was?” I was.
“I know you. You’re the smartest person I know, besides maybe Jill, but sometimes with both of you, your brain gets in the way.”
I tried to just be. I figured it was like learning how to be Jess. This was just another way.
Two weeks later, Dan’s boss Melissa had her annual Christmas party. It was on a Friday night at her house in Westfield, New Jersey.
I was wearing the blue and green shift that Jess liked so much, with open-toed 2” heels. “Do I look OK?” Since my freak out, I seemed to be alternating between very feminine clothes and androgynous, like the clothes would make the decision. I knew that was pathetic.
Jess smiled, “You look gorgeous. I love that dress.”
“Thanks, honey,” I said, pecking her on the cheek. We pulled up to the house. It was a four-bedroom house. They had recently finished the basement and done some other work. I came in holding a bottle of wine and some presents for her kids. She had a three-year old son Ben and a fourteen-month old girl, Layla.
She met us at the door. She was 5’3”, dark haired with dark eyes. “Hey guys. Thanks for coming. You’re first. Jess, you look amazing. Dan told us how well you’d been doing.”
“He did? Thanks, honey. It’s all him. He got us running again.” I was happy. I don’t know that I would’ve done the same in reverse. “Thank you for having us. The house looks great.”
“Thanks. I’m glad the work is done. I never want to smell sheet rock again.” I handed her the wine. “You didn’t have to,” she said.
I smiled. “Yes, we did. My mom would kill me.”
She laughed. “Mine too.” Then, in a pitch perfect Newark Italian accent. “You went to the house without something?”
Just then, I saw Ben peeking out from the stairs. I smiled. He giggled then turned around. Melissa said, “Ben, since you’re not in bed, like you’re supposed to be, come here and be polite.”
He walked down the stairs. He was wearing footie pajamas. He was so cute.
I squatted down. “Hi Ben.” He played shy.
“Ben, say hi to Mrs. Silverman.” He smiled and didn’t say a word.
“OK, so Ben, how old are you?” This was my go-to. What could I say? It worked. When I said ’97,’ he said, “three!”
“I also bought some p-r-e-s-e-n-t-s for someone.”
“Well, now, you really didn’t have to do that. I’m serious.”
“It’s nothing. I went to the stores in Grand Central. Can I?”
She smiled. “Fine.”
“Ben, I brought you something.” His eyes widened. I loved that look of pure joy on a little kid’s face, even in the service of greed. “Do you like trains?” I knew he did. Jess told me.
Melissa laughed. “I spent my last paycheck on Thomas and Friends, if that gives you any idea.”
He opened the present. It was two wooden subway cars. I bought them at the Transit Museum gift shop. He smiled. “What do you say, Ben,” Melissa asked.
“Thank you,” and he gave me and Jess hugs around our legs.
“You’re welcome. These are the 3 and the 4 trains. The 3 train is how Mommy gets from the train from here to work. And the 4 train is my train. I also brought you a subway map, so you can see everywhere the train goes. It’s even bigger than Sodor.” Melissa looked surprised. “3-year old nephew,” I said.
Ben said, “Wanna come to my room and see my trains?” He took my hand to show that that really wasn’t a question.
Melissa laughed when I said, “That was Dan’s go-to line, too.”
We walked up to his room. It was covered in train stuff. Train posters. Train cars. A little engineer hat. He started babbling, “And this is Thomas. And Henry. And James. And Toby.” Then he put the subway cars down. “These are Ben and Silver. I’m Ben. You’re Silver. We’re going to play.” And we did. Ben and Silver went over the trestle. Ben and Silver went past the mine. When I told him that subways went under water, Ben and Silver became submarines. Cut him some slack. He was three.
After a few minutes, I unfolded the map to show him all the trains. He sat between my legs as we traced the lines with our fingers. I was showing him how to get from Penn Station to Yankee Stadium when I felt someone behind me. It was Melissa and Jess, standing there, smiling.
“OK. It’s time for someone to go to bed,” Melissa said.
Ben looked at her, sad and said, “We’re getting married.”
I ad-libbed, “Boy, he really is just like Dan. Well, where will we sleep?”
“In here.”
Melissa laughed. “I bet you’ve always wanted a train-themed bedroom.”
“What about Dan?”
“He can sleep in the basement.” Everyone laughed.
“That’s enough Ben. Say goodnight and thank you.”
He gave me a kiss and said, “thank you.” I smiled and gave him one back.
We were walking down the stairs when Melissa said, “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
I smiled. “It was fine. I’ve never spent more time in a guy’s room with no regrets. What can I do to help?”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop. Enjoy yourself. The food’s all out. Relax and enjoy yourself.”
People started coming in. Everyone came over to us. The nice wives and girlfriends all congratulated me and told me how good I looked. Others just looked me up and down.
Then, there was Jess’ co-worker Natalie. She was about thirty pounds overweight but was one of those women who had been beautiful in her 20s. She still carried herself like it. In my experience, there are formerly fat thin people and formerly thin fat people. The former, who included Jess, always carried themselves with a feeling of shame. When you were the fat kid, no amount of weight loss ever makes you shake that feeling. Similarly, formerly thin fat people still think they're amazing. Chris Christie was the classic formerly thin fat person. Natalie looked me up and down and sneered, “Good for you. I wish I had the time to do it. Must be nice.”
I thought about saying something like, “You wouldn’t know how, bitch,” but thought that would be bad form. I went with, “I really just did it to be healthy. The weight loss was a nice side effect. But thanks,” I said, brightly. She got up and took a plate of chicken parmigiana.
Dan’s co-worker Ramona smiled and whispered in my ear, “Bitch. Maybe cut back on the chicken parm.” I laughed and then she said, “You don’t have to be nice to her.”
I smiled. “It’s fine. Life’s too short to worry.” I left out the ‘and it’s fun to screw with them.’
She smiled. “I have to tell you. I’ve been working with Dan on this launch and he’s being doing amazing. I mean he has everyone collaborating. The meetings are great. He’s really got this running.”
It was funny. I don’t know that I ever thought about Jess at work. I knew what she did. I knew who the people were. But I don’t think I ever thought about who she was. “That’s great.”
“Seriously. He’s amazing. These past few months, he’s really stepped up.”
The party went on. More people came in.
I ended up in conversation with a lot of the wives. That was inevitable at work parties. The company people – men and women – ended up speaking in the shorthand of people who spent all day together. The wives all congregated together. The few husbands ended up in stilted conversations about work and sports. I hated company parties.
I saw Annie Woods. Annie’s husband Lee and Jess had worked together for years. Annie was a documentary filmmaker. I always enjoyed talking to her. I think I was in awe of people who got to be creative for a living. I just protected rich people from other rich people. “Hey Annie,” I said, giving her a kiss.
“Wow. Look at you,” she said, kissing me. “You look great. I love that dress.”
“Thanks. What’s new? What are you working on?”
She smiled. “That’s always your first question.”
“I’ve told you. I’m just jealous that you get to be creative. So anyway...”
“I’m trying to get funding for a film on high school cheerleaders.”
“Like, the ones who cheer for football or competitive cheer?”
“I don’t know. I mean competitive cheer is interesting but I think I want to explore the other kind. But not in a campy way. Like I want to understand what makes them tick. Like who are these girls who subsume their identities for these guys? There’s title IX and all, and they do this.”
“I don’t know that they see it that way. Like maybe they see this as an end in and of itself. There’s a lot of practice.”
She grinned. “Were you a cheerleader? I could totally see that.”
“Hardly. The cheerleaders in my high school were skanky.” And girls. And I used to be a guy. “What does that mean anyway?” I wasn’t upset just curious.
“I was teasing. You have a bubbly personality.” I was bubbly? “Anyway, so what are you saying?”
“I mean I get the whole sociocultural thing you’re going for and I wouldn’t tell you how to do your movie but I think starting with the idea that this is an affirmative choice they’ve made of their own free will could be a different take.”
Just then, another woman chimed in. “Sorry to butt in, but this is fascinating to me. I grew up in Hong Kong and there is nothing like this there.” She put out her hand. “I’m Daisy Chang, Eddie’s girlfriend.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Jessica Silverman, Dan’s wife and this is Annie Woods, Lee Zelman’s wife.” Back into the room again.
“Nice to meet you. Eddie came in and basically left me to my own devices.”
Annie smiled, “Welcome to the club. I always tell Lee ‘you see these people all week. Don’t you want to meet someone else?’ FYI, the answer is no.”
“How did you end up here from Hong Kong?”
“I came to go to Julliard,” Annie said.
“That’s so cool. What for?”
“Cello. Yes, I’m the stereotypical Asian girl,” she said, laughing. “Even had the boyfriend who became gay.”
“Now, I am so jealous. Not about the gay boyfriend.” They both laughed. “You two get to be creative and I’m just another lawyer.”
She laughed. “Don’t be. I’m in ad sales now. I sell to the networks. Not a lot of work for cellists.”
“Still. Anyway, do you find it harder to sell now? I mean with You Tube and all. We were with Dan’s niece and nephew over Thanksgiving and all they watch is You Tube.”
She smiled, “You’ve just asked me more than Eddie has in four months. Anyway, it’s something but it just changes what you’re selling. Less toys. More insurance.” Then we discussed my job, Annie’s other films and the upcoming Oscar race.
When I said, “he really won’t see Moonlight?” Annie and Daisy laughed.
Annie said, “He tries. He’s supportive of what I do. Watches all kinds of documentaries, most of which bore him. But gay drug dealers in Miami? Uh, let’s save the $15.”
I circulated around talking mostly to the other women.
I went to check on Jess. I found her in the basement having a conversation with a bunch of the guys from work and some of the husbands. There was a big TV with an old PS4 hooked up to it, couches and a bar in the corner. Clearly, Rich, Melissa’s husband, had his man cave.
“I’m telling you,” she said, “the right team can open up on Alabama and win. Have you seen DeShaun Watson at Clemson? I’m serious. Don’t send the trophy to Tuscaloosa just yet.” I hooked my arm through her arm and just listened and watched her. She started talking about work. “So, we’ll set up a meeting with the regional managers for Chicago and Seattle. Let’s see if we can get someone in to speak at Hutchinson.” I had watched her before but for the first time, I saw her. Or more to the point, I saw Dan. People were listening to him. I saw a strong confident man. Someone in his element. Someone comfortable in his own skin. And I was proud.
After a while, I went upstairs. I started picking up dirty plates and bringing them into the kitchen. Melissa looked at me and said, “Stop. We’ll take care of that later.”
“I don’t mind. Besides, you did all of this. I know what it’s like to face the aftermath. I’m going to do it anyway, so where’s the garbage?” I took a bag into the living room and started filling it up.
When I brought it back in, Melissa said, “Thanks. I really appreciate it. By the way, I heard you talking to Ramona and she’s right. Dan has totally outdone himself at work. You should be proud. It hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
I smiled, “I am.”
“Can I say something? I hope it’s not too weird.”
I laughed. “Always an interesting way to preface a sentence.” She looked shocked. “I’m kidding. What?”
“You seem happier. More comfortable. Dan too. I’m sorry. That’s weird, isn’t it?”
“No. I think we are. I think getting healthy did it.”
“Maybe. Maybe that’s it. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.” That maybe was a no. She wanted to say something more but didn’t.
I smiled, knowing what she meant. “I didn’t think you did. Thanks.”
Before it could get too sentimental, Sydney, a twenty six year old from the office, came staggering in. “Hey guys. I was just looking for some ice,” she slurred.
Melissa gave her some ice and rolled her eyes.
I laughed. “She’s a kid.” It was her house, so I left out my dad’s line – there are no work parties, just work in a different setting. That and, “you may not remember the night, but the boss always does.”
She laughed. “Can you give her a ride back? She took the train out and I don’t think taking it back is a good idea.”
“Sure,” I smiled.
As we were leaving, Annie said, “So, I’ll call you. Let’s figure out a time. Dinner before?”
“Sounds great. I’ve got Daisy’s contact info.”
Then, Leanne, whose husband worked with Dan, came over, “I’ll shoot you some dates for dinner, OK?”
“Sounds great.” Jess just looked at me.
As we were leaving, I gave Melissa a kiss. “Thanks again. So call me and let me know when you want to come in. Ben will totally love the Transit Museum. Unless you just want an adult dinner. Either. Or both.” Jess looked confused.
We poured Sydney into the car. She slurred, “Mind if I take a traveler with me,” she said, holding up her cup. Jess took her cup and poured it out. “I think you’re good, Syd.” Within fifteen minutes, Syd was passed out. You could hear her snore.
“Did you have a good time?” Jess said.
“Yeah. I did. You?”
“Yeah. What was all that about at the end?”
“Well, Annie, Daisy – she’s Eddie’s girlfriend – and I are going to see Moonlight next week. And we’re going to dinner with Leanne and Pete. She has to get a sitter but we’ll pick a date. And Melissa is going to bring my future husband in and we’re going to the Transit Museum and for pizza. Unless she decides that she wants to make it an adult thing.” Jess’ mouth hung open. “What?”
She smiled. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” I didn’t know what Sydney could hear so I didn’t say anything.
We got to Sydney’s place and brought her upstairs. I fished through her bag for her keys, took off her shoes and coat and put her on the bed. Jess laughed, “She’s going to feel that tomorrow.”
We got home. I was taking off my shoes and said, “What?”
“What what?”
“That look on your face in the car. When I told you about our plans.”
“Nothing. I’m glad you had a good time. You seemed like you were.”
“I was. It was nice talking to everyone,” I said. “It was fun. I like them. Most of them.”
She smiled. “Natalie’s a bitch. She’s good at what she does, but she’s a bitch. I told you. But I’m glad. You really looked interested.”
“I was. They’re interesting people.”
“OK. I guess it was weirder for me. Because I worked with their husbands and all.” That was part of it. The other part was Jess’ weird competitive streak with other women.
“You looked really happy too. Everyone told me how great you were doing.” I was wiping off my makeup. By this point, I was used to the fact that it took me three times as long to get ready for bed. On the other hand, Jess still washed her face before bed, which is something I never did when I was her. Or me. Or whatever I used to be.
“That’s cool. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a good time at one of these things.”
“Me too. Melissa said we seemed happier. Are we?”
“I am. You?”
“Me too. I told her it was because we got healthier.” By this time, I was in my nightie. I climbed into bed.
Jess looked at me, smiled and said, “Yeah, that must be it.” She leaned over and gave me a kiss.
I was looking at my book. I wasn’t reading just looking. I looked over at Jess and realized that she was happy. She was Dan and she was happy. A happy, confident successful man. And I was happy for her. And I was happy as Jessica. So, why couldn’t I pull the trigger?
Monday night, Jess and I met for dinner. “Hey, sweetie,” I said, giving her a kiss. “How was your day?”
“Great. Everyone kept telling me how great my wife was. Lee and Pete said that their wives couldn’t wait to see you.” She reached into her knapsack. “Melissa gave me this for you. Ben drew it for you.” It was a picture of a boy, a woman (or a taller boy in a skirt with long hair, body definition not being a 3-year old’s strong suit) and what I assumed was a train. Someone wrote, “Dear Jessica” and “Thank you,” with a scribble underneath.
I smiled. “Tell her I love it and thank you. Tell her to tell Ben it’s going in my office.”
Jess smiled. “You made some impression because she told me something else. She looked me in the eye and said, ‘What happens on the road doesn’t stay on the road for you. Got it?’”
I laughed. “I knew I liked her.”
She looked serious. “I told her not to worry. That I had the only girl I ever wanted and will ever want.”
I kissed her. I knew this was right but I still couldn’t let my ego go.
Monday January 2, three weeks later. The bowl games were on. We invited Michelle and Amanda, and Jon and Sammie over. Wisconsin was playing Western Michigan in the Cotton Bowl, then Penn State vs USC in the Rose Bowl. Amanda had gone to Penn State for medical school and Jon was a USC grad. Michelle and Sammie didn't care. As Michelle put it, "when they televise Lehigh-Lafayette, I'll watch." Sammie called them "unpaid pros," and said she'd rather watch the Giants.
Michelle and Amanda were there already when Sammie and Jon came in with Charlotte.
Sammie and Jon looked tired. Sammie was still dressed in a leather skirt, sweater and booties, with her hair and makeup perfect. But I could see in her eyes that she was tired.
"Hi guys," I said, giving them each a kiss.
Jon said, “Sorry we’re late. Charlotte was up all night.”
I was concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Sammie groaned and looked at me like I was an idiot. “She’s twenty-four days old. She wakes up every three hours on a good day. Last night was a bad day.”
“Are you still not turning on the TV?” The pediatrician had told them not to, because supposedly it would make the baby think it was play time.
“When Dr. Mills shows up at 2 AM, she can sit in the dark.” That answered that.
“Sorry,” I said, looking at Charlotte sitting there. “How are you, Charlotte,” I sang. “How are you?” I gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Can I take her out?”
Jon smiled. “Was that really a question?” Everyone laughed.
“Not really, no,” I said, taking her out. She was wearing a little USC onesie. “How is beautiful Charlotte? That’s a cute onesie. All it needs is Bucky the Badger,” the Wisconsin mascot.
Everyone was staring at me, grinning. “What?”
Sammie broke the silence. “Oh, please. You know what,” she said, laughing.
“I’m sorry that I wanted to see Charlotte. I can’t believe how big she’s gotten.”
“In a week and a half?”
“Sammie, shut up,” I said, with a grin. I put my finger near Charlotte’s hands. She grabbed it. I started to tear up. “Look, she took my finger.” I heard Amanda say to Jess, “Should I tell her that’s an involuntary reaction?” To which Jess responded, “Today’s as good a day to die as any.”
I didn’t care. I had Charlotte. I tuned everyone else out and just kept holding her and looking at her. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. My heart raced and I felt pleasure. A physical pleasure. I started to sing to her, as the game started, “It’s never too early to learn. ‘On Wisconsin…on Wisconsin…plunge right through that line.’”
After fifteen minutes, Sammie said, “OK, Jessie. Hand her over. She needs to eat. Does anyone mind if I breast feed in here or should I go in the bedroom?”
Amanda piped in, “Nothing I haven’t seen. Professionally or personally.” Michelle laughed and put her arm around her. They were a good couple.
Jon said, “My kid. My wife. I’m good.”
“You better be,” I said.
Jess contributed, “I like tits,” she said, with a big smile.
“Dan, you’re a pig,” Michelle said, laughing.
Sammie said, “You’re turned on by breast feeding? Sick bastard.” She said, taking out her breast to feed the baby. I should have been happy to see her bond with her daughter. And I was. But I was also jealous. And worried. Not because I didn’t know why I was, but because I did.
We watched the game. At halftime, the Badgers were up to 17-7. Jess, Jon and Amanda were watching half-time when Sammie, Michelle and I went into the bedroom. Even as Dan, I had started to lose my interest in pre- and post-game stuff and half-time. I liked watching the game but my patience for filling space was wearing thin.
Sammie was in the bathroom. I was holding her when I felt something. “Um, Sammie, I think she needs to be changed.”
“Can you take care of it? I’m, uh, busy.”
“Um, I’ve never done it.”
“Please? You’ve seen me and Laura.”
Charlotte was getting fussy, so I said, “OK. You can fix it after.”
I went to put her on the bed when I remembered my sister putting Tucker on the floor so he wouldn’t fall off. I put down a towel and rested Charlotte on it. She looked up me and I said, “OK, Aunt Jess is here. We can do this, right, Charlotte? We’re a team.” Michelle started to laugh. I took off the diaper and put it to the side. I took a baby wipe out of the bag and figured, ‘it’s like wiping myself.’ I put on the new diaper. I was kissing her belly and saying, ‘I love Charlotte,’ when Sammie came out.
She smiled and said, “I knew you could do it. You are such a mommy.”
“Stop…”
Michelle chimed in. “You really are, Jess. I mean, you know…”
Sammie said, “Um, yeah. So, how’s that going?”
“Good. It’s going good.”
“Back to what it was?” Michelle said hopefully.
“Yeah. Better. Made us stronger and all that.”
“So, have you talked about it? Because clearly you’re ready.” Sammie said, handing me Charlotte. I sat on the bed, holding her. She yawned and I started to smile. She was amazing.
It hit home. “Stop. We haven’t. Not recently.” I started to go into my own head. I tried to figure out what all this meant and then tried to be present. Mostly, I was going in circles.
What Michelle said next surprised me and snapped me out of it. “Come on, we can do it together.”
Sammie and I both said, “What?”
Michelle broke out into a big grin. “We decided to start trying. Richard is going to be the donor.” Richard was her gay oncologist friend. I mean, an oncologist who was gay. Fine, he was an oncologist. Who was tall. With brown hair. Blue eyes. And a fondness for guys.
“Great. He’s a smart guy. So, who’s going to carry?”
They both burst out laughing. “Seriously, Jess?” Michelle said. “You’re seriously asking that?”
“It’s a legitimate question.” It wasn’t. I knew the answer. I don’t even know why I asked.
Sammie laughed. “Come on. That’s like asking whether you or Dan were having it.” I don’t know why that bothered me but it did.
“So how come now? Other than, you know, you’re not getting any younger…”
She swatted me. “It’s time. And we figured with everything in Washington, we should start the process sooner rather than later.”
“It sucks that you have to think that,” I said. Charlotte had fallen asleep in my arms.
“Yeah, well, what can you do?”
Sammie said, “So when are you doing it?”
Michelle smiled, “Two weeks. That’s when I’m ovulating. Richard’ll do the donation and then I have a date with the turkey baster.”
“Seriously?”
Sammie looked at me and said, “For someone so smart…no, you idiot, she’s going to a fertility specialist and then they do the process…if you weren’t holding my daughter, I’d hit you.”
“Sorry, I’m not up on this.” To be honest, I had never thought about it. Guys would never talk about this. It would be like admitting that you weren’t a man because you couldn’t do it naturally.
Michelle laughed, “We’re just teasing. So, what’s up with you guys?”
“We’re fine. I mean it’s always there. But I don’t think about it very much anymore. He’s really been good, better…” I almost said, ‘than I ever was,’ “than he was before.”
“That’s good. What’s holding you back?”
I paused, putting Charlotte in the stroller. I didn’t want to, but I figured she should lie down. “I don’t know. I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what,” Sammie said, putting her arm around me.
“Afraid that we’re not OK? Afraid that he’s going to do it again and then I’ll have a kid? Afraid of being pregnant?” That this would be permanent. That I’d be invisible. That I was tearing a hole in the fabric of the universe. The usual stuff.
Sammie rubbed my shoulder. I really liked the way women comforted each other and would miss it if we changed back. “You know I’d be the first to tell you if I thought something was wrong. I don’t think there is. Believe me, I’ve been watching him like a hawk since he did it. If he is, he’s the greatest actor alive. He loves you. He’s not going anywhere.”
Michelle added, “I agree. Mand’s been watching him. You know that if she thought he was doing something, she’d say something. And even she’s said that she thinks this was one stupid thing.”
“I know…”
“Then what is it?” Sammie said. “Pregnancy? Yeah, you pee a lot and your feet hurt and your tits swell and you’re gassy…”
Michelle looked at her. “You’re not much of a salesman.”
Sammie laughed. “And then you get Charlotte. And it’s all worth it. Even being up all night,” she said, looking in the stroller, “for no good reason. I never believed that before her. And now I know it’s true. And so do you, Jessie. I’ve watched you with Tuck and Charlotte and every baby you see. You would be the best. Better than me.” I didn’t know about the second part. But I knew the first. And I was fighting it.
“Besides, just think – can you imagine how happy Barb and Mona would be? Us pregnant together?”
I laughed. “Are you kidding? ‘So, I was talking to Mona and Michelle went to the doctor and the baby has two heads and I said not to worry because….”
“Come on,” she said, laughing, pulling up her shirt and mine. She rubbed her belly against mine. “It would be so cool.”
I giggled. “Freak. Does Dan get a say in this?” I figured that would put her off.
“Fine,” she said, giggling. “Be that way. But everyone’s doing it.”
“Yeah,” said Sammie. “All the cool girls. If you love him, you’ll do it,” she said, in an afterschool special voice.
“If he loves me, then he won’t push,” I said, with a big grin. “He’ll wait.” We all burst out laughing. It felt good.
"Michelle and Amanda are going to start trying," I said. We were cleaning up after everyone left.
"That's great!" Jess said, dumping plates into a bag. She held up a bowl of chips. “We saving these?” She walked into the kitchen.
“No. Not enough. Anyway, yeah, it is great. Richard is going to be the donor.”
"That’s great. Good for them," Jess said, loading glasses into the dishwasher.
"Michelle said something weird. When I asked whether she was going to have the baby or Amanda, she and Sammie laughed and said, 'that would be like asking whether you or Dan was having the baby.'"
Jess laughed. "What's so weird about that? I mean do you see Amanda being pregnant?"
"That's not what I meant," I said, getting frustrated. "I meant the second part."
"Um, you're a girl and I'm a boy and I thought you learned this from your dad..."
"I'm being serious. If we were what we used to be, do you think she would have said the same thing to you?"
"Uh yeah, because us, Jon and Sammie, only one of the couple can get pregnant."
"Assume that wasn't the case."
She looked worried. "You're spinning out of control. That's a little nuts, honey."
"Humor me."
She stopped for a few seconds and took a deep breath. "I don't know. OK?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I don't know. If we were the old us, and either of us could have a baby and it wouldn't be weird, I don't know who would. I mean...You like kids...You have a way.... Probably you. Does that make sense?"
I started to cry. "That's what scares me."
She held me and rubbed my back. "Shhh, why does it scare you? There's nothing wrong with loving kids. There's nothing wrong with wanting a baby. I love that you love kids and, to be honest, being pregnant looks scary to me."
"I know. And it doesn't to me. It looks amazing. I think that’s what been scaring me."
She put her hands on my shoulders. "Why?"
"Because somewhere in here, I'm Dan. And I shouldn't want it."
"Says who?"
"Says everyone."
"Who's everyone? Not me. Not our families. Not our friends."
"But...."
"But what?" She smiled. "It's no secret that you want kids. I mean, long before this, you loved kids. You make faces at every little kid in the diner. If I could count the number of silly conversations you've had with a kid who's just babbling. And everyone," she said, rolling her eyes, "knows about you and Tucker. But, since this, you've been different."
"How?"
"Before you were just the big goofball. Don't get me wrong. It was great and I knew you'd be a great dad. But, now, I watch you look at babies in strollers and with Charlotte. You're sweeter and more tender. More...Maternal, and..." She started to tear up.
"What?"
"That scares me."
"Why?"
"Because, if we change back, I don't know that I can be that good."
"Of course, you could."
"I don't know. When I see Charlotte, I think, 'cute baby.' When I see you see her, I see love. When you were holding her today, it was like you two were the only people in the room, in the world."
I blushed. "I feel ridiculous."
"Don't. That's what a mommy is supposed to look like. When you hold her, when you change her, it's second nature. You look right. I see you holding our child and I think that I can't think of a more right picture."
"And you see me. Not you,” I said, putting down some plates. I was feeling faint and didn’t want to drop them.
"Yes. Don't you?"
"Yeah. That's what scares me."
"Why?"
"Because..." And I had no reason. I wanted a baby. And I wanted to have it. And I was jealous of Sammie for breast-feeding. And I was worried that we could change back and I'd be angry that Jess - who didn't even know if she wanted it- would get to have the baby. And I was angry that I felt this way. "I'm sorry. I need to lay down."
"I'll finish up. Are you feeling OK?"
"Yeah, just..."
Jess finished up and came to bed. I was in a big t shirt. An old one Jess had before. Not one of mine. I couldn't deal with that now. I was reading, or trying to. I read the same page four times.
"You OK?" she asked.
"I guess."
"Still focusing on what Michelle and Sammie said?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
"It means nothing. You're not, you never were, Dan to them. It wasn't about you. It was about Amanda. Can you see Amanda having a baby? It would be the first full term baby born in three months. She’d schedule birth between surgeries."
I laughed. "I guess..."
"And I was thinking about the second thing you said. If either one of us could have it and no one would think twice, so what if you had it?"
"Huh?"
"So what? I had no idea you were so sexist. Oh, having a baby is only a woman's job?"
I started to laugh. "Um, do I have to explain it to you now?"
"I'm serious," she said. "If either of us could, why couldn't, shouldn't it be you?"
"I suppose."
"You'd be better at it. I thought about it before all of this. I'd watch you with kids and think life would be so much easier if Dan could get pregnant. We could just do it. Dan would be so much better than me at it. He'd be better at carrying it. At having it. At raising it..."
"Do you not want kids? Is that what you're saying?"
"No, I do. I guess I've just realized that I'm more suited to being a dad..."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I'd love our kids but it's not the same. A dad loves you, teaches you to drive, takes you to practices and stuff..."
I laughed. "Now who's sexist? There are lots of dads who are the primary caregiver."
"That's not what I meant. I meant that, like when I was little, moms came in and out of pre-school all the time but when a dad showed up, it was a big deal. A special event. I knew my dad loved me and would always do stuff but I knew my mom was always there. Even with work. She just was. That's what your mom is. She's the one who's always there. I don't know if I could always be there. But I know you could, you would. Right?"
I thought about it. "Yeah. Is that weird?" I was staring at the ceiling. Jess took my face in her hands and turned it towards her.
"No weirder for you than me. If we were who we used to be, and you could have the baby, why wouldn't you? Why wouldn't the one who wants it, who'd be better at it, do it? The world's too focused on what everyone thinks. If it's supposed to be me, it'll be me. If it's supposed to be you, it'll be you. OK?"
"OK," I smiled, giving her a kiss. That night, I had the pregnancy dream again. But this time I was Jessica.
I woke up the next day and couldn’t get the discussion out of my head. I knew that I wanted kids. I knew that Jess was right and that it made sense for me to do it, assuming that whatever it was that made this happen wanted it. It was just something holding me back from pulling the trigger. From saying to her, “Let’s just do this.”
I spent the next week in a fog. I could do my job but the rest of my life was a mess. I missed my stop three times in a week. I forgot to pick up our dry cleaning – after I received an alert on my phone. I put on two different shoes and would have gone to work that way if our doorman hadn’t stopped me and said, “Is that a new style, Ms. Silverman?”
Robin and I were at lunch one day. We went to Chop’t. We ordered our salads and were walking back to the table, when I walked into the rack where they kept utensils. Several forks feel to the ground. It rattled loud enough that people turned around.
We were picking everything up when she said, “Is everything OK?”
“Huh?” I was putting the forks into my bag instead of the garbage.
“You seem kind of out of it. Like something’s bothering you,” she said, reaching into my bag and taking the forks out.
We walked to a table and sat down. I stared at the wall. “I’m just…I don’t know…I…”
She looked concerned. “Is everything OK? Is this a work thing or a personal thing?”
“Personal.”
“Is everything OK with Dan?” I noticed that women never said, ‘do you want to talk about it?’ They just assumed that you did.
“Yeah, yeah. He’s fine. We’re fine. It’s just…” I looked down at the table.
“What?”
I looked her in the eye. “Can I tell you something? Promise you won’t say anything.”
“Of course.”
“I’m trying to decide if I want to have a kid. Don’t think less of me for that?”
“Why would I think less of you?” She looked horrified and confused.
“Because you guys don’t have kids.”
“And? It doesn’t mean that I think no one should. It just means that I don’t. Jesus, what kind of a bitch do you think I am?” She looked hurt.
“Sorry.”
She smiled, “The last part was just teasing. I’m a huge bitch. But you should be careful. Anyway, do you want kids?”
“Yes. I really do.”
“Does Dan?”
“He says so.”
She pursed her lips and blew out air. “Stop being a girl. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“So, you want kids and he wants kids? What’s stopping you?”
I couldn’t really say that I used to be a guy. And Dan a girl. And that I was afraid that if we got pregnant, we’d turn back and she’d get to carry it and that I’d resent that. Or that I was permanently changing my life. That’d be awkward. “I don’t know. I’m afraid. Afraid of what’ll happen professionally.”
“That’s nonsense. Victoria has kids. Sharon has kids. You’ll get a nanny. You’ll do work at night when the little howler is asleep. That’s lame. Besides don’t let this place dictate your life. What else do you have?”
“I’m afraid of what it’ll do to Dan and me.”
“Equally lame. You said you’re good. If you’re good, it brings you together. If you’re not, it doesn’t. Are you good?”
That was a fraught question. And I really thought about it. “We are.”
“Not my decision, but you need to jump in or out. Shit or get off the pot, as Sandy says. That’s it! Secretly, you want Sandy to be the father. ‘Oh Sandy, take your Viagra and pump me full of your old crabby smelly sperm.’ On the plus side, he’d probably drop dead and then your kid will be set for life.”
I hit her. “You are disgusting. You know why you don’t have kids? Because you want Mel.” Mel was a tax partner. Like all tax partners, he was brilliant and absolutely necessary for deals. He was also short, overweight and had no personality. Mike used to ask him at the Christmas party to ‘tell a joke. Any joke. I’ll give you the joke.’ “Oh, Mel, take advantage of my depletion allowance.”
She laughed. “Whatever. Do or do not. There is no try.” I looked at her. She sighed, “Gib…”
“Something to think about. Sorry what I said about you guys.” I was still mortified.
“Please. Nothing I haven’t heard before. Whenever Gib’s aunt mentions it, I start to sob,” and she started, “’We…can’t…have…children’ and then I run out.”
“I am so sorry. I can’t believe I….” I wanted to crawl under the table.
She held up her hand and laughed. “We can’t because I take birth control. I have no idea if I can. And don’t care to find out. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re smart. Like my friend says, it’s not a puppy. You can’t give it back. Thanks. Sorry to get all weird on you.”
“Please. It was totally fine. And seriously do what’s best for you. Not Sagman Bennett. Ruth Bader Ginsburg had kids. Sandra Day O’Connor had kids. Like sixty years ago. You can do it if you want.”
“Thanks.”
After that, it became clearer. We were in a good place. I wanted kids. I wanted them before. I wanted them now. And however, whoever ended up giving birth to it, it would be our kid. I started taking pre-natal vitamins and cutting back on caffeine. I was a caffeine junkie but I knew that I’d need to cut it out when I got pregnant. I just assumed it would be me. I needed to assume that.
A week and a half later, I woke up to see Jess sitting on the couch reading a magazine.
I gave her a kiss, “Hey, honey.”
She smiled and held up the vitamins. “Something you want to tell me?” she said, shaking the bottle.
“Um…They’re vitamins?”
“I may look like this but I used to be that. I know what these are. Do you want say something?” I blushed. “Are you telling me that you want to try?”
“Try what?”
She threw a pillow at me. “The Thai place on third. You know what I mean.”
I couldn’t speak. I nodded then I said, “I do. I want to try and have a baby.”
“Even if it means that this,” and she waved her hand between us, “becomes permanent.”
“I’m ready. I want a baby. I want to have a baby. I want to be a mommy. Is that weird?”
She gave me a hug and kissed me. “It’s not weird! It’s amazing!”
“Seriously?” I started to cry. “Are you ready?”
“Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes. We’re going to do this. We’re going to have a baby.”
“We’re going to have a baby.” I was crying. “I’m such a girl.”
“Yes, you are,” she said, hugging me. “And you’re going to be a mommy. The best mommy ever.”
“And you’re going to be a dad. Are you OK with that?”
She smiled, “I am.”
I smiled. “I’ve figured out that I should be ovulating when we’re on the trip. Probably Tuesday night or Wednesday.”
“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you? Were you planning on telling me?”
I blushed. “Um…”
She kissed me again. “It’s OK. I’m just teasing.”
I smiled. “You know I’m thinking we should probably practice beforehand,” I said, pulling off her t-shirt.
We went into the bedroom. I put on a white nightie. It seemed like the right color. Like we were starting something new. I wasn’t ovulating but we didn’t use a condom.
We finished and Jess laid with her head on my stomach. I played with her hair. “What are you thinking?” I said.
“I’m thinking how great this is going to be,” she said, kissing my stomach.
“Really?”
“Really. I can’t wait until you’re pregnant. The swollen ankles. The morning sickness. The belly,” then she started kissing me again.
“Thanks. That makes me feel so good.”
“I’m kidding. You’ll be beautiful. Ankles, sickness and everything.”
“What if it’s you?” I figured I’d put it out there.
“I don’t know why but I don’t think that’s happening. Sorry, it’s you,” she said, as she kissed me, this time on the lips.
“I think it’s what it’s supposed to be,” I said, smiling.
Thanks as always to Lizzy Bennet
Jess and I were about to leave the airport to go to the Breakers. I turned to her and asked, “Do I look OK?” I was wearing a batik print dress that came to just above the thigh and a pair of Tom’s canvas espadrilles. I would have worn sandals but it was too cold.
“Stop it. You look gorgeous. That dress is perfect. I can’t believe you put in all this effort for the plane,” Jess said.
“These are your co-workers. We’re going from the airport with them. The host VP, what his name again, could be with us. I want to look good. I want you to look good.” I always noticed that the wives always dressed in skirts and dresses. Selfishly, I figured this was my opportunity to be part of the group and I wanted to look like I belonged.
“Should I wear heels?” I said. Like I said, I was nervous.
“Not unless you want to be in pain by the time we get there,” she said, laughing. “You look beautiful. That print brings out your personality.” I knew what she meant. I bought it when I went shopping with Sammie. She said, “Ohmigod, that’s so junior year. You and the guy who did the semester in Senegal…” I remembered a guy named Jordan who was always trying to impress girls with his, as Elvis Costello calls it, “fuck me I’m sensitive” rap. I couldn’t believe anyone fell for that but they did. Including me apparently.
“Thanks,” I said, blushing.
She looked at me and said, “I love you,” in a very serious tone.
“I love you too,” I said. “Is everything OK?”
“Everything is great. I love you more and more each day. Since we decided to start trying, I’ve realized how lucky I am. I love the person you were and the person you’ve become. The way that you look good so I look good. You are beautiful and loving and smart and you are everything I could want in a partner. And you will the best mother.”
I started to tear up. “OK, stop.” I hadn’t even noticed what she had said about being a mother and who I’d become. “Tell me about who’s hosting this trip.”
Jess regained composure. “His name is Bruce Conlan.”
“What’s his wife’s name?” I needed to distract myself.
She looked at the welcome e-mail. “Ellen.”
“I don’t think we’ve ever been with them before. What do we know about them?”
“Two kids. Boy and a girl, I think. Yeah,” she said, looking up. “I see the pictures on his desk. The boy’s in a baseball uniform. The girl plays soccer, I think. He’s from Boston originally. Always gives me shit about the Yankees.” She laughed. “I feel like we’re planning a robbery or an assassination.”
I laughed. “No, but it’s all part of looking good. We need to know who we’ll be with.”
She kissed me. “That’s why I love you, sweetie. Always prepared.” And I was. I had been on several trips with Jess’ company. I knew these people. I knew their kids’ names. I knew who played what sports. Not because they told me but because I’d overhear them tell Jess. As Dan, I would always be on the periphery of that conversation. The reps and managers were almost all ex-jocks and military, and the wives were, well, cheerleaders and military wives. I always felt like the wives were a little creeped that a husband would know this stuff, and that the husbands thought it weak that I would. That was a wife’s job. My job now.
We went downstairs to catch a cab. It was forty-five degrees and overcast. It had snowed a few days before. I loved the freshly fallen snow. The way it made the city look peaceful and clean. However, all that was left now was rapidly diminishing piles of dirty black snow. But we were headed to the sun and the warmth. We were leaving the gray for the light.
Jess was lugging our giant suitcase, with the carry-on balanced precariously on top. Her backpack was on her pack. I was wheeling a garment bag and a tote. She looked at me, “Getting even?” she said with a smile.
I looked at her and sweetly said. “Maybe. But it takes a lot to look this good.” Then I said, “I’m nervous.”
“About what?”
I played with the hem of my dress. “We’ve never been this way before. You were me and I was you.” I realized after that I phrased it that way. As if this was always me.
She smiled and touched my hand. “You’ll be fine. No, you’ll do great. This way, you can do what you always do – ask people questions and remember details – and it’ll be great.” I couldn’t tell if she believed that. She always called the wives “Barbies.” They said they were “perfect and plastic.” Jess always felt like they were looking her up and down, and thinking she was cheating with their husbands. Standing in the airport, headed to five days with the people she spent weeks with - away from me - the more I thought about what happened and the less I thought that they were irrational. I wasn’t even sure what I thought of “Barbie.” Was that what I was now? Was I supposed to be?
I moved closer to her. It made me feel safe, the way I hoped she used to. “I hope so. I just want this to be a great trip.” I smiled, “If I’m right, it’ll be Tuesday or Wednesday,” and touched my stomach. I just wanted it to be perfect.
Lately, I had been having incredibly vivid dreams. I was in the hospital in labor. I was Jessica, and my feet were in the stirrups. I was screaming and pushing. Jess (as me) was feeding me ice chips and telling me, “You’re almost there.” I looked down and I saw my penis and testicles, but at the same time saw the baby crowning. The umbiical cord was attached to my penis. When Jess cut the cord, my penis and testicles came off. No one said anything or even looked surprised. They just put the baby on my chest and said, “here you go mommy.” I hadn’t told Jess. I kept trying to figure out what it meant and didn’t want to burden her. Not before this trip.
We got out of the cab and Jess unloaded our luggage. The garment bag was split equally. The suitcase was, conservatively, seventy percent my things, the carry on 60/40. I straightened out my dress, picked up my tote bag and took the carry on, and gave her another smile. She rolled her eyes, shook her head and dragged everything else in.
We were standing in the TSA line. Luckily, it was a Monday and, unlike Thanksgiving, it was mostly corporate travelers. As we stood in line, they all began taking off their shoes and belts, and taking their laptops out. We moved through the line with incredible efficiency.
We walked through the terminal, hand in hand. Between wheeling the carry on and my tote bag, it was awkward and slow, but I was nervous and needed the comfort. “Why am I so nervous?” I thought. I had been on seven of these trips and usually had a good time. On the one hand, we stayed, all expenses paid, in much nicer hotels than I could afford. I played golf on the best courses. I took a helicopter to a glacier in Alaska. I swam with the dolphins in Bermuda. But, I was always the outsider. I wasn’t a Stone person and I wasn’t a wife or girlfriend. I was a guy but I wasn’t one of the guys. I was there on a woman’s dime. I didn’t provide, I was provided for. It’s not that anyone ever said or did anything, at least not outright. It was more the bemused looks, the, “oh, you’re Dan. Jessica told us about you,” the in-jokes that everyone, male and female, seemed to have. Now, things were right, at least in Stone Pharma world. I was the woman. I was supposed to be the guest. But I couldn’t shake this feeling. I knew I was irrational. I was on a free five-star trip and was complaining that people didn’t like me, people I rarely saw. I should just enjoy myself. But I still felt nervous.
“Are you OK?” Jess said, worried. “You look like something’s bothering you.”
“I’m just nervous. I’ve never been this before and I’m afraid.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid of embarrassing you. Of embarrassing me. I’m afraid that I won’t fit in.”
She took my hands in hers, hers dwarfing mine. “You will be great. You are great. Everyone loves you. Remember Melissa’s party? Everyone loved you. You and Annie and Daisy? How many movies have you guys seen?”
“That’s different. I know them. They see you every day. They’re from New York. I talked to them before all this. This is different. These are field people. I’m just scared,” I said, looking up at her.
“It’ll be fine,” she said. “We look good. You look amazing. You really do. I love this dress. Anthropologie?”
“No. BCBG,” I said.
She smiled, “I could never wear their stuff, but I love that you can,” she said, with a laugh. I knew what she meant. It wasn’t her style. It was too feminine for her. It was funny. Jess wore dresses and skirts as much as pants. She liked heels. You would never have said that she didn’t like being a woman. Since the change though, it seemed like the narrative had changed. It was like she was pretending that never was. That this was reality and that was fake.
We went to the newsstand to buy gum, water and magazines. I had some downloaded to my iPad but liked the tactile feeling of flipping pages, just like I preferred books to the Kindle. However, when we traveled, I took the Kindle. I didn’t like schlepping books and wouldn’t expect Jess to do it either.
Jess picked up a copy of Sports Illustrated. “Brushing up?” I said. That was the lingua franca for me on this trip. Like my father, if things went south, we could always discuss sports.
She smiled, “I check ESPN every morning. This is just for depth.” Oh. Excuse me. I picked up the Economist and In Style. “You are a woman of contradictions,” she said, giving me a kiss.
“I can like both,” I said. “I’m not a Barbie.” I thought about it and realized that I had no idea what Barbies knew or liked. They were distant to me and Jess had her own dealings with them. For better or worse, I’d find out, I guess.
We went for a pre-flight drink at the bar. I was staring at CNN when I heard, “Well, now look at you two. You’re screwing up bingo.” I turned around and saw Jane and Sean Manion. Jane was a lawyer at headquarters. She and I always got along, even when I was Dan. Jess maintained that it was because, “you have that snotty anti-social lawyer thing going on.” Her husband Sean was a researcher at Rockefeller University, isolating the genes that caused neuro-muscular diseases. I thought I was smart until I met Sean. It was like being the best basketball player at your high school and then facing Steph Curry. However, he wore it lightly and had a very dry sense of humor. He came up with bingo. It was a game the four of us would play on trips. We’d call out every person who was pasty and/or overweight and say, “HQ.” Kind of like car bingo.
Jane was about fifteen pounds overweight and pale, like a good lawyer. She could take an office at my firm and no one would think anything was amiss. She was wearing jeans, a sweater and flats. She looked me up and down, not cruelly just matter of factly. “I feel like an ogre,” she said, with a smile.
I blushed, “Well, now I feel bad.”
She laughed. “Don’t. I’m teasing. You look amazing. How much have you lost?”
I smiled. “Thirty-one pounds so far.” I wasn’t going to play it cute. I was proud of myself.
“You really look terrific. I love that dress too. It’s is so you.” Everyone today knew what was me except me. “So, what made you decide on all of this?" she said, waving her hand up and down.
"I don't know.” ‘Maybe, it’s because one morning I woke up and was my wife,’ I thought. I went with, “one day, I just felt like I needed a change. I felt blah and needed to do something."
"I should do something," she said unconvincingly.
“I’m in if you want to meet up for the gym.” I saw her flinch. “Or we could go for a walk. Either one, I’m up for it.”
“So, where’s the trip again this year?” She said, with a sigh. Once a trip every trip, there was a day of golf and some sort of cultural outing. The golf was for the Stone people and the few male guests. The outing was for women. Not that anyone said that. That would be a lawsuit waiting to happen. A guy could go but no guy ever did or ever would. Jane always went on the outing. She said that she hated golf and “besides, no one wants the lawyer there.”
“We’re going to the Norton Museum of Art, then a shopping trip on Worth Avenue. I’m looking forward to the museum. They have an exhibit on Lichtenstein and Monet,” I said a little too brightly, to try and get Jane upbeat. I liked Pop Art though. I had a Jasper Johns print in my office and dragged Jess to the Rauschenberg retrospective when we were in London. “I looked at in on-line. It talks about Monet’s influence on all kinds of artists…”
“OK, OK, Frida Kahlo,” she laughed. “It’ll be fine. Just make sure we hang together. Please.”
“Of course. I look forward to it. How’s work?” This was our standard opener. Someone once told me that, in New York, the first question is always “what do you do?” Work defined you and, for lawyers, it was an opportunity to commiserate with someone who understood you. Jane and I understood each other.
“I was told they won’t bother me,” she said, taking out her phone. “Oh look. ‘I hate to bother you but can you review this position statement outside counsel sent.’ If you hate to bother me, don’t.”
I took out my phone, “I know you’re on vacation but…with the end line ‘enjoy the trip.’ You have to love that.”
“Yup, I don’t care if you do and you won’t, but I want to go home and tell my husband, ‘but I told her to enjoy herself.” We both laughed. I felt a little better. I had Jane. When I was Dan, I had Jane and being Jessica wouldn’t change that. Jane wasn’t a Barbie and she wasn’t really a headquarters’ person either. She was a company lawyer. She always said that, “they think we screw up deals. No one recognizes or cares that we make sure that things are done right.” Being their lawyer was like being their teacher. You made sure they did their assignments before recess. You couldn’t hope to be liked. The best you can hope for is that, if things go south, people occasionally appreciate the work you do.
While Jane and I talked shop, Jess and Sean started talking about cancer therapies. Like I said, Sean could talk knowledgably about anything. But, as I half-listened, I noticed that Jess was holding her own. She was discussing clinical trials and relapse rates and I was impressed. I suppose that I shouldn’t have been. This was her job and had been for ten years. But there was a confidence in the way she spoke that made me feel proud of her.
Eventually, Jane and Sean went to the newsstand and another couple came over. He was about 6’2”, 195 lbs., brown hair and green eyes. He was the sort of blandly handsome person you found in a mid-priced clothing catalog or on a mid-market television station reading the news. Handsome but not off-puttingly so. He and Dan shook hands for about three seconds. Enough to demonstrate familiarity if not any affection.
“Jessica, this is Mark Turner. He’s the new district manager for the capital region, by Albany. Mark, this is my wife Jessica.”
“Hi Jessica,” he said, shaking my hand. I shook his hand lightly. I had to remember that I didn’t have to assert my masculinity. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said. ‘And now to Dave with sports,’ I thought. “This is my wife, Courtney.”
Courtney was about 5’4”, blonde with green eyes, 120 lbs. If I had to guess, a size four. She was attractive in a junior league, Tracy Flick kind of way. (If you haven’t seen Election, put this down and see it.) She had the carriage of someone who was told by her mother from childhood that that the most important thing you had to sell was yourself and that, if you carried yourself like you belonged, eventually you would. And so, she never fully did.
I could tell that Courtney was doing the same analysis of me. I stuck out my hand, “Hi, I’m Jessica. It’s nice to meet you.” I felt like I was in kindergarten again.
She took my hand for a second and said, “Nice to meet you too.”
“So, tell me about you. Where do you live? Do you have any kids?” I said, probably a little too eagerly.
With poorly disguised disdain, she said, “we live in North Colonie. We have two kids, Jenna, who’s four and C.J., who’s two. How many do you have?” The presumption threw me.
I smiled, “None…yet,” I said, putting a little too much emphasis on yet. I thought, ‘but I’m ovulating on Wednesday and we’re trying, if that’ll make you like me.’
“Oh,” she said, the mood shifting. She looked me up and down. “That’s a nice dress.”
“Thanks. So’s yours.” We stood there for a minute, while Jess and Mark discussed work. She brightened when she saw my In Style. “Do you mind if I look at that?” I was excited that she wanted to see it and handed it over. Like a four-year old who wants someone to play with him. Or her. She flipped through the magazine silently.
“Oh, that looks interesting,” I said. It was an article entitled, “What to Wear on a Plane.” “I wish I had seen that before we left,” I said, with a slight giggle.
“Heh. Yeah,” she said, then looking down at the magazine again. I felt anxious. My pulse raced. I was embarrassed. I had no idea why she didn’t want to talk to me and why that bothered me. As Dan, I always felt on the outside but it never bothered me like this. I would’ve thought her a bitch and moved on, but something was making me internalize it. I paused, said, “that’s not you” to myself five times and then turned to Jess and Mark.
“So, how are the Xaldor materials coming along?” Mark said. Xaldor was the drug of which Jess was now in charge. OK, this conversation was boring. I saw Jane and Sean coming back and thanked the gods.
“Thank g-d you’re back,” I said to Jane.
She laughed, “Uh, we went to get coffee not to war. What happened?”
“I tried talking to her,” I said, pointing at Courtney, “and I got nothing. I even gave her my magazine and still nothing. It’s like I’m invisible.”
She looked at me quizzically. “And this surprised you why exactly?”
“I don’t know. I just thought that…” I didn’t know what I thought.
“Princess Country Club would be nice?” That seemed harsh. Even after Courtney rejected me, it felt harsh. “Let me guess she asked if you had kids, and when you said no, that was it?” Jane and Sean had no children. I had no idea why not, but it wasn’t my business.
I nodded, “Yeah.”
“This has never happened to you before?” Well, no. Last year, it would’ve happened to Jess, not me and I never noticed. Or subconsciously I wanted her to feel embarrassed and get pregnant. Be careful what you wish for.
“It has,” I lied. “I guess it just hit me for some reason.” I’m a girl for one. And I’m trying to get pregnant. And now I’m the wife. All the usual stuff. I had become Jessica. It was no more something I thought about locking the door when I left the apartment. It was just there. But, now, being here in the dress with Courtney looking me up and down and ignoring me, I became acutely aware of who I was. And who I wasn’t. And I felt sick.
Jane looked at me. “Drink some water. You don’t look good.” I took a sip and sat down. She sat down next to me. “It’s her loss,” she said. Then she smiled. “It’s all the weight loss. It’s made you light headed. Seriously, look at you. I’m reporting you to the bar.”
That made me laugh. “Thanks. I don’t know what happened.”
Courtney walked over and handed me the magazine. “Thanks,” she said, then walked back to Mark and Dan.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Oh, this is Jane Manion,” I said, in a mocking tone, when she was out of earshot. “Jane, meet Courtney. Courtney, Jane. You two have a lot in common….”
Jane smiled. “That’s better. Just relax, have fun. Or as much fun as you can have.” Jane was the master of the sotto voce aside. The snotty comment under her breath. Like all good lawyers, she was a cynic. She’d watch the beach Olympics and the awards ceremonies, and she and I would make a never-ending series of comments. Teddy Roosevelt once said, “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena.” When it came to these trips, Jane and I did not subscribe to this theory. It was easier to stand on the side than put yourself out there. I had tried and I had failed, repeatedly. But, as the new me, I wanted to try again. I owed Jess that and still I was failing. And it was killing me already.
Jess came back over. “What did I miss? Anything interesting?”
I started to tell her about Courtney but decided against it. She needed to be Dan and she needed to be on her A game. Jane and I bad mouthing Courtney would serve no purpose. I hated this feeling but saw no reason to bring her down. I said, “Nothing really…”
The flight was uneventful, which is really all you can hope for in a flight. We landed at PBI. Jess was off-loading our luggage from the carousel and said, “where is the damn porter?”
“Oh, please, someone will take it from you in two minutes. Besides, karma…”
Sure enough, we were met by one of the meeting planners holding a ‘Stone Pharma Champions Club’ sign. I had come to realize how much they focused on this kind of garbage. ‘Champions Club.’ ‘Winner’s Circle.’ The long-time people were in ‘the Master’s Society,’ where you got a green jacket and everything. Law firms worked on a simple model. Bill more. If you billed enough long enough, you made partner which, to quote my friend Matt, ‘was like a pie eating contest where first prize is more pie.’ That’s it.
“Welcome, Champions!” The woman holding the sign said. Jane, Sean and I looked at each other. “Are you ready for fun?”
Under her breath, Jane said, “I’m ready…not sure I’ll have it but I’m ready.”
I giggled, “Stop it. We’ll get in trouble.”
Jess said, “We’re all looking forward to a great trip!” She could fake corporate bullshit with the best of them. “What’s on the agenda?”
“Tonight is the welcome dinner. You’re long-time champions so you know that it’s very relaxed.” Relaxed in the way that being surrounded by your bosses and co-workers, co-workers who are trying to figure out how to beat you for the next trip or promotion, always is. It was a little different for Jane and Jess, since they were headquarters people and didn’t have quotas. But Jess still had to be nice to the field people since they were profit centers and she was a cost center.
She kept going in a false-chipper style normally only used by Disney guides and timeshare salespeople. “Tomorrow is beach Olympics, then the afternoon by the pool.” The company was big on team-building. We’re all a team. Stone Pharma – Building a Better Future Together. And everyone really seemed to buy into it. This was foreign to me. I once asked Jane once if legal believed this and she rolled her eyes, saying, “we say we do because they want to hear it, but c’mon Dan.”
“Then the big day. Golf for the guys, and ladies, are you excited for Worth Avenue?” Legal clearly hadn’t spoken to her.
I said, “Actually, I’m really looking forward to the museum.” She laughed nervously. “No, seriously, I am. They have a really interesting exhibit…”
Jane, with a smile that I knew was sarcastic but the guide didn’t, said, “Lichtenstein and Monet. Did you know how many artists you wouldn’t think were influenced by Monet?”
The guide smiled or, more accurately, had this nauseous rictus on her face. “I see some of our other Champions. Wait here. The shuttle will be here in five minutes,” and then she all but ran away.
“Jane,” I laughed. “That was mean…”
“You started. I, for one, did not know Monet influenced Lichtenstein. I thought she’d like to know,” she giggled. “Oh, great. Here come the Barbies.”
The meeting planner came with three sets of couples. The men were all about six feet tall and in good shape. They all wore perfectly pressed khakis with their polo shirts tucked in, and their wives were all exactly the same. 5’6” to 5’8”. 135-145 pounds. All dressed tastefully. There were two blondes and a brunette. They were all extremely attractive but, like Mark, not so gorgeous as to be intimidating. It was a truth universally acknowledged that pharma reps were gorgeous. The guys so that they could get past the office managers and the women so that they could charm the doctors. I was measuring myself against them and decided I was better looking that the shorter blonde.
I immediately recognized one couple, John and Bonnie Chapman. John was the regional manager for the Midwest. We had been on a trip to Bermuda with them two years ago. Jess could not stand Bonnie. She called her “the Barbie-est Barbie of all the Barbies.” I had committed to not bringing Jess’ baggage to this trip. She was her and I was me. Well, I mean I was her and she was me, but you know what I mean. This trip was a blank slate. I was going to give everyone a fair shake.
“Hi Bonnie,” I said brightly. “How are you? I haven’t seen you guys since Bermuda.”
She looked me up and down, and with a merciless smile, said, “Oh my goodness, Jessica, I didn’t recognize you. You have lost SO much weight. You are HALF the woman you were before.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jess tense slightly. I saw Bonnie give the other two women a look out of the corner of her eye.
It hurt, but I chose the path of tactical sweetness. “Why, thank you, Bonnie, for noticing. It’s been a tough road and it’s always nice to have someone give me that recognition. Thanks,” I said, with the sweetest smile I could muster. I saw Jane and Sean look at me and smile. “How are John, Jr. and Kayla? How does she like kindergarten? And John has to be in the fourth grade now.”
“Um, yeah. They’re...fine,” she said, looking from the other women and back to me.
“Glad to hear that,” I smiled. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jane and Sean, watching with amusement. Jess just looked scared.
“And…yours?” Bonnie said, uncertainly. I knew she had no idea what she was talking about. So, I went with:
“None yet,” I said, smiling. “You can’t remember everyone,” you bitch. Then, I went in for the kill. I turned to John and said, “Is John, Jr. still a defenseman like his dad?” John played collegiate hockey at Lawrence University in Wisconsin. He and I would talk Wisconsin sports in between moving Bonnie and Jess away from each other. Bonnie glared at me. I gave a sweet smile, but hoped my eyes said, “You aim for the king, you best not miss.” Or queen.
John gave me a big smile. “You have one heck of a memory, Jessica. They wanted to move him to center. He’s one heck of a skater and a shooter, but still…” Bonnie kept looking me up and down.
I smiled. “I know that, even if he plays center, you’ll be happy. I mean he could be the next Mike Modano.” John was a Minnesota North Stars fan. Mike Modano was their Hall of Fame center.
John smiled, “You were paying attention in college, weren’t you?” he said, with a smile. He touched my arm and I thought Bonnie was going to stab him.
Then, I turned to the other two couples and said, “Hi, I’m Jessica Silverman. I don’t think we’ve met.”
Bonnie’s eyes flickered anger but, like the good corporate wife she was, she regained composure. “These are Jeff and Cindy Kelly and Doug and Donna Krohl.” Looking at the women, she said, “Jeff works for John out of Milwaukee and Doug out of St. Louis.” The women smiled, resembling nothing so much as the second and third runners-up at Miss USA. They hated the outcome but needed to maintain a smile. Cindy was the shorter blonde. She had a cute face but my body was better. OK, not only was I a girl, I was being a bitch and I needed to stop.
I wanted to say, “no, they work for the company, as does John,” but went with “Well, it’s very nice to meet you both. Tell me about yourselves.” Before they could speak, Bonnie, looking at the planner, said that, “the shuttle looks like it’s filling up. Let’s go catch it.” And off they went.
Jessica rolled her eyes. “Honey, you can’t do that. I’ll get in trouble.” I smiled and shrugged.
Jane giggled. “How the hell did you pull all that out of your ass like that? And who the hell is Mike Modano and how did you know him? Did you date?”
I smiled. “Litigator’s trick. I have a good memory. Plus, I remember her talking about them. Incessantly. Should we go catch the shuttle?”
Jess said, “How about we wait? I’d rather not watch you and Bonnie kill each other just yet.”
That was fine. I had no interest in sitting with her. As we sat there, various couples came over. I knew about half of them from prior trips. I had a variation on the following exchange more than once:
Me: “Hi, [fill in name here], how are you?”
Wife: “Hi. I apologize but have we met?” She clearly has no idea who we are. The husband says nothing because it’s not his job to know who I am. He knows Jess from meetings as the product guy.
Me: “I’m Jessica. We were in Cabo (or Bermuda or Cancun or more than one) together.”
Wife: “Oh yeah. Now I remember.” She doesn’t. “You look different. You changed your hair.” Yeah, that’s it. It’s my hair. If your kid’s teacher changed her hair, you wouldn’t recognize her either.
Me: “Don’t worry about it. There are a lot of people on these trips. Well, this is going to be a great trip.”
Wife: “Oh yeah, we’ll catch up at the hotel,” she says, gnawing off her leg to get away.
Me: “Definitely,” I say, with a bright smile. We won’t. She leaves. I feel depressed. It doesn’t matter who we are. I’m a wife. I’m one of you but I’m not.
What ended my feeling of self-pity was when one of the managers came over, shook Jess’ hand and said, “Dan the Man! I haven’t seen you since Chicago.” Chicago was the meeting where she cheated on me. “That was one hell of a trip,” he said, while Jess laughed. It had become a fading scar, and now I was reminded of it.
The scar became an open wound when a cute blonde came over and said, “Dan! I haven’t seen you since Chicago.” She touched his arm and said, “That was so much fun. You have to come to the Mountain States conference next month.”
Jess laughed and said, “Well, let me check. Xaldor’s keeping me busy.”
I smiled and looked her in the eye. “My husband has absolutely no manners. I’m Jessica Silverman,” I said, taking her hand.
She smiled. “Oh, I apologize. I’m Becca Romano. I’m the district manager for Idaho. It’s so nice to meet you.” The feeling wasn’t mutual.
“You too. Where’s your husband?” I couldn’t believe that I heard myself saying that, but I did. And I meant it.
She held out her hand. “I’m not married.” I tried to not to rip her hand off. “I’m here with my friend Kristy.” Kristy. Kristy and Becca. Becca and Kristy. “She’s getting her luggage…oh, here she comes.” Kristy was absolutely gorgeous. 5’9”. Brown hair, blue eyes. Long legs. Perfect body. Every guy in the airport was looking at her. I would have. Even like this, I would have. I caught Jess looking at her, and gave her hand a hard squeeze. She looked at me as if to say, “what?” The way I would have.
“Oh. I am sure you two will have a great time. Dan, I think we’re on the next shuttle. Let’s go,” I said, gritting my teeth. We walked ahead of Sean and Jane. I periodically threw angry glances at Jess. She just looked dumbfounded.
I behaved myself on the shuttle. It was a forty-minute ride from the airport to the hotel. I reconnected with the people who remembered me, and talked about their kids. None of them asked about my job, which was fine under the circumstances. I was the good wife.
We got to the hotel and I was momentarily calmed. I felt the warmth on my face and could smell the ocean. I always loved the smell of the ocean. We always went to the Jersey Shore when I was younger. The smell of the ocean reminded me of being a kid, of running in the ocean, of frozen custard and skee-ball. Of a time when my worst problem was that Laura had more tickets to redeem for useless but utterly necessary plastic crap. I had gone to a place in my mind and hoped that the ocean would bring me back to where I needed to be.
Jess took my hand. “What’s wrong?”
I looked at her and said, “Nothing. Nothing is wrong,” in a tone that I hoped ended any inquiry.
It didn’t. “Seriously, what? Bonnie? She’s a bitch. You know that.”
I decided to let it go. I needed to believe that Chicago was an aberration and focusing would do me no good. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m half the woman? “
Jess laughed. “I’m the one who should be offended. I mean I was the whale, not you. Mike Modano,” she said, shaking her head.
I smiled. “You said it. I’m a woman of many contradictions.” I was calming down. “What do you want to do?”
“Go to the room and unpack. Then let’s play it by ear. We should go to the welcome desk first.” The trip was run by a travel company. The welcome desk was a special check in desk for Stone people only. It was where you booked activities and made dinner reservations. They had a basket of snacks – energy bars, cookies, that sort of thing. I made a mental note to avoid it. Access to free Oreos wouldn’t jibe with what I had packed. I was such a girl.
We went to the desk and found a 24-year old blond there. The travel people were all 24 years old and blond. As Rachel, one of Dan’s co-workers who had held the job previously put it, “That’s who wants the job. Girls who think it’s cool to travel. By 26, you realize that making sure we have dinner reservations isn’t cool and it’s not really travel.”
“Hi, welcome Champions! I’m Tracey. Whatever you need, you call down here and you ask.” She looked up our names. “You are on the blue team for Olympics tomorrow. What size shirts do you need?”
I said, “Dan will take an XL and I’ll take a large.”
She smiled, “If you want one to sleep in, I’ll see if there are extras and leave one in your room tonight. I meant for the games.”
“That’s what I thought.” I liked showing off but was suddenly thinking about other women. Tracey was looking me up and down.
She smiled and handed me a small. “This is better.” It was, but I wasn’t sure.
We went up to the room. It was a beautiful ocean view room with a king sized bed. The blinds were opened and the sea smell came in. I went to the window and took a deep breath. “I love that smell,” I said.
Jess came over and put her arms around my waist. She kissed my neck and said, “I love you. This is going to the best trip ever. I promise. Whatever you need, whatever you want. I promise. I want this to be special.” I want to pretend Chicago never happened. I don’t want to hear about it. I want to kill Becca. And Kristy. Even though she didn’t do anything but be Kristy. Which was enough.
“It’s already special,” I said, turning around to kiss her. I looked up at her eyes and said, “this is what we’re going to remember nine months from now.” I didn’t feel at all self-conscious. I was ready and committed to having a great trip. She started reaching under my dress.
“Sorry,” I sighed. “I was reading that you should abstain for 36 hours before we really try. And that’s tomorrow afternoon. I’m sorry,” I said. And I was.
Jess groaned., “I know. This is what we want, but it still sucks,” she said, looking at her erection. I knew the feeling and felt bad for her. But I wanted to have a baby and wasn’t going to let anything get in my way.
I smiled, “I’ll make it up to you the rest of the trip I promise. This is important to me.”
She put her arms around my waist and pulled me close. It felt good. It felt safe. “It’s important to us. I can wait.” That made me feel good. We were us. And we were having a baby. And Chicago was in the past.
We went downstairs. The first person we ran into was Jack Todd, a regional manager from Charlotte, who was there with his daughter Nikki. I recognized her from a picture he had shown me once. She was a dead ringer for her mother.
I walked over and gave Jack a kiss. “Jack, how are you?” He smiled. He and I always got along reasonably well. He treated me like one of his people, not like the rare husband thrown into the mix. When I first met Jess, I disdained sales people. Over time, I had come to appreciate the skill. We’re all selling something, whether it’s pharmaceuticals, legal services or teaching. The best just didn’t make you feel that way. “Where’s Joyce?”
“Joyce is taking JJ on college tours,” Jack said, “so Nikki decided to give her dad one last hurrah,” he said, with a wistful smile.
I got worried. “Is everything OK?”
He smiled. “Everything is fine, Jessica. Nikki’s engaged. This time next year, she’s not going to be my little girl.” I started to tear up, partly because my dad never got that with me and because I never got that with him. And I’d never get that with a daughter.
Nikki smiled and took his arm, “you’ll always be my daddy, no matter what,” and she gave him a kiss on the cheek. Jess looked over at me and smiled. She took my hand in hers.
I was about to cry and to break the mood said, “Wait a minute. JJ? College? That’s impossible. He’s, like, ten,” I laughed.
Jack smiled. “We’ve known each other a long time, Jessica. He’s, G-d help us, a senior.”
“Yet I haven’t aged a day,” I said, flicking my hair. Jessica rolled her eyes. Jack was from South Carolina originally. Here we go. “Is he considering Furman or is he following Joyce to SC?”
When I was Dan, this would’ve gotten me a sideways glance. Now, Jack just laughed. “You have a phenomenal memory, young lady. Dan, you must get in a world of trouble.”
Dan said, “More than you know,” and he laughed. Jack thought he was joking. He wasn’t.
Jack saw a couple come in. “Excuse me, but that’s one of my new district managers and her husband. I need to welcome them.” He walked away and Nikki stayed with us, until Jack said, “Honey, sorry, your mom’s not here. This is part of the trip.” I watched them approach. The husband had the same confused look I always had. He looked Jack in the eye and shook his hand. I could see the muscles in his forearm tense as if to say that he was a man too.
Jess took my hand and said, “Are you OK, honey?”
I smiled, “Fine. I’m just emotional. Must be the ovulating.”
Jess smiled, “I know you. You were thinking about your father. It’s OK.”
I feebly protested, “It was something else…” I was having visions of my father walking me down the aisle and tearing up. Of me looking at Jess in a tuxedo waiting for me. Of my father telling me he loved me and would always love me.
I was about to excuse myself to cry in private when I heard, “Jessica Silverman! Is that you?” It was Julie Mannheim and her husband Will. Julie was a manager in the Denver office and was one of the people who engaged me in conversation as Dan.
I gave her a hug and a kiss. “Julie! How have you been?”
“Doing fine. Although not as fine as you. Turn around and let me see!” I gladly did. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look amazing. Dan, why didn’t you tell me?”
I laughed, “Yeah, Dan. Why didn’t you?” This was what I needed.
Jess stammered then smiled. “I..uh..wanted to..uh..surprise you.”
“And here is exhibit A in why Dan isn’t in the field,” she said. “He can’t BS worth a lick.”
“He does fine at home,” I laughed. “How’s everything? How’s life in Denver these days?”
“Oh, it’s fine. The team is pulling its weight. Making our numbers plus. That’s boring. How’s life in litigation?”
I knew she’d remember but was always impressed nonetheless. The best reps made you believe they cared. “You’re good,” I laughed.
She smiled, “I’m a salesperson, Jess, and…”
“Your father was a lawyer. Anyway, life is fine. Jane and I were just joking that everyone told us to have a good time and relax, and we’ve only received ten e-mails since we took off.”
She laughed. “I remember when the company first started issuing Blackberries. They said it meant we were important. I’d like to be less important.”
I decided to be the good wife. “Will, how are you doing? These people,” I said, pointing at Jess and Julie, “see each other all the time. How’s life at Dish?” Will was a systems engineer for the Dish network.
He smiled, the grin of someone who knew that he was in a place where he was a curiosity at best and an afterthought at worse. Maybe I was projecting. “They’re actually putting me in charge of network operations for Sling.” Sling TV was a subscription service that was trying to get people to drop cable TV.
“Well,” I said, with my best corporate wife smile, “we’ve been thinking about cutting the cord. Give me your elevator pitch.” Jess and Julie laughed and started to talk about work, while Will and I discussed Sling. I noticed that he never asked about my job. Even in our shared condition as outsiders, I was still just the wife.
We made the rounds at the pool and said hello to a bunch of people, most of whom I had met at some point. At about 4:30, everyone started to drift away. The party was at 7 and everyone needed to relax and get ready.
At about 6:30, Jess had finished showering and shaving. She put on a blue polo shirt, khakis and deck shoes. This took all of twenty minutes.
I was putting on my make up when she said, “You look amazing.”
I was wearing a short white organza dress with little pink roses printed on it. It was short, but not too short. It passed the fingertip test. I had on sandals with 3” heels. I had had a pedicure done right before we left. My toes were pink. I wanted a friendly color and so avoided reds or darker colors. Other than shorts and work out clothes, I had packed dresses and skirts. I liked them and needed to be in the right frame of mind regardless. “What do you think of this? I can wear the shoulders up or down. It’s flirty but not too bad, no?”
She smiled at flirty and said. “It’s perfect. I knew you’d pick the right thing. I’ll be proud to have you on my arm.” Proud? That was weird.
“Proud?”
“Yeah, proud. I like having a beautiful girl on my arm. Makes me feel powerful. You never felt that way?”
I paused. “I liked having you on my arm. I never thought about power, but OK…” I couldn’t figure out what she meant, but figured now was not the time to try. “I’m glad you like the dress. I was worried I didn’t choose the right thing.”
She smiled. “I had no doubt you would. You look gorgeous.”
We walked hand in hand to the elevators. I was watching Jess. She was standing up straight, with an open stance. What I mean is her body language said, ‘this is my space.’ She stood in the middle of the elevator. I always went to the back.
Several other couples got on at various floors. The women all looked each other up and down. I could feel them mentally tearing each other apart. (“Her eyes look puffy.” “She’s put on weight.”) The ones who knew each other exchanged pleasantries, but it mostly struck me as tigers circling each other. It’s not that men weren’t doing the same thing just less subtly. Men were missiles. You could follow the flight path. Women, I had come to learn, were land mines. You didn’t know where they were buried. I was smiling until one of the men said:
“Dan, I haven’t seen you since Chicago,” he said with a chuckle. Then he turned to me and said, “your husband is a great guy.”
It was a throwaway line. He meant nothing by it. It was sales BS but it hit a nerve. Jess, and hopefully only Jess, saw my eyes flicker. I regained my composure and said, with a smile, “Yes, he is. I’m Jessica,” I said, offering my hand.
“Nice to meet the woman behind the man. I’m Nick Theodore, and this is my better half, Diana.”
Diana was about 5’5”, with dark hair and dark eyes. “Very nice to meet you both,” she said, with a bored smile that suggested that she had been in this movie more than a few times.
Jess smiled. “Nick’s down in Atlanta. He’s in Jack’s region.”
I smiled, “Jack’s a terrific guy. He’s here with his daughter,” I babbled. Anything to fill the air.
“He is,” Diana said.
I tried again. “What do you Diana?”
She looked me up and down. “I’m a teacher. And I take care of our daughters.” Just then, the elevator opened. “I see some people I know. We’ll catch up later.”
Jess and I held back for a second. “What’s wrong with me? Do I look funny? Is my makeup ruined?”
Jess, in an effort to comfort me, said, “Relax. Some women are just bitches, especially here. Just be you and you’ll do great.” I wasn’t comforted and didn’t believe that. I just had to stop myself from trying to fill the air. I always did that when I got nervous. If nothing else, the change had made me realize all of my weird habits.
We came into the informal dinner and I looked around. I saw several people that I had met over the years. My eyes were drawn to one couple. He was about 48 with salt and pepper hair. He was wearing a blazer, polo shirt and khakis. She was about the same age, blonde rinse in a blue short sleeved dress with a v neck. She had the practiced smile of a politician’s wife and a look in her eyes like she would rather be anywhere else. I turned to Jess and said, “Bruce and Ellen?” The host VP and his wife.
She smiled. “How did you know?”
“She looks bored. Watch. Everyone keeps coming over to them. See, the guys all stand a little taller and try and box out the guy next to them. The wives all smile a little more brightly and lean in slightly when he talks. Now, watch,” I said. “That blonde is going to loop her arm through her husband’s and look up at him like he’s the greatest thing ever. Watch.”
Like clockwork, she did. They made a few minutes of small talk and then Ellen would deftly maneuver to the next couple. Eventually, they made their way to us.
Jess smiled. “Bruce, great to see you outside of the office.” Bruce was based in New York, so they’d see each other around.
Bruce smiled, “You too Dan. You must be Jessica,” he said, with a smile and a handshake.
Clearly, he had memorized the list before coming. “Very nice to meet you.” I turned to Ellen and said, “You must be Ellen. I’m Jessica Silverman. It’s nice to meet you and thank you for hosting this.”
She seemed surprised but smiled. “Nice to meet you as well and you’re welcome. You’re the first person to thank me,” she said, giving Bruce a quick glance. “The travel people do the hard work though.”
I let the first part hang there. “I know but you’re still hosting, which must still be a lot to do,” I said. “Dan mentioned that you have two kids. How old are they?” They looked surprised, but amused. “He mentioned pictures in your office, Bruce. They play soccer and baseball, right?” I turned to Jess and said, “You better have the right guy…”
Ellen laughed. “You’re lucky Dan. Those are mine. Emily is 15 and Patrick is 13. How did you remember that, Jessica?”
I smiled. I almost said, ‘Girl Scout. Be prepared,’ but decided to lean in. “Professional trick.”
Bruce laughed. “Poker player or psychic?” He was a good salesman which is why he no longer had to sell. He could make others do it.
“Even worse. I’m a lawyer,” I said, with a smile.
Ellen said, “Really? I would never have guessed. You seem so…normal,” she said, with a grin. “Sorry, Bruce’s older sister is an attorney.”
I smiled, “Well, I do hope you won’t hold that against me.”
Bruce laughed. “She won’t. I may but she won’t.”
I smiled. “Dan and I both have older sisters. No explanation necessary.”
Ellen smiled and touched my arm. “Jessica, it was very nice to meet you. I would love to keep chatting but part of hosting is mingling. We’ll catch up later.” Even if that was insincere, I felt better. At least, someone talked to me.
Dinner was buffet style. I had salmon, orzo and salad. Jess ate roast beef. I would have preferred that but my clothes were not going to forgive that. I ate mostly trying not to drop anything on my dress.
We sat with two couples, Johnny and Denice from Cincinnati and Rich and Claudia from Cleveland.
Denice was the Stone person, and Johnny was a police officer. “So, you one of those people who makes my life difficult?” He growled at me after learning I was an attorney. Denice broke off from her conversation with Rick and Jess to glare at him.
“Not unless you’re putting up buildings in New York,” I said, with a smile.
He laughed, “I was just teasing you. You’re too normal to be a criminal lawyer.”
I laughed, “You’re the second person to say that to me. Do I want to know what that means?”
He just smiled. “Nope. Do you have any kids?”
“None yet,” I said, with a smile.
He smiled. “Do you want any?”
Denice swatted him and shook her head. “I think he’s taken one too many to the head.”
He said, “You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say because we’re looking to get rid of some.” Denice swatted him again.
“How many do you have,” I said.
He laughed, “Five. Ages 20 to 7. I’m looking to move my 14 year old, Jacqueline. I’ll even pick up her phone bill.”
I turned to Denice, “These must be Johnny’s from his first marriage. You are too young to have a 20 year old.”
She turned to Jess and smiled, “I like her. You treat her right.” I assumed that was a Chicago reference. It was nice to hear but made me realize that I was now a face to an act. “Nope, they are all mine. I’ve got the body to prove it,” she said, laughing. Then she went back to the Stone conversation. They were discussing a new product launch meeting.
I turned to Claudia and said, “I’m sorry. We’ve been excluding you. Tell us about you.”
She laughed, “I was having fun listening. I feel like I’m on an interview. I’m not a cop and I’m not a lawyer.”
Johnny joked, “So you’re actually normal.”
She laughed, “I’m a CPA. I guess I’m normal, boring but normal.”
“My dad’s a CPA. You’re not ALL boring,” I said, hoping she got the joke.
She laughed. “Thanks. Let’s just say that, at a party like this, no one ever says, ‘hey, look a CPA. I bet she has interesting stories!’” I liked her.
We spent fifteen more minutes talking. Claudia had a 3 year old son, Robbie. When I said that we didn’t have kids yet, she and Johnny both laughed and said, “Take your time.” Claudia said, “I love Robbie but let’s just say I’m happy with the break.” Johnny smiled and nodded.
I went up to get dessert. The one weak point of these trips, and it was admittedly a weak complaint as weak points go, was the desserts. It was fruit, petit fours and what I called “funeral cookies,” the sort of cookies you brought to someone’s house for shiva. A Catholic friend called them “christening cookies,” and asked “why funeral cookies?” I repeated the Lenny Bruce line about holidays – “Christians celebrate. Jews observe.” I knew I’d eat fruit but would’ve liked some chocolate.
I was picking up some fruit when Ellen sighed, “I could really go for some chocolate. I don’t know who picks these desserts.”
I smiled. “I know what you mean. If they had ice cream, I’d be embarrassing myself.”
She laughed, “Somehow, I doubt that. I’m sorry about before.”
“For what?” I had honestly forgotten about it. I didn’t know to what she was referring.
“Ending the conversation so abruptly.”
“No apologies necessary. You have to meet everyone. I totally get it.” Then I paused, “What’s that like? I mean I like meeting everyone.” I figured that made me sound like the good wife.
“It’s fun…mostly,” then caught herself. She smiled slyly and said, “That’s privileged, right?”
I mimed locking my lips and throwing away the key. “I didn’t hear anything.”
She smiled. “I like you. It’s fine, really, but tiring. I meet these people and I have to remember who’s who and who Bruce is happy with and who not…”
“Well, if there’s some way I can help you out, please let me know.”
She looked pleased. “Thanks. What does your husband do again?” I realized that she was trying to figure out whether I was sucking up to her.
“He’s a senior product director. He’s working on Xaldor now.”
She smiled. “So, he’s a headquarters person?” In other words, not one of her husband’s people which I was presumed was a good thing.
“Yes, he is,” I said. “We’re just cost centers,” I said, with a smile.
She laughed. “I like you Jessica. I may take you up on your offer though.” She touched my arm and said, “I am going to get to know you. But duty calls.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Donna Krohl looking at me. She gave me a smile and a wink.
I went to find Jess and she was in deep conversation with some of the other men. I listened for a few minutes. She was really holding her own. Everyone was busting each other’s chops, in the way that guys do to show affection, and she was giving as good as she got. She had always been insecure in these conversations but not anymore. I just watched her and was proud. I didn’t even notice that no one ever asked me anything.
I moved away and was standing by myself, alone and exposed. Courtney came over and sighed. “We’ve been on five of these trips and I never get used to it. But, this is the first one here.”
I started to say ‘excuse me,’ but realized that could be misinterpreted. “It’s seven for me, all here. I know how you feel. Where were you before?” I noticed the way I slipped into “you.” Mark and Jess were here. She and I weren’t anywhere.
She smiled. “I’m sorry about before. The kids were cranky. My mom is watching them and she was, you know…” I smiled knowingly. “Add to that that Mark just came over from GSK and I don’t know anyone here. I get nervous sometimes and then I get rude. I don’t really mean it.”
I was surprised at her openness. After all these months, I was still amazed by the way that women would admit vulnerability to each other. “I get it totally. I accept your apology even though it isn’t necessary.” It was but it was still appreciated. “Can we start over? Hi, I’m Jessica Silverman.”
She smiled. “I’m Courtney Turner. It’s nice to meet you. I love that dress, by the way. Where did you get it?”
“Thanks. Macy’s. So, Courtney, I know you’re from North Colonie and you have two kids and a mom who’s annoying, which is redundant.” She laughed. “Tell me something about you. Something Mark wouldn’t tell Dan.”
She looked surprised. I waited for her to run laughing and tell everyone what a freak I was. Instead, she looked amused, “How much time do you have?”
I smiled. “Seriously.”
She looked thoughtful. “You know, no one ever asks me that. I’m from St Paul. I went to the University of Minnesota, where Mark and I met. I have a masters’ in early childhood education, not that I get to use it with all the moves.”
“How many times have you moved?”
“Three times in five years and I know we’re not done. Sharks and all,” she said, rolling her eyes. The mantra in the field was apparently be a shark – keep moving or die. The further up you moved, the bigger the shark you were. The metaphor annoyed me. You’re not a shark. You’re a salesman.
“Wow. That has to be a killer. So, you have a masters’ degree. What would you do if you could do anything?”
“Huh?” I guessed that no one ever asked her that. Or asked her much about herself. She was Mark’s wife, Jenna and C.J.’s mom. I felt bad about how I mocked her before.
“What would you do if you could do anything? Professionally, I mean.”
“Early intervention,” she said immediately. Clearly, she had thought about this. This was her room.
“Kindergarten early?”
“Earlier than that. My thesis was on interventions with toddlers. They said that wealthy kids hear thousands more words by the time they’re age 3 and it impacts brain development. These less well-off kids start off at this huge disadvantage. And it’s not just the number of words, it’s the quality. Sorry, that’s kind of wonky.” I had noticed the way that women apologized so much. And I understood now why it drove Evelyn so nuts. Courtney was smart and had an idea, but she was afraid to own it.
“Don’t apologize. I asked.” I thought about what she said for a second. “That makes sense. I walk around my neighborhood and I hear all these moms, ‘Look at the blue car. Look at the white dog. Yes, honey, the sign says ‘Stop.’ It’s an octagon. A red octagon. Where’s your nose? I half expect the kid to say, ‘shut up already.’” She laughed. “But then I’m thinking about the women on the train and it’s usually be quiet or eat your chips and I totally get that they’re probably going to or from work and are way tired, but what you’re saying totally makes sense. That sounds like a great thing you want to do. Better than me. Protecting the rich and powerful from the poor and powerless.”
She smiled. “Someone has to. That’s how do-gooders like me get paid.” She paused, “I don’t know why I told you all this.” Because you recognize that I’m not one of you. That, even if I wanted, there’s no one for me to run screaming to. Because you want to be heard like I do. “This is between us, right?”
“Ask me if you should get sued.” She looked at me like I was nuts. “Just ask it.”
“Should I get sued,” she asked warily.
I smiled. “No. Now I’m your attorney and this is privileged.”
She giggled. “OK. I thought you were a lawyer.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.”
“It is. You’re smart and you ask questions. Anyway, again, I’m sorry about before. I really like talking to you. I don’t get that kind of chance too often, especially not here.” Mark was waving to her to come over. She sighed, “Time to pretend,” she said, fluffing her hair with her fingers. “Do you want to see if we can go to the same informal dinner?”
I smiled. In seven years, I don’t remember that ever happening. We just ended up assigned to a group, like mismatched guests at a wedding. “That would be terrific.”
“I’ll ask the planner,” she said, walking away.
I felt better. I had made a friend. Two maybe, if Ellen was being sincere. I felt a little less alone.
Jess came over. “I saw you talking to Courtney. I’m surprised. You looked pretty upset with her in the airport.” I shouldn’t have been surprised that she noticed, but I was. I had forgotten that she had been this a lot longer than I was.
“It’s fine. She’s cool. She was just having a shit day. Plus she’s new. They just came from GSK.” It’s amazing. One day on a trip and I’m using the plural.
“What were you guys talking about for so long?”
“Educational theory.”
“Educational theory?”
“Yes. Educational theory. She has a master’s in early childhood and we were talking about language and brain development in infants and toddlers.”
“How did you get there?”
I smiled. “I asked.” The look on Jess’ face told me that she never had and would never have thought to. “Anyway, she asked if we wanted to try and be in the same informal dinner group. I said yes. Is that OK?”
She looked shocked. “That’s, uh, great. I like Mark,” she said, with a smile and a shake of her head.
That, unfortunately, was the high point of my evening. I met some of the wives, or other wives to be accurate. The conversation was fine. But, every so often, one of the managers would bring up Chicago. And I felt like they were looking at me.
After the sixth time, I said, “Can you excuse me for a minute?” I went off to a bathroom away from the group and I cried. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked in the mirror and I saw me look back. Not Jessica, me. I felt emasculated and cuckolded. I thought I was past it, but I wasn’t. I loved Jess. In my heart and mind, I knew it was a one-time stupid mistake. But hearing everyone talk about the trip just made me remember what had happened and I threw up.
I sat on a bench and cried for five more minutes. Then I splashed some cold water on my face and went back out. My eyes were red. I fixed my makeup and I got a glass of wine to cover my breath and calm my nerves, and walked back over to Jess.
She was standing with a group of people. “I was about to send a search party,” she said with a smile. The smile was for everyone’s benefit. I could see concern in her eyes, but I wasn’t sure whether it was for me or for her.
“Sorry. Woman stuff.” I knew that would end the inquiry. Jess gave me a look that called bullshit on me but didn’t say anything. I was going to excuse myself but decided that wasn’t fair to Jess. She hadn’t done anything. I mean she had, but she didn’t make people bring up Chicago.
We went up to the room and started to get undressed.
“What happened?” She said. “Why were you gone so long? I got worried.”
“Nothing,” I said. “I needed some time alone. To clear my head.”
“You were crying.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
She looked at me. “It may be your face now but it was mine for 33 years. I could tell. Why?”
I took a deep breath. “Chicago.”
“That was one time. I told you that. I thought you believed me.”
“That’s not it. It’s everyone talking about how great the trip was. And then they look at me. I feel like a freak. A weirdo cuckold freak,” and I started to cry again.
She hugged me tight. “You are not a freak. I’m an asshole. I was an asshole then and I’m an asshole now for not stopping the conversation. But no one thinks anything about you except that you’re beautiful.”
“Yeah, well, I feel it. I don’t mean to ruin your night.”
“You didn’t. I hate that you’re in pain. I wish I had a time machine to change what happened.” She looked miserable.
I decided to lighten the mood. “I’d use it for lottery tickets and Amazon stock, personally.”
She laughed. “I’m serious. And I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”
“It’s OK. I was proud of you tonight.”
“Proud?”
I looked her in the eye, took her hand and said, “Yeah. Proud. I was watching you today. You were strong and confident. And I was listening to you and Sean and you really know your stuff. Maybe, I never said it enough but I’m really proud of…” and I was going to say, ‘the man you’ve become,’ but that sounded like something your dad says at graduation. “How you’ve handled everything. How you’ve adapted. I’m proud to be on your arm.”
Jess just said. “Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Were the Barbies OK to you?”
“Most of them. You know what? Can we not call them Barbies anymore?” I said, hanging up my dress. I went into the bathroom to take off my makeup and wash my face.
Jess came in and stood behind me. “OK. Sure. What brought that on?”
I looked at her in the mirror and said, “They’re people, not plastic. And I want to think of them that way. And now I’m one of them. So let’s not, OK?” I was starting to get upset. I don’t know why. They weren’t my friends. I thought about it. That was her term. And I wasn’t her. I was me and I needed to distance myself from her. So that I could put Chicago out of my mind.
She looked shocked. “It was just a comment. I know you’re agitated. So, let’s not talk about it, OK?”
I went into my drawer. I was going to put on a nightie but wasn’t in the mood now. I put on a big Wisconsin t-shirt and got into bed. I leaned over, gave Jess a kiss and passed out. Tomorrow was another day.
Once again, LIzzy Bennet, thank you for all of your help and encouragement
I woke up Tuesday morning ready to face the day. Today was the day we were going to try and get pregnant. I had been regularly checking my basal temperature and I was sure that this afternoon was the perfect time.
Jess was next to me, still snoring. I looked at the ceiling and thought about yesterday. “Do you really think people care that much? Do you really think they spent time going, ‘do you think she knows he cheated on her?’ No, they didn’t. People are self-absorbed. If they thought about Chicago at all, it was when they saw Jess and then they moved on. Calm down. Be positive. Today is the day. No matter what, be positive. I was not going to let anything bother me. Let’s start the baby on the right path. Happy daddy. Happy mommy,” and I smiled. I was going to be a mommy and I touched my stomach. I couldn’t wait to feel someone growing inside me.
I decided to go down to the lobby and get coffee and bagels to surprise Jess. Maybe, I’d grab her a chocolate chip muffin as well. She liked chocolate chip muffins. We called it the socially acceptable way to eat cake for breakfast. I put on a t-shirt and shorts, pulled my hair into a ponytail and went downstairs. I debated putting on makeup and decided against it. It was 7:30 in the morning and I figured no one would be there and, if they were, so be it.
I walked into the lobby and got the coffee and bagels. I looked out onto the patio, saw the sun and smelled the ocean. I decided that Jess would probably be sleeping for a while, so I thought I’d sit for a while and just enjoy the day. I was relaxing and just letting the sun shine on my face. When you’ve spent all winter in New York, it feels rejuvenating to be able to sit in the sun in shorts and t shirt and just relax.
I watched the travel staff supervise the hotel workers in setting up for the beach Olympics. It was 7:30 and they were up and working already and the Olympics started at 10:00 A.M. I could see why Rachel said that they had burn out. “Hi, Jessica,” I heard a woman say. I turned around it. It was Becca.
I took a deep breath. “Hi, Becca.” I hoped she’d go away. This was not a way to start my positive day.
She didn’t. “Did you have a good time last night? It was great meeting you.” I was not a morning person even with people I liked.
“It was good. Good to see everyone.” I paused, “What about you and Kristy?”
“We had a good time. It’s nice to meet the husbands and wives of the people you know.” Don’t you mean the wives of the men you fucked?
“That’s great,” I said, “I was going to surprise Dan with this, so I should get upstairs before it’s get cold. I’ll see you on the beach. You and Kristy.” OK, that last part was unnecessary.
“Yup,” she said, in a chipper voice. “See you there! Which team?” How long, bitch, do you expect me to talk to you?
“We’re blue.”
“We’re white. Well, good luck.”
I held up the coffees. “You too. See you later.”
I walked upstairs and started to get irritated. How dare she come over to me and think we’re going to be friends? Then, I took a deep breath. Be positive. Send positive thoughts into the world. I read that somewhere. Think about what makes you happy. Jess makes you happy. The sun, the ocean make you happy. This afternoon makes you happy. I opened the door. Jess was just waking up. “Where did you go?”
I smiled. “I got you coffee and a muffin. Or a bagel. Your choice,” I said, putting it on the nightstand next to her. She was in her underwear with no shirt. She looked good and I wanted her in the worst way, but I wanted a baby more and so I waited. Stupid basal temperature.
“Wow, that’s so sweet. Thank you,” she said, giving me a kiss. “You’re the best.”
I smiled, “Thanks, so are you.”
“Are you OK? You were pretty agitated last night,” she said, sitting up.
I smiled and put my finger to her lips. “That was yesterday. Today, I’m being positive.” I was almost starting to believe that. “Today is about positivity. We are going to do beach Olympics, then lay by the pool and then you,” I said, grabbing her crotch, “are going to impregnate me. Are you ready for that?”
She smiled and pulled me backwards. She was an inch from my face and said, “I’m always willing to try. As many times as necessary. More if you think that’ll help.” My pulse was racing. I needed to get up or we’d be doing it now.
“Stop, it’s not even twelve hours and then I’m all yours.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this but I knew I meant it. “Please.”
She kissed me. “I can wait. We’re going to be parents.”
I smiled. “Last chance. Do you want to wait to see if we switch back?” She better not say yes, I thought.
She smiled and took my hand. “Not one bit. You?”
I smiled, “No,” I said, taking off my shirt and shorts. “I’m going to change. Do you think I should shower first?” I had no idea why I was asking her. I think I felt the need to fill space.
“There’s no need. You showered last night. We’re going to be in the sand and stuff. You’ll shower before dinner tonight.” That was a fair point.
I went to my drawer and took out my bathing suit.
Jess said, “Hold on. What’s that?” She was smiling.
Busted. I held it behind my back. “Nothing. A bathing suit,” I said playfully.
“What kind of bathing suit?”
“A blue one,” I said coyly.
She got up and started tickling me. It was no fair. I was ticklish and naked. If she kept doing this, I was going to be in that bed. I giggled, “Stop,” and dropped it.
She smiled. “Well, look, what we have here,” she said, holding up the blue bathing suit. I forgot to mention that it was a bikini, a classic string bikini. “When did you get this?”
“Last week. When Robin and I went to Flywheel,” a spin class/torture program and an amazing workout.
“Yeah…,” she said, holding it in the air.
“Give me the bikini,” I said. I jumped but couldn’t reach it. I can only imagine what I looked like. Probably outtakes from “The Man Show.”
“No,” she grinned. “I like when a naked girl tells me stories….”
I actually liked this, which was freaking me out a little. “I told her I needed bathing suits and so we went over to Paragon. I took some one-pieces. She asked whether that was a company requirement. When I said, ‘no,’ she took those away and handed me bikinis.”
She smiled, “I knew I liked her. What did you do then?”
“I went into the dressing room, stood there for a while until Robin shamed me and then I put one on.”
“And?”
“And,” I said, with a smile. “I checked myself in the mirror and I didn’t look so bad. The kicker was when I came out.”
“What happened?”
“A stock boy was looking at me and crashed into a display rack,” I giggled. I put on the bikini and looked at myself in the mirror, like I had at the store. I shifted my breasts around. I checked out my abs and my ass. I looked fine, but It was still a strange feeling. All there was three triangles of fabric separating me from being naked before everyone.
“Wow!”
“So I look OK?” I said. I knew the answer, but wanted the validation.
“Absolutely, I….” and then she paused.
“You what?” I was nervous.
“I could never pull that off,” she said.
“Of course not. You’d look silly in a bikini,” and I held the top to another one to her chest.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” I knew what she meant. “I meant before.”
“You could’ve when we got married,” then paused. That was mean. “I meant we both put on weight. Me more…” I fumbled.
She smiled. “I love watching you sweat. I meant even when I was at my thinnest. I just couldn’t.”
“I have to tell you. I couldn’t either, not until Robin pushed me.”
“Pushed you?”
“She told me that I wasn’t the chubby girl anymore.” Jess had a half smile. “She said that I earned it and that I needed to think that way. And I still had to be pushed and I didn’t grow up with all that passive aggressive shit women pull. The “you have a pretty face,” crap. The “wear this, not that” crap. The “find the right suit for your body” crap. I didn’t have any of that and I still had a hard time with it.” I couldn’t believe that all of this was coming from me but I meant it.
She smiled. “She’s right although, ouch, chubby girl. That hurts. You have earned it. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, and this is still freaking me out.”
“Why? You look gorgeous. Be prepared for a lot of death stares,” she laughed.
“That’s just it. This is going to sound really weird but I’m kind of freaking about being an object.”
“Being an object?” The words said she didn’t understand but her eyes told me she did and was just waiting for an explanation.
“I’m the girl in the bikini. That’s THE symbol of female sexuality in America. Guys wait for the SI swimsuit issue every year and now that’s me,” I started to feel short of breath.
Jess sat me down on the bed. “Are you OK?”
I stopped for a few seconds. “I’m sorry. That was weird.”
“It’s not weird,” she said. “A little over intellectual, maybe, but it’s not weird. You’re a woman. A beautiful woman. A beautiful woman in a bikini,” she said, with a smile. “Combine that with your ability to over-analyze everything and your response is totally normal.”
“Shut up,” I said. I hated when she was right. “Sorry. I mean every time I think I’m used to this girl thing something else comes up. I mean it’s ridiculous. We’re going to try and get pregnant. To get ME pregnant. Which I want more than anything. I mean, if that’s not being a girl….and I’m worried about a bikini?”
She smiled. “Those are two different things, Jessa.” I noticed that she called me ‘Jessa,’ not ‘Dan’ or ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie.’ ‘Jessa,’ which I never called her. “Pregnancy is you and me, well until I get you knocked up,” she said, with a leer and a ‘heh heh’. “This is public. More than a dress or heels or anything. It’s a bikini, you said it, that’s as girly as its gets. But, keep in mind two things. Number one, you won’t be the only one in a bikini although you’ll be the most beautiful. Number two, you earned it. You have worked hard and you’ve earned it. And I don’t just mean workouts.”
“Huh?” I said.
“You’ve had to learn a whole new way of being. You’ve had to keep your mind and your job while learning about how to be a woman. About all the shit women have to go through all day every day that guys don’t. I never thought about it before but that’s impossible and you’ve learned it in a year and have done great at it.”
“You had to learn to be a guy,” I said. “That’s hard too.”
“It is but it isn’t. You spent your whole life learning to drive a tank and you had to learn how to drive a race car. I had to do the reverse. It’s the same but it’s different. Plus, I worked with guys. I had experience with them and women are trained to listen, especially to men, so I had that. Guys are trained to talk. You had to learn how to listen. How to deal with other women and with men and you have done amazing, better than me. No one would know that you weren’t born this way.”
That stung. “Thanks, I think.”
She looked at me and said, “It’s a compliment. You are still you. You have the same brain. You have the same heart. This is going to sound weird but, to me, it’s like when people lose their sight, their other senses get heightened. Well, you lost your…something and your other senses got sharper.”
“So why am I freaking out?”
“Because you’re you. What did we say about getting pregnant? Don’t think. Just be.”
She was right. I needed to just be. Just be me. I earned this. I worked hard for this. I ran until my legs hurt. Got up at 5:30 in the cold for Pilates. I did Flywheel until my lungs burned. I smiled, “I earned this. I earned this and I’m owning this. Do I really look good?”
She leered and grabbed me by the waist. I could feel her erection poking me in the ass. “Please go put on shorts and a shirt, before I can’t hold back,” she said. “Does that tell you?” I giggled. She looked through the drawer and pulled out a white bikini. She held it up. “No way. Uh uh. Absolutely no way.”
“No way what?”
She smiled. “There is NO way that you are going to wear this here in front of my co-workers. This is way too sexy for them. This is for when you and I go away ALONE.”
I put on my shorts and my t-shirt, my small t-shirt. Tracey was right, it did look better. I looked at myself in the mirror. When I smiled, I looked really cute. No, what I looked was girly. With my bangs and my blue eyes and my curves, I was all girl. I thought about what Jess said and decided to take it as a positive, as she meant it. I was thrown into a pool and I learned how to swim. No, I was thrown into an ocean and learned how to swim.
We drank the coffee and went down for breakfast. I had taken a bite of both the bagel and the muffin and decided they weren’t worth it. If you’re going to be the girl in the bikini, you take the bad with the good.
We ran into Doug and Donna in the elevator. “Good morning, guys,” I said. “We met at the airport,” I said.
Donna smiled, “I remember, Jessica. Our conversation was cut off,” she said, with a smile and a look at Doug. Doug gave her a look back that said, alternatively, “don’t go there,” or “don’t go there when I’m here.”
“Well, you had to catch the shuttle,” I said, with a sweet smile. “So, tell me about you guys. How long have you worked for Stone,” I said, putting a subtle emphasis on Stone. Donna smiled quickly. Maybe Jess was right. Maybe losing my…whatever…had sharpened my perception. Or maybe I just wouldn’t have cared before.
Doug smiled, “Nine years. It’ll be nine years in March. What about you, Dan?”
“Twelve. I started two weeks after I graduated.”
The elevator opened on the lobby and we walked towards the dining room. “What about you, Donna? What do you do?”
“I’m a part time software designer and full time mom to three…”
“Three, wow. How old?”
“Carly is seven. Michael is three and the baby,” and she pointed at Doug, “is 35,” she said, laughing. I thought about that later. That always bothered me. All women talked about their husbands as children. It brought back when Lori said that Jess used to say that she didn’t have children because she already had me. Were all men children? Had I been? Or was it just a way to exert power when you felt you had none? “What about you guys,” she said?
“None yet. Soon maybe,” I said, taking Jess’ hand. She smiled.
Doug smiled, “I know what this one says he does. What about you?”
“I’m an attorney. I do civil litigation, mostly real estate and construction.”
Donna laughed, “Well, my dad would hate you. He’s in construction. He always says that the lawyers make his life difficult. Lawyers make my life easier.”
“Now there’s a phrase I never hear,” I said. “How so?”
“I design e-discovery software systems. We’re in beta testing now and we’re looking for attorneys to test it. There’s an incentive system in place…” I was shocked. Another Barbie down.
“Donna,” Doug said. “I’m sure Jessica wants to relax.”
I laughed and said, “I can do both, Doug. Women can multi-task, you know.” Jess looked at me and raised an eyebrow.
To his credit, he smiled and mocked stabbing himself in the chest. “My mistake for messing with a lawyer. Dan, buddy, I feel for you.” Jess just laughed and looked at me.
We continued the conversation into the dining room when Donna saw Bonnie, who gave her a look. Under her breath, she said, “Sorry. The head shark is swimming.”
I smiled and said, “I get it. I do want to hear more about this. Anything that makes discovery easier is good for me. I mean I don’t have final authority, but, if it works, I’ll push for it. We’ll catch up later. Give her a big smile.” She snickered and walked over, giving Bonnie a big smile.
Jess and I walked over to the buffet. She said, as we walked, “I never knew that. Doug never told me that.” ‘Of course, you didn’t,’ I thought. ‘He wouldn’t tell you and you’d never ask.’
“Well, we’ll see what she has. If it works, I’ll push Mike and IT to try it.” I thought about asking if she told people about me but decided against it.
We sat down at a table with the managers from the Northwest region. I spent most of breakfast talking to two women, Ashley and Dana, whose wives were managers. Ashley was a pre-school teacher and Dana a nurse. Neither one had kids which made the conversation that much less stilted. We just talked about work. I made a mental note to introduce Ashley to Courtney.
At ten o’clock, Bruce stood in front of the dining room and announced that the Olympics were to begin. There were three teams, red, white and blue. He smiled and said, “Remember, while there are three teams, we’re all on one team – Team Stone,” and everyone cheered. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Jane who gave me a quick eye roll to go with her cheer. Sean looked like he was trying to decide if he could publish in social science.
Beach Olympics was a series of silly events. The first event was a boat race. Basically, you started digging a trench from the ocean to a point on the beach. Once the trench filled with water, you blew the boat from the point to the ocean. The first team to get the trench dug and back to the ocean won. I guess the idea was you worked as a team to get the trench dug and the boat back. Whatever.
Bruce blew the whistle and we started digging. G-d help me but, for whatever reason, I was having fun. Something about sitting on the beach as an adult and digging a trench with a toy shovel started to crack me up. Maybe, I was remembering being a kid down the shore or maybe I was hormonal, but I was giggling and digging. I felt people looking at me but I didn’t care. Once our trench was dug, Rick, our team captain, yelled, “OK, everyone line up and start blowing.” We all laid down, about two feet apart on a diagonal and started blowing. I was the one closest to the ocean. Everyone was having a good time. Everyone except Bonnie, who was on the white team. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her looking like she owed people money and they’d break her legs if she lost. ‘Well,’ I thought, ‘you can always get a cane because I’m not losing.’ I was competitive as Dan and that hadn’t changed. The boat got to me and I blew as hard as I could. The water lapped up to my face. I was wet and covered in sand. I had sand everywhere, and I mean everywhere, and I didn’t care. I was not going to lose.
Bruce blew the whistle and announced, “And the blue team wins.” Yes. My whole team congratulated each other.
Bonnie came over and said, under her breath, “Good job, Jessica. You must have a lot of experience with…blowing,” and walked away. ‘Yeah, bitch,’ I thought, ‘if you’re doing it that way, I feel bad for John.’
The rest of the events were even sillier. The next event was the crocodile relay. Basically, every team had a giant inflatable crocodile. The first person passed it over their head to the person in front of them, the next person passed it backward through their legs and the third person stood up and passed it medicine ball-style to the person and so on. If you missed, you had to start over. I wasn’t sure how this helped in business, but I guess it had something to do with working as a unit. I was on medicine-ball. Something about a guy passing a crocodile through his legs to me made me giggle and I almost passed it overhead, but I remembered. Either way, we finished second.
Next up was the life raft relay. Basically, they gave you a bunch of foam rubber pool noodles and some rope. You had to build a raft and put three people on it. You then took it out to a buoy in the ocean and four other people pushed you to shore. Bruce blew the whistle and we started. Everyone was looking at the noodles and trying to decide the best way to thread them together when Jess piped up. “OK, line up the noodles, then thread it over and under. It’ll hold tighter that way.” I looked at her and, under her breath, she said “Girl Scouts,” she said with a grin. We got it done quickly and Jess tied some slip knots. She tugged on them and said, “OK, Claudia, Katie and Jessa, you’re the lightest, so you’re on the raft. Come on, go go. Sorry, Rick.” Rick just smiled and saluted. We ran out into the water and climbed on. Three guys started pushing us, when a wave hit. We fell overboard. I was wet and my shorts and short were clinging to me. You could see the bikini. Had I thought about it, I probably would have frozen but I didn’t. I was having fun, in a way I never had before. I pushed my hair back, climbed back on the raft and we were pushed to shore. We finished first and everyone congratulated Jess for her raft. It felt good to see her happy.
I won’t bore you with all the other events. There was a human pyramid. It felt weird to be on the second highest level. I had been the base for as long as I could remember. Corn hole, where you had to throw a bean bag into a hole on a board. No one expected it but I won that. Years of basketball and “pop-a-shot” made me a champ at that. The one that threw me was the buried alive rally. Basically, you had to bury one of your teammates completely in sand. The first team to do it won. I was claustrophobic. No, I am claustrophobic. I don’t like elevators. When I was eight and we went to England, my parents had me stand in one of those British phone booths. They closed the door and I felt so short of breath that I pounded on the door to be let out. So buried alive was not for me. But:
“OK,” Rick said, “someone has to do it and it should be someone small, so we can do it faster. Katie?” Katie was Rick’s wife. She looked at him like, ‘if you bury me alive, you will wish I buried you alive.’
“Claudia?” Claudia said, “No way. Sorry. I’ll take one for the team, but nuh uh.”
“OK, Jessie, it’s you.” First off, I’m not Jessie. Second, no way.
Jess knew I was claustrophobic and said, “I’ll do it. If we work fast, we’ll get it done.”
I took a deep breath, “No, that’s ridiculous. Everyone else is using women. I’ll do it.”
Bruce said, “Has everyone picked their victim?” Everyone laughed. Except me. Because it wasn’t funny. “Ready?”
I yelled, “You better blow that whistle the minute the last scoop of sand covers my face!” Everyone laughed. I wasn’t joking. I took a deep breath and he blew the whistle. I laid down on the ground and everyone started covering me with sand. They gave me a mask for my eyes to keep the sand out. I kept taking deep breaths and saying, “this is a game. This is a game. This is a game.”
Jess leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Shut up and cover me with the fucking sand so we can get this done,” I muttered. I had about six panic attacks before I heard the whistle blow. “Blue team!” Bruce shouted. Everyone congratulated me. I smiled. What made it better was looking at Bonnie’s team, who finished third. It almost made up for the Xanax I needed.
We finished second overall. As they were handing out the medals, Bruce said, “And the good sport medals go to Jessica Silverman, Gina Carlucci and Dana Faraday, for allowing themselves to be buried alive. Good job team! Drinks are on me.” Everyone cheered, even though everything was paid for.
We were walking to the beach when Jane came over, “What got into you today?”
“What?”
“You looked like you were having fun. Please say it isn’t so,” she said, laughing.
“Stop it,” I said, swatting her.
“I’m teasing. Seriously, though, you seem really happy,” she said. “What’s changed?”
“I haven’t changed.” Other than losing my dick, I mean.
She looked at me and said, “No, seriously. You seem really happy. How did you do it?”
I couldn’t say that I had accepted that I was a girl. That I was trying to get pregnant. That I decided to embrace my reality. That would be weird. I just said, “I don’t know. I decided that I only saw these women once a year and that I was going to be positive.” It was getting too earnest for Jane and me and so I added, “no matter what they did.”
She smiled. “That’s better. How come we never hang out? I mean at home.” I thought about it. I don’t know why we didn’t. I liked Jane. I liked Sean. Maybe it’s because it was on Jess and Jane to make plans and they weren’t friends. I was friends with Jane and it would’ve been weird for me to call.
“I have no idea. Let’s,” I said, smiling.
She smiled. “I’d like that. But if you keep this up, I’m going to have to report you to the bar.”
“Ha ha. Speaking of the bar, I could use a drink. That sand thing? I had like six panic attacks.”
We walked up the beach to the hotel. Jess and Sean were in conversation about I don’t know what, but they seemed to be getting along. We could totally do this. Maybe the positive vibes were paying off.
We stopped at the outdoor shower to rinse off. I had sand everywhere and I mean everywhere. I asked Jane and Jess to hold up some towels while I rinsed off. I had taken off my shirt and shorts and it hit me. I was standing there in my bikini. I was the girl in the bikini. Like I said before, three triangles of fabric kept me from being naked. I felt naked and exposed and got light-headed. I sat down.
“Are you OK, Jess?” Jane said, sitting down next to me on a bench.
“OK, this is going to sound really weird, but it’s my first time in a bikini and I’m kind of freaking. OK, I know I sound like a loser.”
She smiled, “If it wasn’t you, I’d call you a bitch. You look amazing. I would kill to wear that bikini. I am so jealous.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
She smiled, “Please. I know that you didn’t. I totally get it. But you did it, so show it. Stick it to them,” she said, pointing off to the hotel. In a mock-serious voice, she said, “For all of the first years working until 12 o’clock. For the pale and pasty. For the over-stressed and over-caffeinated. For the bitter and jaded,” she said, pointing to herself. “Be our light.”
I started laughing. “And I thought I was weird.” I was surprised. That was almost earnest for Jane. I liked that feeling of support. Guys didn’t do that.
Jane’s phone buzzed and she looked at it. “They’re still not bothering me,” she said, with a derisive laugh. “I’ll catch up,” and she walked off yelling, “fine, conference him in.”
Jess took my hand and whispered to me. “Are you OK?”
I smiled, “Yeah, I am. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry you never got the view I’m getting right now,” she said, with a sad smile.
“I had a better one,” I said. It felt good to say that. I felt connected to her.
We walked up and looked for chairs. I saw Cindy and Jeff. “Are these taken?” I said, pointing to the chairs next to them.
She looked me up and down, “Yes.” I moved down a couple and and she said, “Those are too.” With a false smile, she said, “I think the whole row is,” and she pointed away, “Maybe over there somewhere.” Whatever. You can’t kill my positivity today. I don’t know you and I don’t have to know you. We walked along and I became acutely aware of guys staring at me. I know that sounds egotistical. I mean there were plenty of beautiful women there but I had been me for 33 years. If a cute girl in a bikini walked past, I noticed. I was conflicted. On the one hand, I liked having my work recognized even if the guys weren’t thinking about it that way. On the other hand, none of these guys had asked me about me. I wasn’t a person. I was just Dan’s wife, an object like Dan’s car or Dan’s watch. OK, I was spinning. We found some chairs. I had sprayed on some sun block and was reading on my Kindle when Nikki said, “Is this seat taken?”
I smiled, “It’s yours,” and she and Jack sat down. She pulled out “Modern Bride.”
“So, I didn’t get a chance yesterday. When’s the big day? Where’s the wedding going to be?”
She got a big smile. “It’s going to be next June, I know, so stereotypical, and we’re going to have it in Hilton Head, I mean everyone lives in South Carolina anyway so we’ll all go and my dad and all the guys can play golf and…” She was so bubbly and excited. 22 and full of hope. It was contagious.
Jack turned to Jess and laughed, “How ‘bout the Heat? They’re looking good this year, huh?”
She laughed, “Yup. Lookin’ good. Definitely. May stay down here a couple of days to go huntin’. Gator huntin’.” This was a joke she and I had, back in the old days. Anytime things got too girly, I would say that.
I rolled my eyes. “So, Nikki, can I see what you’re thinking about?” She started showing me various dresses.
We looked at a dress with a high waist. “What do you think? I’m worried about the waist. It’s high...”
“It’s gorgeous, but I could see what you’re thinking.” She had a small bust and that would draw attention to it. I flipped the pages. “How about this one? With the lower waist, it would totally show off your figure. I’m totally jealous.” Jess was half-listening and gave me a bemused look.
She smiled and folded down the page. “Thanks. That makes total sense. What about this one? Do you think I’ll look OK in sleeveless?”
I took her arm. There was no flab. “Please,” I smiled “Now you’re just bragging. You would look amazing.”
“What did you wear?”
I flipped through and found a similar dress to what Jess had worn. Satin, sleeveless with a little lace jacket. “Kind of like this.”
“Really? Huh.” Like she couldn’t see me wearing it. Neither could I. I had seen a dress a few pages before that was beautiful. The kind that I would wear if I was getting married now.
I smiled. “It was five years ago.” Jess looked sad and rubbed her eyes. “You OK, honey?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Contacts are itchy. Did you bring the drops?” I handed her some drops from the beach bag and she put them in her eyes. She didn’t wear contacts. She turned to Jack and said, “I could use a drink. Jess, Nikki?”
“Pina colada for me,” I said, looking at the magazine.
Nikki looked at Jack and said, “Diet Coke?”
Jack smiled, “You’re an adult. I’m sure you’ve had a couple of drinks at school…”
She laughed, “Pina colada for me too,” she said, flipping the pages and folding them down.
Jack said, “Let me join you, Dan. The longer I stay, the more I realize how much their conversation will cost me.”
“Jack, you’ll love every cent of it,” I said. “And you know it.” I knew he would. I saw it last night. I saw it on other trips too. He loved his kids equally but his eyes lit up when he talked about Nikki. And I was a little jealous. I never had that. And I never would.
He groaned and smiled. “And I used to like you…” Jess and Jack walked away.
Nikki turned to me. “Can I say something?”
“You just did,” I said, smiling.
She looked slightly confused then smiled in understanding. “Serious. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For talking to me.”
That was bizarre. “What? Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t mean it that way. I mean my mom is fine and all. But she’s got her own ideas,” she said, sighing and looking up at the sky. I did it too. Like if you looked up long enough, you’d find the answer.
“Ouch. I’m only 33.”
She blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I’m kidding,” I said, touching her arm.
“I mean, like, she can’t just like what I like. Or just keep quiet. It’s always ‘oh, you like that?’”
“I know. It sucks sometimes.” I remembered Jess’ mom when we were getting married. I thought they’d kill each other. “J..my mother and I almost killed each other. You don’t know how many times Dan told me to breathe. Realize that this is her one chance to be mother of the bride. When JJ gets married – stop rolling your eyes, it will happen – she gets nothing. So this is her show. Plus, it’s weird for her. She’s mother of the bride. Last time, she got to be the bride.” I paused for a second. If everything held, that’s what I’d be someday. I’d be someone’s mom and someone’s mother-in-law. I suddenly felt old. Which was ridiculous since we weren’t even pregnant yet. But I still had that pang of realization. I paused for a second, not enough for Nikki to notice but enough for me. “It probably makes her feel like she’s old. Last time, it was her show and now you’re the center. Like she’s passing the torch. And that has to feel weird.”
“Huh,” she said. “I never thought about it like that. Why does she have to be that way though?”
I laughed. “That one is way beyond my pay grade. You should find this book called ‘You’re Wearing That?’ It’s about mothers and daughters. Really calmed…me down.”
She laughed. “My mother’s book would be,” and she imitated her mother looking her up and down. I remembered Joyce and it was a perfect imitation. I realized that Emma would be imitating me like that one day. Or Jess. But probably me. “‘I don’t have to wear it, you do.’ My grandmother’s would be ‘Oh. Is that what people are wearing now?”
I laughed. “Just enjoy the day and the planning. I’m happy to listen. No judgments.”
“Thanks,” she said, touching my arm. “Were your friends weird during it?”
“Some were. I think it depended on whether they had a boyfriend. My friend Lori got kind of bitchy.” I remembered how, the minute Jess started talking about the wedding, even about something as stupid as little hot dogs, which, despite Jess’ complaints, were the most popular hors d’oeuvres, Lori would start sniping. When I’d ask why she put up with that, Jess would say something like, ‘but she’s my friend,’ as if that explained it. Sammie was right though. That’s why I kind of let the friendship die. Like I told Jess, I hadn’t heard from her in a few months and didn’t miss it. Nikki looked worried. “Nikki. Don’t look so upset. It’s fine. We were OK after the wedding. I think some girls just get jealous. And they should be. You’re beautiful and will be a beautiful bride. Who’s the lucky guy?”
She took out her phone. “This is him. Jason.” He was about 6’2” with sandy blond hair and green eyes.
“He is one good looking guy.” And he was. And I felt it. “How did you meet?”
“He was friends with a friend’s boyfriend. We met at a pool party three years ago.”
“And your mom didn’t tell me last year?” And she wouldn’t have told me, when I was Dan. She probably said “She’s fine. Thank you for asking,” in that way that women do when men they sort of know ask about their kids. Enough to be polite, but keeping you at arms-length. If Jess had asked first, I could’ve followed up. But I couldn’t go first. “How do your parents like him?”
“My mom says he’s cute. And my dad says he’s a good golfer. So, everyone is fine with him.”
“That’s good. It took my dad a while to warm up to Danny.” Truthfully, it took Marty a while to warm up to me. I wasn’t really sure he had until this last trip.
We sat for a while and looked at dresses and talked about her senior year of college. I liked it. I felt a closeness to her that I never had with anyone on other trips. Eventually, Jess and Jack came back.
Jess asked, “Everything OK?”
“Great, Dan. Jess is so cool. She’s like,” and she smiled at me, “a really cool older sister and she has great taste.”
Jess smiled and put her arm around me. “She is and she does.”
Jack groaned. “How much more did you cost me, Ms. Silverman?” Nikki swatted him on the arm.
I smiled. “Oh, you wouldn’t want to retire anyway. You’d get bored. You should be thanking me.” Nikki and I moved onto bridesmaid’s dresses. I looked at Jess, who just smiled and shook her head. After a while, Nikki and Jack went to get lunch. She left her magazines.
I looked at Jess and said, “What was that all about?”
“What was what all about?”
“When I was talking to Nikki, you kept looking at me. When I talked about your dress, your contacts got itchy? Um, did you get contacts and not tell me?”
She smiled, “I was just remembering our wedding day. It was the best day of my life.”
“Mine too,” I said, taking her hand.
She reached over me and grabbed one of the magazines and started flipping pages. She stopped on one and handed it to me, “This one?”
“This one what?”
“This is your wedding dress, isn’t it?” It had a lace bodice with spaghetti straps and a tulle skirt. The model was wearing flowers in her hair. “This is the dress you would’ve worn, if we were always this, isn’t it?”
I started to tear up and nodded. “I’m sorry.”
She looked at me, “What are you sorry for?”
“That I was looking at dresses and thinking about it. I feel like I’m taking away your day from you.”
She looked at me and smiled, “You’re not taking anything from me. We both had that day and we’ll always have it. I’m just sorry you never got your day and that I never got the chance to see you come down the aisle in that dress with your daddy,” she said, stretching that out. I was glad. I needed the teasing to keep from crying.
“Stop. How did you know?”
“Please. That dress is so you, it practically says, ‘Jessica’ on it. That’s you. You’re the girl in the lace and the tulle with the flowers in her hair.” I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “The hopeless romantic and the cynical lawyer. The girl who loves babies and can talk about the 3-4 defense like a sportswriter. The princess and the politician. You are the most amazing person I know. You can do anything and I love you,” she said, leaning over and giving me a kiss.
I smiled and decided to distract myself by going back to my book. “Hi, Jessica,” I heard Ellen say, as she sat down on Nikki’s chair. She picked up one of the magazines. “Getting married?”
“Oh, hi Ellen. No, those are Nikki, Jack Todd’s daughter’s.”
“I figured,” she said laughing. She looked at the Kindle. “So, what are you reading?”
“Underground Railroad. By Colson Whitehead.”
“Really? That’s so funny. Emily and I just started that. She picked it.”
“That’s so cool that you two read together.” I thought about it. OK, maybe you won’t have basketball, but you can read together. I hoped Emma liked reading. “That’s great that you share that.”
She smiled, “We always have. Harry Potter when she was little. She picked this one. I like that we have this. They get older and they develop their own lives. I only have her for a few more years before she goes off to college. I’m glad she does this for me…” and she started to tear up. I reached over and gave a her a little hug.
“Sorry, that was forward of me,” I said.
She smiled, “Not at all,” she said, picking up my Kindle and going to the home screen. “Nice choices. Beauty and brains.” I blushed. “‘City on Fire?’ What did you think?”
“I wrote a big important, capital B, capital I, novel, wanna see? Did you read it?”
“Yeah, meh. Plus, I grew up in the 1970s. Too many historical errors. That drives me nuts.”
Jess moaned, “Oh great, Jessa. You’ve found another one.”
Ellen smiled and said, “Who asked you?” She turned to me and said, “Give me an example.”
“Like there’s a scene where a cop talks about his Fraternal Order of Police pension. New York is PBA. Everyone in New York knows that and it’s like, ‘you got two million dollars as an advance and you can’t fact-check?”
She started laughing, “To me, it was when they had the trust fund wife doing yoga. No one did yoga in the 70s. Or drank box wine. I drove Bruce crazy complaining. He just kept saying…”
Jess piped in, “How’s the story?”
Ellen laughed. “I already said no one asked you. Go get me a diet Coke so I can talk to your wife without commentary.” Jess got up, bowed and said, “One diet coke, ma’am, very good,” in an indeterminate, yet still bad, accent.
She started looking at the rest. “The Nix. Brief History of Seven Killings. I liked that. If you can make me care about Jamaican politics and the killing of Bob Marley and drug dealers, you’ve done a good job. White Trash?” she said quizzically.
“It’s about class in America. All the Scots-Irish who were basically brought here as indentured servants and the whole myth of upward mobility and…ok, I’m babbling.”
She smiled. “No, you aren’t. You’re explaining it. I like that. You have the energy after work to read that? I’m impressed.”
“It’s a slow go, if that makes it better.” She laughed and then grimaced. “Oh, look, here comes Bonnie and Clyde,” she said, under her breath. “Hi Bonnie, hi Cindy, what’s up?”
“Oh, we saw you two talking and figured we’d come over to say hi. Jessica, why didn’t you sit with us? We need to catch up,” she said sweetly. I felt like I was going into diabetic shock.
Ellen patted the chair and said, “Come sit down.” She picked up my Kindle. “Jess and I were just discussing David Foster Wallace. I said that I liked his essays but found his novels a little too long and self-involved. Jess said that, while she appreciated the essays, she found him to be the worthy heir to Pynchon. Although, a strong case can be made for DeLillo. I mean read “Infinite Jest” next to “Underworld.”” Bonnie looked dumbfounded. “What are your thoughts?” Damn, Ellen was good.
“I, uh,” Bonnie stammered.
“What are you reading these days, Bonnie? Cindy?” Ellen said.
“I really don’t have the time to read,” Bonnie mumbled, “with the kids and all. I’m busy with my church too. Excuse us,” she said, walking away.
She turned to me and said mockingly, “I’m busy with my church… She’s always hovering around me. She drives me crazy. I figured that would drive her away. Do you think she even knows who David Foster Wallace is?”
I thought about saying something to show I agreed, but figured that could just make me look bad. Instead, I just smiled and went with, “She does her thing.” I added, for a little jab, “Whatever that thing is.” Ellen gave me a little grin. “I do mine. I’m just having a good time.” I figured that was anodyne enough.
She laughed, “That’s what it’s about.” Over my shoulder, I could feel Bonnie and Cindy seething and felt a little better. Hey, I’m not perfect.
Jess came back with the diet Coke and said, “Your drink, madam.”
Ellen laughed and said, “Why thank you, Daniel. I had a lovely conversation with your wife and now unfortunately I have to find Bruce. We will continue this later, Jessica,” she said, giving me a kiss. This time, I believed her.
“I saw Bonnie and Cindy come over and leave. What happened?”
I laughed. “So, they come over and pretend like they didn’t freeze me out and Ellen starts asking them their opinion on David Foster Wallace and they just run. She is good.”
“Wow. She really seems to like you.”
“You think?”
“I haven’t seen her sit down next to anyone else for that long,” she said, “Do you want to get lunch?”
“How about instead you take me upstairs and fuck me silly and we make a baby?” I said into her ear, finishing up with a little bite. I didn’t care who saw.
“Or we could do that,” she said, taking my hand.
We got to the door and she picked me up in her arms. “Hey, what are you doing?” I giggled. I liked this feeling. Jess fumbled for the key card and unlocked the door. She untied my top and started kissing my neck and earlobes.
“Oh, g-d,” I moaned. “Stop teasing me.” She didn’t stop. I could feel her erection brush up against my ass. She threw me onto the bed and started biting my nipples. I was getting so wet and wanted her in the worst way.
She took off my bikini bottom and rolled me over. “You’ve been a bad girl,” she said, swatting me.
“Not today,” I said, “Not now. Later. Now, just make love to me.” It sounded cheesy as hell but I meant it. We were making our baby and I didn’t want my weird kinks involved. We could save that for another time. Jess proceeded to make love to me. I had an orgasm about 33% of the time which, I had read, was not at all unusual. What can I say? Once I bought a car, I read the owner’s manual. But, today I did. I don’t know if it was the beach or the bikini or the baby or just the love I was feeling, but I did. We finished up and I laid with my legs up and my butt resting on a pillow. I didn’t want any of Jess’ sperm to leak out and I had read somewhere that, to increase your chances of conception, you should lay there for 20 minutes or so. “Wow,” I smiled. “That was…wow. That was amazing. Here’s hoping.”
Jess smiled, “I meant it. You are the most amazing person I’ve ever known. I love you so much. Do you feel any different?”
“I’m feeling pretty wiped, but in a good way.”
“No, I mean like a switch flipped or something.”
I thought about it. “No. You?”
She smiled, “No,” and then said, “Arania Exumai!” and waved her hands.
I laughed, “What the hell are you doing?”
She said, “I thought maybe, if I said a spell, something would change.”
“You’re crazy. And I think you just got rid of spiders.”
“Cacio Pepe!”
“Now, you summoned pasta with parmesan and pepper. Stop. I think this is it. No flashes of light or anything. Just you and me,” I said, with a smile. “And hopefully,” and I knocked on a table. “Baby makes three.”
She smiled, “I love you,” she said, running her fingers along my stomach.
“I love you too.” I did. I loved my husband. We were husband and wife now. And, hopefully, in nine months, daddy and mommy.
We laid there for a while and then got dressed. “Yoga pants or another bikini?” I felt pretty and wanted to look pretty.
She smiled, “I’ll never say no to a bikini, but go with the yoga pants. You can always change again. Mommy.” She was teasing but I liked the way it sounded. ‘I’m Jessica, I’m Emma’s mommy.’ I put on a yoga pants, flip flops and a spaghetti strap tank top. I put my hair in a ponytail.
“G-d, you look adorable,” Jess said.
“Adorable?” I knew what she meant. I looked girly. Feminine. And I was.
“Yes, adorable. With your ponytail and your pink toes. You’re just so cute. If I was you and you weren’t me, I’d hate you.”
That snapped me back for a second. “You’re OK with all of this, right?”
She kissed me. “Absolutely. Sorry, I forgot who I was dealing with. I’m not OK. I’m great. You and me,” and then she spat three times, “and baby makes three. We’re not Dan and Jessica. We’re us.”
We went back downstairs and went to get lunch. As we were walking, Cindy bumped into me, accidentally on purpose. “Oops, sorry, Jessica,” she said, with a smile.
I wanted to punch her but that wouldn’t be positive. “It’s OK, Cindy. I really enjoyed speaking with you before. Your opinions on De Lillo were really on point.” Jess looked at me. She always said I was an intellectual snob and I was, sometimes, OK most times. But, sometimes I was right. Cindy looked like she wanted to say something then walked away.
Jess looked at me and said, “Do I want to know what that was about?”
“It was nothing. And even if was something then, it’s nothing now. It’s just you and me,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. I stood on tiptoes even though it wasn’t necessary. It just made me feel good. We sat on the patio and the sun shone and the ocean breeze blew on face. I felt stray hairs tickle my cheeks. I pushed around my salad with my fork, taking bites here and there. I drank my decaf iced tea. I watched Jess wolf down her chicken sandwich. I pictured sperm swimming up into my uterus which was admittedly weird. All seemed right with the world. We just sat there and enjoyed each other, holding hands. Normally, I can’t sit still or I need to have something – a book, my phone, a TV – to distract me. Now, I didn’t need anything. I was fine, nothing could distract me, except:
“Hey Dan, hey Jess!” Guess who? If you guessed Becca and Kristy, you’d be right. There were thirty-six people on this trip and, of all the tables in all the world, she had to come to mine.
“Hey Becca,” Jess said brightly. “Hey Kristy.” I gave her a quick look. “What’s up? Having fun today?” Which I heard as, “Wait until the ball and chain goes to sleep today….”
Becca touched his arm and said, “We had a great time. Jess, you were so great out there. I mean you were really going for it. Wasn’t she great, Dan?” And she touched his arm again. I almost ripped her arm off. I flinched slightly. Stupid positivity stopped me.
Jess smiled and gave me a wink. “She was amazing, all right,” and she put her arm around me. That’s right, bitch. He’s mine. My husband, who used to be my wife and I used to be her husband, is mine. I made a note to see if the welcome desk had anti-pyschotics.
“I just looked at the schedule and we’re in the same dinner group!” she said. “We’re going to Duffy’s. It’ll be so much fun.
“I can’t wait!” I said. Kristy gave me a sideways glance. Was I that obvious?
“See you guys later!” Becca said, touching us both on the shoulder.
She walked away and Jess turned to me, “What was that about?”
“What was what about?”
“What did Becca do to you?” Who did Becca do to you is the question.
I smiled, “I was nice. I wasn’t nice?”
“Whatever,” she said, pulling me close and giving me a quick kiss on the neck. I snuggled in and felt safe. I looked at Jess looking at me and I realized I was being irrational. Whatever was, was. We were here and we were happy. And Becca was not going to kill my mood. Or Kristy. We walked along the beach, hand in hand. We didn’t talk. We didn’t need to. I pictured us holding a little kid between us and going, “1-2-3, whee,” the way my parents used to. They’d lift me up and I’d feel like I was flying in space. It was the happiest, freest feeling I could imagine. As you get older, life brings you closer and closer to earth and I wanted to recapture that feeling of flying. I felt it today after we made love. I didn’t feel it in some “oh the earth moved” bad porn way. I felt it in the feelings of hope and love I had. We were going to have a baby, we were happy and I wasn’t going to let petty jealousy bring me to earth.
We went upstairs and took a nap. The shuttles for dinner left at 7 PM, so I set the alarm for 5:30. We passed out in each other’s arms. I only slept for an hour and a half but I had another dream. This time, it was our wedding day. I was in the dress. The lace and tulle dress we saw in the magazine. I had a garland of daisies in my hair and was carrying a bouquet of light pink roses. My dad teared up as he gave me a kiss and said, “I love you Jessica.” He took me down the aisle and gave me to Jess, who was smiling. Then, all of a sudden, I was holding hands with two kids, a boy and a girl, both about three years old. The girl was wearing a white lace dress and had flowers in her hair. She looked just like me. Like me as Dan but as a girl. The boy was in a white shirt and dark pants and looked like Jess. I leaned down and they both gave me a big kiss and said….and then I woke up. I laid back for a minute and tried to figure out what it meant. I couldn’t decide except that I felt very well rested for an hour and a half nap. I got up quietly, so as not to wake Jess. I was OK with the fact that it took me longer. It was right. I was the woman and she was the man.
I did all the usual – shower, shave, pluck, polish, makeup. While Jess showered and shaved, I got dressed. She came out of the shower, looked at me and said, “Wow!”
I smiled. “Do you like this?” I was wearing a sleeveless white macramé mini dress and 4” white wedge sandals. I spritzed some perfume into the air and walked into the cloud. I saw that in “Broadcast News.”
She put on a polo shirt and khakis and said, “You look amazing. Can you walk in those?”
I gave her a little strut, putting a little extra shake in my ass and then gave her a model turn. I had practiced. “Does that answer your question?”
“You amaze me. Every day,” she said, with a smile. “You do things…” and then she stopped herself. I knew what was coming was something like, “I never could.” And I didn’t care. I worked hard. I was sexy. More importantly, I was happy and this outfit made me feel happy. I was such a girl.
“I figured that I should get this in.” I knocked on wood. “Hopefully, soon, I’ll be too big for this dress.”
“I can’t wait. You will be the most gorgeous pregnant woman ever. With your big baby bump,” she said, rubbing my stomach. I couldn’t wait. I had forgotten how tired Sammy was.
We went downstairs and met the shuttle. Each group had twelve people. We had Courtney and Mark. Rick and Claudia. Ashley and her wife Debra. Another couple that I didn’t know. And Becca. And Kristy. Kristy was wearing a blue dress that came to 3” above her knees. On another woman, it wouldn’t have merited a second glance. On Kristy, it looked phenomenal. That sound you heard? Five wives smacking five husbands and glaring at them. It’s funny. Becca was, other than being the bitch who slept with Jess, a very pretty woman. 5’6”. Blonde. Blue eyed. Athletic. In any other setting, she’d be the slap catalyst. But, next to Kristy, she was lost. I wonder if she was Kristy’s wingman, forever taking seconds. I almost felt bad for her.
She came over and said, “Ohmigod, Jess. You look amazing!”
I smiled, “Thanks, Becca. You look really good too,” I said, with forced sincerity that I hoped wasn’t too obvious. Courtney came over.
“Hey Courtney,” I said, “I’m so glad you were able to make this happen,” and I kissed her on the cheek.
She smiled, “Me too.” She looked me up and down and said, “OK, we need to get you pregnant. This is not fair,” she said, with a smile. I took it as a compliment and wanted to say, “From your mouth to G-d’s ears.” Becca stood by me, waiting for the introduction. You can wait, I thought.
“Oh, please, you look phenomenal. I want you to meet someone,” and I walked her over to Ashley and Debra. “Courtney Turner, meet Ashley Bonds. Ashley, Courtney.” I pointedly didn’t mention their husbands. Becca gave a little cough. “Oh, and this is Becca Romano, she’s the DM for Idaho. Ashley is a pre-school teacher. I know you don’t want to talk about work probably but Courtney was telling me all about early intervention and I figured that you two would hit it off.” I positioned myself so that Becca was on the outside of the conversation. I had set enough picks in my time to know how to do it without getting called for the foul. She walked off and went to talk to Julie. And Jess. I debated going over but decided that Julie’s presence would be enough.
I went over and introduced myself to the new couple. “Hi, I’m Jessica Silverman,” I said, sticking out my hand.
The husband said, “Dan’s wife?” OK, sure. Dan’s wife. Nothing else. “I’m Tim Weatherfield and this is my wife Renee.” They were African-American, not that it matters. Tim was about 6’3”, 200 lbs. Light skinned with brown eyes. He was a good looking guy. Renee was 5’10”, 145 lbs. and medium skinned. She was absolutely gorgeous. When I was Dan, she would’ve been my object of lust. Now, she was just another woman. I felt better though. I thought she was hotter than Kristy, although I may have been in the minority.
Jess walked over and said, “Tim, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in…” Please don’t say Chicago. “forever. Since San Francisco.” Thank g-d.
Renee looked at me and said, with a smile, “Jessica! I haven’t seen you since…ever!” I liked her. “So, what do you do?”
“I’m an attorney.”
She smiled, “Me too.” OK, I had a new friend. “What kind?”
“Civil litigation. Construction and real estate, mostly. You?”
“I work for the ACLU on their voting rights project.” OK, I was going to propose. I made a note to keep her in mind should I ever take up Larry and Debbie on their offer.
“OK, I want to be you when I grow up. You guys do great work. I would love to do that,” and we started talking. I heard Tim say, “So, you want to go play pool? They won’t miss us.” We wouldn’t.
Dinner was fun. Like I said, the informal dinner was always in some fun place, so you felt relaxed. They tried to keep people from the same team in different places so that you could meet new people. Duffy’s was a sports bar with a karaoke machine. The food wasn’t anything to write home about, but it was a fun place to hang out.
We had all finished eating. The women were talking while the guys went off to play “pop-a-shot” and pool.
Becca said, “Oh wow. Pop-a-shot. I love that game.”
I looked at her. “Me too. Want to play?” Pop-a-shot was my game. I had spent far too many hours at far too many bars playing pop-a-shot.
She smiled. “Sure. That’d be great!”
We walked up to the machines. “Excuse us, guys. We’d like to play. Hey, Becca, want to make it interesting?” Jess glared at me. I smiled and shrugged.
“OK,” she said, with a smile. “What?”
I looked at the karaoke machine and said, “Loser gets up and sings. Winner’s choice.”
She smiled and stuck out her hand, “Deal,” she said, meeting my gaze. We went to the machine and the buzzer sounded. I was hitting every shot. I should’ve stuck to my own game and not looked at hers, but I couldn’t stop myself. She was matching me shot for shot, but she wasn’t looking over. We kept going. Afterwards, Courtney told me that the looks in our eyes were scaring her. The buzzer sounded. 55-53. Becca. She stuck out her hand and said, “Good game.” Now, someone else might’ve said, ‘You don’t need to sing.’ But Becca was not that person. To be honest, neither was I but that wasn’t important now. Everyone was laughing, including Jess. They weren’t laughing at me but, to quote Homer Simpson, ‘towards me.’ I was mortified but I needed to be a good sport. I went up to the stage and picked up the mike. The music started. It was “Hit Me Baby One More Time” by Britney Spears. I turned red. When I was in camp, all the 12-year old girls would imitate this video. In retrospect, that was so many levels of wrong. I could discuss the hyper-sexualization of young girls by another young girl but not now. Now, I had to start singing. I started mumbling, “My loneliness is killing me…”
“Louder,” Tim shouted.
I decided to lean into it. I started singing, almost in rhythm and with a glancing nod to pitch. I did the dance moves. Everyone was whooping and cheering. I was utterly mortified and absolutely enjoying myself. I would never have done this as Dan. Towards the end, Jess shouted, “Big finish.”
“Keep it up, big mouth, and that’ll be the only big finish you get tonight,” I sang, in sort of key. That got me a cheer. I finished up and Becca was waiting and laughing. To her credit, she got up on stage and took the mike. She did maybe the worst version of “Oops, I Did It Again” known to mankind. I hated her guts but respected them at the same time. I congratulated her after and was almost OK, until she went over to Jess, touched his shoulder and said, “Jessica is amazing.” I got pissed and froze her out again. I hoped I wasn’t obvious.
We got back to the hotel and some of the people headed to the bar. Jess looked at me and said, “Do you want to get a drink?”
I smiled and touched my stomach, “I don’t think I should. Besides, I’m kind of tired. It’s been a long day and you have golf tomorrow and I have the trip…”
“Oh, boy, Barbie time. Sorry, I know you don’t like that term.”
We went up to the room and I took off my dress and shoes and put on a pink nightie. I was in a pink mood. “My feet hurt,” I said, putting my feet in Jess’ lap. She started to rub them. “You’re really good at this,” I said.
She smiled, “I always was. You just never liked it. You were amazing tonight. Well, I mean your singing kind of sucks but I can’t believe the way you got up there. That’s not you or me. What happened?”
I thought about it. “I don’t know. I guess I just figured why not. We were all having fun. It was a silly bet. Did I look ridiculous?”
She smiled and kissed me, “Not at all. Everyone loved it. I had no idea you could move like that. How did you know all those moves?”
“I watched that video a lot. I mean for different reasons, but still,” and I got up and started doing them. “Does this really bother you?” She grabbed me by the waist and pulled me down. You fill in the rest.
The next morning, Jess got up around 7:00. The first round of golfers had an 8:30 shuttle to the course and she wanted to get breakfast first. I wasn’t planning on getting up but, now that I had, figured that I’d hit the gym.
I was washing my face, when Jess came in. “Are you sure you don’t mind this? I mean you won’t miss golf? I know you always liked playing.”
I thought about it. I missed playing the top courses but I wouldn’t miss the people. I wouldn’t miss the bro-iness of it. The false camaraderie. I wasn’t a Stone person and I wasn’t a jock, at least not like these guys. To be honest, when I played with my friends, it was like when you were a kid and you and your friends would go ride bikes. You’d have races and egg each other on to do tricks, but that wasn’t it. It was about hanging out. These golf trips were never hanging out. “Not really,” I said. “Will you miss the trip?”
She laughed. “Uh, on a scale of 1 to 10, negative -7. Just be careful. Be ready for sugar on top of vinegar.” I thought about that. She’s her. I’m me. I’ll just do my thing. I have Jane. I have Renee. I have Courtney. Which is more than she had. OK, that was bitchy, I thought. Today was positivity. We’re happy. We’re in a beautiful place. Maybe we made a baby. Positivity.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said.
We went downstairs. I gave her a kiss and said, “Just remember. Your brain. My body.” It felt strange to say that. With every day, it seemed more and more unfathomable that that was my body. This was my body and that was hers. I followed up with, “Just play your game. The goal is the hole.” I smiled and whispered, “The goal is always the hole…”
She laughed and said, “Oh g-d, I hate you. I love you but I hate you.” I laughed and gave her a kiss and walked towards the gym. As I walking, I ran into Julie and Will.
Julie smiled, “Not playing today?” She was dressed in a polo shirt and golf skirt. She looked cute.
“Nah, I’m not up for it. Plus, I actually want to go to the museum. There’s an exhibit I want to see.”
She smiled and said to Will, “Go in, honey. Get us a table. I need to talk to Jessica for a second. Women stuff.” He ran off. If you want to end a conversation with a guy, say “Women Stuff.” Or “cramps.”
I looked at Julie and said, “What’s up?”
She looked at me and said, “Let’s walk over here. Away from everybody.”
I was nervous. “Is everything OK?
She took a deep breath. “We’re friends, right?”
We were as friends as two people who saw each other every so often could be, but sure. “Of course.”
“OK. As a friend, why are you giving my DM the stink eye?” Becca was in Julie’s territory. I had never her describe someone that way.
“What are you talking about?” I knew what she was talking about. I didn’t think she noticed.
“You know what I am talking about. Why are you freezing out Becca? She’s been nothing but nice.” I started to say something but she held up her hand. “I always told everyone that you were cool. You worked. You weren’t one of THOSE wives. But, she tells me that every time she touches Dan, you lose it. She said that she mentioned Chicago and…” She froze.
I liked Julie. I could see that she was torn. She wanted to tell me as a friend but, if I didn’t know, she’d hurt me worse. I wasn’t going to let her twist like that. “I know about Chicago, Julie. It’s OK. I mean it’s not, but you don’t have to hide it from me.”
She came over and hugged me. “I’m so sorry Jess. I should’ve known better. You’re not a bitch like that.”
I decided to make her feel better. “Oh, I am a bitch, Julie. Just not like that.”
She laughed. “Oh g-d, I should’ve figured it out. But it was not Becca.”
“You promise?”
“Absolutely. I swear on my life. It was not her,” she said, looking upset.
“Is she here?” I needed to know.
“No, absolutely not. If she was here, I’d tell you.”
“Who was she? Was she from the company?”
“No. She was just some dumb slut from some office supply company that was having a meeting at the hotel.”
I took a deep breath. “Was she pretty?”
She looked at me. “Why go there?”
I sighed, “Because I need to know. I shouldn’t, but I do.”
“She was a set of tits, which is always what they go for.” I was surprised at how harsh she was. Not wrong, although I was a leg man, just harsh. “Good body. Face like Neil Harper. Remember him? Put Neil’s face on a set of Ds and that was her.”
I started giggling. “Oh G-d. I don’t know if I feel better or worse now.”
She giggled with me. “I tried to warn you. But, it was not Becca. She’s a toucher. She touches everyone, even me. I get it though. If it happened to me and some blonde at Dish did that to Will, I’d want to rip her arms off, no matter who she was. Or wasn’t.”
“So, you don’t think I’m a crazy bitch anymore?”
“Well, you never tell a crazy bitch she’s crazy…no, I don’t,” she said, giving me a hug. “Although,” and she started singing, “Hit Me Baby One More Time.”
I blushed. “So how many people know about that?”
“How many people are in this hotel?” I buried my face in my hands. She laughed, “Everyone thought it was cool. I’m impressed that you got up there.”
I took a deep breath. “A bet’s a bet. Thanks. One more question. Has he done it before?”
Without missing a beat, she said, “No. Absolutely not. I have to tell you that, when he did it, we were shocked. He was one of the good ones, we thought. I don’t know what got into him. What happened?”
I couldn’t explain it and even if I could, I wouldn’t. These were Jess’ co-workers. I owed her that much and decided to put positivity into play. “It’s not important. That’s all I needed to know.” Then I paused, “so who are the bad ones?” I said, with a grin.
She laughed. “Now, I don’t know if I should tell you. Oh wait, I need a lawyer and lookit, here’s one. You’re hired so now you can’t tell anyone. Let’s just say his wife’s name sounds like Donnie…”
“Really, Mr. Holier than Thou? We’re very busy at church. I mean maybe I shouldn’t say anything because I’m not Christian like them…”
Julie laughed, “Christian, from” and she moved her hand from the waist up. She laughed and said, “Consider that my present to you,” and she walked back to the dining room. It seemed like we talked forever but it was less than five minutes. Time stands still when you feel like an idiot.
I went into the gym and Becca was stretching. If someone wrote that in a story, I’d call it clichéd, but it happened. I decided to play this as Dan, not Jessica. I wasn’t going to play games. I was going to man up, well as much as a woman in yoga pants and a ponytail could.
She saw me, “Oh hi Jessica,” she said, coldly. I deserved that.
“I can go for a run, if you want. You were here first,” I said.
“It’s a free country.”
I looked at her and said, “I am sorry. I acted like a bitch and I am sorry. I apologize absolutely and completely. I hope that you’ll forgive me but, if you won’t, I get that,” and I headed out for a run. “Feel free to tell everyone I’m crazy.”
She looked at me and said flatly. “Wait. Do you mean that or did Julie put you up to this?”
“I mean it. If I didn’t mean it, I would’ve walked away when I came in. I am 100% unequivocally sorry for being a bitch to you.”
She looked at me. “Why? What did I do to you?”
I was probably making a huge mistake but I needed to unburden myself. “You didn’t do anything. Let’s just leave it as did you ever get something in your head and that’s all that matters? Like, you should know better but you can’t. Sorry, that makes no sense.”
She smiled knowingly, like she wanted to say something but wouldn’t. “I get it. Like you’re pissed at someone and someone else who didn’t do anything,” and she smiled, “does something completely innocent and you take it out on her. Because you’re crazy.”
I smiled and looked at the floor, then looked her in the eye. “I deserve that,” I said. I waved my hands towards me. “Keep ‘em coming.”
She laughed. “No, that’s enough. Julie said you were one of the good ones. I trust her. If she says you’re OK, you’re OK.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Can we start over, Becca Romano from Idaho?” I felt like an idiot but, at the same time, the weight came off me. The paranoia went away. I truly didn’t care what people said.
She laughed, “Chicago. I’m from Chicago. How many Romanos do you think live in Idaho?”
I laughed. “OK, Becca Romano from Chicago. Nice to meet you,” I stuck out my hand.
She gave me a hug. “I’m a hugger, sorry.” I got it now.
I hugged her back and laughed. “And I thought I could play pop-a-shot. You are a pop-a-shot hustler.”
She smiled. “Four brothers and we owned a Dairy Queen with a machine. That’s why I sang, ‘Oops, I Did It Again.’ Inside joke with Kristy.”
I laughed. “You bitch. And I mean that as a compliment.”
She smiled, “I take that as high praise and thank you.” We worked out and we talked. She and Kristy were roommates from college, at the University of Illinois. She didn’t have a boyfriend or, “at least no one I’m taking on a trip with my co-workers.” She said that Kristy wanted to confront me but that she wouldn’t let her. She asked me what it was like to live in New York. We talked about being an attorney. While we were finishing up, she said that she was coming in for training in May and I asked if she would let me show her around. I felt that I owed that to her, plus she was a fun person. I could see why people wanted to hang out with her.
As we were walking out, she said, “I know what you all think about us. You think we’re all sluts that want to sleep with your husbands. We don’t or at least I don’t.”
I said, “I don’t think you do. And you know what, if a married guy sleeps with someone, it’s on him and only on him. He made the vow, not you. Unless you know me, it’s not between you and me. It’s between him and me.”
She looked at me, “Well, yeah, you’re in the minority around here. I’ve gotten enough glares to last me a lifetime and Kristy gets it worse and she doesn’t even work here.”
I laughed, “Well, I am not giving you any glares. Not anymore. Kristy is just getting it because she’s gorgeous. Please tell me she’s a bitch or stupid.” I couldn’t believe I said that.
She laughed. “Nope. Sorry. She’s doing a fellowship in pediatric oncology at Northwestern and she’s the nicest person you’ve ever met. Once you stop hating her, you really like her.” I moaned and she said, “I’ll see you on the bus,” she said. She couldn’t golf because she had hurt her rotator cuff kayaking. She said her grandmother said, “You deserve it. Whoever heard of an Italian in a kayak?”
I looked at her, “Are we OK?”
She smiled and hugged me, “We’re good. Just so you know, no offense, but I don’t sleep with married guys or Jewish guys. Nothing personal, but they have too many mommy issues.” More than you know, Becca. More than you know.
I went up to the room, showered and changed. I decided on a tangerine colored top and a short blue and orange print skirt and blue leather sandals. I sprayed on some “Daisy Dream.” I had been thinking about daisies since the dream. To keep the feeling, I overpaid in the gift shop for a small bottle. I put on my makeup, grabbed my purse and went downstairs.
Everyone was milling about the lobby. I saw Jane standing by herself. “Hey Jane, what’s up? How was dinner?”
“Oh great,” she said, sarcastically. “We got John and Bonnie. They made this big show of saying grace. Over chicken wings. Jesus loves his wings.” I smiled and debated telling her. I figured I’d save it for when Bonnie was being a bitch. That was a when, not an if. She looked at me and smiled, “My loneliness is killing me,” she sang.
“Well, I figured I’d humiliate myself at some point…”
She laughed, “I’m just sorry I missed it. But, who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
“Stop it.” I saw Renee come in. “Come over here. You have to meet Renee. Renee Weatherfield, Jane Manion. Jane, Renee. Renee, Jane is one of us. For the company. Jane, Renee is a real lawyer. She works for the ACLU voting rights project,” I babbled. They both smiled and shook hands and started talking to each other. I saw Courtney come in and went over. She was with Ashley and Claudia. I said hello to everyone and brought them over to Jane and Renee. It felt good to have a group of friends, or at least people I knew.
Ellen stood up in front of the group and said, “Once again, everyone, it’s great to have all of you here. This trip wouldn’t be possible without all of you, both in and out of the company. The plan is to spend a few hours at the museum, get lunch and then go to Worth Avenue. Is everybody ready?” Everyone cheered, including me which got a smile from Jane, and we headed to the bus. It felt like a field trip from school.
We went to get on the bus. Ellen was up front with the travel rep, discussing plans. Bonnie and her crew came on the bus and plopped down right next to Ellen, who winced. I came on and Cindy said, “These seats are taken. Sorry, Jessica.”
Jane gave her a stare. Renee just smiled and shook her head. I sweetly said, “That’s OK, Cindy. We’ll sit back here.” As I walking by, Bonnie looked at me and said, “By the way, Jessica, that’s a really pretty shirt. I wouldn’t have gone with tangerine with your coloring but it’s a pretty shirt.” Her crew laughed. I suddenly felt self-conscious. I thought I looked cute. I looked at my reflection in the window. I looked cute. Why was I letting her get to me?
I sat down next to Jane. “Don’t listen to her. You look good.” I did. I wasn’t Jess. I was me. I mean I was Jessica, but I wasn’t Jess. I liked what I wore. She’s just a bitch. I put it out of my head as best as I could, and talked to everyone. Everyone seemed to get along. It turned out that Ashley and Renee had both gone to George Washington University, so they were sharing D.C. stories. Claudia, Courtney and Jane were all discussing “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend,” which I tried to watch, but couldn’t. I could wear a dress or a bikini, but some things just went too far. I sat down next to Denice and Gabriela, a manager from San Antonio and talked to them.
We arrived at the museum and were met by the docent, who showed us around. It really was like a field trip. A third of the group looked bored. Another third looked like they were going to ditch to go buy fake i.d.s and beer and the last third, which included me and Ellen, were actually interested. Bonnie looked like she wanted to shoot herself but was not going to leave me with Ellen. Before going to the main exhibit, the docent walked us through the galleries. I would have been happy to spend all day here if they let me. Even as Dan, I would’ve preferred this to golf. I could never have gone then though, but here I could enjoy it. The first painting we saw was a Jackson Pollock called “Night Mist.”
“Now, how many of you know who Jackson Pollock is?” the docent said. About half the group raised its hands. “Now most people think of his drip paintings when they think of him, but this is from his Surrealist period in 1945.”
I moved closer. “I totally get that,” I said. “Like you can see this sort of Picasso thing going on with the forms especially this thing over here,” I said, pointing at the left side. “But, he’s definitely moving towards the drips here.” I could feel everyone staring at me.
The docent smiled, “You know your Pollock.”
I suddenly felt very awkward. No one wants to be the teacher’s pet, but I liked art. I could feel some of the women sneering at me, which strengthened my resolve. I was a mess. “I mean, have you ever seen his ‘Guardians of the Secret?’” I pulled it up on my phone, which admittedly is not how to view art but you make do. “See, like he’s definitely got more discrete forms in there, like this shark. And you wouldn’t look at this and think he could get to,” and I pulled up one of the drip paintings, “this.” Some of the women started to look at my phone. “But,” I said, walking towards the painting, “you totally get how this goes to this goes to this.”
The docent smiled. “Maybe we should switch places.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, as we headed to the next room. I held back a little and walked with Renee and Jane. They both looked at me and smiled. I felt incredibly self-conscious and I didn’t know why.
We walked through the Chinese art exhibit which, to be honest, bored me. I appreciated the brushwork but it left me cold. I felt that way about prog rock. I appreciated the technical musicianship but the songs had no warmth. Eventually, we got to the main exhibit, Lichtenstein and Monet. It was primarily Lichtenstein’s study of Monet’s paintings of the gardens at Giverny, but there was a sample of Monet to compare it to, as well as some of Lichtenstein’s more typical works. The natives were getting restless, milling about and chatting, and the docent was feeling it. I saw one painting, “Water Lillies with Cloud,” and went over. The docent, Ellen and a few of the other women came over. “Huh,” I said. “It totally makes sense.”
The docent smiled, “What are you seeing?”
“Well, look at it. It’s like he’s clearly trying to do the water lilies but it’s got that comic strip feeling, like with the Ben Day dots.” I had wanted to be a cartoonist when I was little. I had learned that the little dots in a comic strip were called Ben Day dots. “And these clouds and these trails down, it’s a total link between this and those paintings he did of the fighter pilots.” Dan was coming to the surface. I sounded like a total geek but I felt pretty happy, like at least the best part of me was still there. The people around me were at least feigning interest so I kept going. “Like look at this one.” It was a triptych of a plane called ‘As I Opened Fire.’ I turned to the docent and said, “You’re the expert. Am I making any sense?”
She laughed, “I didn’t make the link originally but I see it now. You clearly like Lichtenstein.”
“Definitely,” I said, moving my hands. Apparently, I had started talking with my hands. “I have a print of “Whaam,” in my office that we bought at the Tate.” I could see Bonnie face wrinkle up. Not that she knew what the Tate was. Yup, I was a snob.
The docent smiled. “Whaam? You don’t strike me as a fighter plane kind of girl. I would’ve guessed one of the Kiss series or Masterpiece.” OK, that was sexist. Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t like planes. Also, I used to be a guy. There’s that too.
I smiled. “Some days you want a kiss. Some days, you want to shoot someone down.” Everyone laughed.
Ellen came over. “I’m sure you two could talk for hours, but unfortunately we have to go.” I wasn’t sure what that meant.
I said, “Well, thank you for the tour. I really appreciated it. I learned a lot.”
“So did I and you’re welcome.” She turned to Ellen and said, “Thank you. As I’m sure you can appreciate, sometimes big groups can get hard to manage but it was a pleasure showing you all around. It’s always nice,” and she touched my arm, “to have people who appreciate what we do here.”
I walked out and overheard Bonnie say, “I don’t understand why they make us do this. I mean who really wants to come here?” Then she looked at me and said, “Oh sorry, Jessica. I didn’t see you.”
A bunch of the women stood around, looking away but paying close attention. ‘You will not break me bitch,’ I thought. “Bonnie, if I told you that, by taking us to a cultural exhibition, the company was able to deduct a larger portion of the cost of the trip, would that make a difference?”
“Um,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know that,” she said.
“I mean, that if I told you that Section 1031 of the Internal Revenue Code would allow the company to deduct,” and I mimed like I was doing calculations, “35% of the total cost of all of us non-Stone people, you’d want to save the company money. Right? I mean, it’s the least we could so for Stone after everything they’ve done for us.” She grumbled and walked away. You aimed for the queen. You missed.
Claudia came over, laughing and said, “Are we exchanging the museum for another museum?”
“I’m sorry, what?” I said, sweetly. I knew what she meant. It was the only section of the tax code that I knew.
“Section 1031. A tax-free exchange of real estate. Lawyers should not do taxes,” she laughed.
I smiled. “I didn’t say the company could. I just asked IF it could, wouldn’t she want to do that? I mean IF I was 6 feet tall and blond, I would be a model,” and I kicked up my heel and walked towards the bus.
We went to a restaurant in Palm Beach. With a big enough group, it’s prix fixe and buffet style. We all sat at tables of eight. I sat with Renee, Denice, Courtney, Ashley, Jane and Claudia. I was eating my flank steak salad when Juliet, one of the wives from John Chapman’s district, came by and said, “Jessica, where do you put it? I mean, I just could simply not eat like that. It would just be everywhere on me.”
Jesus, don’t you people have independent thoughts. “Everybody has different metabolism,” and I turned back to my salad. I wasn’t getting into it with her.
“I mean, I would be careful if I were you. I mean you’ve done so well since Bermuda. I would hate to see you balloon up again.” I now knew what sugar on vinegar meant.
What happened next surprised the hell out of me. From behind her, I heard Becca say, “Well, SHE was in the gym with me at 7:00 AM today and she worked me into the ground.” I didn’t. We just did yoga and the treadmill. “Work hard, play hard, right, Jess?” I smiled. I owed her more than one. Juliet turned white.
I got up and whispered in her ear. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t deserve it.”
She took my hand and pulled me close and sang, “Hit Me Baby, One More Time.” I had to stifle a giggle.
We went to Worth Avenue and thankfully broke into groups. Honestly, Worth Avenue did nothing for me. It’s a collection of uber-high end luxury stores, most of which they had in New York anyway. For the people who weren’t from New York, I guess it was fun. Anyway, I was just having fun walking with my friends, looking in the windows.
We were in Louis Vuitton and they were all looking at pocketbooks. No matter how long I had been this, I just couldn’t understand the appeal of pocketbooks. Clothes? I was a clothes horse. Shoes? I had, to my chagrin, developed a fondness for shoes. Those made me look good. But pocketbooks? They did nothing for me. Renee picked one up, looked at the price tag and said, “I have got to stop doing good. I need to do WELL,” and laughed.
Jane looked at a blue and black tote bag, looked at the price tag and said, “I’ll take this.”
I looked at the price tag. “$2500?”
She smiled, “Sean? Is that you?”
“Sorry, I don’t mean it that way.” She looked at me, as did Renee. I fumbled for words. “I just meant it’s not my thing.” All the women were looking at me. OK, I hit a nerve. “I mean I like clothes and shoes and…OK, I’ll shut up now.”
Courtney laughed. “For the first time, in history, Jessica is short of words. Someone mark this down.”
Denice helped up her phone. “I taped what you said for Dan. What’ll you pay me for it?” I laughed. I deserved this.
We walked past Tiffany’s and I looked in the window. There was a beautiful heart in the window. I don’t know why I liked it so much. It was just a delicate white gold heart but I liked it. I looked at it for a while, sighed and started to walk away. We all walked into Lilly Pulitzer and were flipping through the racks. Denice laughed and said, “There is nothing in here for a mother of five, especially with this shelf,” she said, patting her ass.
I was looking at the rack and I saw the perfect dress. It was white lace dress, with long sleeves and a lace up neckline. It fell to mid-thigh. I went into the dressing room and put it on. It looked perfect. I was going to wear it to dinner tonight. I was feeling great. I went out to show everyone. Courtney told me it looked beautiful. Denice, with a big grin, called me “skinny little white bitch.” Jane said, “Well, now, you’re making me want to go to the gym.” I was on a high. I was paying for it when I heard:
“You must be so happy Jessica. Now that you can shop in stores like this, I mean,” she tittered. “Maybe you will soon too, Jane.”
That was enough. I walked over to her. “That’s enough Bonnie. If you have a problem with me, you have a problem with me. I have no idea why you have a problem with me but I don’t care. You just lay off my friends, OK?” I didn’t know what I was going to do. I wasn’t going to hit her. I wouldn’t have hit her if I were Dan. I mean I wasn’t 22. I was 33 and this was Jess’ company. I just stood there.
“Oh, your friends. Aren’t you the social butterfly? Like Dan in Chicago.” With that went all of my positivity. I started to tear up. I took my bag and I left the store. I sat down on a bench and started bawling. I put my head in my hands and started bawling. People were looking at me. My makeup was a mess. I had put it out of my head and now that bitch put it back. It was October all over again. I had a pretty dress and a husband who cheated but now everyone knew. I was a freak.
Courtney came over. Renee, Jane, Ashley, Claudia and Denice were behind her. She sat down next to me. “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” I sobbed.
“Really, because you don’t seem fine,” she said with a small smile.
“OK, I’m not fine,” I sniffled. “I just…I can’t…I think I’ve had enough. I’m just going to walk back to the hotel. Please let the travel person know, so they’re not looking for me….” I started to walk back. I must have looked like a fright, but I didn’t care. I started walking.
Jane came up next to me. “I know you keep trying to get me in the gym, but these shoes suck. Come on.” I smiled.
Ashley came over. “If you’re not on the bus, she wins.” She was right.
Renee said, in the world’s most exaggerated accent, complete with the Maury Povich Show side-to-side head move, “You are NOT going to let that no-account bee-yotch win. I am NOT letting that happen,” which she followed up with, “Ow, my head hurts. What was I thinking? I never could do that move. See what you made me do?”
I started laughing. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Claudia took my hand. “Are you OK?”
I was. I had friends. I had put positivity out and it came back. Well, it sort of came back, mostly. But, I felt good. And no one asked about Chicago. I mean I’m sure they figured it out. It wasn’t that hard. All that was missing was someone pulling a mask off Bonnie and saying, “It was Old Man Whitaker who owned the campground!”
“How bad do I look?” I said.
Denice smiled. “Oh look, Starbucks! I bet they have a bathroom!” I laughed and went in. I freshened up my makeup and came out. I apologized to everyone.
“For what?”
“I made a scene back there and for crying.”
Claudia looked at me like I was nuts. “You didn’t make a scene. She did. I wanted to see you pull her hair though. That would have been really cool.” I laughed some more. It would have been. It would have backfired later. But it would be fun now. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Jess:
‘What did you say to Ellen?’
‘OMG,’ I had adapted to acronyms fairly easily. ‘I don’t think I said anything. Why? What’s wrong?’
We both had iPhones. I saw the three dots that showed she was typing for a while. Jess and I used to joke that, whenever I saw those dots for more than two seconds, I assumed I was in trouble. I wasn’t joking when I said it and I wasn’t joking now. I was getting nervous.
‘Nothing Bruce came over and said Ellen said, “We are having dinner with Jessica and Dan Thursday.” Thursday was when we usually had a free night. I used to joke that it was so everyone could debrief each other.
Next message: ‘When he said idk if that’s possible, she said, ‘make it possible.’ What did you say? ”
“Idk.” I really didn’t know but I felt better. I thought about everything, about this trip. None of this would have happened if I was me, the old me. I wouldn’t have been embarrassed. I wouldn’t have had to deal with grown women acting like Sarah’s friends. I wouldn’t have thought everyone was talking about me, because they wouldn’t have been. I would’ve been invisible. I would have had nodding acquaintances, a couple of people I knew but I wouldn’t have made friends. Maybe these weren’t my friends. Maybe we were just people thrown together on a trip but I was closer to them than I was to anyone else on any other trip, than Jess ever was either. Jess and I were closer. We were moving forward with life. My head hurt.
Lizzy Bennet, once again thank you!
Dan (now Jessa) and Jessica (now Dan) continue their trip to Palm Beach. Jessa tells Dan how she really feels. Then, they go to dinner with the boss and Jessa learns about playing the corporate game.
__________________________________________________________
Wednesday night was the couples’ dinner. As part of team building, they would pair you with another couple, not from your district (if you were sales) and not from headquarters (if you were like us). I suppose the idea was for everyone to get to know each other. As I said, when we were the old us, I’d end up in conversations about sports with the husband, if his wife was the Stone person. If the husband was the Stone person, Jess would have some awkward conversation with the wife then start talking business with him. If I was lucky, the wife worked and she and I could discuss that for a while. If not, we’d have some conversation where I’d ask about her children, she’d give some perfunctory answers and then we’d just sit and listen to Jess and the husband. I just hoped that she didn’t tell everyone else that I was weird.
This year was different. It wasn’t better. It was just different.
We were back in the room. We had stopped for a drink in the bar after we got back. I was drinking club soda, in the hopes that I was pregnant. I recognized that, even if I was, it was a zygote at this point, and I had read that one drink wouldn’t condemn Emma to a life of minimum wage jobs, but better safe than sorry. Jess took off her jacket. “You’re not going to be friends with everybody,” she said with a laugh. “As great as you are, there are just some people you won’t click with.” We had dinner with Steve and Gina Carlucci. Steve was a manager in the Tulsa office. They had two children. She didn’t work. I had spent the evening trying to engage her on everything, from her children to her hometown (Rochester) to the trip to whether her son was an Oklahoma City Thunder fan (he was, she didn’t know who his favorite player was). She was perfectly nice, just absolutely boring. Halfway through our appetizer, I debated whether it was rude for me to take out my phone.
“I tried, but she was soooo boring. My g-d, how does he stand it?” Steve was a perfectly nice guy. I could tell that his skill was not charming office managers, but earnestly working hard. He’d never have Bruce’s job – he lacked that charisma – but he’d be a serviceable lieutenant to someone. Jess came over and rubbed my shoulders. “Mmmm, that feels so good. Thank you.”
She kissed my neck. “Did I tell how you beautiful you looked tonight?”
I smiled, “You did, but you can tell me again.” It felt nice to be told. I thought about it, realized that I didn’t do it enough before and felt a little guilty and a little sad.
“You are gorgeous.” I was wearing the lace dress that I had bought at Lilly Pulitzer. Even with the circumstances that surrounded its purchase, I loved it. It loved the way it hung on me. I loved the way it showed off my legs and was flirty and sexy, but not showy. It was soft and pretty and made me happy. She put her arms around my waist. “You were the most beautiful woman there, Jessa.” I smiled and kissed her lightly on the lips, and gave her a half smile. “What?” she said.
“Nothing. Jessa,” I said, the half smile never leaving my lips.
She looked at me and smiled. “You’re not Jess. I was Jess and you’re you. You’re certainly not a Jessie. You’re my Jessa. If it bothers you, I’ll stop,” she said, unconvincingly.
“I was just curious,” I said. “It doesn’t bother me at all.” It didn’t bother me. To be honest, I liked it. It was something different, something pretty and soft and feminine. I would never let anyone else call me it. I wanted it to be something that she and I, and only she and I, shared.
“Good,” she said, with a smile. “When did you get that dress?”
“I bought it yesterday at Lilly Pulitzer.”
“You should shop there more,” she said.
I raised my eyebrow. “I should shop there more? Meaning?” I would never have said that to her. I liked my head remaining attached.
“Meaning,” she said, playing with the laces on the neckline, “that it suits you. Anthropologie,” she said, putting her hands under the dress and playing with my thighs, “suits you. I like you like this,” she said, kissing my neck, then pulling the dress over my head. I liked the way she did that; I would never have been that smooth. “You are romantic and sweet and…” She left off feminine, but that’s what she was thinking. It’s what I was thinking and I didn’t care. “You’re my Jessa. My princess Jessa. And my princess Jessa should always feel like a princess.” That made me feel very special and, to be frank, very strange. I liked my clothes. They were me, but it felt strange to have her say it. She had really become a man, a strong, confident man. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
I smiled shyly. “No. I know who I am. Does it bother you? Does it make you think about, you know?”
She smiled and pulled me down onto her lap. “No, Jessa, it doesn’t. You’re the same person I fell in love with, just different. Does me being like this bother you?”
I swung my legs over so I was straddling her lap. I looked into her eyes and said, “What do you think, Dan?” And it didn’t. She seemed so happy, so in control. All of her old issues were fading away and so were mine. We were happy. She was Dan and I was Jessa.
The next day, I got up early again while Jess slept. I looked at her sleeping form for a while, watching her chest go up and down. I was going to go downstairs and surprise her with coffee, but there was something calming about the way her chest rose and fell. Her arms were spread out. I was tempted to roll onto her arm and nestle myself against her naked chest; it made me feel loved and protected. I thought about it and realized that I liked that feeling as much as I liked being her protector before. I smiled and thought that’s what you’re supposed to as a couple, love and protect each other. Before, it was my turn and now it was hers, but really it was no one’s and everyone’s. I decided to just lay there for a while reading. I picked up my Kindle and downloaded the Times, but I’d keep alternating between reading and watching Jess sleep.
After about twenty minutes, Jess woke up and rolled over. “Hey beautiful, how long have you been up?” She said with a smile.
I leaned over and kissed her on the lips, morning breath be damned. “Twenty minutes.”
She got up and went to the bathroom, her erection leading the way. I knew it wasn’t me, which was confirmed when I heard the stream hitting the bowl. To her credit, she always aimed and always lifted the seat, which I had come to appreciate. While she was in the bathroom, I took off my nightie. She climbed back into bed with a huge grin. “This is a nice wake up call,” she said.
I smiled. “Maybe. But right now, I just want to cuddle. I want to feel your skin next to mine.”
She laughed. “You are such a girl,” she said, pulling me towards her. I could feel the heat coming off her chest against mine, and it felt good.
“I am,” I said, putting it out there, to no response but her smile, “but I always liked this. I always liked feeling your skin next to mine. It made feel, I don’t know, close to you.” I blushed. “Sorry if that sounds weird.”
She looked me in the eyes. “It doesn’t. I didn’t know that,” she said, sadly. “Now I feel bad. Why didn’t you ever say something?”
“I tried, but it felt weird,” I said, looking down. “I don’t mean to kill your mood. I just like it is all.”
She smiled. “You could never kill my mood, Jessa. I can’t make up for the past but we have the rest of our lives to do this.” She paused. “This does actually feel kinda nice.” She kissed me lightly on the lips. I looked up into her eyes and saw the eyes of my love. Whoever we were, I was in love and I felt happy. No, I felt content.
Thursday was an uneventful day. You could pick your own activity among a menu of choices. Some people went to the Everglades, some people did a Segway tour of downtown Palm Beach. We did a boat ride on the Intracoastal, which separates Palm Beach Island from West Palm Beach. You ride down and see the classic old mansions on Palm Beach on one side and the office towers of West Palm on the other. I sat in my deck chair, enjoying my club soda and watching the world go by. I talked to the other women and just relaxed. Every so often, I look over and see Jess standing with the guys, the other guys, talking and laughing. She’d look over, give me a wink and a smile and go back to what she was doing. I had never seen her so happy on a trip and knew we were in a good place.
We spent the afternoon by the pool and came back to the room around 5:00 PM; we were meeting Bruce and Ellen at 7:00 PM. We stood by our window and looked at the sun hang low in the sky, Jess’ arm around my waist. I thought about it and realized that we hadn’t really talked all that much this afternoon. We weren’t upset, or at least I wasn’t. Rather, I realized that, on every other trip, we each kept a steady stream of patter, expressing our own neuroses about how the trip was going and trying to assuage the other’s and I smiled.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said, pulling me closer.
I smiled, “You know what I realized? We haven’t been doing post-game this trip.”
“Huh,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about that but you’re right. I didn’t even notice. Do you want to?”
I turned to face her, standing on my tiptoes to kiss her which, even now, could make me giggle. “No. Not at all. It’s more like having heartburn and waking up to find it gone.”
She laughed and kissed me. “Yup, the money your dad spent on that English degree was well spent.” I playfully swatted her. “I’m just teasing,” she said. “By the way, you look beautiful.” I was wearing a pink string bikini with a loop in between my breasts and one on each hip.
“You don’t have to say that every time,” I said, giggling. “I’m going to sleep with you.” I had no idea why today I felt so girly. I had heard an old wives’ tale that said that, if during your pregnancy, you were into girly things, it meant that you were having a girl. Two things worked against that. First, if I was pregnant, I was about three minutes pregnant. Second, I remembered that Laura became very girly during her pregnancy - and Tucker was now three. Maybe I was just losing my mind.
“I know, so that’s how you know I mean it,” she said, with a smile. “You seemed so much more at ease today. You just walked around…”
“Like every other woman?” I said. Jess blanched and I said, “I did, because I am. Plus, I realized the other day that no one thought twice about it. This is me, the girl in the bikini. I’m OK with it. Are you?” I paused, about to say, “even if we change back,” but I realized that that was not likely happening and, even if neither of us said it, neither of us wanted it.
She smiled, “I love you, whoever you are.” I felt like she wanted to say something more, like she liked this better but didn’t for fear of setting me off. What she didn’t realize was that I had moved past acceptance a while ago.
At 6:30, we went downstairs to get a cab to the restaurant. Bruce told Jess that we needed to go separately for “political reasons.” I would have suggested it even if he hadn’t; why give people something to talk about and, unlike 99% of what people thought people talked about, the VP having dinner with one other couple would do that.
We were early so we walked around the hotel for a little while. “I am soooo happy I bought that other dress yesterday,” I said. I was wearing a blue sheath with cutouts at the shoulder that fell about 3” above the knee, and a pair of 3” heels. “I mean I love the other dress, but that was for just us.” One night every trip they allowed you to have dinner by yourselves, if you wanted. We always joked it was for debriefing each other, although our dinners usually devolved into “Barbie-bashing.” I had brought a black sheath dress with a crossed neck and a low cut back and a knee length hem. I didn’t realize it but I was talking with my hands.
Jess smiled, “Just us?” She was wearing a charcoal gray suit and blue shirt, with no tie. She had gotten a little color which, combined with her weight loss, made her look incredibly handsome.
“Yes,” I said. “It was way too sexy for Bruce and Ellen.”
Jess laughed. “Too sexy? Boy, someone is full of herself.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Hey!” I said, embarrassed to be caught. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I just don’t want to look slutty or something,” not even pausing to think about how absurd this sentence would have sounded last year. “This one is much better, right?”
She smiled, “Ellen will love it. You all dress for each other anyway.” I let the comment hang. I never thought that I did that but I knew now that was wrong. I liked Ellen and didn’t want to give off the wrong impression.
We were walking hand in hand. “Do you ever miss it? Miss getting dressed up and stuff?”
She thought for a second and said, “Not anymore. I used to, but I’ve gotten used to it. I mean there’s a lot to be said for not having to think a lot. I mean it’s basically three or four colors of shirt, two colors of suit, stripe, solid, maybe window pane if I want to go on the edge,” she chuckled. “It makes life easy. You have to make all these choices - what length? What neckline? What color, what pattern? Is this too dressy, not dressy enough? What shoes? What accessories? Just thinking about it gives me a headache now. But, you totally get it. You never make the wrong choice. You always look perfect,” she said, giving me a kiss. “You’re better than I ever was, Jessa.” I let that last comment hang there. I was better but wasn’t ready to unpack (pardon the pun) what that meant. “Sorry about that. Do you ever miss this?”
Now I thought for a second and smiled. “No. I could live without waxing and plucking and all that.” Jess smirked at that. “But, no, I don’t miss it, and then I said out loud what had been hanging in the air for weeks, if not months. “I like being pretty. I like my clothes and my shoes. I like being Jessa,” and I looked at her. She just smiled and said, “I like being Dan,” and she kissed me.
Dinner was at a restaurant, Kitchen, in West Palm Beach. We walked to the reservations desk and Jess said, “We’re meeting someone, Conlan,” she said, giving the hostess a smile. I caught the hostess looking him then me up and down. She was a classic South Florida blond 24-year old, hoping she’d parlay this into a good marriage. ‘OK, Jessica,’ I thought, ‘you need to chill out.’
“Come this way,” she said, leading us to the table. Bruce and Ellen were already there. The table was set for six, however. The restaurant was pretty full so I thought ‘maybe this is just the table they had.’ I gave a quick look at the other place settings and looked at Jess. Jess gave me a quick look that said, ‘I don’t know either. Leave it be.’
We came to the table and Bruce and Ellen both stood. Jess and Bruce shook hands, Jess having mastered the grip and grin. Ellen and I exchanged kisses. She looked me up and down and said, “I love that dress, Jess. That is a great color for you.” It was. With my coloring, it really set off my eyes. Yup, I was Jessa and I dressed for other women.
I smiled and said, “Thank you. You look gorgeous.” She was wearing a black short sleeved A line dress, with a strand of pearls. It was knee length, simple yet elegant.
She smiled, “For an old lady.”
“Stop it honey,” Bruce said, giving me a kiss.
“Thank you for inviting us, Bruce. I really appreciate it.”
He laughed and said, “I didn’t have a choice. Seriously, I’m glad you made it. Sorry to take away your free night,” he said, seeming sincerely but he knew that we wouldn’t turn down a private audience with the boss.
I smiled and said, “Please. This is just the topper to a great trip. I’ve really had a great time.”
Ellen said, “So what did you do today?”
I started to say something but noticed Jess wanted to speak, so I paused. This was her chance to shine in front of the VP, so I held back. Like the song from Hamilton says, I decided to talk less and smile more. Jess said, “We did the cruise up the Intracoastal. That was a lot of fun.”
Bruce turned to me, “Did you enjoy it, Jessica?”
I decided to needle Jess. “I wanted to do the Segway ride, but Dan vetoed that…”
Ellen said, “I’m very disappointed in you, Dan,” and then she smiled.
Bruce said, “Didn’t your father teach you happy wife, happy life?” I always hated that expression. Even now, I did, even though it sort of benefitted me. It was sexist to both of us, like I was a child that needed to be pampered and Jess had no desires beyond pleasing me. I understood that it was a throwaway comment and that Bruce forgot about it in the time I was in my own head, but it just bothered me.
Jess laughed. “OK, in my defense, I grew up down here. I know a lot of people who work on Clematis,” the main business street in West Palm, “and if I was seen riding around on a Segway, I would never hear the end of it. Honey,” and she turned to me, “we can do it anyplace else. I will buy you a Segway,” as Bruce and Ellen laughed. Jess turned to Bruce and said, “Look me in the eye and tell me you would do this in Boston.”
Bruce laughed. “You’ve sold me, but Jessica,” and here I crossed my arms and mock-scowled, “seems less than impressed.”
I couldn’t hold it and laughed. “What about you two? What did you do?”
Ellen smiled, “We just relaxed by the pool. It was nice to just sit and read. Thank you again for joining us. I’m just glad to get a chance to speak with you two without prying eyes around,” and she gave me a knowing wink. I gave an exaggerated ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ look, which made her laugh. “I knew I liked you.”
Bruce smiled and said, in a drawn out manner, “Ellen….” Then he looked at me and said, with a grin, “I’ve heard you’re a literature and art expert, counselor.”
I blushed. I don’t know what had gotten into me but I kept blushing lately; maybe, hopefully, it was a pregnancy thing. Jess laughed and said, “What have you been up to, Jessa?”
‘Jessa’ made me regain my composure. “I’m no expert. I just really liked the exhibit.” I turned to Ellen and said, “Sorry if I monopolized the docent. I was talking my head off.” I did but the funny thing was, as Dan, I don’t know that I would have noticed - or cared. Since the switch, I had become more aware of the people around me and how I was perceived. Like Jess said, men talk, women listen. I was learning to listen.
Bruce smiled and said, “That’s not what I heard. What I heard was you really knew and loved the subject and were trying to show people how much you loved it. I’ve heard, and not just from Ellen, that you really got people interested. That’s a good thing. I want people to remember the people they met. That’s what this is about, the people.” I wasn’t sure if it was sales bullshit, but whatever it was, I believed it.
I smiled and said, “That’s what Dan says too.” I figured it was good to reflect that back. “It’s about the people. A hotel is a hotel, even as beautiful as this one, but it’s about spending time with everyone.” That was technically correct. It always was about the people with Jess. It was about how much she couldn’t stand them, but let’s not split hairs. “I’ve really realized that this trip. I’ve really gotten to know a lot of the people. Thank you.”
Bruce started to say something and Ellen interrupted him. “Stop it, Jess,” she said, with a smile. “This trip is for the company to thank everyone, spouses included. Nothing gets done without everyone, even us non-Stone people. Right, Bruce?”
He smiled. “And all these years I thought she wasn’t listening.”
She smiled and said, “I wasn’t. OK, that’s enough company talk. I said that I wanted to get to know you too, so tell me about yourselves. Dan, you first.”
Jess smiled and said, “Like I said, I’m a rare character, a native Floridian. I grew up in Coral Gables, then went to Vanderbilt. I moved to New York to work for the company and that’s that.”
“That’s not just that,” she said. “Tell me about your family.” OK, how much time and alcohol do you have, Ellen?
Jess smiled. “My dad is an ophthalmic surgeon and my mom is a federal judge. I have an older sister, Jill, who’s an economist and, as of next semester, an adjunct at Vassar.”
Bruce laughed. “That’s quite an accomplished family. They should meet mine.”
I squeezed Jess’ knee, hoping to impart ‘ask him’ to her. She may have looked like me but she still had some her because she said, “What about yours?”
“I’ll see your doctor and judge and raise you cardiothoracic surgeon at Deaconess and PhD psych and professor at BU. And my sister is a criminal defense attorney, and an ex-AUSA,” an assistant US attorney. “I guess we’re the black sheep.” I could see Jess relax.
I smiled and said, “You seem to have come out of it OK. Criminal defense, huh? We better keep her away from Johnny Rockmore.”
Bruce laughed, “Ah, the sarge. I remember when Denice worked with me,” I noticed how he said with, not for. Bonnie’s husband John used ‘for’ and that’s why Bruce was his boss. “He offered me his son.”
I laughed. “He offered me their daughter.”
Bruce said, “Jocelyn? She’s gotta be 14 now. I love Em, but say ‘no thanks.’”
“That’s amazing,” I said, “How do you keep track of all of them?”
Ellen smiled and said, “The same way you do.” I must’ve looked at her because she said, “Don’t play modest, Jess. I guarantee you that you remember everyone’s name and hometown and their kids.”
Jess looked at me, then her and said, “She’s got your number, sweetie.”
Ellen said, “Right now, how many people on this trip have you been with before?”
I smiled and looked at the ceiling. “Fourteen, no wait, fifteen. We were on a trip with Aaron Mack, but he wasn’t with Trish then. He brought this brunette, Allison, who had big...” And then I remembered who we were with and who I was, “uh, personality. Yeah, that’s it, personality.”
Bruce and Jess laughed, loudly. Ellen smiled and said, “Big personality? That’s the first thing Bruce notices. We can be walking down the street and his head will turn whenever he sees a woman with a big,” and she grinned. “Personality. That’s my Bruce, a personality man. The bigger, the better. What about you, Dan? Is it about personality?”
Jess smiled and said, “I’ve always been a morals man myself. Nothing better than a woman with morals.”
I mumbled and smiled, “OK, I’ll shut up now.”
Ellen said, “We’re just playing. You walked into that. What about you, Jess? Tell me about you, other than you love books and art.”
“Well,” I said. “I’m from Rockland County, New York…”
Bruce interrupted me, “Nanuet Hotel or Martio’s?” These were, in my opinion, the two best pizza places in the county but unless you were from there or spent time there, you wouldn’t know.
“Martio’s,” I said.
“OK, you can leave now,” he said, with a grin. “How can you like it better?”
“It’s as good and the lines are shorter,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “More importantly, how would you know them?”
“I used to work for AHP. I spent a lot of time at the Pearl RIver plant.”
“Ah, OK. I was trying to figure out how a Bostonian would know good pizza,” and he smirked. Bostonians swear by the pizza in the North End; everyone’s entitled to an opinion, even the wrong one. “Anyway, I’m from New City. My dad is a CPA. My mom stayed home and took care of me and my sister Laura. I went to the University of Wisconsin and then Columbia Law School. I’ve been doing litigation since I graduated,” and I paused. “But, that’s enough about us. I want to know about you two.” I decided to go with something girly. “How did you meet?”
Ellen smiled and said, “I hit him with my car.”
Jess went with, “I thought that usually comes after you’re married.”
Ellen gave him an ‘I like you’ look and said, “No, that’s when you do it on purpose. I was driving on Boylston and wasn’t paying attention…”
Bruce chimed in, “She was putting on makeup….”
“To go defend my dissertation and, anyway, I may have been putting on makeup when I stopped short and rammed into the car in front of me….”
“And she was so upset and so sorry over a little dent. I was ready to drive away and pay someone $50 to pull it but she said that we had to wait for the police and, by the time they got there, I had asked her out. Twenty-three years later and we’re still here.”
I smiled, “That is such a sweet story,” and it was. “So, what was your dissertation for?”
“A masters’ in clinical psychology,” she said, grinning. “His mother has a PhD in it and I have my masters’. Make of that what you will.”
Jess smiled and looked at Bruce. “My mom’s a judge and,” she pointed at me. “Hello?” Well, technically, I am, or was, your husband, so it’s not a mommy problem. It’s a mommy problem on psychotropic drugs but who’s splitting hairs?
Bruce laughed, “You know what drives me nuts? When they start talking shorthand and then look at you like you’re an idiot.”
I decided to play with him and hoped it didn’t backfire. I put my hand on Bruce’s and said, “You should know. That look has nothing to do with work.” Ellen laughed, loudly.
Bruce looked at Ellen and said, “I see why you like her,” and then, looking at me, “wiseass.” She liked me. I knew she did, but I needed affirmation. After that, the conversation flowed freely. Jess and Bruce inevitably drifted to work topics although I noticed an interesting trend. Bruce was asking Jess her opinion on field deployment. Without boring you, deployment is where you decide to place representatives; the more populated a district, the more representatives although it’s more complicated than that. It wasn’t Jess’ background but she was holding her own.
Ellen and I were talking about the museum. She said, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind Worth Avenue,” and she gave Bruce a look and said, with a smile, “Do not go there, Bruce. But I would have been happy to spend all day at the museum. I loved listening to you and the docent. I wished I could have been fully involved but sometimes I swear it’s like a field trip.”
Jess laughed, “That’s just what Jessa said,” and she rubbed my knee under the table. She did that before we switched; I never knew if it was affection or ‘shut up,’ so I went with ‘shut up.’ G-d knows I never did that before but this was her VP, her show. “She said that she thought some of the women were sneaking off to get fake i.d.s and beer.”
Bruce laughed and said, “We did that on a trip to New York in high school. Ah, Dan, you missed the fun times on 42nd. Sorry, ladies.” Well, technically, I missed them but who’s counting?
We had ordered appetizers, when another couple approached the table. He was about 55, with salt and pepper hair, brown eyes. 6’2”, if I had to guess. He was dressed in a navy suit that was clearly made for him, not off the rack and a light blue shirt. He was with a woman, who was about 5’9”, 155 pounds, brown hair, green eyes and wearing a red dress, v neck, short sleeve and knee length. She looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place her. It was going to bother me until I did but resolved to focus. Yup, if the lawyer thing failed, I was going to the police academy.
The man introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Greg Lyles.” Greg Lyles was the president of the US division. Someone else would’ve been late. He was the president so he wasn’t late, we were early. Jess stuck out her hand and, looking him in the eye, said, “Hi Sir. I’m Dan Silverman, we met at the Praxal launch last year.” I was impressed. The old Jess would have been hyperventilating at the prospect of dinner with the boss, but not the new Jess. I, on the other hand, was confused and nervous. Why was the president of the division here and eating with us? Or, more accurately, why were eating with him? “This is my wife, Jessica. Jessica, this is Greg Lyles.”
I smiled and gently gripped his hand, “Very nice to meet you, sir.”
He laughed and said, “Call me Greg, you two.” He turned to Dan and said, “I’ve been hearing a lot about you lately. Your work on Xaldor is impressing a lot of people.”
Jess smiled and said, “Thank you. That’s always nice to hear. It’s been a team effort. Everyone deserves credit.” Bruce gave a small smile and an almost imperceptible nod. I was still curious as to what was going on but everyone seemed to be glad we were there, so I let it ride.
Ellen turned to the other woman and I and said, “Jessica Silverman, this is Jillian Lyles. Jillian Lyles, this is Jessica Silverman.” We leaned in and gave each other a small peck on the cheek. I kept racking my brain trying to remember why I knew her. I knew we had never been on a trip with them, I’d remember that. I just hoped my thoughts weren’t crossing my face.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Jillian,” I said, still racking my brain.
Jillian smiled, “You too. Ellen has told me all about you. She said that you can speak intelligently on any topic.”
I debated making a joke like, “Speak yes, intelligent maybe,” but went with, “It’s easy to talk when you have someone interesting to talk to.” Even though I knew Ellen would get it, I had found that my sense of humor tended to fall flat a lot on these trips.
Jess, Greg and Bruce fell into work talk which was fine. When you get a private audience with the boss and the boss’ boss, you use it. Jillian, Ellen and I began to talk amongst ourselves. The more Jillian spoke, the more I was tortured. I recognized her voice but couldn’t remember where. Eventually, I said, “I am so sorry, Jillian, but I feel like I’ve met you somewhere and I can’t figure out where.”
She smiled and turned to Ellen, “Did you tell her?”
Ellen laughed. “No, but I told you she’d know you. Jess, you are amazing. Is there something you don’t know?”
Everyone at the table looked at me. “OK, if there’s some inside joke here, let me in. Please.”
Jillian said, in her best NPR voice, “I’m Jillian Robinson, NPR News.”
I smiled, “That’s it! I knew I recognized you. I love your work. I used to listen to you,” and then I paused, realizing that the next part of the sentence could go either way, “when I was in college.”
She laughed, “Well, I opened myself up to that.”
I backpedaled, poorly. “Well, it was a really long time ago,” which I realized probably made her feel even older. “Anyway, I remember a story you did on Latrell Sprewell.” Everyone kept looking at me. “OK, so Spree turned down a contract from the T-Wolves on the grounds that he needed to feed his family and Jillian did this whole story on how much you could do with the $14.6 million he turned down. It was so amazing. That and the story on the Food Bank and how many people they could feed with the money. It was amazing.” Jess told me later that I was gesturing passionately while I spoke. I felt everyone staring at me. “Well, now, I feel silly.”
Greg smiled. “You have a fan, Jill.” I wanted to sink below the table. “I’m amazed Jessica. How old is that story? 10, 12 years?”
I regained my composure. “It was a great story,” I said. I turned to Jillian, “It really was. I always wanted to write a story like that.”
She smiled. “Now it’s my turn to blush. Are you a journalist?”
I blushed again. I must’ve looked like an idiot or someone in the throes of fever. “Hardly. I wrote for the paper in college, but journalist is not a term I would use.” It wasn’t. I covered student government meetings and protests against the Iraq war on campus. When I was a senior, I covered the state government. But I was not a journalist. I was a kid with a laptop.
“And what do you do now?”
“I’m an attorney, a litigator. What about you? I haven’t heard you on NPR in a while.”
“I’m in corporate communications now,” she said. “After I had my second child, I decided to go inside for a while. Occasionally, I’ll write something for HuffPo, but not really. Given Greg’s job, it’s best that I lay off politics for awhile,” she said, with a wistful, if not rueful, look in her eye.
“So, what sort of things does that involve?” Once she began to describe her job, the conversation inevitably drifted back to Stone vs non-Stone. I kept reminding myself to listen to Jillian and Ellen, and not talk too much; I was the junior guy’s wife and needed to defer, for Jess’ sake. Well, that and I wanted them to like me. Jillian told us her job was mostly writing press releases for companies and managing media relations for hedge funds. She couldn’t work in pharma, for obvious reasons. She had two sons, Jack and Eric, who were 17 and 12. Jack was a senior and was considering Wisconsin.
“Well,” I said, “if he has any questions, please have him call me. I had a great time there.”
Jill said, “Thanks. I’ll let him know.” I knew he would never call and she would forget the offer, but it was one of those things that you said, like asking people ‘how are you.’ You didn’t really care and they didn’t care if you did, but it was common courtesy.
We ordered dinner and Greg ordered a couple of bottles of expensive Merlot. I didn’t want to drink (Emma needed that Ivy League degree) but knew that, politically, I couldn’t order club soda unless I wanted to go down that road with Ellen. I liked her but I wasn’t there yet. So, I took small sips and made it look like I was drinking it. Besides, everyone was drinking but no one was going to get drunk. These were people who knew what a work dinner was.
Greg, Bruce and Jess were talking about interviews when Greg turned to me and said, “OK, counselor. Give me an interview question you’d ask.” Well, I was asked once when I lost my virginity (I work with construction, and was told that I better be able to handle some interesting people) but decided that was NSFW and didn’t really tell you anything. By the way, the answer is 17. To Angela Maresca. Before I puked on her. I went with, “What was your first job and what did you learn there that helps you in your current position?”
He smiled, “Interesting. So what’s the answer?”
“I worked as a wait...ress at a country club near my house.” I had been a waiter but that was seventeen years and one penis ago. “I learned how to deal with people. Not in some vague Miss USA garbage way, but I learned that sometimes people will be irrational and nasty and you may not want to deal with them, but you have to. And this was a country club where people I knew from high school belonged and I had to deal with that too.”
Jillian smiled, “Meaning?”
“Meaning that high schools girls can be, um, challenging.” She and Ellen laughed. “And maybe not so nice to someone they know who’s serving them, but you don’t have the luxury of getting angry. You just do your job the best you can.” I didn’t get shit from the girls; they flirted with me so I’d give them free stuff, although they didn’t reciprocate nearly enough. It was the boys who would do things like spill stuff on purpose so we had to clean it up.
Bruce laughed, “That was a very mature attitude.”
I smiled. “You asked what I learned from it. Then? Then I hated them with every fiber of my being and wanted to spit in their food,” and everyone laughed.
Bruce said, “Did you ever?”
I smiled and said, “Let’s just say that rule Number 1 is don’t mean to be your waitress. Rule Number 2, if you are, don’t eat the coleslaw,” which wasn’t true. Everyone fantasized about it, but no one would do it. “Seriously though, what I learned is not every day at work is going to be fun. The client isn’t always right but they’re the client and you have to figure out to make them happy while doing the best job you can for them. OK, what about you?”
Greg smiled. “Country club, too, except I was a range rat. You know, drive the little cart recovering golf balls while guys like Bruce here aim at me. What did I learn from that? Life is full people aiming golf balls at you, the key is to try and avoid getting hit and not letting it faze you when you do.”
I smiled and said, “So what was the last golf ball that hit you?” Jillian looked at me and gave me a quick smile that felt like an affirmation.
Greg smiled, “The last time I went to Congress to testify on drug prices. That was probably as close to being in the cart as I’ve been for a long time,” and then we went around the table, talking about first jobs. Ellen worked as a secretary for an HVAC company and said that the training she got there gave her more insight into human behavior than her clinical training. Jillian worked at Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream and Bruce worked as a plumber’s helper and said, “The value of a dollar. Well, that and some days, you’re just going to be knee deep in..” and he smiled.
Greg smiled at me and said, “I have to remember those questions, counselor. What made you think of them?”
I thought for a second. “You can learn about someone from their first job and how they saw it. I mean, for most people, it’s a job not a career and so you have to think about what you learned. And it’s open-ended.”
Greg smiled knowingly, “Open-ended?”
“Open-ended. The first question doesn’t matter. The second answer does. Lawyer’s trick,” and I smiled, somewhere between sweetly and sarcastically. I wanted to affirm that I was someone too, that I could be in many rooms. Then I thought about it and realized that I was Jessa, not Dan. This was Jess’ chance to shine, not mine.
He looked at Jess and said, “You better stay on her good side…”
Jillian smiled. “Not bad, Jess. Do you mind if I call you that?”
No, of course, I don’t. You’re the boss’ boss’ wife. Call me what you want. “Not at all, that’s what everyone calls me.” Except Jess, who looked at me with a smile. She knew that I was her Jessa.
She said, “That was a good question, and a better follow up. Somewhere in there lies a journalist waiting to come out.”
“I wish,” I said, with a smile. “I would’ve liked that.”
She smiled, “So, why didn’t you?”
I looked up at the ceiling, still no answer. “I don’t know. I mean, when I graduated, only the Journal had a pay wall. Everyone else said ‘information wants to be free.’”
She smiled, “And if information is free, guess who doesn’t get paid?”
I said, “Exactly.” That wasn’t it exactly. I didn’t try and be a reporter because everyone told me that I should go to law school, that I could make a good living. They didn’t tell me that I’d be graduating into 2009, but I got a good job that paid well. I didn’t really think about it until now. “So, armed with my English degree, here I am.”
“Well, if you ever want to write, let me know. Send me some clips. It’d have to be for free though.”
“Thanks,” I said, with a smile. Jess squeezed my knee. I knew this was a good squeeze, because it wasn’t too hard. “I think I’d like that.” Ellen gave me a little smile.
Before dessert, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and Ellen came with me. I was at the mirror checking my makeup and she said, “You’re doing great, Jess.” I didn’t realize that she was paying attention like that but, in retrospect, I’m not sure why I was surprised. She had been playing the game a long time.
I smiled. “Thanks. I’m having a great time. I hope I’m not talking too much.”
She took my hand. “Would you stop it? I never thought I’d meet someone more neurotic than me. You are doing terrific and so is Dan.”
“Thanks. I really hope we didn’t horn in on your dinner with Greg and Jillian.”
She looked at me and said seriously. “I invited you, remember? I wanted you here. I like talking to you and so do Greg and Jill. I’ve known Greg for twenty years and he likes you, which is good for Dan.”
“Thanks. I mean, do I really matter?” She looked at me. “Sorry, I mean I come from a law firm. Everyone could love you but what matters is numbers. If I bill 2,500 hours, I could scream at people and be partner. If I bill 1,500, I could be everyone’s friend and I’m gone.”
She smiled. “It’s the same here but, all things being equal, if people like you, it helps Dan a lot. No one wants to be around some people….so what happened exactly?”
I smiled sweetly, thinking about what Julie told me and thinking how I was here and Bonnie wasn’t. “Nothing. Nothing happened. Someone who shall remain nameless,” and Ellen laughed. “Said something, someone else reacted in a way that she would prefer to walk back…”
Ellen said, “I heard that second someone didn’t do anything wrong.”
I smiled, knowing that I was seen as the aggrieved party. “She didn’t, but she would still handle it differently now. And she found out who her friends were and she’s glad for that. Anyway, it’s done and the second someone put it out of her mind. Seriously, how did you hear?”
She sighed. “I told you it’s like a field trip. People like you and what’s most important is the people who need to like you like you,” and she pointed towards the door. “I like you.”
I blushed. “I like you too. I’m sorry to be all neurotic.”
She laughed, “Please. Ask Bruce how bad I was on the way home from our first big dinner. You’re doing terrific. Keep it up,” and she gave me a hug. We walked out of the bathroom and I felt great. I was doing well and I was doing well for Jess.
We got back to the table. Bruce, Jess and Greg stood, which struck me as old-fashioned but I would’ve done it. It felt good to be on the receiving end of it. Greg said, “I hope you don’t mind, but we’d like to borrow Dan tomorrow morning for a round.”
I smiled, figuring this was a very good thing. If they were going to fire him, they just would and they wouldn’t have asked us to dinner and yes, I’m neurotic, why do you ask? “Of course. I’ll find something to keep me out of trouble. But, when you’re going from second to third, hold the clutch down halfway. Otherwise, it stalls out.”
Greg, with the practiced timing of a good salesman, said, with a smile, “I said Dan, not van.”
I smiled. “I heard you the first time,” I said, to laughter.
Bruce said, “I had a Datsun B-210 wagon like that. And a girlfriend. Couldn’t get either started in the morning.” and Ellen threw a napkin at his head.
We took a separate cab back to the hotel for the same reason and got back around 10:00 PM. We came into the lobby and ran into Jane, Courtney and everyone and went into the bar for a drink. I was back on club soda; when asked, I said, “I had a little too much tonight.” I had had one glass of wine at dinner but figured no one would ask beyond that and they didn’t. We all sat and talked. I started thinking about everything. This time, the last year, we would have been sitting in the bar with everyone, but the conversation wouldn’t have been the same. It would’ve been some stilted conversation about sports, while Jess pretended, poorly, to like the wives. Now, we were both enjoying ourselves. We certainly wouldn’t have had dinner with the bosses. Ellen would’ve been polite to me, as she was to everyone, but I would’ve been eminently forgettable. I wouldn’t have met Jillian. Did everyone like me or were they just amazed that a girl knew things? I know I was the same person as I was before, but was I better or was this just the triumph of low expectations?
Around 12:00, the crowd started to break up. Everyone went to their rooms. We got out of the elevator and I took off my shoes, “Oh, that feels so much better,” I said. “They look good but damn they hurt.” I smiled sweetly, “Foot rub, honey?”
Jess smiled. “You are such a girl, Jessa,” she said, as she slid in the key card.
We walked in and Jess went to take off her jacket. I looked down and there was a note under the door, addressed to me. It’s interesting that Jess didn’t notice it. Maybe she was becoming more like me every day. I opened it:
“In case you were wondering if you matter, you do. They loved you. See you tomorrow,” and it was signed with a heart and “E.” I smiled and put it in my purse.
We sat on the bed and Jess rubbed my feet. “That feels so good,” I said. “Dinner was fun.”
“Yeah,” she said. “It was. I can’t believe Greg was there. That was weird.”
“You did amazing. I was so proud of you. He likes you, Bruce likes you.”
“You think?” she said, in a way that said she knew, which surprised and excited me. The old Jess would’ve said, “I don’t think so,” or said, “you think,” really wondering about the answer. So, would the old Dan.
“Did I do OK?” I said, looking at her.
“You were great,” she said, “They loved you. When you got up to go the bathroom, Jillian told me that to make sure you sent her clips, that she expected that she’d love them. And Ellen wanted you there. Seriously, though, are you OK? You seemed a little out of it in the bar.”
“Just thinking,” I said, as she switched from rubbing my feet to my shoulders. “That feels great. Thank you, Dan.”
She smiled. “Don’t think, Jessa. It only hurts the ball club. Seriously, though, what’s up?”
“Just thinking about everything. Dinner. The trip. This year.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking,” I said, turning to face her. “How great you are. How much you’ve grown. You’re a real leader. Ramona said it and Greg and Bruce just validated it. Everyone respects you. They really do. And you’re not a dick about it. John Chapman’s people listen to him because they have to, because they’re afraid. People listen to you because you lead by example. Seriously, I keep saying it because I’m proud of you. And so is,” and I pointed at my stomach, “the zygote,” and then I tapped my head three times, as if to knock on wood.
Jess smiled, “I couldn’t have done it without you.” I pursed my lips and blew air as if to say, “please,” but she said, “No, I’m serious. I’ve been thinking too. Everyone loves you. Jane, Courtney,” and then she paused, “Ellen, Jill, everyone. They’ve all told me how great you are. How smart, how funny, which I already knew. And I’ve seen how much you care. And I figured it out.”
I was confused. “And?
“They’re not Barbies to you. They’re women. They’re people. You relate to them, better than I ever did, then I ever could.”
I got a little nervous. “Are you saying you think I wanted to be a girl?”
She took my hands. “No no no. I never thought that and still don’t. You’re who you always were but you couldn’t be you when you were you because they wouldn’t let you. But, by being me, you get to be you. Does that make sense?”
“Kind of But what about you? You don’t want to be you? I mean like me?”
“I am me. I’m more me now than I ever was then.” Now I was thoroughly confused which must have shown because she said, “I never wanted to be a guy. I liked being a girl. I just never liked the games that went with it.”
“I don’t either,” I said and I didn’t. I was like Sarah in that respect. I just wanted everyone to get along.
She smiled. “I’ve watched you. You don’t play games, because you don’t have to. You’re just one of those women who gets it. No one plays the game with you because you’re genuine. People like you. They like Jessa, so they don’t play the game with you. Since this all happened, I realized that I always related better to guys. They don’t play games. I mean I had girlfriends but half the time, they were frenemies like Lori. I was a guy’s girl.”
I thought about it. I had close guy friends but who did I turn to? Michelle and Sammie, they were my closest friends. “What does that make me? A girl’s guy? A girl’s girl?” I wasn’t upset about the implication, but just wondered.
She kissed me and said, “We’re us. We always were and we always will be. I just know that you’re a better me than me. And you were a better you than me. But I’m a better me as you than I ever was as me, y’ know?”
I laughed, “He’s on third base.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve accomplished is because of you. It was before and it is now. By being you, you made me better. I love you, Jessa.”
I started to cry, stupid hormones. “I love you too, Dan.”
We made love and we went to bed. The next morning, Dan got up and met Bruce and Greg for golf. I laid in bed for a while and read, then decided to go for a run on the beach. I wasn’t in the mood for the gym today. We’d be heading back to the cold tomorrow and decided to take advantage of one last day of sun. Forget April. February is the cruelest month, at least in New York. I was stretching against the steps down to the beach when I heard, “Hey, Jess. Headed for a run?”
I turned around to see Jillian. “Oh hi, Jillian. I figured I’d get a run in while they were at golf. You?”
She smiled, “Same. I like running down here. No,” and she looked at the hotel and rolled her eyes. “Crowds.”
I smiled and said, “If you want to be alone, I 100% get that. I’ll wait until you’re down a ways to start.”
She laughed. “I said crowds, not you. Come on,” she said and we started to run down the beach. “I had a great time last night. You guys are terrific.”
“Thanks,” I said. “We enjoyed it too. I hope I didn’t talk your ear off or embarrass you with that story.”
She laughed, “Please. Yes, Greg busted my chops about you remembering and,” and she mocked stabbed herself in the chest, “being in college when it happened, but I was not in the least embarrassed. And you talked the right amount. I see why Ellen likes you so much.”
I blushed. “I like her too. She’s terrific. I’m glad we got to spend the time together.”
“She is too. So am I. I am serious though about writing. If you don’t mind an unpaid job to start, let me know. I have to see the clips but I can tell from your conversation, you’d could be very good at it. Ellen can give you my email.”
I smiled, “It would be good to engage that part of my brain again,” I said. “Thanks.” I realized what Jess said yesterday. None of this would have happened to Dan. Dan would be the guy running on the beach with his earbuds in. Dan would’ve been the guy in the corner talking about sports at the cocktail party at Marty and Evelyn’s. Dan may have made partner, but he wouldn’t be here. Jessa was.
We ran for a while, talking about her favorite place to cover (Brussels) and her least favorite (Springfield, Illinois), the demands of Greg’s job and her kids and just life in general. She told me that her kids were the best thing that she had ever done and asked about our plans. All these months later, and I was still amazed at how forward women were on this topic. Your uterus was for public discussion.
I just smiled and said, “Soon. I’m ready, I think.” Hopefully, nine months less three days, but who’s counting?
She smiled, and said, “When it happens, try and enjoy every minute. It goes too fast. One day, you’ll look up and your 2 year old will be 6 feet tall and looking at colleges.” She stopped, took a deep breath and said, “Greg really likes Dan, by the way. He says he has real potential.”
I smiled. “Well, that’s always good to hear, thanks.” I joked, “I keep telling him that when it comes to cleaning up after himself, too.”
She laughed, “Good luck with that. Three men. My house smells like a locker room and looks like a bomb went off.”
We finished the run and she said, “I’m going to stay down here for a few minutes, sorry.”
I smiled, “Crowds?” I said, making quotes. “I didn’t see you.”
I went upstairs, showered and was sitting having coffee with Ellen, when Bruce, Greg and Jess came back. Jess had a huge grin on her face, as did Bruce and Greg. Bruce looked at me, swatted Jess on the ass and said, “Go over.” He gave Ellen a small smile and a nod.
Jess came over and said almost giddily, “Hi Ellen. Excuse us, but can I borrow Jess for a second?”
Ellen smiled knowingly and said, “Of course. I’ll see you in a little while, Jess.”
I smiled, “What? What’s so important?”
She grinned and took my hand. “What is so important is I was just offered the job of assistant VP of operations for the US.”
I hugged him, “That is so amazing! What? How? Huh? Tell me.” Over Jess’ shoulder, I could see Bruce and Greg smiling.
“Well, Dave Raymond is retiring, so Bruce is going to be the senior VP now and he needs a second in command, like a chief of staff and he offered it to me today. I told him that I had to talk to you.”
“Are you an idiot? Go over and accept. Now!” I felt so proud of her. I realized that I may never have felt that before. I may have congratulated her when things went well and commiserated when they went poorly, but I don’t know that I felt pride. Maybe it was my male ego and maybe neuroses, but I realized it now. I was proud and wanted to make sure that she knew that.
“It’s longer hours and more travel...but I get a 25% raise,” she said, the grin never leaving his face.
“Hello? Is this a negotiating thing? Because unless that’s it, get up and go. Now!”
“What about…?”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. I knew what she meant. “We will be fine,” I said, actively stopping myself from touching my stomach in front of Ellen. “This is a huge opportunity and, if you’re not going over, I, as your attorney, will,” and I got up to walk over. Jess got up and we walked over together.
Jess looked at Bruce and said, “On advice of my attorney, I accept. I’m looking forward to it.”
Bruce looked at me and said, “You have a very smart attorney. I strongly recommend following her advice..often,” and he leaned over and gave me a kiss. “How about a drink to celebrate?”
We walked to the pool bar. Jess was talking about the job with Bruce and Greg. I could see everyone looking at them and then us, trying to figure out why the HQ guy was with the VP and the President. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jane who raised an eyebrow and smiled. I mouthed “later.”
Ellen looked at me and said, “Welcome aboard,” with a smile. I was aboard. On what I was aboard, I had no idea. But I was aboard.
Dan and Jessa continue on their path. Sometimes, man plans and God laughs.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The dinner Friday night had been amazing. When Greg announced Jess’ promotion, everyone came over and congratulated her. Jane came over and said, “That explains the bar.”
“Sorry,” I said, “I wasn’t sure what was for public consumption…”
She laughed, “Please. I totally get it.” She gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, “Did you see Bonnie’s face when they announced Julie Mannheim was getting Bruce’s job?”
I giggled and said, “I am above such things,” and then I paused, “But if I wasn’t, I would note that I thought her face was going to crack from the fake smile she pasted on and that John looked sick when he realized he had to work for a woman. But, I won’t because I am better than that.” Then, I wondered if I was being bitchy? I was always sarcastic, but didn’t want to be catty and bitchy. I wanted to be the best Jessa, not the worst parts of Jess.
I was talking to Jane, Renee and Courtney when Bonnie came over and said, “Well, congratulations, Dan,” as she gave him a peck on the cheek. Jess looked somewhere between amused and irritated, as she took in the obvious sycophancy.
“Thank you, Bonnie. I appreciate it,” Jess said, as she turned to John. “I look forward to working with you, John. I’m due in Chicago in a couple of weeks. Let’s set something up.” I was proud of the way she ignored Bonnie. The old Jess wouldn’t have. The new one wasn’t sure what she could do.
Bonnie looked at me and said, “Congratulations to you too, Jessica. Are you going to quit your job now?”
Courtney looked at Jane, who looked at Renee who looked at Courtney. Then, they all looked at the floor, at the ceiling, at anywhere but Bonnie and me. “Um, no, Bonnie. Why would I?”
She smiled sweetly, the vinegar overpowering the honey. “Well, now, that Dan’s been promoted, you don’t need the second income. You don’t have to work anymore.”
I wanted to tell her off, to call her a retrograde bitch who had so little self-esteem and identity that she tied it to her husband and mocked other women. To tell her that everyone saw through her bullshit and it was hurting her precious John, who was cheating on her. But I didn’t. It would be bad to make a scene on the first day of Jess’ new job. I needed to be aboard. Besides, because I’m not 100% altruistic, we won and they lost. I just smiled and said, “Bonnie, that’s a very interesting idea. I’ll have to take it under advisement. I enjoy my career,” not my job, you dumb cow, my career, “but who knows? Excuse me,” and I walked to the bar.
Renee walked next to me, laughing, “I am very impressed, Jessica.”
I laughed, “About what? That was a very interesting idea she had,” as I quickly stuck my finger down my throat.
“I didn’t know that people still thought that way. Even my grandmother, my 93 year old grandmother, doesn’t think that way”
I smiled. “I know. Please.” But, it planted a seed of doubt. Was I expected to quit? I had no interest in quitting. I liked being a lawyer. I liked what I did and I was good at it. No one expected Will Mannheim to quit his job. Why should they expect me to? Did Jess expect me to? I wasn’t ready for this.
The party ended and we went upstairs to pack. They were picking up our bags in the morning. That was one of the fun things about this trip, no dragging bags through the lobby. Jess was on a high. She was taking off her tie and said, “That was the most incredible night of my life,” she said. I thought about asking about our wedding night but that would be teasing. I knew what she meant and was letting her bask in the sunshine. “I feel so amazing. Wasn’t it amazing?”
I thought about bringing up Bonnie’s comment or whether I was getting catty but decided against it. Jess earned this feeling and I wasn’t going to spoil it. “It was. Again, I am so proud of you. I love you,” I said, kissing her.
She hugged me and said, “I couldn’t, I can’t do it without you. You’re my rock.”
“I’m a pretty small rock,” I said, laughing.
She lifted me in the air and spun me around. I liked the way this felt, like I was flying, like we were flying. I felt my dress fly around me. I was wearing a sleeveless black dress. It had lace rosettes on the bodice and a full skirt that came down to just below the knee. “You are, but you are the reason for this. You are the smartest, most beautiful woman, no person, in the world.” I knew she meant it. If I had made partner as Dan, would I have said that? I hoped so, but didn’t know. “And you were the most beautiful woman there. You looked perfect.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You really like it?”
She smiled and spun me around again. “I love you in lace. You were made for lace, Jessa.”
I smiled, “Meaning?” I knew what she meant, but wanted to hear it.
“Meaning,” she said, kissing my neck. “It is pretty, like you. It is delicate, like you. And,” and she took a deep breath, “it is feminine, like you. Like it or not, you are feminine, Jessa. You are smart. You can be tough. But you are feminine and beautiful. And I love it. Sorry.”
I took a deep breath, “Don’t apologize. This is who I am now and I like the way I am. I didn’t at first but I do now. I like the way I feel, the way I look. I’m happy. You’re happy. We’re happy.” I paused, “You are happy, right? This isn’t weird, right?”
She gave me a deep kiss. “It is not weird. I have never been happier, Jessa. If we woke up tomorrow the old way, I’d still be happy but I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life and it’s because of you, because of Jessa. I am going to spend the rest of my life showing you that. The past seven years have been the best seven years of my life. The past eight months have been the best eight months of my life. And I want the next fifty years to be the best fifty years of our life. I want you to be the mother of my children, the grandmother of my grandchildren. I want us to be the old couple in the restaurant, with you telling me to not eat that, it gives me gas.”
I laughed, “You’re nuts, you know that?”
“Uh huh. But I mean it. I have never been happier. By the way, thank you for offering to look at apartments with Julie.” Julie was going to move to New York, while Will stayed in Denver. He said that he’d be able to telecommute at least a couple of weeks a month but that he’d need time to make it happen. In the meantime, Julie needed to find a place. “I mean, you don’t have to. You know we have relocation people for that.”
“I know but I think she likes the idea of someone she knows showing her around and being another set of eyes. If you don’t want me to, I won’t. I just thought it was a nice thing to do.”
“It is,” she said, kissing me again. “I didn’t mean it that way at all. It is nice. Thank you for doing it. I’m sure she appreciates it.” She did, I thought. I couldn’t have done it as Dan and wouldn’t have thought about doing it. That would have been weird. But, now I was Jessa and people wanted me aboard.
“I was surprised to see you and Becca all buddy buddy.”
“Why? She’s great, really cool. When she comes in in May, she and I are going out.”
“That’s, uh, great,” she said, with a half smile.
“What?”
“I just didn’t expect it,” she said.
“Why not? She’s funny and a hell of a pop-a-shot player.”
She smiled. “I’m not the idiot you used to be.” OK, I’ll take that as a compliment - I’m not an idiot anymore. Take what you get. Then she got serious. “The first two days you wanted to rip her to shreds. And I know why. Sorry.”
I looked down at the ground, and then at her. “Still, I made a mistake. I owned it and she and I got past it. It’s fine. We’re fine. It’s all good.”
She laughed. “Owned it? How?”
“I apologized. I told her I was wrong and that it was my fault.”
“Wow. You amaze me, Jessa. You really are the best of both worlds.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” and she put her arms around my waist, “that you look like that but you still think the same way.” She kissed my neck. “I could never have done that. I don’t know that many women who could, and not here especially.”
“Yeah, well, I can,” I said, putting my arms around her neck. “Besides it made me feel better. Letting it stew would have been bad for me. And for you.”
She spun me around again. “Like I said the other day, you don’t play games and that’s why I love you, why everyone loves you.” She unzipped my dress and pulled it off my shoulders.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She kissed my shoulders and unclasped my bra. I was lucky that she used to be me. She was so much smoother at it. “I think I am going to make love to the most beautiful woman I know.” I loved when she was forward like this. I found it incredibly sexy. I thought about it for a second and wondered if she liked it that way before. Then, I realized that it didn’t matter. I was Jessa. I wasn’t Dan and didn’t want to be. I was Jessa, Dan’s wife and hopefully Emma’s mother. Everything was good.
Until it wasn’t. Two weeks later, I was at work. I went to the bathroom and when I looked at the toilet paper, I saw blood. I wasn’t pregnant. I was glad that I didn’t have any clients to see that day. I could just put my head down and do my work, and ignore what happened. I left work and walked home in a funk. I couldn’t handle the train today. I didn’t put in my ear buds, the noise in my head being enough.
I came in the door and realized Jess wasn’t there. She had a late dinner meeting with her team. On the one hand, I was grateful that I didn’t have to talk to her. On the other hand, I hated that she wasn’t there, that I had to sit by myself thinking about this, about how I had failed. I clearly had timed my ovulation wrong. I marked down my period in my phone, so that this month I could do better.
An hour later, Jess came in. “Hey, Jessa,” she said, giving me a kiss. She looked at me, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, staring past her, at the wall.
She looked at me. “It’s all over your face. Something’s bothering you.”
“It came.”
It took her a second and she said, “I’m sorry, honey.” She gave me a hug. “Are you upset?”
This time, I was honest. “Yeah. I was thinking and hoping I was. Everything was going so well,” and I started to tear up.
“Shhh,” she said, holding me. I hated feeling so emotional. “It’s going to be OK.” She smiled, “It was only the first month. I mean the odds were against us.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, sitting up. “It still sucks.”
She smiled. “You know what’s worse? We can’t even practice.” I swatted her. “I couldn’t resist,” she said. The stupid joke made me feel better.
Intellectually, I knew she was right. The odds were against us. It was only the first month. Maybe I was still stressed from the night before, from Becca. Maybe I ate the wrong things. Maybe I screwed up and we were supposed to have sex a whole bunch before ovulation. I decided that this time I was going to do everything right. I was going to eat right, not get stressed (well, as much as possible). This time next month, I was going to be pregnant. Being the neurotic obsessive person I was, I went online and did research.
The next night, I heard Jess come in. “I’m in the kitchen,” I said.
She walked in and smiled. “Mmm, that smells good. What brought this on?”
“I was doing research on the right foods…”
She pulled my t-shirt to the side and kissed my neck. “That’s my OCD Jessa,” she laughed.
“Stop! What do you say at work? Fail to plan, plan to fail?”
She grabbed me by the waist and kissed me. “I’m teasing. So, what are we eating?”
“Salmon, brown rice and broccoli. We both need to eat more fruits and vegetables and whole grains. I’m cutting out Diet Pepsi and coffee completely. Not even caffeine free.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed, “Do I have to?” Jess and I were both caffeine junkies. I had cut down on it once we started trying but she hadn’t. I didn’t want to deprive her unless we had to and then she would be out of luck.
I smiled and kissed her on the lips. “You don’t have to cut out coffee but soda can affect sperm count so it’s out. Drink iced tea instead. Unsweetened. A little sugar if you have to, but no artificial stuff,” I said, in a tone that brooked no opposition. She saluted. “Also, starting tomorrow, you start on vitamins – C, E, calcium and folic acid,” and I handed her the bottles.
She laughed, “The internet is amazing, isn’t it?”
“You know what else? I screwed up. We’re supposed to have sex every day in the three days before ovulation, not abstain.” The minute I said that, I knew I was in for it.
She grinned, from ear to ear and took my hand, “Honey. I know how important this is to you. I am willing to make that sacrifice. In fact, I think it’s important to increase our odds as high as possible. As soon as your period is over, we should do it every day. Twice a day, if needed.”
“Shut up,” I laughed. “God, we’ve switched places, haven’t we? Sorry that I want this.”
“We want this,” she said. “Not you, us.”
I smiled, “We want this. I want to be making you miserable by summer time. Now, go sit down. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”
She smiled. “Take off your shoes.”
“What?”
“Take them off for me,” she said, with a big grin.
“Why?” I said laughing.
“Because I like my women barefoot and in the kitchen,” she said, leaving off the third part of that saying. ‘Next month,’ I thought.
The next morning, Jess woke up. “Hey, beautiful, are you OK?”
I was in bed and had a thermometer in my mouth. I held up one finger as if to connote, ‘wait a second.’ The thermometer beeped. I looked at the display and typed my temperature in my phone. I had downloaded an app to track it. “Sorry, I was taking my basal body temperature. They say to take it every day at the same time. When it’s lowest, that’s when you’re ovulating.”
She laughed, “Uh no shit Jessa. I know that.” I forgot. Lately, that part of our lives seemed like other people. “Did you do this last month?”
“Yes, but no. This time, every day same time starting today.”
She started rubbing my shoulders. “Relax. It is going to happen.”
“Do you believe that?” I needed the affirmation. I hated feeling this needy but, since we started trying and especially since I got my period, I felt lost. I was Jessa. I was happy being Jessa but I still felt lost. I felt like the last part of Dan in me was going away and, although I couldn’t have expressed it then, I needed this pregnancy to feel anchored to something.
She kept rubbing my shoulders. “Of course, I do. We are going to get pregnant. You are going to get big and fat and your feet will swell and you won’t sleep….”
I smiled, “Shut up. I’m serious.”
She kissed me. “Sorry, I forgot who I’m dealing with. It is going to happen and you are going to be beautiful.”
“Here’s hoping,” I said.
I went off to work, pleased with myself. I was crampy as hell but I was in control of my life. I was eating right, I was tracking and nothing was going to stop me. I was wearing black pants, a blue sweater and flats. I couldn’t wear a dress on the first day of my period. I felt bloated and disgusting. I couldn’t help laughing. If you had told me a year ago that I would thinking about what to wear when I had my period, I would have had you committed. Now, it was like breathing, eating or locking the front door; I just did it.
I went down to the lobby of my apartment and saw my neighbor Jodi and her son Leo. Leo was sixteen months old, with brown hair and green eyes. Every morning, they’d go to the lobby where the doorman and building staff would indulge him by chasing him around and making stupid noises. I wondered if they went home and told their wives how they spent the day entertaining little rich kids. I walked over and squatted down, “Hi Leo,” I said brightly. “Good morning.” He hid behind his mother’s legs and peeked around. This was the game we played every day. “Hmmm, Jodi. Where’s Leo?”
She played along and made exaggerated looking around gestures. “I don’t know. Where did he go?”
He came out and gave me a huge smile. I looked forward to it every day. “There’s Leo,” I said. “Hi Leo!”
He started laughing. “Hi. Hi. Hi.”
“Can I have a kiss Leo?” He gave me a kiss. I had realized that this was one of the perks of being Jessica. If I had even thought about this as Dan, I would have been arrested. I would’ve played with him and that would have been OK, to a point. But this freed me to do more and I liked it. I leaned down and gave him a kiss. “Thank you, Leo.”
Jodi laughed. “He jumps up and down every time he sees someone who looks like you, Jess,” she said in a tone that suggested “when are you going to have your own.” The doormen looked at me like I was already late to the game. I just laughed, knowing that I was trying to get into it.
I got to work and Mike stuck his head in my office. “Hey, Jess, got a second?” Of course, I had a second, I thought. You’re my boss. Do I have a choice?
“Sure, what’s up?” I said, a little nervously. He usually didn’t ask.
He smiled. “Relax. I have good news. We just got a new matter.” It was a condo development on Long Island. We were representing a developer in a suit involving buyers who wanted to be released from their contracts because the development was taking longer due to environmental reviews. I had researched this before and was as familiar with it as anyone. Mike must’ve recognized this because he said, “But the good news is you’re going to take the lead on this. You ready?”
I grinned. “Of course.”
He laughed. “Good, because you have no choice. Who do you want on this?”
I thought for a second. “Jake and Rachel.” I wanted to give her a chance to show what she could do. I wasn’t a big fan of Jake, even before. I felt like he thought he was the smartest guy in the room. I held to the theory that, if you thought you were the smartest guy in the room, you should find another room. Even still, he was smart and worked like a bulldog.
Mike smiled, “Really?”
I knew what he meant. “I know, but I think she can do the job. I’ll make sure of it.”
He laughed, “OK, if you think so. So long as it’s done right. What about Wonderboy?” This was our sarcastic name for him. Kevin, who thought he was great, called him “Marmalard,” the arrogant prick from ‘Animal House.’
“He’s talented - just ask him. But I can control him,” I said, with a smile.
“I have no doubt about that, Silverman,” he grinned. “The documents are on the system.”
He left my office and I leaned back. I was given the lead on a big matter. Maybe I wouldn’t have to move to Florida. Maybe I could do it here. I was excited and called Jess. “Hey honey, guess what?”
“What’s up? Kinda busy.” That was not the response I expected.
“Mike just made the lead on a big case. It’s a developer…”
She interrupted me. “That’s great,” she said, with genuine enthusiasm. “Can we talk about it later? Sorry, but I have this big meeting coming up with the Xaldor team.”
“OK, sure.” I was a little upset. She couldn’t take two minutes.
“I’m sorry, Jessa. I want to hear this. I just really have to get to this meeting. The double duty is killing me.” Jess was still leading the team while learning her new role with Bruce. “I promise you that tonight you will have my full attention.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “I love you. Go get ‘em.”
“I love you too,” she said and then she hung up. I thought for a second. I was upset that she didn’t listen, but then I thought about the number of times she used to call me at work and I had to get to court or work on a brief. Was I being unreasonable now or was I unreasonable then? I shook it off though. I had a big project and I needed to bring everyone in. No one cared about my angst.
I called in Jake and Rachel and explained the case. When I was finished, I asked, “Does anyone have any questions?”
Jake smirked, “I’ll take on the fraud complaint. Rachel, digest the contracts.”
“Excuse me, Jake?” I said.
He kept the smirk on his face. “I said I’ll take on the fraud complaint. Rachel can digest contracts. That makes the most sense.” I noticed that he never said, ‘I think that,” just ‘that.’ He believed he was right and was going to let the two girls know that.
I smiled.“Jake. I’ll tell you what makes the most sense.” I needed to put the little shit in his place now or he’d never be there. I had worked with too many arrogant pricks like him and they needed to be beaten down. If I were a guy, I could cut him in his face but that would be looked at as being a bitch now. I needed to be more subtle. “You and Rachel will be digesting contracts. I need to know every provision in there and you’re going to tell me.”
“Respectfully, that’s not the best use of my skills,” he said. When you start a sentence with respectfully, it’s like saying ‘no offense.’ You’re not respectful and it’s offensive.
I kept smiling, as painful as it was. “Jake, let me tell you what Mike,” emphasis on Mike, “always told me. Cases are won on details, not theories. We need to know what’s there because the plaintiffs are for damn sure going to know every phrase, every word, every comma. And I need to know,” and I looked him in the eye, my gaze never leaving his, “and Mike,” and I said that with special emphasis, “needs to know all of that. Jake, you’re a smart guy but you’re not as smart as you think you are. Did they do the Socratic method at your law school?” Rachel looked nervously between us.
“Huh?” He looked confused, which was good. I could still play the game. I just needed to change the method. Like a pitcher who lost speed off his fastball and learned a curve and a slider.
“Did. They. Use. The. Socratic. Method. At. Your. Law. School?” I said, enunciating each word.
“Yes,” he said.
“Well, then you know who Socrates is. Well, anyway, Chaerephon once went to the Oracle of Delphi and asked who the wisest man was. And he said Socrates. Know why?”
“I have to get back to work,” he said, in a haughty tone, though his eyes were darting. He was nervous.
“One second. I’ll tell you why. So he says Socrates and Socrates wonders why. And then he realized why. He thought about the smartest guy he knew. And he realized that he was wiser because, and I quote, ‘Well, although I do not suppose that either of us know anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is- for he knows nothing and thinks that he knows; I neither know nor think that I know.’ You don’t know what you don’t know and you need to know that. One day, you probably will but today is not that day. Now, if you don’t want to do the work, I’ll let Mike know and I’m sure he’ll find something else for you,” I said, with a smile.
He gritted his teeth, while Rachel kept looking at the floor. ‘Look up, dammit,’ I thought. ‘Cut in. Tell me that you’re ready to do what’s needed.’ She didn’t but Jake said, “I’ll start digesting.”
“Good. Get to work. I’m looking at the environmental aspects.” I smiled. “If you want to learn about them, get the May 2012 report from the New York State Bar. Page 21-24.”
Rachel said, “OK. Why that?”
I smiled. “I wrote an article on that. Published that month.” That got a smile from her and an eye roll from Jake, who got up and left. Probably already telling the other male associates how I was a total bitch. When I had worked for Victoria, a former associate never missed a chance to call her a twat and a bitch and a dyke. I wished that I had said something but, if I was being honest, it never crossed my mind until now.
As Rachel walked out, I stopped her. “Rachel, I’m counting on you.”
“Thank you?”
“I’m serious. I asked for you. I need you to do this for me. Don’t make me look bad.”
“OK?” She was driving me nuts with upspeak.
“First, what have I said about upspeak? Don’t upspeak unless you’re asking a question. You sound like, no offense, my niece. And I love her but she’s 12 and you’re here.” That was mean and if I did this as Dan, I’d be before HR in twenty seconds, except that Rachel was too much of a mouse to complain. “Second, I know you can do this. Do not let Jake tell you what to do. You answer to me on this. Me and Mike. That’s it. You’re as good as Jake is.” This was a lie. She wasn’t. He would, barring an implosion down the line, would be a partner somewhere in seven years. She, barring a change in, well, her, would not. But I needed her to believe that. I wanted her to be the best that she could be, for her. And for me. “You’re ready, right?”
“Uh huh,” she said, nervously.
“If you don’t feel you can do it, let me know. It will not reflect poorly on you.” Yes, it would.
“I can do it,” she said, as forcefully as I’d ever heard her.
“Good,” I smiled. “Show them what you can do. Now go.”
She left with a smile. I leaned back in my chair and felt proud of myself. For about ten seconds. Then I got back to my caseload.
I got home before Jess and changed into a t shirt and shorts. I played on the computer, going down the YouTube rabbit hole. Lately, I had found myself watching videos of babies and dogs. I had a favorite, where a baby was getting licked by a dog and, when the dog moved, the baby followed him to keep getting licked. Somehow, from there, I ended up on a clip of a little kid hitting his father in the groin with a Whiffle Ball bat. I wasn’t really paying attention when I heard the door unlock.
“Hey, Jessa,” Jess said, as she came over and gave me a kiss. “How’s my princess?” She had lately taken to greeting me that way, which felt weird. Not for the reasons you think, but because I remembered my father calling Laura that. It felt like I was a child. Not that Jess intended that, at least not consciously, but it still felt that way to me. “So tell me about the case.”
I explained the case and her eyes glazed over. Not that she didn’t care but it was rather complicated. Kind of like when she explained drug protocols to me. I was the Socrates of drug protocols. I knew that I knew nothing. Her eyes lit up when I told her that Rachel and Jake were working for me. Office politics, she understood. Sexism, she understood.
She laughed, “That’s why I love you Jessa. Always looking out for the underdog. I like that you want to mentor her for some reason, but is Rachel really the right choice? I mean she’s like this little nervous kitten.”
I paused, wondering if I had made a mistake in picking her. “It’ll be fine. She’s not going to do depositions or anything. She’s doing all the grunt work, digesting contracts, drafting memos, all that. No second year is ready for depositions. I wasn’t and she, no offense, isn’t the exception.”
“OK, just be careful.” She must’ve seen the look on my face because she said, “It’s great that you want to mentor her but just make sure that she doesn’t bring you down.”
“Bring me down?”
“You’re a woman and she’s a woman, well a girl at least, and I hate to say it but men protect their own. I thought I knew it before. I know it now.”
‘Great,’ I thought. “Don’t worry about me,” I said with mock cheer, that Jess clearly saw through. “I know how to take care of myself.”
She smiled and gave me a kiss. “I’m just looking out for my princess. So, what about Wonderboy?” I smiled and repeated the whole story, the Socrates included. Jess laughed. “God, you’re an intellectual snob.”
“What?”
“I think it’s safe to say that no one in my office has ever worked Cheerophon,” she said with uncertainty, not knowing who he was, “and the Oracle of Delphi into a conversation.”
“Yeah, well, I needed to put him in his place. I’m sure he went back and told the other male associates how I was a bitch and on the rag and everything.”
“Probably. Keep an eye on him though.”
I smiled. “I know. Beneath this beautiful exterior,” and I flicked my hair, “I’m still me.” Was I though?
Jess went into the kitchen. I heard the refrigerator door and then the fizz of a soda bottle top being opened for the first time. She came back in, holding a glass of Diet Pepsi.
“I thought we agreed no soda.” We didn’t agree. She begrudgingly sort of accepted it but too bad for her.
“Sorry,” she said, with a smile. “I forgot. One glass won’t hurt.”
I wasn’t happy but I wasn’t going to fight. “This is the last one.”
She kissed me on the cheek. “OK. I promise. I have to tell you what happened today. We were meeting with the Xaldor team and…” she proceeded to tell me about her day. And I listened. I used to wait to talk, now I listened. It was funny. I watched her. As she told the story, I could see little bits of Jessica coming out, in the way she added extraneous details and when she laughed, but she was really all Dan now. She used to begin every story with, “and I told them I thought,” or “I told them I believed.” Now, like Jake, it was just “I told them that” or “I told them I knew that.” On Jess, it didn’t bother me.
We ate our dinner - organic grilled chicken, barley and steamed spinach with garlic. It was as good as expected and I knew it was what I needed, but god it was bland. We had strawberries for dessert. I wanted to get pregnant so I couldn’t have a slice of pizza and some ice cream. We curled up on the couch and watched Netflix. I laid in the crook of Jess’ arm and I felt loved. We were always good, now we were better.
A little less than two weeks later, it was Sarah’s bat mitzvah. It was a split day affair - service and kiddush in the morning and a party at night. The party at night had a theme. Mine was basketball. Laura’s was movies. My father used to say, “You know my theme was? Bar mitzvah.” Sarah’s theme was “Sarah’s Beach Party.” The card said the attire was “Beach Party Chic.”
When we got the invitation, I called Jill, “Beach Party Chic? What in god’s name does that even mean?”
She laughed, “It means your niece wanted a beach theme and you know Yoram can’t say no to her…” I smiled, thinking of Jess and Emma. I wondered if she’d be able to handle a daughter.
I laughed, “Did you tell her she was getting bat mitzvahed in Westchester in March? What’s beach party chic? Polar Bear Club?”
She kept laughing. “Please, Jess. Do you know how many calls I’ve gotten from ha’aretz?” Whenever Jill was annoyed with Yoram’s family, she would call Israel by its biblical name, in an exaggerated and very phlegmy accent. “I’m afraid. Have you been to the beach in Israel? I’m afraid his uncle Shimon will show up in a Speedo.” Shimon, like many Israeli men, weighed 300 pounds and, with his shirt off, looked like a gorilla costume with no head. And he had no shame. I shuddered at the thought. Jill continued, “I’m sure you will look gorgeous. Besides ha’aretz, I have to deal with her honor. Please not you too. I’m begging.”
“You’re lucky I love you,” I said. And I did, in a way that I never did as Dan. I liked her, but I didn’t love her. She was just Jess’ sister, now she was mine. “Tell Sarah she’s lucky I love her,” I said. “No more calls, I promise.” In a bad Israeli accent, I said, “Jeel, Ma’zeh beach chic? (What is beach chic?)” In the end, I chose a blue, sleeveless fit and flare dress with a bubble print. Not 100% beachy, but it was in Lord and Taylor’s poolside collection, so close enough. Plus, I looked cute.
Chappaqua is about an hour north of the city, if traffic is running well. The service was for 9:30 in the morning. Rather than rushing around Saturday morning, we decided to stay over Friday night. We were staying over Saturday anyway, so we figured we’d make it a long weekend.
I had, as I promised myself, been taking my basal body temperature every day. We started around day twelve of my cycle, which was Wednesday, three days before the bat mitzvah. I wasn’t sure that we needed to do it the day of the bat mitzvah but (a) better safe than sorry and (b) there are worse things to do on a Saturday morning. I woke up at 7:00, took my temperature and shook Jess. “OK, up and at ‘em, you big stud. Time to impregnate me.”
She laughed and then pulled the pillow over her head. “Do we have to? I’m tired.”
If I were being honest, I was sore. But I wanted this. I pushed her and giggled, “Get up, you big baby.”
She laughed and unplugged our phones. She flipped mine to me. “Turn it off.”
“What?”
“Trust me.” The she hit the “Do not disturb” button on the room phone.
“What are you doing? Get over here.”
She jumped into bed and said, “You’ll thank me.” Then she started kissing my neck and nibbling on my earlobe. All these months later, she still remembered what worked. I started kissing her back. I bit her nipple, which used to drive me nuts and worked for her. “Oh g-d, Jess. Dig your nails into my back. Harder. Oh G-d.” She entered me and we made love. In Hebrew school, a teacher told us, in the seventh grade, that it was a mitzvah to have sex on Shabbos. That teacher was later fired, although he was correct according to religious law. I figured deliberately trying to make a baby on Shabbos was like a super mitzvah. I wasn’t sure how deeply I believed, but I’d take all the help I could get.
While I laid there with my legs up, Jess gathered up our phones and took off ‘do not disturb.’ I laughed and said, “What was that about?”
She smiled. “Turn on your phone.”
There were three calls from Evelyn on it. Jess had two and there was a voice mail on the hotel phone. The messages were increasingly annoyed. ‘I expect this from Dan, but not you, Jessica. Call me.’ “How did you know?” She looked at me like I was an idiot and just raised an eyebrow. “Point well taken.” I giggled, “If she knew why we didn’t answer, we wouldn’t have to go.”
Jess laughed. “We wouldn’t have to go? She’d post two court officers at the door to stop anyone. She cannot wait for you to have a baby.” Then she stopped and said, “Probably more than me,” and she sat down next to me.
I was still laying there, for another ten minutes at least. “That’s not true. She loves you. And it’s the same baby, just in reverse.”
She sighed. “No, it isn’t. You’re the mommy,” she said, leaning over and kissing my stomach. I had come to like this a lot, it felt intimate. “I know the genetics are the same and all, but it’s different. It’s going to be inside you. You’re the voice it will hear. You’re giving it life,” all of which scared me and made me feel alive at the same time. Then, she switched gears. “And that’s what she sees. Her smart daughter-in-law having her smart grandchild. Her smart daughter-in-law’s genes overpowering her dumb son’s…”
I patted the bed next to me. “Lie down.” She did, and rested her head on my chest. I stroked her hair. “That’s not true, Danny,” I said. “She loves you. I love you. The baby,” and I knocked three times on the night stand, “will love you. And your genes are perfect. Not as perfect as mine, mind you…” I joked. She laughed and leaned over and blew a raspberry on my belly. “Hey! Now, it’s going to get dizzy!”
She rolled back over. “Sorry. I’m just…”
“I know.” I looked at my phone. “Let’s have a court conference,” I sighed.
“Hi, Evelyn. Sorry about that. Well, my phone kept binging with e-mails last night, so I turned off the ringer so we could sleep. You’re right. Thank g-d nothing happened. I don’t know what’s up with Dan’s phone. I think he said IT was doing some kind of upgrade over the weekend,” Jess smiled and gave my lie a thumbs up. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what’s up with the hotel phone either. Dan! Did you put the phone on ‘do not disturb?’ I know Evelyn. They’re all hopeless.” Jess laughed and stuck out her tongue. “Well, anyway, what’s up? How was the flight? Oh, that’s good. I know I can’t believe it either. She was a baby” well, 4, “when I met her and now she’s a bat mitzvah. We’re proud of her too. When I called the other day,” Jill and I spoke a couple of times a week now, about life and stuff. Last time, it was to plan their next trip into the city. Sarah and I would spend the day together alone but Jill and Yoram didn’t feel comfortable letting a 13 year old take the train by herself, which I understood more and more. “I could hear her practicing. She sounds fine to me, not that I’d know if she got something wrong. Oh? I have a black dress with long sleeves for shul,” the Yiddish word for synagogue, “and then a blue sleeveless print for the party. I told you already, you live in Miami, you tell me what beach chic is. He’s wearing a Tommy Bahama shirt and khakis. He’ll bring over the nail file in a minute. Don’t worry. Everyone forgets something when they pack. I have to get ready. Love you. Marty too.” I got off the phone and Jess had a huge smile on her face.
“The baby is probably hiding in a corner of your uterus now,” she laughed. “Wow. Did it always sound that bad?”
“Yes,” I laughed. “Go bring your mother the nail file.” My phone beeped. The twenty minutes were up. I got up, slowly. I know it wasn’t going to fall out, but better safe than sorry. “I’m going to start getting ready.” I put on a shower cap and went into the shower. It had long since stopped feeling weird to me. If i wasn’t going to spend an hour and a half on my hair, this is what I needed to do. I turned on the shower and let the water wash over me, smiling and humming to myself. This time would be the charm. Thirteen years and nine months from now, I would be having an argument with Emma about her hair and her dress. And I was happy.
When I got out, Jess was sitting on the bed, watching the news stone faced. “Everything OK?” I said.
She shook her head. “Yeah, fine. I gave her the nail file. She gave me the business about turning off the phone. It was fine.”
I was wrapped in a towel and sat down next to her. “What happened?”
“They congratulated me on the job in person. Told me how proud they were and all that.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Yeah, I guess it just feels like they were told to do that.”
“That’s not true.” Well, it was sort of true. They were proud of him. Evelyn told me. And I told her to tell Jess that. “They are very proud of you.” I put my arm around her. “Come on. We are going to have a great time. And we,” and I knocked on the side of my head, “are going to have a baby and you are going to be president of the company and I am going to make partner and we are going to be happy. Dammit,” and I smiled.
She laughed, “What if I don’t want to be happy?” This was a running joke.
“Then, I will make you miserable until you’re happy. Now go. You smell.”
Jess went into the shower and I got ready. I kept humming to myself. I was happy. Jess was happy, I thought. It was all good. When Jess got out of the shower, I had put on my dress and was putting on my makeup. Like I told Evelyn, it was a black knee length dress with long sleeves and a v neck. Not my favorite look - I liked showing off my shoulders, what can I say? - but it was for synagogue. I remembered my mother lecturing Laura about covering her arms in shul. I was putting on eyeliner, when Jess came up behind me. Thankfully, I saw her in the mirror. “God you look gorgeous,” she said.
I turned around. “Thank you,” I said, pecking her on the lips. I always put on lipstick last for just such an occasion.
“I’m serious. You look beautiful. I am so lucky you’re mine.”
I blushed. “You don’t have to say that all the time, although it’s nice to hear. I’m lucky too.”
“I mean it. You’re beautiful and sexy and smart.”
“What brought this on?” I laughed.
“Today. I look at my parents and Jill and Yoram and I think I couldn’t do this without you. I walk in and I know that everyone is thinking, ‘he did something right. He has her.’”
“Stop. They think the same thing about me.” I hated the way Jess felt around her family. I hated that, even if they didn’t mean it, she felt inadequate around them. I put my hands on her upper arms. “You are amazing. You just got an amazing job and you are going to be amazing at it. You will have Bruce’s job in two years and he will be working for you,” I said, with a smile. “I love you.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Sorry I’m so crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.”
“You’re just saying that.”
I laughed. “Well, of course, you never tell a crazy person he’s crazy. Duh! Seriously, you are great. Come on, get dressed. We don’t want to be late.”
We got to synagogue at 9:00 AM, since the service was called for 9:30. It started at 10:00 because Jewish time. Everyone knows that it’ll be a half an hour late, but still they show around 9:30 because, ‘you never know.’ I’m fairly certain that we wandered the desert for 40 years because we got started late. Anyway, we were standing in the lobby saying hello to Jess’s various cousins as they came in. Jess’ Aunt Carole came over and opened with, “so when will you two be having a bat mitzvah?” as she looked me up and down. It was a stupid question, I thought. I debated saying, ‘if this morning went right, December 2030. Dan was an animal, so here’s hoping,’ but that was tacky in shul. I figured I’d save it for the party. I also wanted to say, ‘I had mine in 1996. You never responded,’ but why start something. Instead, I just said, “Hi Carole,” and I gave her a kiss. “It’s Sarah’s day. Let’s focus on that.” Carole congratulated Jess on the new job and we talked for a bit.
When Carole left, I whispered, “See, they are proud. They’ve told people.” Jess gave me a little smile and squeezed my hand. Various relatives came over and asked, “So, how ARE you two? What’s new?” After the tenth time, I wanted to print cards that said, “Fine. Dan got promoted. No, I’m not pregnant yet. Yes, we want them.” On the other hand, all of the women oohed and aahed over my weight loss, which made me feel really good.
Before we went in, Jess laughed. “You are such a girl.”
“No, I’m not.” Yes, I was.
“Please. Every time someone congratulates you, you smile and you do that thing where you bite your lip and move your right foot behind your left.” She leaned down and whispered to me, “Which I found incredibly sexy.”
I blushed, “We’re in shul…” I wondered if the mitzvah rule applied if you had sex in the youth room.
“Girl,” he smiled, surreptitiously pinching my ass. “Let’s go in.”
The service was a bat mitzvah service. Long and boring. I mean, it felt amazing to see Sarah standing on the bimah (the altar) becoming a bat mitzvah. As far as I could tell, she did everything right. She didn’t mumble or look like she made a mistake like I did at mine. When she saw us, she gave us a big smile and a little wave. Yoni sat in the front row in his suit, looking like he was on trial. We were called for the fourth aliyah, after both sets of grandparents and Yoram’s sister Aviva. An aliyah is a big honor. You get called up to give a blessing before a portion of the torah. There was no way we weren’t going to get one - we were her aunt and uncle - but I felt a special connection to Sarah. I knew she’d get called up at Emma’s. The cantor chanted our names. When you get called, they say your Hebrew name and then “ben” (son) or “bat” (daughter) of your father’s Hebrew name. It took me a second when I heard “Chava Ruchel bat Dovid,” Jess’ Hebrew name with my father’s. It reminded me of how far we had come.
I won’t bore you with the kiddush after services. What’s to say about bagels and dairy? The only interesting part was when Yoram’s sister Aviva came over. She was 34, an orthopedics fellow at Johns Hopkins - and unmarried. See if you can guess what was most important to her family. She came over and gave me a kiss. In an exaggerated Israeli accent, she said, “Jessica, you pregnant yet? Is there a problem? Make the baby for Marty and Evelyn already.”
I adopted a thick Bronx accent. “So, Aviva? Nu? Have you met someone? It’s all well and good about your job but,” and I spat three times, “you’re not getting any younger. A surgery won’t keep you company in your old age.”
She laughed and gave me another kiss. “Thank god you’re here. I can’t, I just can’t.”
“Please. Do I have something on my uterus? I mean they keep staring. So, what’s new?”
“Work. Well, that’s not new. But that’s it. You?”
Well, I hate to break this to you, but, if we’re lucky, this time next year you’ll be on your own. Emma will be too young for them to start on another one. “Same. I have a big trial, they put me in charge of two associates. They made me the lead,” and I looked around, “not that anyone cares. Except maybe the judge.”
“Congratulations,” she said. “That is amazing. Would I understand it?”
“About as much as I understand surgery probably. But, it’s a big deal. It’s a lawsuit over condos.”
“Still, that’s got to be huge for partnership.” Aviva intrinsically got it. She was a woman in a male dominated profession. She got it. I was still getting it, but she got it.
We stood around and chatted for a while. Yoram came over and gave me a kiss. “Uncle Yossi’s looking for you, Viv,” he said. “Sorry, Jess.”
She groaned, “See you at the party, Jess.”
The kiddush lasted for two hours. Jill invited us back to the house, but I knew she didn’t really want us. She had Yoram’s relatives who were enough. I begged off, saying that I wanted to rest and that my dress and everything was at the hotel. She smiled knowingly and gave me a hug. “Thanks, Jess,” she whispered. “You’re a great little sister.” I smiled and wiped away a tear. I was a great little sister. I shouldn’t have been so happy over a throw away comment, but I was.
We went back to the hotel, and met Marty and Evelyn for a drink. “I told Jill I wanted to rest,” Evelyn said, rolling her eyes. “But she doesn’t need us. She has the whole kibbutz there. They have enough money. They should get rooms.” If you couldn’t tell, Evelyn did not like Yoram’s family. She was OK with his parents, she loved Aviva (guess why) and said, “The rest of them, oy.”
Jess laughed. “They’re not that bad, ma.”
“Go watch basketball with your father. I want to talk to Jessica.”
Jess shrugged and walked away towards the other end of the bar, happy to get away. Over Evelyn’s shoulder, she mouthed, “Uh oh.”
I took off my shoes, under the table. I had worn 3 ½” heels. They looked good but they hurt sometimes. “Ah, that feels better,” I said. “What’s up?”
She smiled. “Nothing. I wanted to catch up in person. We won’t have time tonight. So, how’s everything going with the case?” She and I had been talking about since it started. I had called her to tell her when Mike put me in charge. She congratulated me and said, with a laugh, “this wouldn’t be a big deal to you if you were in Florida.” We didn’t talk about the case itself, more about managing it. “How’s everything going with Frick and Frack?” She had several nicknames for Jake and Rachel. Frick and Frack. Jack and Jill. The pig and the mouse. “Is she getting any better?”
I sighed. “I’m trying, but I’m starting to wonder already. She is just such a little mouse and everyone sees it. And don’t get me started on the upspeak….” She just smiled and rolled her eyes. I decided to let the similarities go unnoticed. “Anyway, I hate it but I don’t want her to jeopardize my possibilities. Is that wrong?”
She sighed. “No. I mean if you want the feminist answer, yes. If you want the realistic one, no. You need to work with her. Take her to lunch with Robin. Let her see what she can be.” I thought about it and she was right. Mentoring was modeling, not just talking. I liked talking to Evelyn more than my own mother. She remembered everyone and understood what I was going through. I felt bad that I couldn’t talk to mine. I thought about it and realized that I couldn’t remember if Jess and my mom ever talked like this either. “And the little shit?” He needed no name, like Voldemort.
I smiled. “He hates me. He’s doing a great job, which kills me, but he hates me,” I laughed.
“Good. I’ve seen his kind in my courtroom. You need to keep him in line. You’re the boss.”
“I don’t want to seen as a bitch,” I said.
“Oh god,” she moaned. “You too? It is not being a bitch to let someone know who’s boss. Men do it...”
“Hold on.” I smiled, “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to BE a bitch, just that I didn’t want to be seen as one.” Maybe I did get it.
“Good girl,” she said. “I’m proud of you. I still think you can do more in Florida…” she said with a smile.
“Stop it,” I said. “Thank you for telling Dan how proud you are of him.”
“We are proud of him,” she sighed.
“I know. But thank you for telling him today. I appreciate it.”
She half smiled and looked over at Marty and Jess. They were watching a game and not saying anything, which is exactly what I would have done, except that Jess would be sitting here with her shoulders hunched up, looking at me for support. OK, that sounded bitchy. It’s just that Evelyn wasn’t my mom. “Speaking of that, how’s everything with you two?”
“I told you. We’re happy. We’re better. No, we’re good.”
“Good. I’m happy. You look terrific,” she said. “Danny, too.”
“Thanks. I’m only a few pounds different from when we were down.”
She looked at me. “That’s not it. There’s something, I can’t put my finger on it. You seem happier, more at peace and it shows, not to sound all touchy-feely.” Touchy-feely was Evelyn’s favorite epithet. Social workers were touchy-feely. Kindergarten teachers were touchy-feely. Grown women were not supposed to be.
“I don’t what it is, but I’ll take the compliment.” I knew what it was. I was Jessa and I was happy. “Do you want to see the dress?”
She smiled, “I’d love to. Marty,” she called. “We’re going upstairs for a minute.” He and Jess waved, never taking their eyes off the set and passing corn chips between them. I was going to show my mother in law my dress and Jess was eating corn chips. What a difference a year makes.
The dress met with Evelyn’s approval. “That is gorgeous, Jessica,” she said. “It is you.”
“Thank you,” I said, turning this way and that, feeling the skirt swirl around me. “Is it beach party chic?” I was wearing it with 4” blue sandals. I wanted to wear my Louboutins but decided these were cuter. And beachier. Whatever that meant.
“I told Jill….”
“Oh come on,” I said. “Sarah only gets this once. ”
She smiled. “You are such a softie.” I smiled, thinking of how much Sarah reminded me of someone that I used to know. She called me at least twice a week, just to talk. I did the best I could, given that I was, at bottom, a former thirteen year old boy but it seemed to work. Jess would half-listen to the conversations and tell me that I didn’t give myself enough credit. She said, with a mix of bemusement and respect, that, I was better at being a 13 year old girl than she was. I still wondered how she’d respond to having a daughter. Evelyn showed me her dress. It was a blue knee length dress with a v neck and beading. “I’m the grandmother. I’ll wear what I want,” she said, laughing. “Besides, I can only imagine what they will be wearing. And Carole too.” Carole was Marty’s sister. She thought Evelyn was a stuck up intellectual snob (which made me shudder). Evelyn thought she was a moron who was only interested in gossip. She said that she hated those games and wouldn’t play (and made me shudder again). We sat on her bed and talked some more until Marty and Jess came up.
“Sorry, Jessica,” Marty said, giving me a kiss. “I need to take a nap before tonight.”
I smiled. “That’s fine, Marty. At your age, you need to rest,” I said, teasing him. If I had said that as Dan, he would have not been amused. Now, he just laughed and said, “Ah, go jump in a lake.” I gave Evelyn a kiss and said, “We’ll see you later.”
We walked back to the room and Jess said, “Well, you seem in one piece.”
“She’s fine,” I said. “She was giving me tips on Rachel and Jake. She liked my dress…” Jess smiled. I could hear ‘you all dress for each other’ in her head. “Then she said something weird. She said I seem happier, more at peace.”
“Aren’t you, Jessa?”
“I guess. Is it that obvious?”
She smiled. “Kinda. You look as happy as I’ve ever seen you. Me too, I think.” I nodded and she continued. “We’re us. I wouldn’t have guessed her for it but she’s right. You’re you. I’m me. We’re us. And it shows.”
“How was it with you and your father? Did you talk?”
She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Not really, no. He asked about work, that’s it.”
I went, “Oh yeah. Are you OK?”
She smiled. “Yup, I am. Wanna go take a nap?”
I just smiled and bit my lip, and moved my right foot behind my left. Then I remembered. I was sore and she was tired. Oh well. Instead, we just laid in bed and cuddled. I fell asleep on Jess’ bare chest, her arm wrapped around me.
The party started at seven and so we napped for a couple of hours. I woke up around 5:15 and started getting ready. Thank god for YouTube. I had learned how to do evening makeup. Once again, I polished and plucked and made up, while Jess slept. She was sitting on the bed in her khakis and shirt. The concessions to beach party chic for her were the shirt and a pair of sandals. “Zip me up,” I said.
“Wow,” she said. “You look gorgeous,” she said, picking me up and twirling me. Lately, whenever I wore a dress that flared out, she would pick me up and twirl me. There was a meaning here that I couldn’t figure out. I liked it but figured there was a subtext that I didn’t want to know probably.
“You like?” She leered and nodded, as I put on my heels. “Is it beach party chic?”
She laughed. “My princess.” I shuddered a little inside. Twirling, princess. Was I Jess’ helpless little girl? Did I want to be? I just smiled and went along with it. If I was right, I had three months max in this dress.
We were at the party, beach party chic meaning palm trees and beach pictures. Someone greeted us at the door with leis and pina coladas. I took a virgin one, telling Dan’s uncle Jerry that, “I was taking medication.” We were making idle chit chat with Jess’ relatives when a small Asian woman came over.
“Danny? Is that you?” I assumed this was someone from Jess’ past. Only old friends and relatives called her (well me, well her) ‘Danny.”
Jess laughed, “Hannah? I haven’t seen you since the wedding.” I stood there, looking from the woman to him and back. ‘Anytime, honey.’ Hannah smiled and nodded. “Hi, I’m Hannah Chen. I was Jill’s roommate at Dartmouth. Danny,” she said, with mock disapproval.
I laughed. “Hi, I’m Jessica, Dan’s wife. Nice to meet you.”
She looked me up and down. “Good job, Danny. Danny used to have a huge crush on me,” she said laughing.
Jess turned red, although I don’t know why. It wasn’t him that had it. It was me. Well, it wasn’t me. I didn’t know her. It was neither of us.
Jess said, “I did not.”
She turned to me. “Ohmigod, he so did. I remember he came up his junior year, right Danny,” as Jess nodded, looking confused. “And he was totally trying to hit on me. It was so cute.”
I winced for Jess. There is nothing more painful than hearing your game is ‘cute.’ Puppies are cute. Babies are cute. Game? Uh no. Still, I tortured her. I hooked my arm into hers and looked up. “Oh Danny, that is so adorable.” I turned to Hannah. “Well, I am so grateful that you didn’t realize how wonderful he was. Otherwise, I would never have met him,” and I gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Haha, you two,” she said, still blushing. “I don’t need this. Who wants a drink? I do!”
She laughed again. “Well, anyway, Danny. You have,” and she dropped her voice, “grown into a fine man. Get me a vodka tonic, please.”
“Same,” I said, giving Jess a wink. We had already decided that I’d drink club soda. You could pretend it was anything. Jess walked away, the redness fading away, shaking her head.
I burst out laughing. “That was hysterical. Seriously, a crush?” I shouldn’t have been laughing. I had a crush on Laura’s friend Lisa when I was 16. She was totally cool about it, but still it hurt to be treated like a little kid. But, that was then and so, “What did he do?”
“Oh, he tried to do what I liked. Told me how pretty I was. It was kinda cute. Really dorky but kinda cute.” Jess came back with the drinks. Hannah smiled and said, “Thanks Danny. I’m going to go say hi to your mom. Nice meeting you, Jessica,” and she walked away.
“Her, huh? I would not have guessed.”
She laughed. “OK, that is surreal. I mean I went up to visit Jill junior year but I totally did not have a crush on Hannah. I mean I had a girl crush. She was so cool. Huh. That is so weird.” It was and I just nodded.
The bat mitzvah went on for five hours. I spent half of it dancing, mostly in a group with other women. Not for religious reasons. Just that, at every bar or bat mitzvah, you’d have the hora that everyone did; the requisite slow couples’ dances; and the rest was women dancing together to fast numbers. Well, mostly. There was always one couple that would get their freak on, arms and legs flying. I was envious of them. I would never have had the confidence to utterly embarrass myself like that. The DJ handed out sunglasses and feather boas, which I happily put on when Sarah asked. I would never have been caught dead doing that as Dan, but found myself enjoying it. I danced for awhile and then Jill said, “Come here. I have some people I want you to meet.” She took by my arm to a group of women, all of whom appeared to be in their 40s. They had the toned bodies of women exercising to outrace aging, but the tired eyes of the busy suburban mom. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I hoped I looked that good. “Carrie, Andrea, Elissa, this is my sister, well my sister-in-law but she’s like my sister, Jessica.” I smiled, happy about the relationship. “Jessica, these are Carrie, Andrea and Elissa. We met when the girls were in preschool.” That made sense. I always saw groups of moms with little kids at the Starbucks near me. The moms would sit, while the little boys climbed and the little girls colored.
“Hi,” I said, as they all looked me up and down. “It’s very nice to meet you all.”
Andrea said, “I love your dress. I take it you don’t have children.” She smiled, a fake smile that she hoped I’d miss. I didn’t.
“Um, not yet.”
Jill flashed her a look. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just jealous. It’s three kids since I could wear that. Enjoy it.” Then a look flashed on her face and she smiled, a genuine smile. “Oh wait, you’re the famous Jess.” The other women laughed knowingly.
“Um…” I said. “Famous?”
Carrie laughed. “Sarah does not stop about her aunt Jess. You are, and I quote here, ‘the coolest aunt like ever.’ Not ever, just like ever.’
Elissa said, “Oh, and thanks for buying her that pocketbook. Julia has not stopped.” In a singsong voice, she said, “Jess has a Dooney and Bourke pocketbook.” She laughed and said, “I told her, in the future, to make a more judicious choice of aunt.”
I smiled, “Sorry.”
Jill laughed, “No you aren’t.”
I laughed. “OK, I’m sorry that they have to listen. I have one niece, sue me.”
Andrea said, “Don’t get me started on how she comes into the city every month. I don’t have time for that.”
I wanted them to like me, so I said, “Um, if they come in, I’ll take them.” They all burst out laughing, loud enough that their husbands turned around. “What?”
Carrie laughed and took my hands in hers. “You. Are. An Idiot.”
“What?” I said. “I can totally handle it.” How hard could it be? “Sarah’s coming in in two weeks. I’m serious.”
Jill smiled. “Have you forgotten what it was like to be 13?” Well, kind of. I mean I was 13. I was a boy. But I was 13. If you had left us at Best Buy to play Xbox, we would’ve been fine. That and gave us money for pizza. How hard could it be?
Fast forward two weeks.
“Fuck,” I said, when I woke up Friday morning. “Fuck fuck fuck,” I screamed. I had my period. “Shit!” I started to cry.
Jess came into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t speak. I just held up the wad of toilet paper. She just snarled, “Dammit!”
I stood up and cried. Jess held me and I cried into her shoulder, my panties around my ankles. I didn’t bother pulling them up. I just cried. “How?” I screamed, my words muffled by her shoulder. “How the fuck did this happen? How? What else can I do?”
She just held me. “It’s going to be OK. It will happen. You said the odds were one in three.”
She didn’t mean anything by that. She was trying to comfort me. By saying the exact wrong words. “You’re quoting odds at me? Seriously?” I started pounding my fists into her. “I get my period and you quote fucking odds? Goddamit, what is wrong with you?” And I cried some more. To her credit, she just held me and said, “I’m sorry.”
I walked over to the bed, fell face forward and started pounding my fists. “This is just not fair. It is just not fucking fair. Why? Why?” After fifteen minutes, I was cried out. Jess was on the couch. I walked over and gave her a kiss, “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just.” I started to tear up and stopped myself. “No. No. No. No. I’m not going there again.”
She took my hand, “It’s OK if you do. It’s all OK.”
My eyes were red and I sniffled. “Is it?”
She looked at me and said, “It is. It’s going to happen, I promise you. Do you want me to call Jill and reschedule?”
Shit. Sarah and her friends were coming in tomorrow. It was the last thing I needed. I needed to sit on the couch and eat salt and vinegar potato chips (which, by the way, I used to hate but loved once a month now) and sulk, but I wasn’t going to do that to Sarah and her friends. I needed to be the cool aunt. I looked at Jess, “No, of course not. What did you tell me that first month? Man up? Life can’t stop just because of my period.”
She looked at me and said, slowly, “OK, I just…”
“I know. It will be fine.” Free piece of advice - it will not be fine. Taking four thirteen year-old girls around the city is not fine. It’s occasionally fun, incredibly trying and a sociology paper writ large. It is not fine.
Saturday morning at 11 AM, Carrie brought the girls to my house. Sarah and her friends Emily (Carrie’s daughter), Chloe (Andrea) and Lily (Elissa). It was 11 and it looked like she had already gone ten rounds. She smiled, “You have a beautiful apartment. It reminds me of the place Rich and I used to have when we lived here. Before the kids,” she said, with a wistful smile.
“Thank you. Can I get you coffee or anything?”
She smiled. “Is it 5:00 somewhere? I could use a drink.”
I got worried. “Were they, uh, that bad?”
She laughed. “You’ll see. Nah, they were them. I’m headed to the old country, Flushing, from here.” Carrie was Asian. Flushing used to be Italian and Jewish, now it’s Asian. Immigration in America - the Lower East Side, then Queens, then the suburbs. “See my mom,” she said, with the most deliberately fake smile I had ever seen.
I laughed. “Deep cleansing breaths. Serenity now,” I said, taking one. I winced.
She looked at me, “Are you OK?”
“It’s the second day,” I said. I no longer felt awkward talking about my period. Women traded pregnancy and period stories like men talked about sports.
She looked at me, wide eyed. “You could have canceled.”
I smiled, looking over at the girls. They were all sitting on the couch, looking at their phones. “We will be fine. Anything I should know? Things they can buy, things they can’t. Fake IDs, drugs, any of that?”
She laughed. “I think Andrea said no makeup. Elissa said no revealing clothing. Use your judgment on that. No drugs for Emily. They charge way too much here. I can them for like half in Queens,” she said, with a grin. “Are you really sure?”
“Yes,” I said. I was sure. I shouldn’t have been but I was.
She turned to the girls and said sharply, “Girls! Look up! You’re going to behave, right?” The girls all said, ‘yes,’ in unison. “What Sarah’s aunt says, goes. She’s like your mom today, got it?” They all nodded. I had four 13 year old daughters. I wanted one baby and I had 4 teenagers. “I am going to get a full report when I come back and I speak for everyone when I say that it better be good. You better behave, better than you do with us, or you are in trouble.” They all smiled sweetly. She turned to me and chuckled, “You’re sure about this?”
I laughed, “When you say it like that...no I’m sure.”
She smiled and typed her cell in my phone. “If you need me, call me. In fact, around 2, call me with an emergency,” she said, with a laugh. I knew what she meant.
I smiled. “2, that’s optimistic.”
She laughed and said, “If I’m in luck, there’s a pileup on the L.I.E.” She gave me a kiss and said, “Thanks and good luck.”
I smiled. “OK, girls, so what do you want to do?”
Emily piped up. “Can we go to SoHo?” They all nodded along and said, “Yeah, SoHo.”
“Sure,” I said. “That sounds like fun. We’ll go to SoHo and then get lunch. OK?” They all smiled. “So, put back on your coats. We’ll walk up to the train and head down.”
Lily said, “Is that safe? My grandma says it’s not safe.”
“It’s fine.”
“She said that she got mugged on the subway when she lived here.”
“When did she live here?”
“Before my mom was born?” She upspoke. Sarah looked at her and then me, wondering how she could tell her friend to stop that. ‘Don’t bother,’ I thought. ‘I can live for an afternoon.’
“And how old is your mom?”
“Um, 43?” ‘Great,’ I thought. ‘Your grandmother thinks it’s ‘The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3.’ The original with Walter Matthau, not the crappy Denzel-Travolta one.
“It’s changed since then,” I said. “I take it every day to work. It’ll be fine.” We walked to the train at 59th Street, the girls in front of me. They were talking and giggling. Every woman we walked past looked at them, looked at me and shook their heads. We walked past H & M.
Chloe squealed, “Can we go in? Pleeease.” God, she had a squeaky voice, even by teenage girl standards. I pitied her first boyfriend.
“Why don’t we go to the one in SoHo? There’s much cooler stuff there,” I said. I had no idea. I was too old for H & M. It was, as a client in the industry called it, “one season cheap crap” and made for girls in their teens and twenties. Anyway, Chloe said, “OK, promise?”
“Yes, I promise,” I sighed. We took the train to Spring Street. Due to the inevitable weekend trackwork, the express was running on the local line, which meant it was packed. I had to explain to them that they needed to not sprawl out. Everyone was giving me dirty looks. Three teenage boys got on the train, about 14. The girls looked at them and giggled. The boys, all arms and legs and protruding Adam’s apples, looked them up and down, trying to decide if they were worth it. I moved over near the girls and looked at the boys and gave them a tight smile. ‘Not on my watch, boys,’ I said, with my eyes. ‘I know your game. And they’re 12.’
We started off fine and then we saw Ricky’s. Ricky’s is a chain of makeup and hair care supply stores for teenage girls and their mothers who were denying reality. I never told Jill, but Sarah and I went whenever she was in. We’d try on makeup together. I never thought I’d enjoy that but there was something about the pleasure she took that was infectious. “Can we go in, Aunt Jess,” Sarah said.
“I don’t know. I think Chloe’s mom said no makeup…”
“Pleasepleaseplease,” they all said. “We just want to try it on. We’ll wipe it off, we promise.”
Sarah whispered in my ear. “Please, Aunt Jess. It would be so cool. I told them how we did it and they think it’s really cool. Please.” The pleading look made me fold. She just wanted to be cool. I thought about it and said, “Fine. But it goes off before we get home. Deal?” Like a good lawyer, I decided Carrie said they couldn’t buy makeup, not try makeup.
The girls went it and started playing with the tester blushes and nail polish. I drew the line at lipsticks and eyeliners, not wanting them to get god knows what kind of infection. They were playing when a nineteen year old salesgirl came over and said, giggling, “Here are some tester lipsticks. Don’t worry mom, they’re new.”
Ouch. Bitch. “I’m her aunt,” I said. “These are her friends.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Have fun girls.” The girls had a blast trying on everything. They looked like they went to junior high at Jodie Foster Junior High (think Taxi Driver) but I figured it was all in good fun. Then, they all took out their phones and started taking pictures.
“What are you doing?”
Lily looked at me and gave me a look of utter contempt. “Instagram?”
“Um, do your moms follow you?”
“Yeah,” she said, with contempt.
“Hey, Chloe,” I said. “What did your mother say about makeup? Do you want her to call Carrie now?” I saw four lights go on, then four hands start deleting. “I want you to have fun but do you want me to get in trouble?”
“Nooo.”
“Good,” I smiled. “You look ridiculous.”
“Mrs. Silverman,” Lily said, laughing. “You should totally try some with us.”
I laughed. “I think I’m a little too old for this stuff.” I was. I shopped at Sephora. Yes, I had a preferred place to buy makeup. I had my period and I bought makeup. While Jess was playing basketball.
“Come on, Sarah’s aunt,” Emily said. “Please.” I let them put some blush and sparkly pink and blue nail polish on me. I was due for a manicure anyway. They were all so giddy that I couldn’t help but giggle too. OK, I can do this, I thought. They found the breast enhancers and started giggling. They were holding them up to their chests. Chloe told Sarah, “You don’t need any.” Sarah looked like she wanted to cry. I looked at her and she gave me a pleading look that said, “don’t get involved.”
I debated what to say. With a boy, I would have said something like, “you stare at other guys?” and that would have been it. This required finesse. I wanted to say, “Hey, bitch, I invited you and you did this?” Instead, I went with, “Chloe, please…”
She looked at Sarah and said, with utter insincerity, “I was just kidding, right Sarah?”
“OK,” she said, hunching down. While Chloe went with Lily to find a nail polish, I whispered to Sarah, “She’s just jealous of us. Hello, does she even need a bra?” Sarah giggled and said, “Stop it.”
Then, Lily, Emily and Sarah all bought some nail polish. “No fair!” Chloe whined. “Come on. That’s not fair.” Neither is making fun of your friend, I thought. Serves you right.
Emily said, “It’s not our fault that your mother won’t let you buy it.”
“Stop it!” Chloe whined. “That’s mean. When your mom wouldn’t let you buy that shirt, I didn’t buy one. I can’t believe you would do this.” I couldn’t believe I was listening to this. I looked at Sarah who looked back at me, begging me not to get involved. Chloe looked at me like she wanted to. I sighed, “Let’s just get this done. Chloe, we will find something for you at H & M, OK?” She gave me a look that acknowledged that she had no choice.
Lily, Emily and Sarah all giggled and compared their nail polishes, while Chloe stewed. Sarah eventually said, “you can totally try it at my house. Sorry your mom won’t let you.”
Chloe looked at me. “I didn’t hear anything,” I said, with a smile. Why was I trying to get teenage girls to like me? I needed to think like a mom, not a girl.
We walked in and out of stores, the girls trying on clothes. It was adorable, the way they’d go in and out of dressing rooms, oohing and aahing at each other. Sarah found a cute slip dress. It was $50. I could see her looking through her wallet. “Next time,” I whispered, with a smile. “Not now. I can’t afford all four of you.”
Emily came out, wearing a denim skirt. She looked really happy when Lily and Chloe said, “Ick.” I mean it wasn’t great. Sarah had told me Emily played field hockey and she had big thighs, but it wasn’t “ick.”
Her face fell. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It makes you look fat,” Chloe said. I didn’t like her. I didn’t like her mother at the bat mitzvah and she was a miniature version of her.
Sarah looked torn. She wanted to help Emily but she didn’t want to get in the middle. She really was Jess. Then, she made me proud. She went over to a rack and found another skirt. “Ohmigod, this would be so much better and it’s on sale.” That’s my girl, I thought. I was proud of her. And it was better. She had been listening to me.
We went to H & M and it was Lily’s turn to suffer. She tried on a skirt that was way too short. “Um, no.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Oooh,” my three girl Greek chorus said.
I thought, ‘yes I can.’ Then, I thought, ‘that’s your best?’ “You’re right. I can’t,” I said.
She stopped. “What?”
“I can’t,” I said, taking out my phone and holding it up.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a picture. Sending it to your mom. If she says OK, it’s OK. And you said she’d say OK, so here we go.”
The other girls giggled. She snarled, “Fine.” I felt bad, she was so gullible. I found a slip dress with a t shirt under it. “Try this on. It’s way cuter.” Way cuter? Whatever, she tried it on and was happy. This won me points with the other girls who kept asking me what I thought, even Chloe who said, “Sarah, your aunt is cool.” Sarah and I smiled.
We were walking out of the store to go get lunch when Emily said, “Mrs. Silverman, you should totally try that dress.” She pointed at an off white lace dress with long sleeves. “You would look totally hot in that.”
Did Jess send you I thought? “I don’t know.” It was cute. I never shopped here but it was cute. I was a little worried about wearing a white dress on my second day but crossed my fingers.
They all said, “Come on. Pleease.”
I couldn’t resist them. I went into the dressing room and tried it on. It fell to mid thigh. I liked the way it looked. I felt feminine which, given my period, was in short supply. Not that I didn’t feel female. With every cramp, I felt female. But I didn’t feel feminine. I came out and the girls all said, “You look so hot. You totally have to get it.” I smiled and gave in. It made me feel good.
That lasted for ten minutes. “Can we go to Sugar Factory for lunch?” Sarah said. She and I went there once. It was loud. It was bright. They served neon colored drinks and crappy food and Sarah loved it.
“What’s that?” Emily said.
Sarah bubbled. “I told you about it. It’s the place with the really cool drinks and stuff. It’s really fun.”
Lily said, “It sounds fattening.” Lilly weighed approximately 15 pounds. She looked like a lollipop stick with a head.
“They have a lot of stuff there,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
“Uh huh,” she said, unconvinced.
The Sugar Factory was north and west. I figured we’d walk up, it was a nice day. I forgot that these were suburban kids, taking from door to door by SUV. I had trained Sarah that it was OK to walk, but not these three. We had walked about twenty blocks, a mile, when Chloe whined, “How much farther? My feet hurt.” It’s further, not farther, I thought.
She was wearing flip flops. Someone should have told her not to wear flip flops. It’s April, for chrissake. “Not that much further.”
“Well, my feet hurt. Why can’t we take a taxi? I’ll pay.” You impudent spoiled little shit, I thought.
“Thanks but no thanks.” Just then, my phone rang. It was Carrie. “Hey Carrie, are you surviving?”
She sighed. I knew what that sigh meant. Jess used to sigh like that. I sighed like that now. Then she laughed, “Are you? Should I call your mother-in-law and apologize?” I knew what she meant.
“They’re fine. We’re going to lunch.”
“OK. 4 o’clock?”
Yes, yes, yes. Sooner, if you want. “That’s fine.”
“It’s almost over,” she laughed.
We ate lunch. The girls drank martinis. No, not those kind. Giant alcohol free chocolate and banana and berry martinis. But they acted like they were real, pretending to be grown up. I smiled, sipping my iced tea and thinking, “you spend your childhood wishing you were an adult. Now, I’d give anything to go back.”
The girls ordered lunch. For girls that were so focused on weight, they ordered red velvet pancakes and nutella crepes and sliders. And they split them. Jesus, it starts early I thought and then I realized their moms did it too. I picked at a salmon salad, which was the healthiest thing on the menu. Which was like being the captain of the sub-Saharan bobsled team.
We finished up and went back to the apartment. When we came back, Jess was in a t shirt and shorts. The girls looked him up and down. He was drying his hair, having clearly just finished showering. “Hey girls,” he said. “Did Jessa show you a good time?” They all giggled and looked away. Jess gave them a big grin, clearly enjoying the attention. He gave me a kiss, which made them giggle more. He whispered in my ear, “Did YOU have a good time?” I smiled and groaned.
“Hey Sarah,” he said, giving her a kiss. “Are you going to introduce us?”
She beamed. “These are Chloe and Emily and Lily. This is my uncle Danny. He’s my mom’s brother.”
“Hi,” they all said, giggling some more. Then, they all looked at their phones until Carrie got there.
Carrie came in. “We had bets on when you’d break,” she said, laughing.
“I came close. The drama.”
She smiled. “Remember that age?” No, not really. Talk to Jess, I mean Dan. “Do I want to know?” That seemed the key to parenting. Deliberate ignorance.
“No. Really, they were fine.”
“So next week,” she said, grinning.
I took out my phone. “Oh, shoot. We have plans until...they go to college.”
“Em behaved?”
“SHE was fine.” She looked over at Chloe and raised an eyebrow. I just smiled. She reminded me of what my friend Matt’s father used to say to his sister - you’ll make someone a fine ex-wife some day.
“OK, girls,” she said. “You have taken advantage of Mrs. Silverman enough. Let’s go. Say thank you.”
As the girls left, they each said thank you and gave me a kiss. When the door closed, I fell onto the couch and put my hand on my forehead. I groaned.
“That bad,” Jess asked.
I recounted everything and she said, “Yup, that’s about right.” I told her what Sarah did with Emily and Chloe and she kissed me. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“Huh?” I was too tired to think.
“You’re a great role model for her. You’re really helping. Jill told me at the bat mitzvah. You’re a great aunt. You’ll be a great mom,” and she laughed, “assuming today didn’t kill you.”
“We’ll only have one at a time, right?”
She kissed me again. “Well, if we have four, you can give birth in a box under the table, like a dog.” I swatted her and she said, “Oh, shoot. One of the girls left her bag,” and she pointed at the H & M bag.
“No, that’s mine.”
“H & M? Since when?”
“Since four 13 year-old girls made me.”
“We’ve discussed peer pressure,” she said, laughing.
I took the bag and went into the bedroom. “If you don’t like it, I’ll return it.” I put on the dress and a pair of white sandals and came out.
The smile on her face said it all. “That is perfect. I love you, Jessa. Next month.”
‘Next month,’ I thought.
The saga of Dan and Jessa continues
Jessa learns that sometimes to get what you want you have to let go....
Thanks as always, Lizzy Bennet for your comments and kind words.
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Saturday morning. We were going to brunch with Michelle and Amanda at a restaurant a couple of blocks from their place. We were first so we gave our name to the hostess. There was a wait for a table so we went to the bar for a drink. I knew that I wasn’t pregnant so I had a mimosa. It had been a long week and I needed a break. Jess looked at me and I just said, “not today, OK? It doesn’t really matter today, does it? Who knows maybe it’ll help?” She put her hand on my shoulder and it felt like a reproach.
Michelle and Amanda walked in. I looked in Michelle’s eyes. I could see the smile in them. I nodded. She nodded and smiled. “Ohmigod, that’s so amazing!” I gave her a huge hug. I was happy for her. I was miserable for me but she was my best friend, so I resolved to be happy. “Mazel tov. Mazel tov, Amanda.” Yes, mazel tov. To my Black friend and her Italian wife. Whatever.
Jess gave Michelle a kiss and Amanda a hug. “Mazel tov, guys.”
Michelle took out her phone. “I told her she couldn’t tell her until I told you.” She grinned, “it has been absolutely killing her.”
“Tell her to tell her that we’re at brunch, so she won’t bother me.” Michelle didn’t say anything. She just looked at me like I was an idiot. Which, thinking about it, I was. Fifteen minutes later, my phone buzzed. “I’m surprised it took that long.”
Amanda laughed, “Well, they had to go through everything first. ‘So, then, Michelle told me that she couldn’t handle the smell of oranges which I thought was ridiculous although when I was pregnant with Charlie I couldn’t handle pomegranates which wasn’t a problem because it’s not like there were that many places in the county serving pomegranates….”
“Shhh,” I said, laughing and picking up my phone. “Hi ma. Yes ma. I know she is. She’s right here. Yes, she looks beautiful.” Michelle started making beauty queen moves. “She seems OK. She can’t stand oranges.” Everyone was laughing and making faces at me. Michelle was twirling her hand in the air in the ‘come on Barb’ gesture. I started laughing. “Nothing ma. Something in the restaurant. We’re at brunch. It’s rude to talk on the phone in a restaurant. Yeah, hang on,” I said, handing the phone to Michelle. “She wants to talk to you.”
“Hi Barb. Thank you. Fine. Tired. Yes, she told me about the pomegranates. Corned beef, huh? That’s really interesting,” she said, as she mimed, shooting herself. “Yes, I’m getting enough rest. Amanda’s fine. Barb says mazel tov Amanda. Hi Dave. Thank you. Thank you. Dave says you have to be nice to me, Mand.” Amanda looked at Jess, smiled and shook her head. “OK, well, anyway, Jess will call you back. Thank you. I love you too.” She hung up the phone.
“So,” I said, in a tone that I hoped sounded only mock-angry, “why did you wait until now to tell me? I mean you told HER first.”
She knew exactly who I meant, and played along, “She is my MOM. Come on.”
Under the table, I fidgeted with the hem of my dress. “Oh fine. You know she was a much bigger risk to talk than I was. But, fine, go with that whole ‘she gave birth to me’ bullshit,” I laughed. It felt forced to me, but no one seemed to notice. I took a sip of my drink. I would have sworn that I saw Michelle give Jess a look. “Seriously, Shell, how are you feeling?”
She laughed. “Seriously tired. And seriously I can’t stand the smell of oranges, so you have two choices - move seats or switch to something else. That or I’m going to puke on you.”
I smiled. “It won’t be the first time.” She came to visit me in Madison once. My friends were so impressed with my hot Black female friend. Well, until she had her first Hairy Buffalo punch and puked all over Bascom Hill. I gulped half of the mimosa and motioned over the waitress, “Can I switch to a bloody Mary? Sorry, but my friend here is pregnant and can’t handle the smell of oranges.” The waitress congratulated her and went to get my drink. Under the table, Jess squeezed my knee and not in a good way. I gave her hand a hard squeeze, as if to say, it’s one drink. Or maybe one and a half, if you counted the mimosa, which I didn’t.
The conversation was basically the same as it was with Sammie. Michelle talked and I oohed and aahed at all the right places. Said how excited I was to be Aunt Jessica. Jess and Amanda listened and smiled. When we were almost through with brunch, Michelle said, “Excuse me, but I have to go pee, which you better get used to when we go out from now on. Hey, Jess, come with?”
We went to the bathroom and Michelle said, laughing as she washed her hands, “Peeing all the time sucks, you know.”
I looked at myself in the mirror and said, involuntarily, “yeah, well…”
Michelle looked horrified. “I am so sorry, Jess. I didn’t mean that.”
I gave her a hug, “I know. And I shouldn’t have said anything. So we’re even,” I said, with a smile that hopefully didn’t look too forced.
It did, because she looked concerned. “How’s it going?”
“Well, I’m drinking, so that should give you an idea.” I hated this. I hated it. I hated that she was pregnant and I wasn’t. I mean, I didn’t hate that she was. I was happy for her. But I hated that I wasn’t. And I hated that she caught me.
“It’s going to happen. It will. It’s only been what two, three months? That’s nothing.” It was three.
“Yeah, well, you got pregnant on the first try.” They had to postpone the first try because Michelle got the flu. She wasn’t happy but I guess it didn’t matter now.
She rolled her eyes, “yeah, with a centrifuge and a turkey baster. It’s like cheating. I mean you have to do it THAT way. Ewww, gross,” and she made a ‘yuck’ face from when we were kids.
That made me laugh, for real, thinking of when we were little. “Freak. Seriously, I am really happy for you guys.”
She smiled and gave me a kiss. “I know you are, Jess. It’s going to happen. Soon. And besides you get to keep trying,” she laughed.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t tell Dan.”
We walked home, hand in hand. “Are you OK, Jessa?”
I didn’t look at her, “I’m fine.”
“You were drinking.”
“I wasn’t drinking. I had a drink. And some of a mimosa. That’s hardly drinking,” I said, making air quotes. I hated people who made air quotes. It struck me as lazy and insulting, like you couldn’t do a sarcastic tone or assumed that people wouldn’t get it.
“Sorry. I guess you just haven’t in awhile. Anyway, you can be upset. It’s OK.”
She was trying to help, but I wasn’t interested. I wanted to feel bad for myself and about myself. “Thanks for permission,” I snapped.
“I didn’t mean it that way, you know.”
Now I felt bad about this too. “I know. And I’m happy. But now I’m just going to hear about it for the next six months.”
She turned me to face her. “It’s not going to be six months. It’s going to happen. Soon,” she said. “It will.” I wanted to believe her, like I wanted to be happy for Michelle like I was for Sammie. But I didn’t believe her and I wasn’t happy, at least not in the way that I thought I should be. I started to feel nauseous. I could feel the bile rising in my throat, but choked it back down. She caught me and said, “Are you OK, Jessa?” with true concern.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Must’ve been something I ate.” I had a frittata with gruyere cheese, not exactly the stuff of nausea, so Jess just raised an eyebrow at me. “Or it was the alcohol. You know, I was drinking and all,” I said, with an edge.
We walked home the rest of the way in silence.
We got home and I went into the bedroom, “to take a nap.” I wasn’t tired and didn’t even try to sleep. I just laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling sorry for myself. I looked at my dresser and saw the prenatal vitamins. It felt like they were staring at me. I wanted to throw them away and never think about them again, but knew that I’d just be back at the store tomorrow. Instead, I put them in a drawer. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a pink floral minidress and sandals that everyone said made me look “really cute.” I wasn’t in the mood for cute right now. I took everything off and put on a t shirt and shorts and laid back down.
I put my face in the pillow - and cried. And cried. And cried until I passed out. At about 4:30 PM, Jess came in. She gently shook me. “Hey, honey, wake up.”
“Huh? What?” I looked at my phone. “I didn’t realize I was that tired. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t have woken you except we have the thing tonight with the managers and dinner’s at 6:15, because of the show.”
‘Fuck,’ I thought. We had dinner with the managers from Stone’s Southern district tonight. We were eating dinner at some Italian restaurant in the theater district, and then seeing “Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet,” which my parents had seen. It was an immersive experience where some of the audience was on stage at tables drinking vodka, while the play swirled around them. My mother loved it; my dad said, ‘it was loud.’ To be honest, I was not a fan of musicals. People randomly breaking out into song or, worse yet, singing the entire story did nothing for me. Couple that with the fact that (a) I didn’t want to go anywhere tonight and (b) we were seeing it with company people and I was (c) miserable. Unfortunately, since we were hosting tonight, I had no option.
----------
Up until two weeks ago, I had no idea what hosting entailed. When Jess was me and I was her, we never hosted. We tagged along occasionally when they had extra tickets, but we never hosted. I found what it entailed when, two weeks ago, during working hours, Terri, one of the corporate meeting planners, called me. “Hey, Jess, how’s everything?”
“Hey, Terri,” I said, brightly. “What’s going on? How’s Tony.” We had become friends with Terri and her husband Tony on a trip to the Bahamas. He was a VP at an ad agency and invited us along to a Yankee game, when he was given use of the corporate box.
“Oh, he’s fine. She’s still praying for me.” They had no kids, apparently much to her mother-in-law’s chagrin. Her mother told her, frequently, that “I pray for your fertility,” to which she told Jess she responded, “that’s funny. I pray against it.” I thought about asking her to tell her mother-in-law to put in the good word for me. I figured it couldn’t hurt. “Anyway, let’s talk about the dinner.”
“Dinner?” I was knee deep in a motion, and wasn’t really focused on anything but that.
“The dinner you’re hosting on the 24th, with Southern states,” she said. “We need to talk menus and the show.”
“OK,” I said, uncertain of how this involved me. I just assumed this got done. I went with, “So, I’m new at this, obviously. What does hosting mean exactly?”
“OK, well, we have to decide what to see and where you’re eating and what the menu is. Lucky you, you get Southern states for the first time. Well, may as well go into the deep end and learn to swim.”
“Or drown.” She laughed. I wasn’t kidding. What did I know about this? “Um, OK,” I said, thinking that I really don’t have time for this. I figured the easiest part would be the show. You needed tickets for 24 people, so that limited your options. “Lead me, Terri. What do we do here?”
She took my e-mail and, while we were on the phone, sent me five show options and menus for four different places. Like I said, I hate musicals but was told, “you can’t do plays. Too dark. Too much potential for politics. Plus, when these crackers say they want to see a show, they mean a musical.” After much back and forth (I rejected anything by Andrew Lloyd Webber), we came up with “Great Comet.” I figured if my mom liked it, these people would.
“Great,” she said, brightly. “Now, the menus.” We started to talk, when Mike walked in my office.
“Hang on a sec, Terr. My boss just walked in.” I put my hand over the mouthpiece. “What’s up?”
He smiled. “Order me chicken parm. What the hell are you doing?”
I laughed, “We’re hosting a dinner for some of Dan’s managers. We’re seeing the ‘Great Comet,” to which he mimed hanging himself. He came back from seeing ‘Miss Saigon,’ telling me that he now appreciated where Ho Chi Minh was coming from, “and taking them to dinner, so I have to plan a menu.” As I said the words, I could see a look somewhere between incomprehension and disgust cross his face. “I’ll be done really soon, Mike. I’ll come in.” He walked out, shaking his head.
“Sorry, Terr. So where were we? Can’t they all order off the menu?”
She laughed at me. “If you want to miss the show, sure. Come on…” she said, like I should know better. Then, I remembered that they always gave us three choices for dinner. Two for starters and two desserts.
“Oh yeah. Do you think Italian’s a good choice?”
She kept laughing, “Sure. A genuine New York experience. If you consider Times Square New York.” I didn’t. We decided on the sort of anodyne restaurant that any good New Yorker would avoid. Italian but not too Italian.
I looked at the menus with one eye and my phone - for an email from Mike - with the other. “Do chicken piccata, salmon and fettuccine work? And a salad or soup for the starters?” I had zero interest in this but knew this was going to be our first impression as part of management. I didn’t want to blow it for Jess.
“Sounds good. I’ll give them $100 gift cards for the room gift. Does that work?”
“Sounds great, Terri. Sorry, but I have got this motion due and I really need to go. E-mail me with questions, I can cover up for that if I’m in a meeting.” I laughed, “How come I’m doing this and not Dan?”
She laughed, “Funny, Jess. I’ll e-mail the final menu and everything for review, OK?”
“Sounds great.” Sounds ridiculous but what could I do? I was on board.
I went into Mike’s office and he laughed, “What the hell was that about?”
“Sorry, you know how I told you Dan got promoted?” I could see in his eyes that he was trying to remember if he knew that. Like a good lawyer, he lied and said, ‘oh yeah.’ “Anyway, so some managers from the South are coming in and we’re hosting them for dinner and show Saturday. I had to pick a menu and a show, sorry.”
“Don’t they have people for that,” he asked, exasperated.
“Yeah, I thought so. And they do, sort of. That’s who I was talking to. Anyway, the motion is basically done. I’m just proofing it.”
“OK. Is this going to become a habit?” He said, playing with his pen.
“Is what going to be a habit?”
“This Suzy Homemaker bullshit?”
I was, to say the least, surprised. And pissed off. I took one phone call and I get this. I could walk past Jeff’s office and hear him bullshit about football for half an hour and no one blinked. I used to do it with him all the time, and Mike would join in. I was going to call him on it, but knew it would fall on deaf ears. “Mike, have I ever done that in seven years? Ever?”
He looked like he realized he would be in deep trouble if he kept going, so he said, “sorry. I guess I was just surprised. And this is on deadline. Sorry.” Then he laughed, “So what did you go with?”
“Chicken piccata, salmon and fettuccine,” I said, laughing. “Wanna come?”
“People singing for no reason? No thanks. Good luck.”
I went back to my office and thought about what he said. Was that who I was now? Dan’s wife? I knew it was at his job. Was that all I was here now too?
---------------
I rushed around getting ready. “You should have woken me sooner,” I said, I fastened in my earrings.
“Sorry,” Jess said, “you just seemed like you needed some rest.”
“Well, thanks,” I said, turning around so she could zip me up. “But this is important. I need to look good so you do.” I don’t know why I added that last part. “How do I look?” I was wearing a black knee-length crepe sheath with a bateau neck and cap sleeves. I started putting on makeup.
Jess smiled. “You look gorgeous. That dress is perfect. You don’t have to dress for me though.”
I laughed then lied. “I’m not doing it for you. You said it, we all dress for each other,” I said, inadvertently hitting that first ‘we’ a little too hard.
“Are you OK, Jessa?”
“I’m fine,” I said, putting on my shoes. “I just don’t want to be late. Terri said we, I need to get there a little early to make sure everything’s OK.”
“Are you sure? Do you want to talk about Michelle?” She put her hand on my shoulder.
I moved out from under it. “There’s nothing to talk about. She’s pregnant. I’m happy for her and Amanda. They’re going to do great.”
“Are you going to be OK tonight?”
I gave her a quick glance. “I will be fine, Dan. I am fine.” Besides, I thought, it’s not like I have any other option. I put the tickets in my purse - Terri had messengered them to me - and we left,
We got to the restaurant about fifteen minutes early and met with the maitre d’. “Is everything the way you wanted it, Jessica?” she said.
I smiled. “Perfect, Carrie. Thanks.” They had set up a private room with four tables of six. They had originally wanted to set up two long tables but I had spoken with Terri and decided that I liked the four tables better since it encouraged conversation. All this happened either at lunch or after work. Since Mike caught me, I felt like I was being watched. I made sure that my billable hours were impeccable. Other people may have surfed the web or talked about the Yankees, but not me, not after that. I was going to be partner.
Jess looked at me. “You did all this?”
I looked at Carrie and rolled my eyes. “Yes, Dan, I did. Well, Carrie, Terri and I did. We picked the menus and set up the tables and everything,” I snapped. Well, in my mind, I snapped. Carrie just laughed so I hoped it just came off as ‘god, men are clueless.”
Jess gave me a kiss. “Wow. Thanks. When?”
“Menus I set when I went to get lunch. The tables were when I met Sammie for dinner a week ago. I came over early and Carrie very generously stayed late. Thank you again.”
She just smiled and said, in a clear effort to leave us alone, “I am going to check on the bruschetta for the tables.”
Once she left and closed the door, Jess said, “I am really impressed.”
“At what?” I said, pulling down on the hem of my dress.
“How you got this all set up.”
“This is our first impression, Dan. We need to look good,” I said, checking my teeth in the mirror for lipstick. I needed to look good. I didn’t need to get a reputation among these women as inept. I had to be on board.
She kissed me. “I know we will. When I’m next to you, I always look good.”
She was trying. I was snapping and she was trying. It wasn’t her fault - well, not her fault alone - that I wasn’t where I thought I’d be. She was just concerned about me. I smiled and said, “True enough,” and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go wait out front for everyone. I don’t need them to get lost finding the place.”
I needn’t have worried. They brought everyone over on two party buses. As they got off, the men all shook Jess’ hand. Like the Breakers, I found myself introducing myself to people with whom we had been away before.
Everyone went into the party room. The wine was poured and Jess stood up. “I’d like to make a toast,” she said. From one of the tables, a manager said, ‘make it quick, so we can drink,’ to the sort of forced laughter jokes like that engendered. “I’m Dan Silverman and this is my beautiful wife Jessica,” and I gave a little wave, “and we would like to welcome the Southern States team to New York. As some of you know, I’m from the South originally…”
Jeff McKechnie, one of the managers with whom we had gone to Bermuda and whose wife didn’t remember me, said, “please, Silverman. You’re from Miami. Yankee with a tan.” That brought about genuine laughter from the legitimate Southerners in the room. Miami wasn’t the South. It was either New York or Havana, but it wasn’t the South.
“Well, anyway, Jessica and I want to welcome you and now Jessa is going to let you know what to expect tonight.”
I was not expecting to speak nor did I want to, but goddammit, I was on board. “Hi everyone!” I said brightly. “Welcome to New York! I hope you all had an easy trip in and you like the hotel! I hope you like what we left you…”
James Rogerson, one of the managers, joked, “we didn’t get anything….”
I looked at Jess and said, “uh, Dan, weren’t you supposed to talk to him yesterday,” which got a laugh, even from him. His wife just looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Well, anyway, on behalf of Stone, we wanted to congratulate for your hard work and hope that you enjoy dinner and the show. We’re seeing a new show, ‘Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812,’ which I’ve heard great things about. We’ll be sitting on stage with the performers so be prepared to pay attention. Anyway, if you have any questions or need anything, just ask. Now, I’m going to let Dan finish his toast…”
Dinner was, like Hobbes said, nasty, brutish and short. OK, that was a little unfair. It wasn’t brutish.
I went around from table to table, introducing myself and asking and answering the same questions over and over again, with a smile. ‘Yes, we live here. In the city. You get used to the noise, I don’t even hear it anymore.’ ‘No, we don’t have any kids.’ ‘I don’t know what we’ll do when we have them.’ If we have them, I found myself thinking. ‘I’m an attorney.’ ‘Ha ha, yeah, that’s a funny joke.’ I wanted to hang myself. I tried to introduce people from one district to another, so they’d get to meet. It didn’t work as most of them just wanted to talk to people they knew. After a couple of efforts, I figured it would happen like it did in Florida or not at all. I just wanted to make sure that I looked like I was doing it.
On the other hand, I was watching Jess. She was legitimately enjoying herself, talking about sports with the other men and asking the wives about their kids. She wouldn’t remember the kids’ names - that was my job, even before this - but she seemed genuinely happy. Every so often, she would take my hand and give it a gentle squeeze. I decided to relax. It was one night. I liked meeting new people. It was good for Jess.
Once I relaxed, most of the wives were OK. One, Layla Thomason (“yeah,” she joked preemptively, “my parents were hippies”), whose husband was a manager in Mobile, specifically thanked me. “Did you set all this up?”
I smiled, “I did. Well, I mean Terri, one of the planners, gave me some options for restaurants and I picked one, but we did it together.”
“So, yeah, you set this up.” She looked at Jess and said, with a snicker, “Did he even know where you were going before you came over?”
I laughed, “Oh, he was completely involved in everything. It’s even his recipe for chicken piccata.”
Another woman, Cheryl Harper, a manager from Macon, overheard and laughed. “Well, then, you’ll just have to come to Macon for a potluck. Mike’s cheesecake is the perfect complement to it. Seriously, Jessica, you work lawyer’s hours and you did this, too? Damn, you are the perfect wife.” Yup, that’s me, Suzy fucking Homemaker.
Another woman joked, “What, you mean she’s not supposed to work full time, plan this, clean up the house and, when she’s done, be ready and waiting for him…” I blushed and she said, “you need some kids, honey. Clears up that blushing immediately.”
Before we left, I went to the bathroom. One of the wives, Kerry Farrell, came in while I was washing my hands. “So you’re the famous Jessica SIlverman? I just put two and two together.”
‘Uh oh,’ I thought. I decided to make a joke out of it. “You must have me confused with the legendary supermodel Jessica Silverman,” I laughed nervously. ‘Where is this going? Be careful.’
She smiled. “No, she’s taller. Mitch used to work with John Chapman.”
‘Oh fuck,’ I thought. ‘What does this mean.’ I kept my smile on my face. “John’s a great guy. We were just in Palm Beach with them. Bonnie’s great too.”
She laughed. “Bonnie’s a bitch and he’s an asshole. The happiest day of my life was when Mitch got assigned out of the midwest.”
I smiled, making sure not to give away anything. “I’m glad you enjoy Baton Rouge. I’m still not sure why I’m famous though.”
“The dumb bitch has been blaming you for why John didn’t get Dan’s job. She’s been telling everyone you kissed Ellen Conlan’s ass and that’s why it happened.”
I smiled, thinking of how much this dinner must be killing Bonnie. “Dan always says I’m a great kisser,” I joked, figuring that was innocent enough should it get back to the powers that be, yet bitchy enough to get me in everyone’s good graces for when she told the story at the hotel later. “Well, I had a nice time with them in Florida. I hope we get a chance to go away with them again soon.”
She laughed. “That makes one of us. Well, anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Jessica.”
“You too, Kerry.”
We finished up dinner and were heading to the theater. “OK, everyone,” I said, “the theater is two blocks south of here. We’ll pass some souvenir places along the way, but I’d ask that you wait until after the show if you want to get anything. Like I said, we’ve got stage seats, so I want to get there early. We can go after the show plus there’s a great store right nearby...”
“OK, Mrs. Silverman,” one of the managers, John Hodgson, joked.
In a mock teacher voice, I said, “well, it seems we have a comedian. You know what’s funny? You all have to do a book report on the show and it’s due Monday….but seriously, I’ll be up front and Dan will be in the back, should you need anything. Thank you again for all of your hard work.”
We went to the show. My parents were both right. It was incredibly entertaining and a unique experience. Vodka makes most unpalatable things less unpalatable. It was also very loud. I made a note to tell Mike to see it. He started it.
We took the bus back to the hotel with everyone. It was the last place that I wanted to be. I was tired, my feet hurt and I was still upset about Michelle, but Jess asked if we could go. I figured that we could go for a drink and walk home from there.
“Club soda with lime,” I said, to the bartender. Between losing the weight and not drinking for four months, I had become a lightweight. I had one shot of vodka and could feel it. I wasn’t drunk, far from it, but I knew another drink, especially a drink in a bar versus at the theater, would lower my inhibitions just enough to be dangerous. Once again, I figured club soda could be anything.
I walked around and talked to the various wives, while Dan held court.
“That was some show,” Danielle Ravenel said. “Thank you for picking it.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I said, taking a quick glance at my watch. It was 11:30 and I wanted to be home.
“That actor who played Anatole was hot,” she laughed.
I thought about it. He was cute, but a little too pretty for my taste. I shuddered at that. I had made peace with who I was and even that I found men attractive, but for some reason this threw me. “Yes, he was,” I said, laughing. “So, what are your plans for the rest of your trip?”
“Well, we have a 5PM flight tomorrow from LaGuardia with Tammie and Doug and Laura and Jeff. How long should we leave to get to the airport?”
I thought about it for a second. LaGuardia to Midtown is maybe ten miles away. On a late night flight, you’re there in twenty minutes. 5 PM on Sunday? “Hour or so. Leave around 2:30.”
“Great!” she said, with a smile. “That gives us time to window shop a little in the morning. I’ve never been to Fifth Avenue before.”
‘It’s overrated,’ I thought. ‘And crowded.’ Then I realized that she had never been here. She lived in New Orleans. I imagine that she wouldn’t be caught dead in the French Quarter, so I said, “It’s a lot of fun.”
“Would you like to join us?” she said, hopefully.
‘I have an appointment to kill myself first,’ I thought. Then, I thought, ‘you can’t be a bitch, Jessica. This is for Jess.’ “Sure,” I said. “What time?”
“11:30?”
“How about 11:15?” I said. “I’ll meet you in the lobby and we’ll walk over.”
-----
“So why are you going then,” Jess said, as we walked in the apartment.
“I told you,” I snarled. “I’m doing it for you.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “You did more than enough already.”
“Well, I can’t back out now. Besides, I’ll be fine.”
“You seem fine now,” she said, sarcastically.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you’re upset.”
I paused for a second. I hoped that no one picked up on it tonight. “Did I seem upset tonight?”
“No,” she said, “And if you were, so what?”
“So what? So what? These were your people. I wanted it to be perfect. For you. For us. So that’s what!”
She took me in her arms. “You were perfect. Everyone said so. You were beautiful,” and she kissed one shoulder, “and charming,” and she kissed the other, “and funny,” and she kissed my neck. “I am the luckiest man in the world to have you.”
She meant it and I wanted none of it. “Not tonight.”
She looked concerned. Not upset, just concerned. “Are you still upset about Michelle?”
“I was never upset in the first place, so how could I be upset now?” She started to say something, and I preemptively snapped, “and don’t tell me it’s OK to be upset, because then I will be upset. With you.” I finished getting undressed and put on a t shirt. I didn’t feel very sexy or feminine, and didn’t want to.
“OK,” she said. “If you want to talk about...something, I’ll just listen,” she said, meekly. “I am very proud of you. You made it the perfect night. I love you, Jessa.”
“I love you too.” I didn’t fall asleep for a while. I just laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about who I was tonight. Jessica Silverman. Dan’s wife. The hostess with the mostest, as my grandfather used to sing. Tour guide. Then who I wasn’t. The lawyer. The potential politician. The mom. I cried myself to sleep, trying not to wake Jess.
June came and, once again, I was not pregnant. February, I said, ‘it was the first month plus we shouldn’t have abstained.’ March? ‘First month. Well, the first real one, where you did everything right. Odds were against you. No worries. We’ll get it.’ April, ‘ok, third time will be the charm.’ May. ‘May not.’” It didn’t help that my mother kept talking about Michelle.
Dan was out golfing for the day with Bruce and two VPs. They had gone to a course upstate that one of the VPs had raved about. They wouldn’t be back until late. Ellen was supposed to come in to spend some time, but then Patrick got caught skipping school. She called me from the car after she picked him up from school. “I apologize,” she said, through what sounded like gritted teeth, “but someone decided it would be funny to skip school, so now he’s grounded. Which means I am.” I hated that she couldn’t make it but feared for Patrick more. When I was a kid, I got busted for drinking at a party. My parents grounded me the next weekend and couldn’t go out. My father said, “now, you are in seriously deep shit. First, because you screwed up and, second, because your screw up means I don’t get to go to dinner, which I have been looking forward to all week.”
My mother called. ““Mona is just so excited,” my mother said one Saturday morning. For the umpteenth time.
“I’ve heard, ma,” I said, flicking through a magazine
“They’re making Michelle’s room into a room for the baby.”
“So, you’ve told me,” I sighed. I thanked G-d we weren’t on Skype or FaceTime or anything where she could see me. That way, she couldn’t see me alternate between giving her the finger and blowing my brains out.
“Of course, they don’t know what color to paint it. I mean, if Michelle and Amanda know, they’re not telling anyone…”
I knew what she was asking. I wasn’t in the mood, so I snapped, not taking a breath, “I told you ma, I don’t know. And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Like I said the last four times, they can paint the room yellow or green - a light green, not that lime green that Laura used to have, I know, ma. If they want some gender-specific color, they’ll have to wait. It’s not the worst fate in the world.” I mean it’s not like, I don’t know, trying to have a kid and failing.
“I’m sorry I’m excited for Mona, Jessica.”
I felt bad. She wasn’t saying anything to me or about me. She was excited for her friend. “Sorry, ma,” I said. “I’m just under a lot of stress at work,” I lied.
“How many hours have you billed this month?” She sounded concerned.
“Counting today, when I go in? About 240.” The sole saving grace of all this was that, since Mike’s snotty Suzy Homemaker comment, I had billed - a lot. 220 hours for the month of May. 240 for this month. And I had already billed between 180 and 210 for January through April. To be clear, billing wasn’t hours in the office, at least for most people. You couldn’t bill lunch (although the best partners did) and the time spent looking at the Internet and bullshitting with the other people. I was in the office from 9 to 8 every day, working, and 11 to 4 on weekends. If I couldn’t be a mother, I’d be partner.
“What does Dan say about all of this?”
“Why does Dan get a say?” I snarled. “We work. He works. I work. He’s been all over the place but you don’t seem concerned about him.” He had been at back-to-back meetings in Denver and Houston the past week. I wasn’t worried. I knew that he was being watched.
She got defensive. “Jessica Renee,” she said. When she used my first and middle name, I knew I was in trouble. Not as much as all three, but trouble nonetheless. “I know you both work. What is wrong?”
I can’t get pregnant. Every one else can. You won’t shut up about it. How about that? “If you’d listen to me, you’d know that I have a big case coming up. And I still have to manage the rest of my docket.”
Her voice got soft. “I know that. I just hate seeing you work yourself crazy. You need to take a break sometimes.”
She meant well. “I do, ma. I work out every day. I still read.” Not as much as I wanted to. I had an ever growing stack of books on my nightstand. By the time I came home from work, I was spent.
“I’m just concerned. Please take care of yourself. You need to stop moving at some point or you’ll fall over.”
“I know, ma. I appreciate it. But, I’m fine. We’ll see you for dinner next week. I promise, no phone,” I laughed.
She didn’t. “Please take some time and relax. Go get a manicure. Go sit by the water and read. But relax. Stop running and relax.”
“I will. I love you, ma.” I hung up the phone and took a deep breath. She was right. I needed to relax. I figured I’d go for a run in the park. She didn’t literally mean ‘stop running,’ right? It was figurative. Running relaxed me.
I ran up to Central Park and got on the big loop. I wanted to be around the reservoir, but had made a promise and, to be honest, was still a little spooked. I get that women dealt with it all the time. I did. But that first time still scared me when I thought about it. I still hated the big loop though. It was crowded. I had to dodge bikers and walkers and, at the bottom of the loop, the horse drawn carriages. Which is what was ultimately my downfall. I went to dodge a pile of horseshit and…
“Fuck,” I screamed, as I tripped on a pothole. I felt my ankle twist and thankfully, I fell onto the grass. “Fuck,” I screamed, as I held my ankle. The pain shot through me.
A couple running nearby came over. “Are you OK?” the woman said.
“No. My ankle. It really hurts,” I said, grabbing it.
The man came over. “Do you want to try getting up?” He leaned down. “OK, on the count of three,” he said, putting his arms out, “I’ll pull you up. Ready?”
I wasn’t, but I needed to get home and get to work. “Sure. Thanks.”
“1-2-3,” he said, lifting me.
I didn’t even get my toes down when I felt like my leg was on fire. “Ow,” I screamed. “Sorry,” I said.
He smiled and said, in a mock-deaf voice, “What’s that? I’m a little hard of hearing. Speak up,” he said, as he led me to a bench. “Sorry about that,” I said, blushing. “Thank you,” I said, as his female friend gingerly stretched out my ankle.
He smiled, a warm, sincere smile. “Don’t worry about it? Will you be OK? Is there someone you can call?”
I smiled, “I’m fine. I’ll be OK.”
She said, “I’d feel much better if you called someone. Boyfriend, husband?” I raised my eyebrow. “Girlfriend. Non-binary gender. Whatever works for you,” she said.
I laughed. “Husband. But he’s golfing.”
She said, “We’re getting you to CPMU,” the park medical unit. “That needs to be looked at. It’s already swelling up. If it’s broken, you need someone to look at it now.” I tried to protest, but she just said, “Jack, go get someone.” She stayed with me until the CPMU came. Her name was Wendy. She said that she and Jack, “were friends. Really just friends. No benefits. In fact, if you know anyone, he’s a great guy.” Hey, I was a captive audience. At least, I could laugh while I writhed in pain.
I was lucky. It was just a severe sprain. I was given crutches and told to “stay off it for the weekend.” I tried to say that I had to go into work and the staff doctor just laughed.
I went home. Raoul, the Saturday doorman, helped me out of the cab. “What happened, Ms. Jessica?” I felt weird when he called me ‘Ms. Jessica.’ I tried to get him to call me just Jessica. He refused and would call me ‘Ms. Silverman.’ Ms. Jessica was our compromise.
“Pothole attacked me, Raoul,” I joked.
He smiled, “Want me to go kick its ass?” He’d curse in front of me, but wouldn’t call me Jessica. Whatever.
I walked into the lobby and saw Jodi, her husband Mark and Leo. Lately, I had mixed feelings when I saw Leo. On the one hand, I lived for his little laugh. It started off my day on a high note, something that was in short supply lately. On the other hand, seeing him reminded me of how I was failing.
Leo came over and looked at my crutch. He pulled at the one next to my good leg. “Leo,” Mark yelled. “Don’t do that. Jessica got an owie on her leg.” I smiled at that. Mark was a doctor. An orthopedist, to be exact.
I laughed, “Owie? Remind me to never go to Sinai, Mark. Hi Leo!”
“Hi hi hi. Owie?”
“I fell down and went ka-boom!” He plopped down on the ground and started laughing. “Ka-boom,” he said. Four times. In spite of myself, I laughed.
Jodi smiled. “Do you need help getting upstairs?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
She smiled, a strange smile. “Why don’t I help you,” she said. “Mark, I’ll meet you guys at the park. The playground by the zoo.” She kneeled down. “Leo, daddy will take you the big park with the big slide. I’m going to help Jessica upstairs, OK?” Leo looked confused. “Jessica got hurt on her leg, so mommy’s going to help her. Can you give Jessica a kiss so she feels better?”
She lifted him up and gave me a kiss. It did make me feel better. We got in the elevator and went upstairs. “Thanks,” I said. “You didn’t have to but I appreciate it.”
She smiled. “Please, it’s no bother.” I started to hobble to the kitchen. “Go sit on the couch,” she said. “Whatever you need, I’ll get it.”
“Thanks. I hate to be a bother but could you get me a glass of water and an ice pack? There’s one in the freezer.” She brought them both out to me. “Thanks, Jodi. I’m fine now. You can go meet them.”
She sat down next to me and smiled. “I think you need some more help. Right? You need more help.”
I wasn’t sure what she was saying. Then, I realized and smiled, “Yeah, help. Thanks. What’s up?”
She took a sip of water. “Nothing. Sometimes, I just need a break. I love Leo more than anything but he’s a handful. Speaking of Leo, are you OK?” I laughed and pointed at my leg, up on the coffee table. She smiled, “No, not that. Lately, you just seem, I don’t know, out of it. Like something’s bothering you.”
I guess, for all my changes, I wasn’t that perceptive. I don’t know that I would have noticed in reverse. I certainly didn’t notice that she was tired. “What do you mean?”
“When we see you in the lobby, you seem distracted lately.”
I felt bad for poor Leo. He waited for hide and seek and I couldn’t give him that. “It’s work,” I lied. “Sorry. Does Leo notice?”
She laughed loudly. “Leo is 17 months old, Jessica, a 17 month old boy. He notices leaves, dogs and trucks. Not whether you’re distracted. He’s just happy to see you. Seriously, though?”
I debated telling her but, in the end, couldn’t. I knew she’d be sympathetic. Who knows? It may have taken them a year to get pregnant and maybe she knew something. But then I couldn’t handle being an object of pity. To hear her say something well meaning like, “Oh, that’s so bad,” and “it’ll happen,” because it was so bad and because I didn’t believe that it would happen. So, instead, I said, “We’ve both been working crazy hours. I billed 220 last month,” Jodi used to be a lawyer, which wasn’t helping me either. She was me and now she’s Leo’s mom - and only Leo’s mom, “and my mom’s been on me to relax, so I guess I’m relaxing now,” I said, with a stupid little laugh.
She looked at me and smiled. “220? That’s a lot. Seriously, though, I’m here, anytime, if you want to talk.” After 15 minutes of idle chatter, she looked at her watch and said, “I guess I should get going. I can’t wait to see what they’re up to.”
“Thanks again, Jodi,” I said, as she walked out.
I spent the rest of the afternoon feeling sorry for myself. I could have called Sammie and I’m sure she would have brought Charlotte over, but I wasn’t in the mood to feel good. I wanted to feel bad about myself. I couldn’t have a baby and I couldn’t go to work, so I just wanted to have a pity party. I did catch up on my reading and occasionally hobbled to the kitchen for a snack or a drink, but mostly I just stewed.
About 8 PM, Jess walked in, “Hi honey...whoa, what happened?”
With a fully cooked set of grievances simmering in my head, I let go. “What happened? What happened? What do you think happened? I was running in the park on the big loop and I tripped and I sprained my ankle and I’ve been sitting here all day!”
“Why didn’t you call me,” she said. “I would have come home.”
“I didn’t need you to come home! I needed you there in the first place.”
She looked confused. “Um, you know I had the golf thing today. I thought you were going into work…”
“Well, I was,” I said, starting to tear up. “And then my mother told me I was working myself to death and I should relax. So, I decided to go for a run before I went to work. And I went to run on the big loop. I wanted to run the reservoir but,” and I decided to pin it on her and her alone, “you told me not to run the reservoir and to stay on the big loop…”
She looked shocked, go figure. “I just asked that you be careful…”
“No, you said stay on the big loop if you weren’t there,” it now felt like an out-of-body experience or, in retrospect, nervous breakdown, but I kept going, “and so I did. And it wasn’t enough to dodge bikers and walkers. I went to dodge horseshit,” and she started to laugh. It was funny. Slipping on horseshit is objectively funny but it wasn’t in the moment,” and - IT’S NOT FUNNY - and I tripped on a pothole and sprained my ankle and two nice people - NEITHER ONE OF WHOM WAS YOU - had to call the medical unit and I’ve been here all day and you weren’t,” and I started to cry.
She tried to hold me but I pulled away. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come there immediately.”
“You were exactly where you were supposed to be!”
“I don’t understand.”
“You were exactly where you were supposed to be. Where you are supposed to be. But I wasn’t not. I’m not. I’m not where I’m supposed to be. I’m not anywhere,” and I started to cry.
She held me and rubbed my back. “What do you mean, Jessa? I really don’t get it.”
I wiped my nose on her shirt and said, “You weren’t supposed to be with me. You were where you were supposed to be. You were golfing with your boss and two other VPs. You’re assistant VP and you were showing them how great you are. But, I’m not anywhere. I don’t know what I am or where I am anymore. I’m not sure I’m supposed to be at work, but I was supposed to be, but I wasn’t even there because I was listening to my mom talk about Michelle. And I’m not there either. I’m nowhere.”
“You’re with me. You’re my wife,” she said.
“Is that all I am to you?” I snapped. “A wife. Suzy fucking homemaker? That’s not all I am.”
She looked at me and snapped back. “When the hell did you become such a macho shithead?”
“What?”
“When did you become such a macho shithead?”
I picked up one of my heels with my crutch. “That’s me, macho.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Suzy fucking Homemaker? Is that what you think I want? I could make dinner plans and pick menus, Dan.” That shocked me out of my funk. And pissed me off.
“What did you call me?”
“I called you Dan. You’re not acting like Jessa. Jessa understands who we are. You don’t so you must be Dan. Although, to be honest, you’re not even that. You’re not the person I married.” I grabbed my breasts with both hands and smirked. She didn’t laugh. “I didn’t say man. I said person. Asshole.”
“What does that mean?”
“The PERSON I married wouldn’t use the phrase Suzy Homemaker. The PERSON I married didn’t think husband and wife and his job and my job. That PERSON’s place wasn’t in front of me or behind me. It was next to me. The PERSON I married said we were a team.”
“We are a team,” I mumbled, feeling chastened.
“Are we,” she asked. “Are we a team? Were we ever?”
“That’s not fair. We were always a team,” I said.
“That’s what I thought. Were we a real team? Or were we one of those teams where you get to be Lebron and get to be some D-leaguer on a ten-day contract?”
I tried to joke. “You’ve been doing your reading.”
“Yeah, I have,” she said, without cracking a smile. “But answer me! Is that who you saw us as?”
“No, I mumbled.
“Then, what is it? What is wrong?”
I paused. “You don’t need me anymore.”
She looked horrified, “What? Are you kidding me?”
I wanted to curl my legs up to my chest but didn’t want to move my ankle too much. “You don’t need me. You need Jessa to look good and be the good wife, but you don’t need me. Not like you used to.”
I thought that she’d give me a hug and tell me everything would be OK. She didn’t. “What? What does that even mean?”
“You’re so strong and sure of yourself. What do you need me for? To be arm candy?”
“Oh, come on! Is that how I think I see you? Is that how you see yourself?”
“I just feel like…”
“I love you Jessa. I love my hot, sexy wife. But I love the person who’s there for me more. Who gives me great advice. Who’s smart and caring.” She took my hand in hers, hers covering mine completely. “I was always proud of you. I thought you were proud of me too…”
“I am,” I whimpered, “I just…”
“Are feeling sorry for yourself?”
“Now, I feel stupid.”
“You should,” she said, with a smile. “But what’s going on? For real?”
“For real, I feel like I’m watching my life float away from me. Every month, it kills me. I look at Sammie and Michelle and Laura, and I feel like everyone’s moving on. I feel like you’re Dan. You’re you. You’re doing great. But who am I? I can’t even do the one thing I couldn’t do before right”
“It’s only been five months, Jessa.” It felt better, her calling me that again. I felt comforted.
“It’s killing me. It shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be what defines me but it does and it’s killing me.”
Now she gave me a hug, which made me cry again. She rubbed my back and said, “Jessa, I love you. More than anything in the world. I need you. You’re my rock, remember?”
I smiled, a small smile. “I’m a small rock.”
She kissed me. “You are, but you’re mine. But you need to stop beating yourself up. You didn’t do anything and it’s going to happen, but you need to stop focusing on what’s Dan’s job and what’s Jessa’s job and just be you. Don’t worry about being the woman you are or the man you are,” and we both laughed, “and just be the person you are.”
I smiled. “When did you get so smart?”
She kissed me. “When I married you.”
“Me too,” I said, leaning into her arms.
We made a decision that night. We were going to stop trying. We weren’t going to stop trying to have a kid, but we were going to stop thinking so much about it. No more basal body temperature. No more special diet. No more sex on these days and not on these days. We were going to do it the old-fashioned way. We’d have sex and, if it happened, it happened. Mind you, I still took my prenatal vitamins and wasn’t drinking. We may have been doing it the old-fashioned way but Emma was going to go to Princeton.
Our anniversary was June 23rd. Danny was taking me to dinner and Midsummer Night’s Swing at Lincoln Center. Yes, I said ‘Danny’ and not ‘Jess.’ I lay in bed the night that I sprained my ankle and just thought. I realized that she was right. I liked being Jessa, but realized that I still, on some level, thought of myself as Dan and Jess as Jess. I had my role as the voice of reason and Jess as the one to be protected. That wasn’t true now and, if I thought about it, wasn’t 100% true then. He was right and I was wrong. We were a team. I wasn’t Lebron and neither was he. We each had our strengths and weaknesses and it was time to let go of the old paradigm. To embrace Jessa and Danny fully, as they were.
We left the apartment. We were feeling silly and had decided to dress up for dinner and the show. Danny was wearing his charcoal gray suit, with a blue checked shirt and no tie. I was wearing a blue Nicole Miller spaghetti strap dress. It came in at the waist and flared out a little, ending a few inches above the knee. I felt flirty and sexy. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said, “Up for walking?”
I smiled, “Sure. If my feet get tired, I’ll let you know.”
We walked through the park at 64th Street and were walking past the carousel when he said, “Let’s go for a ride.”
I smiled, “Are you serious?”
He took out his wallet and went up to the window. “Come on, we have time. Let’s do it.”
I shrugged. “OK.” We got on and he lifted me onto a white horse. “Hey,” I said, grabbing the pole. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“A steed for my princess,” he said, with a bow. ‘OK,’ I thought, ‘someone is getting a little too into this. But, whatever.’ The horses started going up and down and, against my better instincts, I enjoyed myself. I never liked carousels as a kid. I always found them boring. I wanted the thrill of a rollercoaster. If I didn’t feel like I was about to vomit, it wasn’t worth it. But, now, with Danny hanging off the pole and looking at me, I was having the time of my life. At the same time, I felt like I was being watched but decided that I was being paranoid.
We walked hand in hand through the park. We were near Umpire Rock, a giant rock at the southwestern end of the park. When I was a kid, we’d visit my uncle Simon at his apartment on Central Park West and 68th Street. He’d take us to the park and we’d climb the rock, go to the playground and then he’d take us for ice cream. Eventually, he left that apartment and moved to an assisted living facility on Riverside.
I smiled, “Oh wow. This reminds me so much of…”
Dan smiled, “Uncle Simon. I remember. You told me on our second date.” On our second date, we went to dinner on 77th and Columbus. We walked back to her place, on 43rd and 3rd. I showed her the rocks and told her about how I used to climb them. She smiled and told me how sweet it was that I remembered that. She then asked if we could climb them together. She was wearing boots with a heel and I figured that any girl who was willing to try in those shoes was worth getting to know. “Let’s climb up.”
I laughed. “Are you serious? In these shoes?”
“Come on. I did it. You can do it. We’ll go up the back way.” If you go to the north end of the rock, there’s a slightly less steep path up. “I’ll help you. I won’t let you fall.”
I smiled, “If I hurt my ankle again, you’re carrying me home the whole way.”
He held out his hand, “Deal.”
We climbed up, Danny taking my hand along the way. Everyone looked at us, climbing the rock dressed as we were. One dad, climbing with his five year old son, said, “I didn’t realize they had a dress code on this rock.”
I smiled, “Only after 5.”
When we got to the top, Danny smiled and said, “I told you we could do it,” and he gave me a kiss. Then, he started fumbling in his pocket, “Now, where is it,” he said. “There it is.” I couldn’t see what it was.
“There’s what?” Then, he got down on one knee. “What are you doing? People are watching,” I said. They were.
“Jessa, you are the love of my life. When I see you, my heart sings. The two happiest days of my life were the day I met you and this day six years ago. You are my lover, my wife, my best friend and my teammate. I am everything I am because of you. All of my successes are because of you. You lift me up,” and now I was wiping away my tears. “I’ve said it before. My only goal is to make you happy and never hurt you. And the last time we did this it was amazing but I want this time to be better, if that’s possible,” and he opened his hand and there was a blue velvet box.
“Danny, what are you doing?”
He opened the blue box and inside was Jess’, my, someone’s old engagement ring, except now the diamond in the middle was flanked by two sapphires. “I had it reset when I took it to get resized,” he said, with a grin. I was now crying, as were two women nearby. “One sapphire is you, one sapphire is me and the diamond is us. Jessica Renee Richman, I have one question. Will you marry me?”
I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded my head. Everyone on the rock applauded and Danny picked me up and twirled me. While all of this was going on, I still felt like I was being watched but I didn’t care. It was official. I was Jessica Renee Silverman, Jessa to my Danny.
The rest of the night was wonderful. The Count Basie Big Band was playing in Damrosch Park. They were giving swing dancing lessons. Danny twirled me and dipped me, and I felt my skirt swirl around my legs. We were like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. If they were uncoordinated and gawky. We may have been us, but what us was mediocre dancers, at best. I didn’t care. We were us and we were having fun. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched but again I was happy.
We ate dinner at Boulud Sud. We were having wine and appetizers when Danny said, “I’m sorry I can’t give you the wedding you deserve.”
I took a sip of my wine, “Would you stop? I had the wedding I wanted. I wouldn’t trade a thing,” I said, sticking out my hand and looking at my ring. “It is so beautiful, Danny. I love it. I can’t believe that it’s making me so happy but it is.”
She just smiled and said, “Not as happy as seeing you with it is making me.” I hoped that there were no diabetics nearby. I couldn’t live with the guilt.
Just then, a photographer came past. I didn’t remember a photographer there the last time we went but it was Saturday, so I figured maybe it was something they did for the bridge and tunnel people, the out of towners. “Would you like a picture?”
We looked at each other. “Sure,” I said, “hang on. Let me check my makeup.” I touched up my lipstick and fluffed my hair with my fingers.
“Put your hand on the table, Jessa, so the ring is showing.” OK, weird, I thought, putting my hand on top of Danny’s. We smiled and we took the picture.
We came home and we made love. I thought I might be ovulating but I didn’t care. OK, I cared a little. OK, a lot. But I didn’t check, which was progress for me. We just made love. Beautiful, sweet tender love. I even took off the ring, which was not what happened the last time.
A week later, I came home late from work. Danny was on the couch and I saw a box in front of him. “What’s that?”
“I dunno. It’s addressed to you. Open it.”
I opened it and inside was an album. “What’s this?”
He smiled, “I dunno. Open it.”
Inside were all the pictures from our anniversary. Us on the merry ground. Us climbing the rock. Danny proposing. Dancing. Dinner. “What’s this? How, where?”
He smiled, “I had a photographer follow us that night to document everything. I mean I can’t give you the wedding you deserve but I thought our children should see the night that daddy proposed to mommy. Happy anniversary, Jessa.”
A week later, my period still hadn’t come. I was like clockwork but I wasn’t ready to take a test. I couldn’t handle the disappointment.
-----------------------
I was at work when Rachel popped her head in. “We’re still going to lunch, right?”
“Of course, let me get my bag.” After Sarah’s bat mitzvah, I followed through on my commitment to try and mentor Rachel. She, Robin and I had lunch bi-weekly.
Initially, Robin balked. “Seriously, Jess? Why are you doing this?”
“C’mon Robin, it’s not every day. I’m trying to show her what she can become.”
She laughed, “A bitch and a neurotic Jew?”
“Is that you or me,” I laughed.
She smiled, “Yes.”
Over time, Rachel grew on her, though. She said, “she’s got this weird happy-creepy, Kimmy Schmidt thing going on. I don’t know why but I like her.” Between the two of us, we were teaching her to how to handle herself.
The day that my period hadn’t come we were working with her on Jake.
“OK, Rachel,” Robin said, in an exasperated tone, “what do we say when Jake tries to dump document review on you?”
“Um, Jake, fuck off? Who made you assigning associate?”
“Are you asking him if he should fuck off,” I said.
“No, I’m telling him,” she said.
“Good, again,” Robin and I both said.
“Fuck off Jake! You’re not my boss!” OK, it was a little strident and had a chopped up in the freezer vibe but we were getting there.
We both laughed and said, “There’s hope for you yet.” She grinned, the look being somewhere between a kid who got her first A and your dog dropping a dead bird at your feet, but we were getting there. It was a start though.
Rachel excused herself to go to the bathroom and Robin said, “You know we are totally fucking with her head. She’s going to explode one day and take us hostage.”
“Probably. But we tried.”
“Speaking of which, how’s trying going?” I had embraced Jessa fully but still never ceased to be amazed with the openness of women around this.
I looked to make sure no one could hear me and whispered, “I’m late.”
She looked at me, “That’s good, right?”
“Yeah,” I smiled.
“What did the test say?”
“I haven’t taken one.”
She looked at me with the same look she gave me about the bikini. “Why, dare I ask?”
“I can’t handle the disappointment.”
As she was about to say something, Rachel came back. “Hi, guys, what’s up?”
Robin looked at her phone, “Shit, Jess, we have that meeting at Feldstein at 1:30. We have to prep. Rachel, we will see you at the office in a little while. OK. What do we tell Jake?”
“Fuck off!”
I laughed, “Good girl,” and she left. “What meeting, Robin?”
“The meeting at Walgreen’s. We’re buying you a pregnancy test.”
I laughed, “What?”
She laughed. “You heard me. Christ, if it wasn’t for me, you’d be like one of those girls in the South Bronx who gives birth in the bathroom because she didn’t know she was pregnant. And you’d be wearing a one piece bathing suit.”
That night, I heard Danny come in. “Hey, Jessa, that smells good. What is it?” I was cooking steak, broccoli and new potatoes.
“Come in and see,” I said, in my cutest voice. Which was probably hovering between cute and annoying.
He walked in and gave me a kiss. “Ow,” I said, as he stepped on my foot.
“Sorry,” he said, looking down. “Why are you barefoot?” I tilted my head to the counter. He looked over. It took a second and then he said, with a smile, “Does that mean?”
I smiled through my tears, nodded and said, “Uh huh….”
“You are? We are?” Now, he was crying.
“Uh huh,” I said, as he picked me up. He couldn’t twirl me. It’s a New York city apartment kitchen and we don’t live on TV. But, in my mind, I was twirling through the air.
On the counter was a positive pregnancy test. OK, there were three. And I scheduled a blood test with my OB-GYN Dr. Andopolis. Sue me, I’m neurotic.
To Lizzy Bennet, without whom I couldn't have done this
The continuing story of Jessa and Dan. Jessa goes through her first two trimesters of pregnancy.
Please let me know if there's interest in continuing the story
-----------------------------
The average full sized watermelon weighs 18 pounds. A mini watermelon weighs seven.
Now, you’re asking yourself, ‘why does she know this?’ It’s actually quite logical.
RIght after I told Danny about the positive test, I downloaded a pregnancy app to my phone - and I’m proud of that. Plato said, ‘the unexamined life is not worth living,’ and I was going to have the Platonic ideal of a pregnancy. I wanted to keep track of every aspect of my pregnancy and the baby’s development. I wanted to tell myself that I would always remember every second of it but I knew that was unrealistic. On some days, Sammie couldn’t keep track of where she was last week, much less during the first trimester of her pregnancy. I imagined that my mother couldn’t tell you much about her pregnancies beyond corned beef bothering her. I was going to keep a written record, so that someday I could hold it over Emma.
Anyway, among the other features of the app was one that told you how big your baby was - relative to food. Week four was a poppyseed, week six a sweet pea, eight weeks, a raspberry. Danny joked, “no son of mine is a fruit!” I joked, “oh no, it’s going to be...a vegetable.”
Danny looked at the app and said, “so when is it a watermelon?”
I laughed, “hopefully, never.”
“A watermelon’s not that big.”
“Uh yeah, it is,” I said. “If I end up carrying a watermelon, it’ll split me in half.”
“I’m telling you, a watermelon’s not that big,” he said.
“First off, you’re not carrying one in your uterus.” I thought about it for a second. No, I’m carrying it in your uterus, or what used to be your uterus. “Second, I am telling you that a watermelon is fucking huge Or much bigger than a newborn baby at least.”
“Fine,” he said, with a big smile. “We’re going to the store and we’re going to buy a watermelon and you’ll see I’m right.”
“Oh, please,” I said. “I am so right.”
“Wanna make a bet?”
Last time we made a bet, I ended up with wind burns. This time, I was right. I knew it. “Sure, if I win, you have to give me foot rubs whenever I say for a week.”
He smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “I’d do that anyway. When I win, you wear the white bikini when we go away.” We were going up to Bolton Landing the following weekend.
I smiled and put my hand down his pants. “Fine,” and I squeezed him. “But I’m right.”
He smiled and moved my hand. “Don’t try and distract me, Jessa. I’m right and I can’t wait to see you in the bikini.” I smiled. I couldn’t wait either. I had been planning on it. I figured that I didn’t have much longer before it would look like rubber bands on an egg.
We walked to Whole Foods, laughing and holding hands. I had never been so happy. We picked up a watermelon and walked over to the produce scale. As we walked, I held it in front of me. “Does this look normal to you?” People stared at us, casting their votes for ‘no, this most definitely look normal.’
Danny joked, “You are definitely having a boy. My grandma always said, ‘when you’re carrying a watermelon, it means you’re having a boy.’”
“No, that’s a cantaloupe. Watermelon means girl.” I had a vision of a little girl, in a pink party dress and Mary Janes, and her holding Danny’s hand. I wondered how he’d do with that. I smiled, “well, let’s see how much she weighs.” I put it on the scale. “Ha! Ha! Eighteen pounds! I win. I win.” Now, the rest of the produce section was staring at me. I didn’t care. I won.
“Well, let’s weigh a mini watermelon.”
“No, no, no. You said watermelon. Not mini watermelon. Watermelon. No going back,” I said.
He laughed, “I know. I know. You won. I just want to see.” He hoisted it onto the scale. “Seven pounds. You could totally have a watermelon,” he said, taking it out.
“Honey, be gentle with the baby. Support her head,” I said, laughing. I was waiting for the men with the nets and the white coats to come in for us, but I didn’t care. He walked away, holding it with two hands and cooing to it. I loved that he didn’t care how silly he looked.
We paid for the baby and walked home. Danny smiled and said, “you keep saying she.”
“Huh?” I blushed, embarrassed at having been caught.
“You keep calling the baby ‘she.’ What makes you so sure?”
“I’m not. I don’t know why. It’s just what I thought.”
He kissed me on the lips. “It’s fine. It’s cute.”
“It’s weird.” It was weird. If you had asked me when I was Dan, I would have said it was a boy. Now I was sure it was a girl.
He sighed, “It’s not weird. You’re pregnant. You’re all filled with estrogen. I get it.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” I said, biting my lip and putting one foot behind the other, hoping that would distract him.
He grinned. “Not at all, Jessa. You’re a girl. You’re the mommy. Whatever we have, I don’t care so long as it happy and healthy.”
“Me too.” And I meant that. Why did I keep saying ‘she?’ I was still me, I thought. Why was I so focused on ‘she?’ I put it out of my head and we walked home. We put the watermelon on the counter. Danny took out a knife and went to cut some. “You monster!” I mock-screamed. “How could you?” Then, we ate the baby. We were cannibals.
The first four weeks after we found out, I was in heaven. Well, I was tired, my boobs were sore and I now knew the location of every bathroom in Manhattan because I had to pee constantly. I didn’t care. It was Danny and me and baby makes three. I wanted to tell the world and didn’t want to tell anyone. It was ours and only ours for now. Our happy secret.
There was just one small problem.
I woke up from a nap one Saturday afternoon to see Danny sitting there.
“Oh hey, honey,” I said. “I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”
He smiled and kissed me on the lips. “It’s fine, Jessa. You’re sleeping for two,” he said, with a laugh.
“No, it isn’t. It’s Saturday. You wanted to go out for a walk,” I said.
He kissed me again. “So we’ll go now. You were only asleep for an hour.”
“How about,” I said, pulling on his shirt, “we do something else first?”
He took off my shirt and unclasped my bra. “If you say so,” he said, kissing my neck and nibbling on my earlobe. From what I had read, my libido wasn’t supposed to be this high yet but I was always in the advanced class at school.
“Oh god, Danny,” I moaned. “That feels so amazing.” It did. I wasn’t faking it. He pushed me down on the bed gently. I would have liked it a little more forceful. Not rough, but forceful. He started playing with my nipples. “Harder, Danny. Bite them…”
“Uh,” he said uncertainly. “OK.” OK? That’s foreplay alright. But he did as he was told. He then started to make love to me, gently.
“Harder, harder,” I yelled. I don’t know what got into me, but I wanted it harder. “I said harder!”
“Um,” and he went a little harder, but not hard enough.
I got frustrated. “Switch places,” I said, hopefully not too angrily. He rolled onto his bank and I climbed on top, reverse cowgirl style. For whatever reason, I didn’t want to see the look on his face. “Oh god,” I yelled, pistoning up and down on him. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.” I’m not sure if I was excited or just in need of dire relief. When I felt him tense up and come, I climbed off. He laid there with a satisfied look on his face. “Thanks,” I said, “I needed that.”
He smiled. “That makes up for the nap.”
I went into the bathroom and cleaned up. “What’s up?” I said, from the bathroom.
“What’s up what?”
“What just happened there?” I walked back in and laid down next to him.
“Um,” he said with a laugh. “We must not be doing it right.”
“Seriously. What happened?”
“What?,” he said, defensively.
“Since when don’t you bite my nipples? And that was harder?”
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
I put my head on his chest and looked up at him. “Don’t apologize. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he said. I could tell he wanted to roll away but wouldn’t.
“Danny, I know my body. I know what we can do.”
“I know,” he said. “I was, uh, distracted.”
I laughed, “Thanks. That makes me feel soooo good. A naked woman, a beautiful naked woman, offers herself to you and you’re distracted?”
“No,” he said, blushing, embarrassed. “That’s not it. Definitely not.”
I smiled and decided to let him off the hook. “You just wanted me on top. Make me do all the work.”
He laughed, ashamed to be caught in the lie and happy to be let off the hook. “You got me.”
We went out for a walk along the water. I put on a pink off the shoulder dress, with a floral print, and sandals. Since I got pregnant, I found myself in dresses and skirts most of the time. Maybe it was just the estrogen but I felt very girly. As we walked, I started to think about what happened. It was Danny and me and baby makes three, I thought. I always imagined the baby between us, just not between us.
----------
August 18th. I was almost two months pregnant. I wasn’t showing yet, at least I didn’t think I was. Danny and I were walking to dinner, hand in hand.
“Can I tell you how much I love you?” I said.
He laughed. “I love you too, Jessa. You look beautiful.” I was wearing a horizontal striped shift, with alternating light blue and dark blue stripes, and a lapis necklace. All day long, Mike would pop his head in and say, ‘Hey, Gainsborough, can I see that motion?’ or ‘Picasso, what’s going on with the position paper?’ I had no idea he was such an art expert.
I looked up at him and smiled. “Really? Do you like this? I look OK?”
He laughed, “You look gorgeous. And it’s not just the outfit.”
That made feel good. “Stop,” I said, “I am really really happy. You?”
I asked this question about ten times a day. To his credit, he always said, “Me too,” and he touched my belly. “So are you excited?” Marty and Evelyn were in for Danny’s Aunt Carole’s 75th birthday, something that Evelyn was attending unwillingly, as she told me. ‘She’s having it on a Sunday afternoon. It’s not enough that I have to fly in for this. It’s a Sunday party. Which means dinner with her and him,’ him being her boyfriend Ron, ‘Saturday night.’ My parents were meeting us for dinner too, so we decided to tell everyone at once.
Well, I decided. “I can’t wait,” I said, practically skipping to the restaurant.
He gave me a kiss. “You really sure you don’t want to tell yours beforehand?” He had been harping on this since we decided to tell them.
“No, this’ll be fun. They’re all here. Besides, it’s not a competition.” Danny just laughed and raise an eyebrow. “Do you not want to tell them? Tell me now.”
“No, it’ll be fine,” he said. ‘Great, fine, I thought.’ “Besides, you’re the mommy, you get to decide.”
I smiled, “That’s right. I’m the mommy. And you’re the daddy,” and I stood on tiptoes and gave him another kiss. And we were nauseating. And I didn’t care.
We came into the restaurant. My mother was at the bar with Marty and Evelyn. I gave them all a kiss and my mother said, annoyed, “your father is looking for a spot.” My father was forever looking for street parking, being constitutionally unable to just park in a lot. ‘Do you know how much they charge,’ he’d complain. Why yes dad, I do. They have a big sign posted at the entry of every garage with rates. I figured that, since Laura moved in 14 years ago, he’d lost about 6 months of family life to looking for spots on the street.
My father came in five minutes later. “Hi daddy,” I said, giving him a kiss.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said, “I got a spot, only six blocks away.” He was proud of himself. When he got a spot in front of his destination, he was as proud as I had ever seen him, counting when I graduated college and when I made law review.
The hostess led us to our table. “Hang on, let me settle up the bar tab,” Danny said.
“I’ll take care of it,” Marty said. “Put away your wallet.”
Danny smiled. “My treat, Dad. I can afford it,” he said, handing over his card. I was surprised Marty backed down. He would never have let me pay, when I was Dan. I once had to fake going to the bathroom to give the waiter my card.
“Spring for a spot next time,” Marty said to my father, shaking his hand in a Macron vs Trump death grip. My father just smiled.
“Dave,” my mother said. “Please park in a lot next time.”
I went to his defense. “Stop picking on him. He got a spot. He’ll get the car later. What’s the big deal?” Danny rolled his eyes at me. I gave my dad another kiss on the cheek. My mother grumbled, “Next time you drive with him. See how you like looking for spots.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, “we’re all here. So how was the flight?” I said, as we sat down.
Evelyn said, “As fine as it can be flying with the junior pilot here. I was not aware that the pilot was taking the wrong approach into Newark. Nor was the flight attendant. Thank god Marty was there to tell her.” I felt Danny squeeze my leg.
“Thank god we were in first class,” Marty said. “Nothing like first class,” he said, looking at my dad who responded, ‘seems like a lot for a two and half-hour flight, but if you enjoy it…” Now, I squeezed Danny’s leg. Maybe we could wait until the baby was born to tell them. “Let’s see what they have to eat,” Marty said. He scanned the menu in two seconds. Marty did everything with immediacy but I never knew what he did with all the extra time - other than annoy everyone around him. “Sea bass,” he said, putting it down. I looked at the menu. Sea Bass with...corn salad. Shit. My mother had corned beef. Mona, pomegranates. Michelle, oranges. I had corn. If I was anywhere near corn, I started to gag. We couldn’t go to street fairs for the past month because there were vendors selling arepas and Mexican street corn. I looked at Danny, pleading with my eyes.
“Hey dad, let’s see what the specials are,” he said, with a smile.
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “You know your father.” She turned to my mother and said, “I swear sometimes it’s like having a child again.”
“Oh, please. If David had his way, he would have veal parmigiana four days a week, and a hamburger the other three.” Was this my future? Complaining about food? “So, when is your sister-in-law’s thing?”
“Sunday afternoon,” she said. “It’s not enough that I have to fly up here. She’s doing it Sunday so I can fly back late and be on the bench the next morning.”
“So, come in late,” I said, with a laugh. “9:30 call? You didn’t say 9:30 where.”
She laughed, “Very funny, Jess. That’s state court.” My mother sat there mute, watching us. “Speaking of which, how are they doing?”
My mother said, “who’s they?”
“I told you, mom. Jake and Rachel. The associates I’m supervising. Remember?” Danny said that I gave Evelyn an eye roll. I didn’t notice. He said my mom did.
“Oh, yes,” my mother said, tightly.
“Anyway, she’s getting better. She really showed me on the Article 78 motion.”
“Please,” Evelyn said. “They were going to bring suit against the AG on what grounds?”
I laughed, “I know. Come on. Still, she did a good job though.”
“I’m not following,” my mother said.
“It’s a long story, ma. Boring. But, anyway, I told you about Rachel. She’s a mouse and I, well Robin and I, are teaching her to stand up for herself. Evelyn has been really helping us.”
“That’s great,” she said, with the barest attempt at enthusiasm. “That’s really great.”
Before I could say something, Danny tried to make her feel better. “So tell me what’s new with you?” As she told him about whatever was going on with her friends, he shot me a look that said, ‘stop,’ ‘you owe me one’ or both.
Eventually, the waitress came over. “Can I tell you about the specials?”
“I’ll have the sea bass,” Marty said, reaching over Evelyn to hand the waitress his menu.
“Marty,” I said, with a smile. “Listen to the specials.”
“I want sea bass. What’s wrong with sea bass? It’s good for you.”
“Dad,” Danny said, “Listen. Maybe you’ll like something else.”
“Well,” the waitress said, listing appetizers and salmon in a horseradish crust, which sounded interesting. That wasn’t the special I wanted though. “Our special tonight is grandchild. It’s going to take about eight months to prepare. It’s big enough for four…” she said, with a big grin and giving my shoulder a quick rub. I had read on a website about different ways to tell your parents and this sounded like fun. Danny had told the hostess right after he settled the bar tab. Yes, I was such a girl about it.
My father was the first to comprehend what was going on. I saw the realization creep across his face. He started to smile and tear up. He came over to me. I got up and he enveloped me in a bear hug. I started to cry too. “Uh huh, daddy.”
“You mean?” He couldn’t speak. I started to cry. All he said was, “Teddy….” I could feel his tears on my shoulder.
My mother realized next. She was bawling. “My baby is...” and she hugged me. Then, Evelyn joined in, then Marty. Now, I felt less loved and more smothered.
Danny got up and pulled them off me. “Let her breathe,” he said, pulling them off me. The people around us figured out what was going on and applauded. I blushed and felt mortified.
“When?” my mother said.
“I’m seven weeks,” I said.
Evelyn turned to my mother. “Seven weeks. It’s amazing. They can pinpoint it like that so early now. With Jill, I didn’t know I was until two months.”
My mother laughed, “Please. With Laura, I didn’t believe it until I heard the heartbeat.” She turned to me, with a huge smile. “Seven weeks. How are you feeling?”
“Great. I feel great.” They both looked at me and I said, “OK, tired mostly. Really, really tired. And I have to pee a lot.”
Evelyn looked at my mother and smiled. “Get used to it.” I didn’t like them being friends. “That’s it?” They seemed shocked.
I looked at Danny, Marty and my father. “And other stuff.” The three women shared a smile, while the men all looked away. I looked at Marty and thought, ‘didn’t you go through this in med school? Wuss.’
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “If they had to put up with other stuff, the human race would be extinct. So how are you?”
“Like I said, excited but tired. I am peeing constantly. My boobs are so tender, it hurts to touch them.” Evelyn looked at her chest and laughed. “Sorry.”
“Please,” she said. “You want to know from unfair? The boobs I didn’t have hurt like hell.”
My mother smiled. “When I was pregnant with you, if someone came near me, they hurt. Like one of those motion sensor car alarms. And your sister always wanted hugs.”
“Great, thanks,” I said. “That makes me feel so much better.”
She smiled. “It is the most amazing thing you will ever go through. But, for the next eight months, your body is a hotel and,” and she touched my stomach, which felt weird, “that is one demanding guest. You don’t want to know how. But get ready.”
I started to tense up. It hit me. I was pregnant. I mean, obviously, I knew I was pregnant. But, now I was pregnant in public. I was Jessa. “Excuse me for a second. I have to go again.” My father jumped up to pull out my chair.
Over my shoulder, I heard Danny say, “This is my life,” to laughs. It wasn’t funny.
I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I was Jessa. I was 5’6”, 125 lbs, with blue eyes and brown hair. I was wearing a blue dress. And I was a woman. I was pregnant. I was a pregnant woman and I started to hyperventilate. I sat down in a stall, having nowhere else to sit. I don’t know how long I was there but it must have been a while because my mother came in and said, “Jessie, are you OK?”
“Fine, ma,” I lied, just finishing up. I came out of the stall. “Sorry, the guest wanted room service,” I joked.
She looked at me. “Are you OK, Jessica?”
“Fine, ma. I’m just pregnant,” I said, with a weak smile, while looking at the floor.
She put her hand under my chin and pushed up. “Are you OK?”
“I told you, mom. I’m fine. I’m just nervous.”
She smiled. “That’s perfectly normal. If you want to talk, I’m always here.” ‘I know, I know,’ I thought. “It’s not good to keep things bottled up.”’
I smiled. “I know, mom,” I said, washing my hands from my fake bathroom visit. “Thanks.”
She gave me a kiss. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m your mother. Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yes, mom,” I said, in the tone of a fourteen year old girl. “I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine.
We went back to the table and a bottle of wine was there. And a club soda. “What’s this?”
My father smiled and pointed to the table next to ours. “Congratulations,” said the couple.
“Thank you,” I said, blushing. “You didn’t have to. Thanks.”
The woman said, “You look marvelous. How are you feeling?”
I guessed that this was now a regular topic. I was going to have new cards printed up. ‘Seven weeks. Tired,’ and for women, ‘I pee like a racehorse and my boobs are sore.’ “Really, really tired.”
She smiled, “It gets better. Then worse. Then better. Then they want a car,” and Evelyn and my mother laughed. The husband looked at Danny and said, ‘You are screwed for the next eight months. Just realize that,’ and Marty and my father laughed.
The waitress brought our food. Marty looked at his sea bass, which had spinach on the plate. “I thought it came with corn.”
She looked at him. “I’m sorry, but your order doesn’t come with corn.” She leaned over and whispered to me, “I heard you say that you couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t take tomatoes.” I smiled and mouthed, ‘thanks.’ I could get used to this kind of treatment.
We finished the meal with chocolate cake, compliments of the restaurant. I could really get used to this kind of treatment. “Does anyone want some?” I said.
“Eat, Teddy,” my dad said. Through the whole meal, he kept calling me Teddy. He hadn’t lost his grin the rest of the night. He kept asking if I needed anything. My mother looked at him and said, “Two pregnancies. You were never this nice to me.”
“Yes, I was,” he said. I could tell he was lying.
She looked at the table. “He timed both so that I was six months during tax season.”
“Yeah, well, anyway,” he said, with a big grin. “Teddy, eat. You need strength. You’re eating for two.”
“I don’t need cake, daddy. Besides, the baby’s like the size of a raspberry,” I said, picking one off the plate and popping it in my mouth,
“Cannibal,” Danny said. We both laughed and they all looked at us. “Inside joke.”
The check came and Marty waved over the waitress. “I’ve got it. My treat.”
My dad looked at him and said, “My daughter, Marty. My treat.” Now, they had the Macron-Trump death grip on the check folio.
Danny looked at them and put his hand on the folio. “My wife. My baby. My treat,” he said, with a smile, looking mostly at his father. I knew he was angry though. I could see the vein in the side of his head, the one Jess used to say popped out when I was angry, pop out.
That they could agree on. “Absolutely not, Daniel,” Evelyn said. “Martin,” and he knew he was in trouble because she called him that, “Dave, split the check.” She smiled at me, “That’s an unappealable ruling.”
My father laughed, “Yes, your honor.” My mother didn’t.
As we were walking out, I turned to my mother and Evelyn, “Remember you two. No one. You can’t tell anyone. Not Carole. Not Helene. Not Mona. No one. Not even Jill and Laura. We want to tell them ourselves. Got it?” I put my hands on my hips for emphasis. I caught myself in the glass and had to laugh at the ridiculousness. “I’m serious. I’m also really, really tired. So goodnight,” I said, giving everyone a kiss and a hug. Marty and Evelyn caught a cab. Evelyn said, “I’ll call you in the morning, Jess,” which was not lost on my mother.
My father said, “we’ll drive you.”
I smiled. “We’ll be fine. Maybe we’ll walk awhile. The air will do me good.”
“No,” he said. “I’ll drive you. You’re tired.”
“Where did you park, daddy?”
“69th and 3rd.” The restaurant was on 63rd and 2nd. We lived at 55th and 1st.
“Daddy. You want me to walk six blocks north and 1 block west, and we live south and east. Besides, you can catch the Drive at 62nd and be on your way.” He looked upset so I said, “we’ll walk with you to the car. I could use the exercise.”
“Are you sure? Is that OK?”
I sighed, “yes, daddy. I’m going to be walking for the next eight months. I’ll be fine.” I took his hand and we started to walk.
My mother looked at us, then Danny. “You should have such a relationship with your daughter,” she said, with a tone somewhere between affection and irritation. Danny gave her a nauseous smile.
I looked up at my father and smiled. He was so happy. I was happy.
We walked into the apartment, and I laid on the bed. “What a day. That went well,” I said, with a smile.
Danny laid down next to me, “That was something alright.”
He seemed annoyed. “What?” I said.
“Nothing. It was so cute, you and your daddy,” he said, drawing out daddy.
“Stop, he was happy for us,” I said, blushing.
“I know, I know. It’s just so cute. He really loves you. It drives Barb crazy.”
“They were all happy for us. I mean, I figured that they would be.”
He just said, “yeah.”
“What’s up?” I said, putting my head on his chest, looking up. “You’ve been out of it all night.”
“Nothing. It went as I expected.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they were all thrilled. My mom reacted exactly as I thought she would. You’re having her grandchild.”
“Stop. I’m having OUR child. She’s thrilled for US. Not me. Us. She said we’re going to be great.”
“She said you would be. Then she added me.” He looked at me. “You were eating it up,” he said, with a huge grin. “When everyone applauded…”
“I was mortified.”
“Oh, please, you girl. You were loving every second of it. All hail the mommy to be!” He stuck his arm up in salute.
I looked at him and straightened his arm. If you’re going to salute, salute correctly. “That’s right. You better hail me. You heard the guy. I am right and you are wrong and that’s that,” I said, kissing him. “Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m fine. What happened in the bathroom?”
“I had to go,” I said, in a duh tone.
“That’s a lot of peeing. Seriously though…”
“Seriously, that was it.” How could I explain to Danny, after all that we had been through, that now I was freaking out about being a woman? This is what we wanted, what I wanted. I wanted a kid and now I was having one. Me.
He smiled, and in the smile I saw Jess for a second. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
I smiled, “I know. But there’s nothing to talk about it. Same applies for you though.” I got up and put on a pink nightie. I figured that I didn’t have a lot longer in it.
-------------------------------
October 29. I was seventeen weeks pregnant. The baby was now the size of a pomegranate. I made a note to avoid Mona, in case there was any residual nausea.
I had met Sammie and Charlotte at a Halloween party at Charlotte’s music class. Basically, the mothers and fathers shook maracas and played drums, while the kids put various objects in their mouths.
The teacher, such as she was, was about 24, with long brown hair and the sort of body I had come to resent. She was wearing a t shirt and skinny jeans and all the dads kept checking out her ass which was, to be fair, spectacular. Bitch. Everything on her body was still where it was supposed to be, while every day mine was changing from the kind that got looks from men to the kind that got seats on the subway and I wondered if I’d ever get back. Danny kept telling me that I never looked more beautiful but I knew he was full of shit. I’d look at myself in the mirror, at my swollen breasts and thickening calves and ask how I got here. Everyone told me that I had a glow and that my hair looked fuller, but I felt awful. On doctor’s orders, I had stopped running and spin class. Instead, I swam which made me feel like a manatee.
“OK, who’s ready for ‘The Noble Duke of York?’” the teacher said in a chipper tone. “Big finish.” I wondered what she said when she was out with her friends. I had a mental picture of her in a sweaty punk club dancing away the screaming children and the leering dads and drinking every time someone mentioned wheels or buses. One little boy, dressed up like Superman, wandered off to lick the guitar. I tried to imagine what his thought process was. ‘Hmmm, that looks interesting. I wondered what it tastes like.’ His mom mumbled, “I’m ready for a drink.”
Charlotte sat in my lap, holding a plastic egg that she could shake. She was dressed like a little lady bug and was, objectively speaking, absolutely adorable. She was ten months old now with Sammie’s dark hair and Jon’s green eyes. She had started crawling and was pulling herself up, but couldn’t walk yet. She still had a pudgy little belly that I had to poke my knuckle in and say ‘beep’ every time I saw her. Today, for the first time, she looked at my belly and poked it. I said ‘beep’ and laughed but felt mortified. Even a ten-month old thought I looked fat. Don’t get me wrong. I was the happiest I had ever been. I would walk around touching my stomach and looking at my reflection. I read to the baby every night, from whatever I was reading. This week, the baby went to sleep to the sweet sounds of pages 30-65 of a condominium offering plan. On the other hand, my boobs itched. Throughout the class, it wanted to tear them off and kept furtively reaching under my sweatshirt. Then, one of the moms laughed and said, ‘if there was ever a place where you can scratch away….’
“OK, Charlotte,” I said, “Are you ready?” Charlotte babbled at me and I said, “Really? OK! I’ll take that as a yes.” Sammie sat on the floor next to me, with a set of antennae on her head. If you had asked me which was more likely ten months ago, a zebra running backward down Third Avenue or Sammie sitting on the floor of a basement music room wearing antennae, I would have taken the zebra, hands down. When I saw her put them on, I started to laugh and she just looked at me and said, ‘oh please, Jess, you’ll be wearing the whole costume.’ The sad part was she was right. The sadder part was that I couldn’t wait.
After class finished, we went for coffee. Charlotte didn’t want to go in the stroller. When Sammie went to put her in, she went rigid which I was told was normal behavior for a ten month old. I picked her up and said, “that’s OK, Charlotte, Aunt Jessica’s here,” and I carried her on my hip. As we walked, Sammie pushed the empty stroller, while I talked to Charlotte, in response to the babbling. “Why yes, Charlotte, we are walking down Vanderbilt. Very good. You are so smart,” I said, in a higher register than I usually used, and then I kissed her on the nose. Which I had been doing all day.
Sammie laughed and said, “I would love to take a video of you and show it to the people you work with. They wouldn’t believe it.” I laughed nervously and she looked at me and said, “you still haven’t told them, have you?” I looked at the trees, the cars, anywhere but Sammie. “You haven’t. What’s up?”
We were now sitting at the coffee place. “I’m not ready yet,” I said, bouncing Charlotte up and down.
“You said you were going to tell them last week,” she said, scolding me. “Um, and don’t take my head off, you’re starting to show. How long do you plan to wait?”
I pulled down on my sweatshirt, as if to hide what I had wanted so badly. “You just don’t get it. You don’t get what’ll happen when I tell them.”
“They’ll be happy? You said Mike loves you. Besides, they can’t do anything. That’s discrimination. That’s what it says in our employee handbook.”
“Yeah, well, law firms write those, they don’t follow them. They don’t think the law applies to them.”
“Jess,” she said, putting her hand on mine. “You have to say something eventually. What are you going to do, call in sick when you’re in labor?” She started to laugh, “Hang on a sec, Mike,” and then she yelled, which made Charlotte laugh and then babble. “See, even Charlotte knows. That’s right Charlotte. Tell Aunt Jessie she’s being ridiculous.”
“Very funny, Sammie. I’m just scared.” I was. I had kept up my ridiculous billing, even through morning sickness and being constantly tired. In my first trimester, there were times that I was passing out at my desk and cursing the ‘no caffeine’ rule, but nevertheless I persisted. I had billed 220 per month for the first three.
“You’ll be fine, Jessie. You bill like a maniac. You will be fine.” I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe that they would recognize my hard work and not punish me for having a baby. I needed to believe that. But I had read enough blogs and listserv posts to know that I didn’t. “Has Dan said anything at work yet?”
“No,” I said. Every couple of days, he’d ask if I did. And every couple of days, I’d say no and he’d look disappointed and ask why. Initially, I said, ‘technically, I have told them,’ having told Robin after I took the test. He wasn’t amused. Lately, he had stopped asking why and was starting to look frustrated. “I know, I know. I’m a bad wife. I’m a bad pregnant lady.”
She laughed. “You just have to pull off the Band Aid already. Stop being a jackass.” I smiled. With that, I knew that I was in trouble.
Monday morning, Danny and I were eating breakfast. “I’m doing it today,” I said.
“Really?” he said, clearly not believing me.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I mean it. Look at my outfit.” I was wearing a blue and white dress with horizontal stripes. I didn’t have a big belly yet but, in this outfit, you could see my swollen boobs and the fact that my waist wasn’t what it used to be. “I can’t hide it in this, true?”
He smiled. “You are to call me, young lady, after you tell Mike. No ifs, ands or buts.”
I flirted. “What if I don’t?” I said, kissing him on the cheek.
He laughed, “I will come there and embarrass you. Better yet, Barb will come,” and he swatted me on the ass.
“Nooo,” I said, in a joking manner. I wasn’t joking. “I’ll do it. I promise.”
“Fine. Speaking of which, have you made plans with her yet?” This was a big sticking point. She had wanted to go baby furniture shopping with me for weeks. She was turning my old room into a baby’s room and wanted to see what I wanted. I had been putting her off for weeks, claiming work and being tired. Danny looked at me, “come on already….why are you doing this to her?”
I knew he was right but I just couldn’t deal with her, not yet. “One thing at a time.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re being mean but whatever. She’s your mom.”
“That’s right. She is. I’ll deal with her. But I promise. I will tell Mike first thing, OK?”
He shook his head and kissed me on the lips. “Can I tell you how beautiful you look?”
“You can,” I said, with a smile.
He laughed, “Thanks. I just wanted to make sure it was OK. In case I decided to tell you.” I stuck out my tongue at him and he hugged me.
I got to the office and took a deep breath before I walked in. ‘You can do this,’ I thought. ‘You can totally do this. You’re not the first person to do this. Every other mom here has done this. Just do it.’
Lourdes, the receptionist, looked at me. “You OK, Jessica?”
“Yeah, fine. Why?” I said, doing everything I could not to check out my reflection in front of her.
“You looked like you were thinking about something,” she said, looking me up and down and smiling.
I laughed. “Nah. Nothing. Something at home. Mike in yet?”
“Yeah, got in about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Thanks,” I said, as I went to my office, took off my coat and put down my bag. I looked at my desk and saw the motion I was marking up. ‘Just take care of that first,’ I thought. Then, I said, ‘no, Jessica. You need to do this. You need to do this now. You need to do this for the pomegranate,’ and I touched my stomach.
I walked over to Mike’s office. His secretary Jeanine was at her desk. She had been his secretary for 30 years. Everyone knew not to cross Jeanine. When I started, his wife told me, ‘do not cross Jeanine. If it comes down to someone else and her, she wins, me included,’ she said with a laugh but without a joke. She wasn’t bad just protective. “Hey, Jeanine,” I said, “good morning. How’s everything? How’s Frank?”
She smiled. “I didn’t kill him yet.”
I smiled, “Day’s still young.” This had been our running joke for years. Even when I was Dan, she and I got along, mostly because I never asked for much from her and was overly solicitous when I did. “Is he in?”
She picked up her phone, “You in for Jess, old man?” She really was his second wife. “Go in.”
“Hey, Jess, what’s up?” he said. “This on the Keller motion?”
I closed the door and said, “Mind if I sit?”
“Oh shit,” he said. “You’re giving me notice, aren’t you? You can’t do this. I depend on you.” I knew he did. He told me that when we went to lunch the week before last, when I almost told him. I didn’t want to spoil the mood.
I took a deep breath and said, “I’m giving you notice, just a different kind,” I said. “I, well, I don’t know how to say this, so I just will.” My palms felt sweaty. I felt short of breath. “I’m pregnant.”
He broke into a huge grin. “Mazel tov! How far along are you?” He seemed genuinely happy for me. He got up from his desk and gave me a hug.
“Seventeen weeks,” I said. “Four months.”
“Everything OK?” He looked concerned.
“Fine,” I said, knocking on his desk. “All good.”
He kept smiling and picked up his phone, “Get in here, Jeanine.”
She walked in. “What? I have to work to avoid.”
“Ah, shut up,” he said. “Tell her Jess.” Before I could say something, he said, “Jess is pregnant.”
She gave me a hug. “Congratulations. I thought you might be,” she said, with a smile.
“Why? Do I look fat?”
Mike mumbled something like ‘you’re all the same,’ and Jeanine said, “Not at all. You look gorgeous. It’s not that at all. I saw doctor’s appointments on your calendar and I noticed the way that you were rubbing your calf when Feldstein was here. When I was pregnant with Bill, my legs knotted up something terrible. Drink a lot of water. It helps.”
Mike smiled. “My little Silverman. Just yesterday, you were a summer associate. Remember, Jeanine? The eager little beaver? ‘Anything else, sir?’ And now look at you. You’re having a baby.” He pointed at the picture on his desk. It was his three kids, at the youngest’s high school graduation. “It goes fast, faster than you think,” he said. “Enjoy the quiet now, right Jeanine?” She just smiled. “How’s Dan doing?”
I looked at Jeanine and she gave him a look of contempt. “Yeah, Jess, how is he? Peeing a lot? Calves tightening?” she said. Mike looked at her, shook his head and smiled.
“He’s good,” I said. “Great. Let me go tell him I told you.”
I walked to my office, feeling ridiculous that I was afraid. Mike seemed genuinely happy for me. He told me that he depended on me. It was going to be OK, I was going to be OK, I thought.
------
I met Danny for dinner that night at an Italian restaurant near his office.
He gave me a kiss. “See, I told you it wouldn’t be that bad. You were worried. He depends on you. Did you tell anyone else?”
I laughed. “I didn’t have to. Once Jeanine knew, it was all done. I mean, first, the admins came in. Jasmine was so sweet, said I looked beautiful…” I looked at him. He smiled and said ‘you do’. “Then they all stood around me and decided what we were having…”
He laughed, “which is?”
“Well, based on voting, a hermaphrodite apparently. Then, Victoria came in and told me how great it was but a lot of work, and it kept going like that all day. I mean I should probably go back to work and make up the time. I’m afraid now though…”
“Why?” He looked amused.
“I have now heard literally everything that can go wrong in a pregnancy. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if we have a three headed baby, don’t be surprised.”
He laughed, but with a look in his eye. “Yeah, welcome to pregnancy. When Melissa was pregnant with Ben, I remember how everyone used to tell her stories. What did you say? It’s like sports for guys.”
I laughed, “So, how did it go?”
“It went fine, great. Everyone congratulated me. Bruce told me to watch out. Melissa told me congratulations and said she’s going to call you.” He had a smile but his tone was, for lack of a better word, terse.
“Are you OK, Danny?”
“I’m fine,” he said, his leg bouncing up and down, which it did when he was agitated. When he saw me look at it, he put his hand on it.
“You sure? You seem bothered about something.”
He smiled, “Not at all. I’m just glad we told everyone already. It was about time,” he said, giving me a kiss that felt perfunctory.
“Yeah yeah yeah,” I said. “Well, we’re done.”
We ate dinner and walked home. “Seriously, Danny, are you OK?”
He sighed, “I am fine, Jessa. Do you feel better now?”
“Yes,” I said, looking up at him. “I’m sorry I was worried about it. I have a right to be worried. I mean remember Lindsay?” Lindsay was an associate who went out on maternity leave. Six months after she came back, she was let go for ‘non-performance.’
He swung my hand in a lazy arc. “You said she was incompetent.”
“I mean, she was but it was like they waited for her to have a baby to fire her. What if they do that to me?”
“Mike,” and I would swear that I heard annoyance in his voice, “told you he depends on you. Clients love you. You will be fine.”
“I’m sorry if I’m annoying you but I’m just scared. I’ve worked really hard.”
He stopped and looked at me. “You’re not annoying me and you have every right to be scared. But don’t be. Nothing is going to happen and if it does, we’ll figure it out.”
“What does we’ll figure it out mean?”
He realized his mistake and tried to backpedal. “It means, before it does, you’ll find something. Or we’ll live off my salary until you do.”
He meant well. He was trying to assuage my fears. He was failing, not for lack of effort but he was. “I don’t want to find something else or live off of you…”
He rolled his eyes. “YOU wouldn’t be living off of ME. WE would be living off of my salary. Just like, if I decided to be a stay-at-home dad, WE would be living off of yours.” He looked up at the sky and then smiled, “You know what? I think that’s the plan. I’m going to stay home with Pomo and we’ll live off of your salary. And I have a lifestyle to which I want to become accustomed. So, hop to it,” and he clapped his hands twice, in quick succession. “Chop chop.”
I looked at him and blew a raspberry. Intellectually, I understood what he was saying but still wondered if I’d be OK.
------------
Three weeks later, my dad called me at work. “Hey, daddy,” I said. He called at least once a week to check on me. We told them thirteen weeks ago, which meant that he had called me thirteen more times than he had when I was Dan.
It was hard to imagine that time now. I could remember specific events (my bar mitzvah, graduation, my wedding) but, as time and my pregnancy wore on, I saw Jessa in them. Recently, I had been having strange dreams, which were apparently normal during this phase of the pregnancy. It was my wedding and I was wearing the lace and taffeta dress I had loved so much in Florida, with flowers in my hair. When we stood outside the doors to the hall, I was Dan. I was taller than my father but he just kept saying, “are you ready, sweetie?” When the doors opened, I looked down the aisle and saw Jess in a tuxedo.everyone gasped and pointed. I wanted to run and my father just said, “don’t worry so much.” He touched my face and suddenly I was Jessa and she was Danny.
“Hey, sweetie, how are you feeling? How’s banana?” My dad was fascinated by how they knew how big your baby was, especially relative to food. He had downloaded the app, ‘skipping all the disgusting parts,’ and checked every week. Two weeks ago, he asked about ‘arty the artichoke;’ two weeks before that, it was ‘avocado.’ I was now twenty weeks which meant ‘banana.’ It drove my mother crazy. I thought it was cute but, then again, he was my daddy - and I didn’t live with him.
“Appealing,” I said, laughing at my own awful joke. “Me, my legs hurt, I’m short of breath and I have heartburn…”
He laughed, “I must be pregnant.” I left off the vaginal discharge and the colostrum leaking from my breasts. Apparently, I was already preparing to breastfeed. Every time I thought about that, I smiled, picturing feeding little Emma, bonding her to me. He had a wife and two daughters, but some bridges were too far to cross.
“Very funny? What’s going on?”
“I was calling to see if Danny wanted to come to the Giants game against Green Bay Sunday. A client gave me seats.”
I was hurt. He and I used to go and now he was inviting Danny. “What about me? We used to go.” He and I did, when I was Dan. I didn’t know if that was still true but I figured it couldn’t hurt.
“I remember,” he said. “You had that crush on Luke Petigout,” an offensive lineman, “for some reason.” I guess we went. “I wasn’t worried, know why?”
“Why?” I said, waiting for an awful joke.
“I knew if he tried something and you tried to get away, you’d blow right past him. Why we drafted him in the first round...”
“That joke was awful. Well, why aren’t you inviting me?”
“It’s too cold. I’m not having frozen banana,” he said, laughing.
“Haha. I’ll wear a coat. Why can’t I go?”
“You can do something with your mother.” He paused and got serious. “You SHOULD do something with your mother.”
“I’ve done stuff with her,” I lied. I had done stuff with her present. “We went to Michelle’s baby shower last week, for example.”
“Jessica, that’s not what I mean and you know it. I’d like you to do this for me. It’s bothering her.” It was bothering Danny too. After we told everyone, he asked for a few days and then stopped, saying ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this…’
“I’m not trying to hurt her, daddy,” I mumbled.
“I know, but she wants to spend time with you. Do this for me OK, sweetie? She’s driving me crazy,” I laughed.
“It’s a short drive, David,” I said, in her voice. He laughed. “Fine, I will,” I said.
He laughed, “don’t tell her it was my idea.”
“Oh, like that’s a good idea for either of us,” I said. Then I paused. “Hey, daddy, can we go to a game together?”
He stopped for a second and I was worried that he’d say no. That I wasn’t his buddy anymore, just the mother of his grandchild. “I’d like that,” he said. “Knicks game OK? It’s too cold and I’m not having frozen cantaloupe.” Clearly, he had skipped ahead in the app.
“Banana has to learn heartbreak sometime,” I said. “I’ll look at the schedule and get tickets. Thanks, daddy.”
He seemed surprised. “For what?”
I was still smiling. “For being the best daddy in the whole world.” I almost made myself throw up. “I’ll let Dan know about the game.”
I hung up and looked at the phone. I needed to call her. I didn’t want to. I had projects to get done and couldn’t give her the time that she needed, or at least wanted. I decided to wait until I got home.
I walked in the door and gave Danny a kiss. “Hey honey.”
“Hey, Jessa,” he said, giving me a kiss back. Then he leaned down to my stomach. I was now visibly pregnant, with a round belly and swollen boobs. “Hey, baby,” he said, kissing my stomach. “It’s me, the daddy person. How was your day? Was the mommy OK?”
“The mommy was fine. My dad invited you to a Giants game Sunday. Green Bay. You’re going.”
He smiled, “I’d love to. He’s going to give me the talk, isn’t he? What about you?”
“He doesn’t want a frozen banana,” I laughed.
Dan rolled his eyes. “Jesus. He’s not letting that go, is he?”
“Oh come on, he’s excited about being a grandpa again.” He smirked at again, thinking I missed it.
He took my phone and called up my mother’s number. “Call her.”
“What? Did my dad call you?”
“Huh?” he said, taking off his shirt. My libido was still running high.
I put down the phone. “She can wait,” I purred.
He put on a t-shirt. “Nice try, Jessa. Call her.” I put my arms around his waist which used to be much easier a few months ago. He moved them off, “Call. No special Danny loving for you until you do.”
I retched. “I hope I wasn’t that bad.” The look on his face said I was. “Fine.”
I called her. “Hey, mom!”
“Oh hi, Jessica,” she said, warily. “What’s up?” Jessica. Oh shit. Not quite Jessica Renee or Jessica Renee Richman, but not good either.
“Well, I was wondering...Daddy invited Danny to the Giants game Sunday and I was wondering if you wanted to come in, have a girls day, just us. Whatever you want to do.” I looked at Danny and mouthed, ‘happy?’
There was an interminable silence that I was later told was about three seconds. “I would like that, Jessica. That would be wonderful.”
“Me too. I’ve wanted to do it since forever but work has been crazy busy, you know?” I hoped the lie worked. “Almost bonus time.”
“I know but you need to relax, Jessie.” Jessie. The lie worked. “You’re going to be very busy in a few months,” she said in her sing-songy tone. “Have you been looking at things for the nursery yet?”
“We can go do that.” With a quick stop at the gun store, so I could shoot myself. “That’ll be fun,” I said. Like root canal.
“Mona was saying that they’re going to induce Shelly in a week if she doesn’t go into labor before then. Do you remember Naomi Moskoff?” I looked at Danny and mouthed ‘I hate you’ and he smiled. And then my mother went off on a story about someone I vaguely remembered, maybe a Hebrew school classmate of Laura’s, who had to be induced and then, after 42 hours of labor (which was slightly shorter than it took to tell the story), ended up getting a C-section. Everyone seemed to like telling me stories of interminable labor.
I got off the phone and Danny kissed me on the nape of my neck and then my earlobe. “You’re lucky I’m horny,” I said.
Sex was becoming more and more difficult. We could do it doggy-style but, after all these years, I still couldn’t enjoy myself. It made me feel gross and used. I needed to see Danny’s face or, at least, be on top. From behind felt, well, weird. It was ridiculous. I wasn’t Dan. I was Jessa. I was a woman. I was a woman who liked silk and lace. A woman who liked being sexy and pretty and feminine. A woman who couldn’t wait to be a mommy. But having sex doggy style triggered something in me.
And me on top was getting harder. I wasn’t heavier than I was when we changed, in fact I was fifteen pounds lighter, but maybe it was all in my belly. Maybe it was the distribution of weight but Danny said the last time that we tried, ‘please don’t hit me but my legs are starting to get numb.’ I hit him and then climbed off.
So, here we were. Me with my ass bolstered by two pillows and Danny standing off the bed, pumping away. I felt disconnected from him. He wasn’t touching me. He wasn’t looking at me. We were just getting a release, not making love. He came. I didn’t. “Hey, honey,” I said, “come and lie next to me.” I needed to feel the closeness, his skin on mine. He laid down next to me and started tracing circles on my belly, giving it little kisses, while I played with his hair. This was what I needed.
------------------------------------------
Friday morning, 11 AM.
The day had started off great. The morning sickness had passed and I was now halfway to being a mommy.
I was in the bathroom, when Danny snuck up behind me. He put his hands around me and said, “Caught you!”
I blushed. I had been admiring myself in the mirror. “I feel ridiculous.” I had been looking at myself in the mirror. I had a round belly, not huge but pronounced. I loved my bump and couldn’t wait for it to get bigger.
He kissed me on the neck. “You look gorgeous,” he said, rubbing my belly. “Every day, you get even more gorgeous.” He leaned down and kissed my belly. “Good morning, baby.”
I got dressed and went downstairs. Jose, the day doorman, said, “good morning, Mrs. Silverman. Cab?”
It was about 50 degrees and sunny. “Good morning, Jose. It’s a nice day. I think I’ll walk a while. I could use the exercise..” I started walking down the street, smiling. An older man walked past, looked me up and down and gave me a smile. A pregnant woman walked past, her three year old son holding her hand, and she gave me a nod of recognition. I was part of something, something bigger than me. It felt utterly ridiculous and egotistical, but I had a person inside of me, a person who depended on me for life. And I liked that feeling.
I tried to walk to the office, but got tired halfway there. At 50th Street, I caught the 6 train. The platform was three deep. I was ready to wait for a train, when a young guy, about 19, said, “go ahead, ma’am.” He moved aside three other people to let me on.
“Thanks,” I said, giving him a smile. “You didn’t have to.”
He looked me up and down and said, with a laugh, “my mom would kill me if I didn’t.” He meant well and I appreciated it. But, on some level, it hurt. Five months ago, if he noticed me, it would have been to give me the once over. Now…..
I went into the office and turned on my computer. Pinned to the bulletin board above my desk was a sonogram. You could see the baby. The picture was murky, but it was the baby. During the appointment, when the tech was doing it, it looked like the head was separate from the body but she said, ‘everything looks great.’ We looked at each other and shrugged, figuring if she didn’t have a problem with a headless baby, why should we? I kissed my fingertips then touched the picture, just like I did every morning.
I began working on a brief. Bonus time was coming up and I needed to show them that I was still going full force. After the first week, the novelty of my pregnancy had worn off. Jasmine would ask how I was doing every so often, and Jeanine would always check in after doctor’s appointments, but that was about it. People had their own concerns and there wasn’t much to say other than, ‘feeling great, thanks for asking.’ It was silly to think that my pregnancy should have mattered to them, no matter how much it mattered to me. Around 11 AM, I got up to stretch my legs and get a drink of water. I wanted coffee - badly - and knew that one cup wouldn’t harm the baby. The studies showed that one cup a day had no negative effects but I didn’t want to risk it. If that was wrong and something happened, I couldn’t live with myself. It wasn’t worth a cup of coffee for that.
The kitchen was down two hallways from my office, which was fine. Dr. Andopolis had told me to ‘make sure that you walk as much as possible during the day. You need to keep those muscles stretched and limber.’ As I approached the kitchen, I heard Doug, a male associate in corporate say:
“the body’s nowhere what it used to be, but the tits look amazing,” while another male associate laughed.
I stopped for a second and felt short of breath. I rested my hand on the wall and thought, ‘they didn’t see you. What makes you think they were talking about you? When did you become such an egomaniac?’ I walked into the kitchen, to their stares. “Excuse me guys,” I said, going to the watercooler. I willed myself to look at Doug, “don’t let me interrupt your discussion.” I filled my glass, took a sip and said, “I don’t know who she is, but really guys, free piece of advice. Locker room talk may make some people president. Not you,” and I smiled.
I walked back to my office, closed the door and cried. I picked up the phone to call Danny and then put it down. I looked at the sonogram and thought about my baby. ‘You can do this. They will not break you. Maybe you’re not who you were, but you are who you are.’ The question was who was that?
-------------------
It was Sunday morning. I looked at the weather report. It was 45 degrees and sunny. I had hoped for a freak hurricane that would prevent her from coming in. It just needed to hit Rockland County and the city; I didn’t want to spoil the Giants game. I tried to imagine my father grilling Danny over the baby and had to laugh.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I said to Laura.
“Oh stop it, Jess, it won’t be that bad,” she said, laughing and then ‘Tuck, put that down.’
““Please.” I started coughing. “I think I’m coming down with something. I’m contagious. She shouldn’t come.”
“Oh stop it,” Laura laughed. “When did you get so melodramatic?” ‘Hold on Tuck, it’s Aunt Jessie.’
“I’m not melodramatic. She’s annoying.”
She sighed, “She’s not that bad. I’m glad you’re doing this.” ‘Where’s daddy? Go find daddy!’
“Everyone keeps saying that. Like she’s not my mom. I’m not doing anything.”
“I know. I know.” ‘Tuck, NO!’ “This is making her really happy. It’s really hurt her, you know.”
I felt like shit. “What’s hurt her?”
“OK, look, don’t take my head off…” Whenever someone begins a sentence that way, I tense up. “She feels left out.”
“Left out of what?”
She sighed. “You. Your pregnancy. The baby.”
“I’m not leaving her out of anything. What am I leaving her out of?”
“The doctor’s appointments. The shopping. The everything. I mean all she’s talked to me about is how Michelle is always doing stuff with Mona…”
I laughed, “And all Michelle has told me is how Mona’s driving her crazy.”
She laughed. “No fucking shit. That master’s in duh is really paying off. Of course, she is. She drove me fucking nuts. We went crib shopping. By the time we were done, I told her I was going to put Tuck in a shoe box. I was afraid to go to the OB because of what she’d say. ‘Well, so Sheila Hecht was telling me how Stacy’s doctor lost a speculum in there but,’” and she spat three times, “‘the baby is fine.’” We both started giggling and then she got serious. “Seriously, Jess, she feels left out. She can almost take you and dad and the food jokes…” ‘Jeremy, can you please take Tucker anywhere?’
“Those are cute.” They were. That was me and my daddy.
She made a retching noise. “But, and don’t take my head off, please don’t bring up Evelyn.”
I got defensive, “I don’t bring up Evelyn. She does. Besides, I talk to Evelyn about work.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. Don’t talk about work then.”
“That’s not fair. That’s who I am.”
She sighed. “Be someone else for the day, Jess then.” ‘He needs a hat.’ “Oh god, let me go take care of this.” ‘Christ, Jeremy. No, Tuck, that’s not OK to say.’ “Please. For me. Love you.”
Danny came out. He was wearing jeans and had his Giants sweatshirt and a ski hat in his hand. “Do you have sweats on too?”
He smiled, “Yes…”
“It gets cold there. Like twenty degrees colder.” MetLife Stadium was in the Meadowlands, formerly known as the Great Swamp of New Jersey. There was nothing around it to block the wind and it was a miserable place to sit in November.
“Yes, dear,” he said, giving me a kiss. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah yeah yeah.”
“It’ll be fine. This means a lot to her, you know that.”
I sighed, “I know.”
“She’s not that bad,” he said.
I smiled, “maybe she’ll get stuck in traffic.” My father was going to drive her in and then drive Danny out. I told him that there was a train stop right outside the stadium and that it made no sense to come in to drive back out. After ten minutes, and ‘your mother’s going to park in a garage,’ he agreed.
“Stop,” he said, pulling on his sweatshirt. “Have a positive attitude.”
I took my fingers and turned up the corners of my mouth. “Positive!”
He gave me a kiss. “That’s the spirit. Wish me luck!” Yeah, you need luck.
I went to get ready. I was trying to decide what to wear. If I were going to be practical, I would have chosen stretch pants and a sweater. I didn’t want to be practical, I wanted to feel feminine, to feel like me. I chose a blue sweater dress, black tights and boots. I had my hair blown out the day before. Since Friday, I felt a need to assert control over my life. I couldn’t control work. I couldn’t control the changes in my body. What I could control was how I looked and I was going to do that, at least.
An hour later, my mom showed up. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said, giving me a kiss and a hug. “You look beautiful. I like that outfit.” ‘Thanks,’ I said. “How are you?”
“Pregnant,” I said, with a smile.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Usual. It’s gross.” I don’t know why I felt awkward. She had been through this. Twice. Once with me.
She smiled. “Jessica, I did it twice. I know from gross.”
“Well, my boobs are leaking and,” and I took a deep breath. “Did you ever have..you know...stuff down there?”
She looked at me. “Vaginal discharge, Jessica?” I nodded. “It’s perfectly normal. It’s not green or yellow, is it?” I made a face. “Stop it. Yes or no.” ‘No,’ I said. “Then it’s fine. Five months it’s fine. I had it with you. What are you so afraid of?”
“I dunno. I’ve never been through this before.”
She smiled. “I have. Twice.”
“I heard,” I said, hopefully pleasantly.
“Did you hear about the 30 hours of labor? Oh never mind. That was Laura.”
I laughed. “That’s to hold over her, not me.”
She looked me up and down. “You gave me four months of heartburn….before you were born,” she said.
“Banana’s killing me with that lately,” I said.
“Try putting a pillow under your upper back. It relieves the pressure on your esophagus.”
“Seriously? I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll give it a shot.”
She gave me a half-smile. “Amazing what you can learn when you ask. So what are we doing today?”
“You tell me,” I said, fearing the answer.
“I just want to spend time with you.” I felt awful. “Have you gone crib shopping yet?”
“Laura offered me Tuck’s,” I said. She grimaced, probably because of what that meant for Laura. “But we’ll need stuff for the room,” I said, to make her feel better. “And a stroller,” I lied. Laura had offered me that too.
“Fine. So Mona said that Michelle is ready to burst…”
“She is so ready,” I said. I tried to figure out what not to say, what Michelle didn’t want broadcast back. “I think she’s been jumping up and down. I half expect a call today.”
“And that would be wonderful. I told Mona that I think it’s Monday. Joyce has Tuesday in the pool,” and off she went. I willed myself to pay attention. As I watched her, I had to smile. She was excited by all of this, by the idea that ‘the two little girls who used to play in my backyard are going to be there with their own babies soon.’ I thought back to Michelle and I playing hide and seek and had to smile. “What,” she said.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just thinking about me and Michelle. It’s happening, isn’t it?”
She touched my face and brushed back my hair. “It is. You look so beautiful,” she said. “Pregnancy really agrees with you.”
I appreciated that and thought it did, but it made me very aware of who I was. I joked, “would you tell me if I didn’t?” Before she could say something, “let’s hit Chelsea. There’s Buy Buy Baby and some other other baby stores there.”
We were walking through one store when she held up a circus-themed crib bumper. “What do you think of this?”
“No. Clowns are creepy. We’re going to scare banana.”
She rolled her eyes. “You and your father...enough already,” she laughed.
“Fine. How about this one?” It was trains.
“And if it’s a girl?”
“She can like trains.” I liked trains, I thought. “I liked trains. When did you get so sexist?” She stuck out her tongue.
We walked through the store, marking down what I wanted on a registry. She wouldn’t let me buy it. ‘God forbid,’ and she spat three time, ‘something happens. You don’t want it in the house.’ On the one hand, she was being ridiculous. On the other hand, I wasn’t superstitious but couldn’t imagine if something went wrong and I had to come home to a house full of baby things.
We went to lunch at Markt, a French bistro on 6th Avenue. “Thanks, mom,” I said.
She was looking at the menu. “For what?”
“I know French isn’t your thing. I just really wanted steak frites for some reason.”
She smiled. “Stop it. You’re pregnant. Until the baby comes, you get to choose. It almost makes up for insomnia, back pain and all that. After the baby, you’ll eat wherever you can eat fast.”
“Great...I’m looking forward to it.” I thought of eating with Tuck. Our choices were limited to any place with macaroni and cheese or chicken fingers. Maybe spaghetti and meatballs, if Tuck was feeling adventurous.
“Do you want to split the cheese croquettes?” I loved fried cheese, no matter the form. Not as much as ice cream, but a close second.
“Nah. I should really be careful,” I said.
“Careful about what? Are you having trouble with dairy?” She looked genuinely confused and concerned.
“No, not at all. I just don’t want to put on too much weight,” I said. “I’m blowing up like a balloon.”
“Jessica,” uh oh. She took my hand. “I hate to be the one to tell you but you’re pregnant.”
“Ha ha ha,” I said, twisting my engagement ring on my finger. “I’m only supposed to eat like 400 extra calories a day,” I said.
She looked at me, “Says who?”
“Baby Center. The Bump. And Dr. Andopolis says so. I don’t want to get so fat that I can’t lose it afterwards.”
“You’ll be fine,” she said, with a smile. “Stop worrying so much and enjoy your food. Six months from now, you’ll kill to have time to eat cheese croquettes and steak frites.”
“Great,” I said, “looking forward to that too.” The waiter brought over the bread basket and I took out a roll. I wasn’t sure that I wanted it but I wanted her to not look at me like I was starving her grandchild. A couple came in with a two year old boy, who was dragging a Thomas the Tank Engine backpack on the floor. His mother looked at me and gave me a half-smile as if to say ‘soon.’ The waitress came over and put a booster on a chair. His father went to lift him up and he said, ‘NO’ and tried to climb in on his own. The chair fell over and he looked like he was about to scream. My mother looked at him and then at the floor and said, ‘you put a hole in the floor! You’re going to have to fix it,’ which made him laugh. His father said, ‘thanks’ and looked at me. After two minutes, the boy started to fuss and they took an iPad from the bag. They put on a video and he calmed down.
“We never did things like that,” my mother said.
“What? Do you have a problem with it?” I asked.
She laughed. “Are you serious? I would have killed for an iPad. We just had crayons for you two.” Then she said, with an eye roll, “your father is so excited for this. He has not stopped talking about it. God only knows what’s coming from the Giants today.”
“He’s just excited.” It made me feel good, picturing my father dragging Danny through the team store. “He was this excited for Tuck too.” She just laughed, a small laugh. “Besides, every baby needs a jersey. Or four.”
Our food came. She had agonized over ordering. ‘Do I want tuna nicoise or chicken paillard?’ Then, to the waiter, ‘well, what do you recommend?’ ‘Oh, that looks interesting,’ pointing at another table. She went with salmon.
“So, what’s new at the center?” My mom worked at a family services center, volunteering with children with learning disabilities. She had been a clinical social worker before Laura was born.
“Busy. It seems like lately there’s been more kids with learning disabilities. A lot more dyslexia for some reason.”
“Do you think it’s the parents trying to get kids extra testing time? Game the system?”
She laughed, “My clients do not have the resources to game the system. These are the kids from,” and she listed a couple of towns near her with poor and minority populations. “They’re probably underdiagnosed, not over.” We talked about ADHD and autism for a while.
“Do you think there’s more now or did it just go undiagnosed before?” I said, dipping my french fry in mayonnaise. I don’t know why. I used to hate mayonnaise but had developed a taste for it lately.
“Both. On the one hand, I think, even from when I was a kid to when you were a kid, the rules changed. When I was a kid, the weird kid was just weird. You, he had issues, whatever that meant. Now he’s on the spectrum. On the other hand, with all the chemicals and hormones in the food and everything, it can’t be a good thing.”
I blurted out. “It scares me.”
“What?”
“I read all of this stuff and I’m afraid the baby will have it.”
She laughed, “I firmly believe that they should ban all pregnant women from reading for the duration of their pregnancies.”
I blushed. “I’m serious. It scares me. What if something is wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, Jessie. My grandchild will be fine.” She didn’t even spit three times or knock on the table.
“Funny, mom.” I thought about her work at the center. I was proud of what she did. “I’m proud of you, mom.”
“Why?”
“You’re doing a good thing? Those kids need your help. Me? I protect the rich and powerful from the other rich and powerful.”
“Speaking of which, how is work?” She said, pushing around her spinach. When she didn’t like something, but knew it was good for her, she’d push it around. Apparently, according to Danny, I did the same thing.
“Busy,” I said, dipping my steak in bearnaise sauce. “Very very busy.”
“Please tell me you’re not still working crazy hours,” she said.
“It’s fine, mom. I’m fine. Besides, it’s bonus time,” I said.
“Jessica, that’s money. This is time. You need to relax.”
“I am relaxing. I did yoga and swam yesterday. That’s very relaxing.”
“That’s not what I mean. What I mean is in a few months, you will not have any time and you won’t for at least eighteen years,” she said, smiling. Jesus, I thought, let me get this one out before we rebook the room. “You will kill for a nap. You need to take time for yourself. The money will always be there.”
“Uh huh, mom. Yup, remember the money tree in the backyard?” When I was a kid and asked them for money, I was told to go to the money tree.
“The world doesn’t begin and end at Sagman Bennett, Jessie.”
“What does that mean?” I was getting aggravated.
“It means that we’re very proud of the work you do too, but it’s not the only thing in the world.”
“It’s my world,” I snapped. “I want to be partner. That’s what I’ve been working for.”
“You will make partner. You will get your bonus. But, it’s not just you anymore,” she said, putting her hand on my belly.
“I know I’m pregnant, mom,” I snarled. “And they know I’m pregnant.” Lately, I had felt like, while they weren’t taking cases from me - yet - they weren’t giving me the good ones. It felt were assigning me low grade junk, the kinds of cases you gave to an associate to prove herself. The sort where, if she did well, it helped but, if she lost, the damage could be controlled. “And I’m not going to let them use that against me.”
“Jessica, you’re getting yourself agitated over work. Over nothing.”
“It’s not nothing to me. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.” I rubbed my tights out of nervousness and frustration, so much so that, when I touched my arm, I could feel the static electricity
She looked at me. “It is what you do. It’s not who you are. Or at least it shouldn’t be.”
“Meaning?” I had to stop myself from pulling on a pill on my dress.
“Meaning there’s more to life than a bonus check. Than a big house or a boat.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Big house? Boat? Hmmm, who could that be?”
“Oh stop it. That’s not what I meant.”
“Yeah, it is. You meant exactly that. You just don’t get it. You don’t get what’s important to me.”
She gave me a nasty smirk. “I’m sure Evelyn gets it though.”
“Yeah, she does. She encourages me. She’s proud of me.” I almost brought up how she wanted me to run for office.
She took a deep breath and paused. Very slowly and clearly, she said, “I am very proud of you, Jessica. I always have been. I am sorry that I am not an attorney,” I noticed that she used that and not ‘lawyer’, “and that I can’t discuss motions and cases and procedure with you like she can. But, make no mistake, I have always been very proud of you.” Her face was angry but I could see tears. “I am acutely aware of what she is and what I am not. But I also know what’s important. Do you?” I looked down at my plate and began cutting my steak like I was disposing of a body. I couldn’t taste it but I was hungry. “Jessica,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help.”
I didn’t look up. “I’d hate to see what you’d do if you wanted to hurt me.”
To her credit, she didn’t respond. Instead, she went to brush my hair out of my eyes, the way she did when I was little. I moved away from her. “Jessica, I want you to have everything you want.”
“You mean everything YOU want.” I was in full bitch mode.
“No, everything YOU want. I just don’t want to see you kill yourself to get there. A bonus won’t do you any good in the hospital.”
“I know myself, ma. I know what I can do.” I still hadn’t looked up. I pushed away my plate. “I’m done. I think I want to go home, ma.” I felt like crying.
“Jessie, please. We were having a nice day. I thought you wanted to go shopping for Spain.” During the week between Christmas and New Years’, we were going to Spain, Barcelona and Madrid. I tried not to look at her, but I did. I saw the little strands of gray at her temples, creeping up on the brown. I could see the worry lines around her eyes, and the tears forming, and knew that I was the cause of them. I should have stopped. I should have accepted what she said, even if I was going to ignore it. I should have mumbled, ‘fine,’ eaten my lunch and continued shopping. If I had been able to be honest, I would have recognized why she said what she said. But, I wasn’t able. I was angry.
“I need my rest, remember?” I snapped.
“Jessie,” she said, dabbing her eyes with her napkin.
“Don’t you want to beat the traffic?” I sneered. We sat in silence until the check came. She didn’t even try to speak. I could see the fear in her eyes. She went to pay and I grabbed it. “You know it’s all about money with me…”
She began to cry. I had won. Although, if I won, I felt pretty awful. “Jessie, please.”
I went to get up. My leg had fallen asleep. I hadn’t told her but Dr. Andopolis had told me that there was a pinched nerve in my thigh. It was apparently not uncommon during pregnancy, depending on how the baby was situated, but I was told to keep off it as much as possible. That’s why I had stopped running. I stumbled a little and braced myself against someone’s chair. “Sorry,” I said, to the man sitting in it. He looked at my stomach and smiled. My mother went to grab me. “Ma, leave me alone!” The other diners turned. Nothing like a stumbling yelling pregnant woman for your lunchtime entertainment.
“Jessie, please,” and she went to take my arm.
“I will be fine,” I said, rubbing my leg. “I just want you to leave me alone.” I limped out to the street, and hailed a cab. “Bye, mom,” I snarled.
She surprised me and pushed her way into the cab. “No, Jessica.”
“Whatever. Your car’s uptown. Fine.” I immediately turned to look out the window, too angry to look at her.
She started rubbing my leg. “Is your leg bothering you?” The rubbing felt good, emotionally and physically.
“No, I limp because I always wanted to be a pirate and I’m practicing for a peg leg,” I said, not taking my eyes off the street.
“Ha ha, Jessica. I’m serious.”
“Yes, my leg is bothering me.”
“My calves bothered me something awful with Laura,” she said.
I went to say something about how mine were too, but wasn’t interested in giving her the satisfaction. Instead, I just said, “uh huh. Sorry.” She kept trying to speak and I wouldn’t answer. We got to the building and I pointedly paid for the cab. “Anyway, ma. Love you,” I said, giving her a kiss. I never left them without saying ‘I love you,’ no matter upset I was. Somewhere, I knew that one day would be the last time I’d say it and I didn’t want to miss that because of a fight.
She went to follow me in. “Jessie, please.”
I held up my hand. “I’m tired.” The doorman stared at me, like ‘you bitch.’
She slumped. “I love you too, Jessica,” and she walked away.
After she left, I beat myself up. She didn’t get what I was going through but I still felt like shit. Then I thought, ‘she started with Evelyn. I didn’t. She did.’ Then I thought, ‘but you could’ve stopped it. And you didn’t. You could’ve lied and said that you’d relax.’ I stared at the ceiling for a while. ‘Why do you care if she hates Evelyn? They don’t see each other all that much. Besides, you have to get along with them, she doesn’t.’ I picked up my phone, flipped it around and put it down. I did this three times before I dialed her. I hoped for voice mail. “Jessica.” No such luck.
“Sorry about before, ma.”
“Me too sweetie. I’m just worried about you.” She paused. “You remind me so much of Richie.” Richie was my mother’s brother. He died at 35, before I was born. I never knew what from. All I knew was that, when his name was mentioned, my grandparents would immediately change the subject.
“Richie?” I was confused. I almost joked, ‘was he pregnant too?’ But some things were not open for jokes, Richie being first.
“You are so much like him, it scares me. He was smart like you. He was funny like you. He was Grandpa Harry’s favorite like you. And he pushed himself like you. And he wouldn’t let anyone help him until,” and she started to cry. I wanted nothing more than to hug her and I couldn’t. And it was all my fault.
“What, ma? Until what?”
“Until we couldn’t. Until he was too sick.” I never knew what killed him. I tried asking Grandma Rosie once and that was the only time that she got upset at me. She said, “children don’t need to know those things.”
I took a deep breath. “Did he have AIDS, mom?” There I put it out there. He wasn’t married. It was 1982. He lived in the city. It wasn’t unreasonable.
She regained composure. “No. Yes, he was gay. But, no, it wasn’t AIDS. He had lymphoma. Not that it matters in the end.” I could hear the catch in her voice. She took a second to compose herself. “He died too young. And he wouldn’t let me help. Every time you say you’re fine, I hear his laugh. I hear, ‘I got it, Barb. The position of crazy lady is filled’...he meant Grandma.”
“I figured,” I laughed, to break the tension.
“‘But, if we have an opening, we’ll keep your resume on file.’ Well, anyway, he had it all under control. Right until Sloan-Kettering.”
“Jesus, mom. I didn’t know…” I felt like throwing up.
“I know that. And, before you say anything, I know what you’re going to say. And, no, I’m not comparing pregnancy to...what he had. You know your middle name is for him.” In Jewish tradition, you named a baby for someone who had died. What it meant in practice was you chose a name you liked and found a relative who fit.
“I thought it was Uncle Ruby, I said.” My grandfather’s uncle.
She gave a quick cough. “That’s what I told your grandparents. It was Richie. She would have said it was a kaynahorah,” bad luck. “And you take after him. I just hate seeing you kill yourself for nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. I just want to be partner is all. I’m just trying for it.”
“Jessica, despite what you may think, I want that for you too. That’s what you want. I am very proud of you. Very, very proud. You are a wonderful woman.” That felt strange to hear. “And you will be a wonderful partner. But, let me ask you, if they cut your bonus by ten percent, would you and Dan be on the street?”
“No, but banana is coming and I remember someone joking about how expensive we were. We need the bonus.” I joked.
“Jessica, stop joking around. Would it change your life?”
I wanted to say that she didn’t get it. That, if you worked ten percent less, you got twenty percent less, if you’re lucky. How you were only as good as last month’s billing. That a pregnant woman may as well quit. How I shouldn’t care about it but I did. I didn’t want to go there with her, not now at least. So I lied. “I hear you, mom.”
She laughed, “you’re lying. I know you’re lying. I really hope you’re better than this in court.” I could tell that she had had enough.
I blew a raspberry at her. “Well, anyway, sorry I cut the day short.”
“It’s OK,” I could hear the lie in her voice. But, unlike her, I let it go, being the bigger woman. Literally and figuratively. “It takes two to tango. I didn’t mean to start on Evelyn.”
“It’s fine,” I said, letting it end there, for both our sakes. “So your calves hurt?”
“It was awful. It felt like I was running a marathon every time I walked more than from the front door to the bedroom.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s killing me. Jeanine, Mike’s secretary, told me to drink lots of water. It helps.”
She laughed, “Of course, then you have to pee.”
I was smiling. “Yeah, well, I’m doing that all the time anyway. I’m going to get a computer in there soon. Between that and the constipation…”
“Thank god, I didn’t have that. Well, not as bad as Helene, at least. I thought she was going to explode with Jordan.”
“Oh, yuck, ma. Now, when I look at him, I’m going to see poop.”
“Well, too bad. If you don’t like poop, wait a few months.”
“You know, you read all these books and they tell you what a wonder pregnancy is,” I laughed.
She said, “It is. I wonder where my body went. I wonder how much I can actually pee. I wonder who thought this was a good idea. But, in the end, it’s all worth it.” I started to tear up. “You’ll get through it. Everyone does.”
“That’s what they tell me,” I said.
“That’s what I’m telling you,” she said. “You know what? For someone so bright, you’re not very smart.”
“Excuse me?”
“Since you were a baby, it’s always been ‘don’t worry about me. I can do it myself.’ Well, this is the time for everyone to worry about you, to do for you.” she laughed. “Use it to your advantage.”
“Yeah yeah. Can I get a do-over on today? I need stuff for Spain.”
She laughed, “we’ll see. Next Saturday?”
I took a deep breath. “OK. I love you mom.”
She sighed. “I love you too, Jessica. Don’t ever think I don’t. One thing, save the food jokes for your father and tell him the same. Please.”
----------
December 9. I was twenty four weeks pregnant. The baby was now, according to my app, a cantaloupe and I was visibly pregnant. I looked like I had a basketball under my shirt and my breasts were two cups sizes larger.
That morning, at about 10 AM, Danny and I were sitting on the couch, reading and watching ‘Sports Center’ with the sound off. My phone rang. “Get that please,” I said. It was on the other side of the coffee table charging and reaching across, with my ever growing bump, was getting harder. Besides, I decided that I was pregnant, Danny wasn’t and that he could therefore do things for me. To his credit, he did most of it with a smile. The only charge was that he would kiss my belly every time and say, “say ‘daddy,” to see if he could get the baby to kick.
He kissed my belly and smiled. “Thumper kicked. Thanks, Thump” We didn’t know what we were having so, given its tendency to kick at inopportune moments (sleeping, meetings, etc), it became ‘Thumper.’ Plus, that was gender neutral. I didn’t want to know. Sammie told me, ‘you’re being ridiculous. You live in an apartment. You have to get it ready,’ but I didn’t want to know. Maybe I was silly, but I liked the idea of a surprise. Besides, between Michelle, Sammie and Laura, I’d have enough clothes, no matter what. I went back and forth on whether it was a boy or a girl. My mother said that the way I was carrying, all in front, meant ‘boy.’ Evelyn said, ‘I had a dream it was a girl.’ Yoram said, ‘maybe we shouldn’t put labels on it.’
He looked at the phone, “Carrie?”
I said, “Jill’s friend, Emily’s mom?” He rolled his eyes and handed me the phone “Oh hey, Car. Oh please, you don’t have to thank me. SHE,” and Carrie laughed, knowing what the meant, “is welcome any time. I’m glad she had a good time at the Guggenheim, that age you never know.” Danny went into the bedroom. “Oh, that is so nice of you.” He came out, dressed for a run. “Danny, Carrie invited us to their holiday party on the 23rd.” He gave me a look like ‘huh’ then shrugged and said, ‘OK.’ “I can’t wait. Now, I just need a festive enough mumu.” I laughed, “thanks. I don’t feel beautiful. I feel like a parade float. I couldn’t even go to the Westside around Thanksgiving. Next thing, Al Roker would be doing commentary on me. Well, I can’t wait for the party. Just let me know what to bring. Yes, Jill and I would bring something to our own hanging. Love you,” and I hung up. Danny stared at me. “What?”
“What nothing. So, Chappaqua on the 23rd. I’m going for a run,” he said, abruptly.
“Sure,” I said. I hated that he could go for a run and I couldn’t but I was proud of him. I may have gained 20 pounds but he was vigilant about keeping fit. He joked ‘no baby weight for me. I won’t lose it in three months.’ “Remember, we have Michelle and Amanda at 1.” The Wednesday after my mother and I had gone shopping, she had the baby, a boy. I won the pool.
“I know,” he said, shoving his keys in his pocket. “I will be back in plenty of time,” he said, in what sounded like a growl.
I got up and gave him a kiss. “Are you OK?”
“Fine. I just want to get a run in. OK?”
“Sure. Have a good time. Wish I could join you,” I said, as the door closed.
He came back from his run around 12:15. “Hey honey,” he said, giving me a kiss. “I needed that.”
“I’m glad” I said. “Now you need a shower. Go. Come on. I want to get to Michelle and Amanda.”
“Please,” he said, teasing me by waving his armpit in my face like a child. “You want to see the baby.”
“Whatever. Go shower.”
We went over to Amanda and Michelle’s around 1 o’clock. Michelle met us at the door, holding the baby. Sebastian Andrew Richards-Maniscalco. 7 pounds, 3 ounces. 19 ½ inches long, 17 ½ of which was that name. Michelle had gained about thirty pounds during her pregnancy and lost about 15 after she gave birth. Like Sammie after Charlotte, she looked tired. Her hair was pulled back and she was wearing a maternity shirt and leggings. “Sorry,” she said, “I just don’t have it in me to dress up.”
Danny gave her a kiss, “Oh please, Michelle. You look beautiful.”
She smiled, “You’re a shitty liar, but thanks all the same,” she said, handing me the baby. “Here you go, Jess. I know that’s who you came to see anyway.”
I ignored her, taking him in my arms. “Sebastian,” I sang. “Who’s the baby with the longest name? Who’s the baby who’s going to need extra time for the SAT just to bubble it in? You are. You are.”
Amanda walked in and said, “You are such a freak, Jessie.” and gave me a kiss. “How are you doing?” She, Michelle and I talked for a little while about leg pain and constipation, while Dan sat on the couch, checking his phone.
“I’m not the one who gave him the name that uses a whole rack of Scrabble tiles,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. “How are you guys doing?” I knew the answer. They were tired. I asked in the same way you say, ‘how are you?’ Conversational filler and social nicety. “Do you want us to take Sebastian for a walk? You can rest.”
Michelle gave me a look that said, hopefully, ‘you would do that?’ while Amanda said, “Thanks, but I think we could both use adult conversation.” I could see a fight brewing behind Michelle’s eyes.
I sat down on the couch, with its burping towels and stuffed developmental toys covering it. I rested Sebastian on the bump and just stared at him. “Hey, Sebastian. Say hi to baby. I bet you two are going to be best friends,” and I looked up at Michelle, who smiled then yawned. “Like me and mommy.” He yawned and then moved his little hands. I was entranced.
He started to fuss and Michelle said, “do you want to feed him?”
She was breastfeeding and I said, “um, mine aren’t working just yet and are yours detachable?”
Amanda laughed, “Mona and Carl are coming in tonight to sit, so Michelle expressed.” Then, she said, “hey, Dan, why don’t you give it a shot?”
Danny looked up. “Sorry, what?”
I handed the baby to him and said, to Michelle and Amanda as much as him, “weren’t you listening? Amanda asked if you wanted to feed the baby.”
He looked surprised and then smiled, “don’t you want to do that?”
I smiled and said, “I’m going to have plenty of chances soon enough.” I thought I saw a flicker of annoyance cross his face and then he said, with a smile, “sure. Hand him over.” He looked at Sebastian and said, “hey, buddy. Let’s have some guy time. You and me.” He looked at Michelle and said, “got any pizza?” She rolled her eyes. “Beer?”
I watched Danny feed him. He did all the right things. He smiled. He talked to him - remember ‘Go Dolphins. Boo Jets’ - and he even burped him. But, he kept looking at us and saying, ‘I’m not an idiot. I did this with my niece.’ And he kept giving me strange looks.
----------
That night, we were on the west side, at the big theater on 68th. We were going to see the new Paul Thomas Anderson movie that everyone was talking about. It starred Daniel Day-Lewis which meant everyone already had the Oscar trophy engraved for him. We had invited Amanda and Michelle but they both said that, ‘we’re getting a night off. We want to talk to each other, not sit in a theater for three hours.’ Michelle told me later that they spent most of dinner yawning and talking about the baby.
We came out of the movie and Danny laughed, “I can’t believe that I let you drag me to this.” He never liked Paul Thomas Anderson movies. He said, ‘they’re boring. Like they’re visually interesting but they are soooo long.’ “How did I let you do this to me?”
I patted my belly, “How did I let YOU do THIS to me?” I laughed. We were walking out of the movie. “It wasn’t that bad,” I said, “come on. The cinematography was fantastic and he has to win the Oscar.”
He smiled and said, “yeah yeah yeah. Right, Thump?” he said to my belly, when I heard, “Jess?”
I looked up and it was Lori and Steven. I hadn’t seen her since that day at the diner. I hadn’t spoken to her since she canceled plans on me. She had lost about 40 pounds and looked much better. Still far from beautiful but better. “Lor?” We each looked the other up and down. “Ohmigod, how are you?” I said, faking it and giving her a peck on the cheek.
She smiled, air kissing me and giving me the same fake smile. “Fine. How are you doing? How far along are you?”
“Five months,” I said. “Fine. Tired. Getting big. I think I gained all the weight you lost. You look amazing.”
She looked at me for a second and said, “Thanks. Mazel Tov.” I noticed that she didn’t reciprocate and I looked at Danny, who betrayed no emotion whatsoever.
“Mazel Tov,” Steven said. We stood there for a second and I could see in his eyes that there was something going unsaid. For whatever reason, my instinct kicked in and I looked down at her left hand, on which there was a diamond. I picked up her hand. “Mazel tov to you guys! When is the big day?”
She smiled, although smirked might be a more apt description. “End of the month. December 30.”
Danny gave me a look and then said, “that’s terrific! Where?” He gave her a hug and she tensed up. I wondered if she remembered all that she used to say about me.
“Abigail Kirsch in Westchester,” she said, never taking her eyes off me.
“That’s really great, Lor. I’m really happy for you.” And I was. I feared for Steven, but was happy for her. This was what she wanted. “That’s a beautiful ring,” I said. “Good job, Steven,” giving him a fist bump.
He hunched up his shoulders, which he always did when things got tense which, with Lori, was often. I could see that he caught the look Lori gave him and he made a noticeable effort to relax. “Thanks.” I could see him thinking about what happened when he asked why we weren’t invited.
Danny said, “do you guys want to get coffee?”
Steven said, “OK,” and Lori cut him off with a look. “I would love to,” she said, in the same insincere tone Jess said Lori’s mother would use when Jess got dressed up, “but I have to be up early tomorrow. I have things to do for the wedding. Check with the florists, shop for bridesmaid’s gifts, you remember, Jess…”
Bitch. “I totally get it, Lori. I have to shop for our trip to Spain, it’s our babymoon. Then, when we get back, it’ll be getting ready for Thumper here,” I said, patting my belly and hating myself for the totally catty bitch I was being. “But we should definitely get together. Call me when you get back.”
She smiled, “I will.” She wouldn’t and neither would I. I imagined that, other than chance meetings, this was it.
“Tell your parents Mazel Tov for us,” I said, sweetly.
“Yours too.”
We walked away. I went to take Danny’s hand and he pulled it away. “Hello?”
“What?” he snapped.
“You pulled your hand away!” He reached over and grabbed my hand angrily. I pulled mine away. “Don’t do me any favors. What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? Seriously?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong?”
“My oldest friend is getting married.”
“Lori? Your oldest friend? Really? When was the last time you spoke to her?”
“That’s not the point,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, it is. She’s such a good friend and you haven’t spoken to her in two years at least.”
“That’s your fault!”
I stopped on the street. “Excuse me?” I bounced on the balls of my feet to keep my legs from tightening up.
“You heard me. It’s your fault. You drove her away!”
“I drove her away? Do tell. How did I drive her away? She’s the one who drove me away.”
“You wanted her to,” he said, getting angrier.
“No, I didn’t.”
“She’s a Debbie Downer,” he said, in a mocking tone. “She canceled on me. I’m not calling her. You could have called her.”
“Are you fucking serious?” I said. Out of the corner, I could see couples looking at us, the women staring daggers at Danny while the men all but said, ‘better you than me’ and practicing their ‘I know, what a prick’ speeches for later. “She cancels on me. She gives me shit about losing weight and my clothes, she doesn’t call, but I drove her away.”
“You made her feel bad. And now we’re not going to the wedding.”
“She calls,” and I had to pause and think pronouns, “me an emasculating bitch and you passive-aggressive and I made her feel bad? She gives me shit about what I eat and I made feel her bad? I feel pretty fucking bad right now and it’s your fault, you asshole! And all you care about is a fucking wedding? Fuck you. I’m going home,” and I hailed a cab. One pulled up and I went to get in. He started to follow me in. “Fuck you. Walk home,” I said, slamming the door. The cab pulled away and I cried. I hated that he and I had fought at all, but over Lori? She had wanted to drive us apart and she did, at least for tonight.
I came home and sat on the couch, a pillow pulled up against my stomach, and I cried. Forty-five minutes after I came home, I heard the key turning in the lock. “Hey,” Danny said, coming in. His eyes were red.
“Were you crying?” I said.
“Yes. Does that make you feel better?”
“No,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry that I was an asshole to you,” he said, sitting down next to me and putting his hand on mine.
“What happened? We were having a good night and we saw Lori and you lost it. What happened, Danny?”
“That’s it. We saw Lori.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “We haven’t seen her in over a year.”
“Uh huh,” he said, tears forming in his eyes.
“Uh huh, what Danny?” I said, hugging him. “I don’t understand.”
“You have Sammie and Michelle and Robin. You have my sister’s friends. You have my SISTER. Everyone loves Jessa. You have everything and,” and he cried.
“And what, honey? Please don’t cry.” My heart dropped. I felt awful.
“And when I saw Lori I realized it. I have nothing. She and I were best friends since we were nine years old.” I wanted to say you were co-dependent frenemies that brought out the worst in each other. “She was my bridesmaid,” which sounded absurd coming from him, after all these months, “and I always figured, if she ever got married, that I’d be hers, maybe even her maid of honor, but now she’s getting married and I won’t even be a guest. I know that sounds ridiculous to you.”
I thought about it. “It doesn’t, Danny. I didn’t mean to drive her away.”
“I know you didn’t,” he said. “I’m sorry I said that…”
“You’re not just saying that because I’m pregnant?”
He laughed, “No. I mean you left and every woman just glared at me. I thought they were going to beat me up. You have everything. You have your old friends. You have your new friends….”
“You have lots of friends too. Mark, Larry, everyone.”
He said, “It’s not the same.” It wasn’t. I remembered back then. You were close but you didn’t talk. I also remembered every time someone’s wife or girlfriend was pregnant. All anyone said was a variation of ‘good luck, you’ll need it.’
I looked at him, “Are you jealous?”
He blushed and looked away, “No….”
“It’s totally normal, you know. All the websites say that.”
He took a deep breath, “Do they cover when your husband used to be you?”
“Wow,” I said, in shock, “I guess I never...I just thought...I thought you were happy about this.” I felt nauseous. “I mean, it’s not like we can do anything about it…” He went to touch my arm and I reflexively pulled it away.
“No no no,” he said. “I am just fucking up left and right tonight. I don’t mean that. Not at all. I don’t want to be pregnant. You are so much better at it than I could ever be, would have ever been, it’s not funny, it’s just…”
I thought for a second. In his eyes, I saw the old Jess. The one who felt like an afterthought. Jill’s younger sister. The judge and the doctor’s other child. Dan’s wife. She was never that to me but you can’t make someone see what they don’t want to see, no matter how much you do. I took his hand. “I get it.”
“I feel like an idiot,” he mumbled. “Do you ever think about it?”
I looked at him. “Sometimes. Not often. I’m just trying to get through the day without having an accident. I have nightmares about it every so often.” I had a dream about Spain. We were at the airport and the customs agent checked my passport and said, ‘you are not Jessica Silverman, sir,’ and then he took me to a room where everyone pointed at me and laughed. I took Dan’s hand. “I’m sorry if you feel like I’m taking all the attention.”
“Stop,” he said. “You’re supposed to. You’re pregnant. You’re mommy. Me? I did one thing.”
I smiled, “And you did it very well,” I said, in a deliberately patronizing tone.
“Haha. I feel even stupider. I know you didn’t drive her away. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t. You’re entitled to your feelings. Can I tell you? It hurt when she told us it was the end of the month. It really did. Even when you know something’s over, it’s weird when it actually is, y’know?”
“Yeah. Please don’t be mad at me.”
I smiled, “Well, how do you suppose you’re going to make it up to me?”
He took my right leg in his hands and began rubbing it. “I saw you bouncing up and down. Calves bothering you?”
“Yes,” I said, “that feels so much better. Thank you.”
“I am really sorry.” Then he smiled, “That went really well. We wouldn’t come to your stupid wedding anyway because we will be in Spain, because I AM HAVING A BABY, BITCH and then, once we get back, we have to shop for THE BABY I AM HAVING BITCH WHICH YOU ARE NOT.”
I waved my left hand in his face. “Poor Steven, poor poor Steven,” I said, laughing.
“I know. Poor guy. He looks miserable. And it’s only going to get worse. I can’t even imagine how Bridezilla she is. Please tell me I wasn’t that bad.”
I laughed. “No.” Then I laughed some more.
“What?” He said.
“I’m trying to picture you in a wedding dress...yecch.”
“I love you, Jessa.” He leaned down and kissed my belly. “You too, Thumper. Ow!”
“What?”
“He kicked me in the face.”
I put my hand on my belly, “Good Thumper…Are you really OK? Do you want me to call her to get together? I will...” I didn’t want to, but would for him.
He sighed, “No. You were right about her. I guess it just hit home. God, I’m a mess.”
“No more than me,” I said. “Give the pregnant woman a kiss.” And he did.
The saga of Jessa and Danny continues. Jessa gets a preview of what it means to be a mommy and Jessa and Danny head to Spain for their babymoon.
Thanks as always, Lizzy Bennet. Especially for making sure the trip to Spain didn't read like Lonely Planet.
--------------------------------
December 16 - 25 weeks pregnant. Thumper was as big as cauliflower.
I was meeting Laura to go shopping for Carrie’s Christmas party. I didn’t really want to go shopping or to deal with anyone. I had had a horrible week at work, which was capped by something that happened yesterday.
Every year, Danny’s company had a Christmas open house, also known as the “kiss the ring” ceremony. Basically, everyone brought their kids in and they had candy and cookies and someone dressed as Santa. The center of it all was when the C-level executives all stood in something resembling a receiving line and met the headquarters employees; hence, ‘kissing the ring.’ I had gone once, when we started dating. When I had bitched to my boss Mike then, he laughed and said, ‘enjoy it. She wants to show you off. Soon, she won’t want to see your ugly face.’ Danny wasn’t in the receiving line - not yet at least, I believed. But, because of his new position, I had to be there, to be on board and all that.
Yesterday, when I was leaving, I said to Mike, ‘Sorry. This is political. I won’t be long and I’ll stay late.’ He just looked me up and down, staring at my stomach (I felt). He smiled and said, ‘take your time.’ I felt vulnerable.
The open house itself was fine. Everyone came over to ask how I was doing. Melissa had brought Ben and Layla. I hadn’t seen her for a few months. We had had plans to go out and Layla got an ear infection. The next time, Ben had, according to Melissa, ‘learned to share at day care. He was so nice and gave us all a cold!’ Then she added, ‘welcome to the rest of your life.’ “Hey, Ben. Hey, Layla,” I said, leaning down to give them a kiss, which brought up my reflux. I gagged a little and Melissa said, ‘heartburn?’ When I nodded, she ruffled Ben’s hair and smiled. “How’s everything?” she said.
“Busy. Ridiculously busy.”
“I hear you. You look beautiful.” I was wearing a blue dress and 2” heels. My ankles hurt like hell. I should have worn flats, but I wanted to look good for Danny.
“I look like I swallowed a basketball,” I said.
“Oh, stop. You look gorgeous. Right, Dan?” Danny smiled, put his arm around me and gave me a kiss. I should have felt better, but I didn’t. ‘Take your time’ was ringing in my ears.
Melissa left to take Ben and Layla to see Santa. Danny said, “Is everything OK?”
“Fine,” I said. “Work. Just work.”
“Everything OK?”
“The Namowitz motion,” I lied. “The one I was telling you about the other day?” I knew that would work. He didn’t understand what I did, anymore than I understood what they did here, other than create and sell drugs. By the way, there was no Namowitz motion. For an added fillip of reality, I said, “you don’t listen, do you?”
He smiled and said, “I try.” He did. More than I did then and more than I did now. He said, “Bruce said to bring you down before the whole thing.” As a result of his promotion, Bruce now was in the line, albeit at the beginning of it. Old Kremlinologists didn’t spend as much time studying placement as Stone people did with ‘kiss the ring.’ We went down the hall to Bruce’s office and knocked on the door.
“Mind if we come in?” Danny said.
He saw me, got a huge grin and came around the desk. He looked me up and down, but in a manner that felt completely different from Mike. He leaned down and gave a me a hug and kiss. “I heard an ugly rumor about you…”
I smiled, “it’s true. I’m a Yankee fan.”
He laughed. “How are you doing? How are you feeling?”
I smiled, “ask Ellen how I’m feeling.” Then I added, “I’m doing fine.” No man really cared how I was feeling; I didn’t used to, not really. What was I going to say? I have heartburn? I’m constipated? Oh, and my ass is bleeding from hemorrhoids? So, I went with ‘fine, thanks.’
“You look beautiful, if that’s OK to say.”
I said, “it’s more than OK.” It was bullshit, but I needed to hear it. Danny put his arm around my waist and smiled. “Thank you, Bruce.”
“Ellen said to tell you that she loved the article.” Since Florida, Jillian had kept to her word. She had gotten me jobs, non-paying but jobs nonetheless, writing articles for various on-line papers including the latest in Huffington Post on voter suppression in Ohio. “I read it, too. It was great.”
Danny said I blushed when I said, “Thank you. It wasn’t too dry?”
He laughed, “No, it was just dry enough. Besides, who wants a wet article?” I rolled my eyes and he said, “ba-dum dum. Seriously, it was terrific.” He looked at the clock on his desk. “Ah shit, I have to get downstairs. Let me practice my smile on you two.” He pasted on a game show host smile. “Too fake?”
“Just fake enough,” I said, with a smile.
He gave me another kiss and turned to Dan, “you’re lucky I like her.” Then he turned to me, “call Ellen and make plans for dinner.” I was responsible for dinner plans now. And birthday presents. And ordering groceries. “I’ll see you downstairs. Take care of Bruce in there.” I looked at him and stuck out my tongue. “Hey, Bruce is a great name. Bruce Lee. Bruce Springsteen. Jack Bruce.” Danny looked confused, so Bruce said, “the bassist from Cream. God, I’m old.” And he left us, singing, ‘Sunshine of Your Love,’ as he walked away.
The rest of the open house went well. We went downstairs and ‘kissed the ring.’ Everyone told me what a great job Danny was doing, which made me feel proud. I had really learned to feel proud without qualification. He was respected at work. He worked hard and they respected him, which is what he wanted. What I wanted. I couldn’t help but notice how, whenever we talked to someone, he let go of my hand and put his hand around my waist. He also answered questions that were directed to me, stopping only if I smiled sweetly and said, ‘Danny…’
I went back to the office after an hour and a half and went into Mike’s office. “Sorry about that.”
He smiled, “Relax, Jessica. It’s fine. We survived in your absence,” which stung a little. Between that and the garbage cases I had been assigned lately, I began to wonder if that was the plan. I smiled weakly and said, ‘thanks.’ Then, I worked until 8:30, making sure not to leave until everyone else did. I wasn’t going down without a fight.
-----------
Laura and I were meeting on the Upper East Side, near her place. I needed a dress and, given the UES’ reputation as the suburbs in the city, there were a lot of maternity stores. I had asked her to meet me at Barnes & Noble Bookstore on 86th and Lex, so I could buy a couple of books for the trip.
Before I left, Danny said, “not too many, please. And no hardcovers.”
“Why?” I said, giving him a kiss on the nose.
I knew the answer. “Because I’m going to be carrying them.”
“You don’t have to,” I said, as flirtatiously as I could. I didn’t feel flirtatious. I felt bloated and edgy and concerned about my future.
“Please,” he scoffed. “Paperbacks, please.”
I was standing in Barnes and Noble looking at books, when a guy, in his early 30s came over. He had dark curly hair and green eyes. He was wearing a Michigan hoodie and jeans, the requisite uniform of the Upper East Side. He was cute, not gorgeous but cute. “Hero of the Boer War. The Orphan Master’s Son. Knockemstiff. Interesting choices…”
I smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Interesting? How so?” I brushed my hair off my face.
He smiled. “Maybe that was the wrong word. Unusual. I mean, most women…”
I held up, ‘Hero of the Boer War,’ a biography of young Churchill in the Boer War. I pointed to the author’s name - Candice Millard. “Candice,” I said. “I’m pretty sure that that’s a woman’s name. Not all of us read books with high heels on the cover.” I had tried. I thought that maybe I’d like them now. I didn’t. Crap is still crap.
He smiled. He had a terrific smile that made his eyes light up. ‘OK, Jess,’ I thought. ‘You are very pregnant. And very married.’ “You win,” he said. “Knockemstiff is excellent by the way. Have you read...”
“Devil All the Time? The Heavenly Table? I loved them both….”
“I stand corrected. Surprised, pleasantly surprised but corrected,” he said, smiling that smile again. He picked up the last book in my pile. “‘The End of Men?’ Uh oh..”
I looked down at my feet and then at him. “It’s not like that, at all…”
He laughed. “I’m just teasing. I’m Mark,” he said, offering his hand.
“Jessica,” I said. “Nice to meet you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laura standing about fifteen feet away. She had a huge smile on her face and was rubbing one finger on the other, in the universal, ‘tsk tsk’ gesture. “I apologize but I see my sister over there.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you,” he said. “Very nice to meet you.”
I smiled and said, “Nice to meet you too,” and I brushed my hair out of my face. It felt like it kept falling in my face.
As he walked away, he handed me a book. “You should read this,” he said. “It’s terrific. Exciting but smart.” I looked at the cover. ‘Danelaw.’ The blurbs read, ‘A taut psychological thriller,’ and ‘this year’s, ‘The Girl on the Train.’ ‘Eh,’ I thought. ‘Well, if I don’t like it, maybe Danny will.’ I walked over to Laura, who had a huge grin. “What?”
“Jess likes a boy,” she sang. “Jess likes a boy…”
“Yes, Jess likes a boy. Her husband.”
“Oh, please. You were totally flirting with that guy.”
“No, I wasn’t.” She started pushing her hair behind her ear. She smiled and then looked down then up. Oh god, I had been flirting. “Oh god…”
Then she took ‘Danelaw,’ off my pile. “Is this the book he picked?” I felt mortified and nodded. “Ohmigod, is he going to make you a CD too?”
“Stop it. Anyway, hello?” I said, pointing at my stomach. “He clearly wasn’t interested in me. Not like that anyway.”
“I don’t know. From where I stood….you look really good, by the way.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, I’m married, remember?”
“I know. But I bet it felt really good.” It did. I was embarrassed to say it, but it made feel better about myself. If nothing else, I was apparently attractive. “So, anyway, what’s going on with Tuck and Sam this week?” Sam was a boy in Tucker’s pre-school. Apparently, they had a fight and Tuck pushed Sam down, which necessitated all the parents coming in to discuss ‘how to handle things better in the future.’
“Eh, it’s fine. We had this whole meeting to find out that….they’re three year olds.” A woman with a little girl waved at us and came over. She was about 35, with brown hair, muddy brown eyes and the sort of toned body that came from way too many hours in the gym. I used to have that body. She was wearing a ‘Soul Cycle’ shirt, Alo yoga pants and the same pair of Adidas Superstar sneakers that every other woman on the UES had. The kind she’d throw away, still pristine, in two weeks when they stopped being hip.
“Tina,” Laura said, giving her a kiss. “Hi, Penelope.” Penelope smiled and hid behind her mother. “Penelope and Tucker go to preschool together. Tina, this is my little sister Jessica. Jessica, Tina Blackwood.”
“Hi,” I said, sticking out my hand. “Jessica Silverman.” She looked me up and down while she shook my hand. I was glad that I dressed up a little. I had worn jeans, a blue sweater and booties. I had debated wearing a skirt, but after yesterday, it felt too open. I bent down, “Hi Penelope. I’m Tucker’s aunt.” She kept hiding. Whatever, I thought. I can’t stay down here too long anyway.
“So how far along are you?” When you’re pregnant, this is the standard greeting, especially from other mothers. No ‘hello,’ just straight to the point.
“Twenty-five weeks,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laura keep a fake smile on her face. If you didn’t know her, it looked real. I knew it wasn’t. The left side of her mouth was slightly lower. It was her tell.
“You look terrific,” she said, by rote. “How are you feeling?” I gave her the quick once-over. She didn’t care and would probably tell all the other mothers whatever I said, so I went with, ‘Fine. The usual.’
“That’s great,” she said. “Is everything OK with Tucker? I heard what happened.”
Penelope piped in, “Tucker hit Sammy!” She smiled and said, ‘shhh, honey.”
“It’s fine,” Laura said. “Boys…”
Tina gave her a tight smile. “Hm. Well, we have to get Penelope’s art class. Very nice to meet you, Jessica. See you at school, Laura.”
As she left, Laura said, “Bitch. She’s probably already texting her crew to tell them how I looked like shit.” She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. I didn’t see what the big deal was, it was the weekend and we were just going shopping. But I knew enough to know that a woman who bought her yoga pants at Bergdorf Goodman and not Lululemon or the Gap would say something.
‘Whatever. Her husband’s probably cheating on her now,” I said, in some sort of effort to make Laura feel better.
It didn’t really work. “Seriously, whatever. I don’t want to deal with her today. Let’s go find you a dress. So, who is this again?”
“Jill’s friend Carrie.”
She smiled a strange smile. “And she invited you why exactly?” I looked back at her. “I mean, it’s cool. I just can’t picture you going to Rachel’s party.”
I was annoyed. “This isn’t a mom and Evelyn thing, is it?” I couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else.
“No no no. Sorry. I just wanted to know.” And I explained how Emily sometimes came in with Sarah and how I think she felt like ‘she owed me one.’ All she said was, “Oh, OK.” I let it go because I had to.
“How was the reunion?” Laura and Jeremy had just gone to her 20th high school reunion.
“It was good. Weird to see everyone, y’know. Jamie DiGuardia got really fat.” Jamie was one of those half-skanky girls who was gorgeous - dark hair, dark eyes, great body - in a scary way. If the wrong guy, which is to say any of the jocks or dorks, looked at her, she’d growl, “what?” in a way that drove you away. She and Laura had been friends in junior high until Jamie suddenly developed at which point she abandoned her. Laura was crushed, from what I could recall, but my parents were not disappointed, to say the least.
I laughed, “I could see that. She always struck me as the kind of girl who got by on metabolism.” Jesus, I was a bitch.
Laura looked at me and said, “meow?”
“Sorry, that came out the wrong way. I meant,” and she smirked, “forget it. Who else did you see?”
“Caryn Zweig.” Caryn was the bane of Laura’s existence. She had picked on her from first through twelfth grade. I remembered how, in eighth grade, Laura went to make plans with her friends to go to the mall and they all came up with an excuse. My mom took us to the mall and we saw Caryn standing there with all of Laura’s friends. Before Laura could cry, my mom said, ‘we’re going to Garden State,’ another, bigger and better mall. Laura cried the whole way there. I was just happy we were getting to go there; cut me some slack, I was in fourth grade.
“How was that?” I braced for the worst.
She smiled. “Really really weird. She was all friendly, like ‘oh, you work in midtown. So do I. We should totally get lunch. You look great.’ It took me like ten minutes to accept that she wasn’t going to run back and make fun of me.”
I almost asked what she looked like now, but realized that that would make me sound even cattier. However on edge I was, I didn’t want to go over it. “That’s great. I mean, it has been twenty years but still that’s great.”
We walked up to Madison, talking. Even all these years later, there were times it still felt strange to be walking with Laura, talking and window shopping.
We walked past a boutique on Madison and in the window was a blue dress that fell mid-thigh. It had lace sleeves. I was imagining myself in it and wondering if I’d ever be able to wear it again. “God, I love that dress,” I said.
Laura looked at it. “That is pretty. Want to see if they have it in your size?”
“Please. Size whale?”
“Jess,” she said, taking my hand. “What’s wrong? When did you get so down on yourself? That’s my job.”
“Being down on yourself, or on me?” I smiled.
“Serious. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Work.”
“Mom says you’ve been working too hard.”
“I don’t like you two talking about me,” I said. She thought I was kidding. I wasn’t. “Besides, it’s not that. It’s like I feel like they’re trying to push me out. They’re giving me the shit cases and, when I was going to Danny’s thing yesterday, I told Mike that it wouldn’t take long and he said, ‘take your time.’”
She smiled. “Maybe he just meant don’t stress yourself?”
“Law firms don’t work that way.”
She said, “Oh, I forgot. Law firms are like this whole other planet, us mere non-lawyers don’t understand. Up is down. Black is white. Take your time means you’re fired. Laws don’t apply there. For every action, there is not an equal and opposite reaction. Not in law firm world.”
In spite of myself, I laughed. “Shut up. I’m just scared. Feel better? I’ve worked really hard and I’m scared, OK?” I started to cry. Not tear up. Cry. “I’m really scared. I’m feeling like, I can’t explain it,” and I just bawled. People were staring at me.
Laura hugged me, tight. “Shhh, Jessica. It’s going to be OK. You’re going to be OK. You can be scared. It’s OK.”
I sniffled into her shoulder. “Are people staring?”
“Who fucking cares? You poor thing. I had no idea,” and she steered me to a bench in front of a store. I stared at the ground and she put her hand under my chin and pushed up. “What’s wrong, Jess?”
“Mom does that…the thing with her hand under my chin.”
She smiled, “If you want me to help, don’t tell me I’m like mom.”
I smiled, “Sorry. Sorry to get snot on your sweatshirt.”
“Stop it, Jessie. Tell me what’s wrong, for real.”
“It’s going to sound weird.”
“So? You’re my little sister. You used to think the people lived in the TV. Little midget people.”
“Shut up. No, I didn’t. And if I did, I was like four.”
“Yeah, well, what’s weird?”
“I feel like my whole world is upside down. Like I spent the first thirty-three years of my life doing one thing and now it’s like totally something else and I won’t be able to deal with it.” She was looking at me now. “OK, see, it’s weird. You’re totally looking at me like I’m a freak. I’m sorry that I said anything. Forget about it.”
“No. I wasn’t looking at you. I mean keep explaining. It’s not weird. I just want to understand.”
I tried to figure out how to articulate so that I didn’t end up in a room wearing shoes without laces and a bathrobe without a belt. “OK, it feels like I’m not who I was. That before I was,” and here I stumbled to find the right words, “one person. I mean I was the same person but different. I mean, I was married to Dan,” or Jess, as the case may be, “and he was married to me and we did our jobs, but it was different. I wasn’t this other thing. People didn’t see me as a woman…”
She laughed, “Uh, I hate to break this to you…”
“That’s not what I mean. I mean, it’s like no one sees me anymore. They see my body, my belly, that’s it. It’s like I went from being the subject of my sentence to the object.”
She smiled, “Subject and object? Will this be on the test?” I thought of Ms. Brunello, my fourth grade teacher, making us diagram sentences.
“I’m serious,” and I went from starting to cry to agitated. “It’s like before I was a person. I worked. I ran. I did things...and now it’s just….”
“I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby. How is the baby? How do you feel?”
“I know. It sounds ridiculous.”
She gave a short grunting laugh. “Not really. I totally get it. When I was pregnant with Tucker, that was the topic of conversation. Even at work. Even my office.” Laura was in public relations. Her whole firm was women, other than the errant gay man.
“Yeah, well, I just feel like…”
“Everyone is putting you into a box?”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. That’s it. And I don’t want to be in the box.” She looked surprised. “I mean,” and I put my hand under my belly. “I do want to be in the box, but I don’t want to only be in the box,” and I started to cry again. “I’m afraid that I won’t be good at being in the box.” I had never said that out loud. I had been having nightmares lately. I had a nightmare that I had the baby and that it knew that I wasn’t always its mother. I mean I was, but it knew that I used to be Dan and Danny used to be me. And it spat out, ‘you’re not my mother. You’re a freak.’ I would wake up with a start and would try not to wake Danny. Instead, I would stare at the ceiling and silently cry for an hour, until I fell back asleep. “I can’t sleep because of it.”
I started bawling into Laura’s shoulder again. “Jess, ohmigod, how long has this been bothering you?”
I sobbed. “I don’t know. A few weeks. Month or so? I don’t know.”
“And you haven’t said anything? To anyone” I shook my head ‘no’, rubbing more snot onto her sweatshirt. I mumbled, ‘sorry.’ “Stop apologizing. You poor poor thing.” She meant it to be comforting, but it just made me feel more weak. “You have to stop beating yourself up. You are going to be great. You are going to the best mommy ever. Everyone knows that.”
“I’m scared. And I’m scared about my job. I’ve worked really hard.”
She looked me in the eye. “And they know that. And if they don’t know that, someone else will.”
“Don’t tell me I’ll be fine…”
“I’m not mom,” she said, with a half-humorous, half-annoyed tone. “But you will be. You will make partner. There or somewhere else. And you’ll be a great mom. I saw the pictures of you and Sebastian and Charlotte on Facebook. You’re going to be great, Jess. But, you have to stop beating yourself up, OK?” I nodded and wiped away my tears. “And the next time something’s bothering you, call me. Call Jill. Call someone. But, you can’t keep things in. It’s not good for you.” Then she paused. “Mom told me she told you about Uncle Richie.”
“You knew about him?”
“Sorta kinda. I mean, I knew he died and I knew it was lymphoma.” I was staring at her, so she said, “she told me about him when I was pregnant.”
I laughed. “What is that, her go to story for pregnant women? ‘Hey, I know you’re freaking out about everything….’”
She finished the sentence. “How about I tell you about your uncle? Your dead uncle. Who died when he was just your age?” We both laughed a lot, then she said, “but she never told me he was like you.”
“Yeah, well, how do you say that? ‘Oh, by the way, he reminds me of your sister.’”
“Yeah, well, guess what? She may be grandma, but I’m not going to be her. I’m not going to let you just tell me everything is OK when it isn’t. I’m serious. I don’t care about my sister the partner. I care about my little sister, my little sister.” I started to cry again and she held me. “Jesus,” she said.
I smiled, “Stupid hormones. Thanks.”
“That’s why I’m here.” She smiled, “Is daddy still doing the food thing?”
“It’s cute,” I said, laughing and grateful to be doing so.
“It’s nauseating,” she said. “I mean you think he’d at least make an effort not to show you’re his favorite….”
“That’s not true,” I said. “He loves us both the same.”
She laughed. “Yeah, you keep believing that. Are you OK now?”
“I’m as OK as I’m going to be.” I looked at the store window. “I really do love that dress.”
She laughed. “Who’d a thunk it? My little tomboy sister would like lace so much.”
I started to think about everything again and stopped. I was still me. I liked lace now, but I was still me. So, I just said, “people change. Think I’ll ever be able to wear that dress again?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s better. There’s my neurotic little sister. Yes. I lost the weight. Sammie lost the weight. Michelle lost the weight. You’ll lose it. I’ll give you the jog stroller. You’ll take my nephew for a run.”
I looked at her. “What makes you so sure it’s a nephew?”
“You’re carrying all in front. From behind, I couldn’t tell you were pregnant. That’s how I was with Tuck, remember?” I didn’t remember. I remembered her being pregnant and yelling at Jeremy. Now I felt bad. She was paying attention to me and I didn’t really care when it was her.
So I lied. “So now you’re grandma Rosie?”
She shrugged, “Better than mom.”
We came to the first maternity store of three in a two block stretch.
The saleswoman came over, “Hi! How are you doing today? How far along are you?”
I smiled, figuring this was the one place where the question was sort of appropriate. “Fine. Five and a half months.”
“Well, congratulations!” I wondered if she spoke in exclamation points all the time. Like, ‘yes, honey, I would like Mexican tonight!!!’ or ‘where is the dry cleaning!!!’ “What brings you here today?”
I’m going out for a night of drinking and debauchery. “I need a dress for a holiday party.”
“How fancy?” I smiled, thinking how Danny wasn’t even thinking about how dressy it was. He’d wear a jacket, pants and a button down shirt. I didn’t miss that. I liked being pretty and feminine, especially now, when I mostly felt bloated and nervous. I just had to smile at the change in circumstances.
“I don’t know. I mean it’s a friend’s party, not a work thing. But, it is Saturday night and it is in Chappaqua, so I mean it’s probably going to be pretty nice. And her friends have money, not that I count it. So,” and I started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Laura said.
Well, your former little brother is now parsing what dress, what maternity dress, to wear to a party, that’s what. And he’s, I mean she’s, nervous and excited about it. “Nothing, just thinking of something. Pregnancy brain,” I said, with a smile. That placated her. “Dressy, not too dressy. Plus, I’m going to Spain next week, so if it can do double duty, that would be terrific.”
The clerk led us over to the rack. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know,” I said, looking at a mix of black and colored dresses. “You never can go wrong with black, it’s very slimming,” which got a laugh, “but I could use some color.”
The saleswoman smiled. “Well, let’s see. What size were you?” Maternity stores all measured you by what size you were before, which made sense but felt cruel. Like ‘you used to be a six. Used to be.’ I said, ‘six,’ and she looked on the rack and said, “what do you think of this?” She held up a pale mauve dress that came to a couple of inches above the knee. It had sheer shoulders with beading on them and short sleeves.
Laura said, “oooh, that’s really pretty, Jess. Try it on.”
I went into the dressing room and put it on. I looked at myself in the mirror. It was soft, it was feminine and it showed off my shoulders. One of the few saving graces of swimming for exercise was that my arms and shoulders were still toned. It had a peek-a-boo back. It tied at what used to be my waist and showed off Thumper.
I came out and said, ‘how do I look?”
Laura said, “oooh, you look so beautiful. I’m so jealous.”
I teased her. “You could have another one. Then you can borrow it.” She stuck out her tongue at me. “Let’s put this one aside,” I said. “Can I see that black one?” It was a black dress with long lace bell sleeves. I tried it on.
“You look like a pregnant Morticia.” She turned to the saleswoman, who looked horrified, and just said, “she’s my sister. Someone has to say it.” Then she stuck out her tongue and said, “that’ll teach you to say I should have another one. Barbara.”
I tried on a third dress. It was blue, knee length with lace sleeves. It didn’t have a tie which I liked. I was happy to be pregnant and was proud of my bump. I just didn’t know why I was supposed to draw attention to it. It wasn’t as dressy as the mauve. I turned to the saleswoman and Laura. “What do you think?”
“I like the mauve,” said Laura. “It looks gorgeous on you.”
“What if it’s too dressy?”
“I guess. I mean it’s not too dressy, but the other one…”
The saleswoman chimed in, “you could totally accessorize the other one and make it dressy.”
I started to think, ‘well, I have the Tiffany heart, which I love. But, it doesn’t really dress it up. Do pearls go with this?’ I started to laugh to myself. This was me now. I was going to text Jill, but decided to not live my life by committee. Or at least only by small committee. I went with the mauve.
Laura and I had lunch and just chatted. She told me more about the preschool moms. “I mean, I work for a living. Sorry, Jeremy’s not at Goldman Sachs like her husband…”
I decided to lighten the mood. “He’s having an affair right now...with the nanny.”
Laura laughed. “I’ve seen the nanny. She’s like 55, two hundred pounds and from Trinidad. Or maybe Barbados. Or one of those places.”
I smiled. “Exactly. Right now, while Tina and Penelope are at whatever class, he’s bending the nanny over the couch, pumping away…”
She started laughing and covering her mouth, so as not to make too much noise. “Ohmigod, Jess, you are disgusting. Now I won’t be able to look at the nanny….”
I kept going, “And then she’s going to come home. ‘Is that a CUM STAIN on the rug? How do you expect to get a CUM STAIN out of our Persian rug? I simply do not understand this. And then she turns to the nanny, ‘this is coming out of YOUR pay!’”
Laura was giggling so hard, tears were coming out. “You are so disgusting, Jess.” I just smiled.
I walked back with her to her place, holding the dress. “Thanks, Laura.”
“Promise me you’re going to call when something’s bothering you.”
“I will.”
“Promise. Say ‘I promise.’”
“I promise. Thanks.”
“Stop,” she said, hugging me. “I’m your older sister. That’s what I do.”
“I love you, Lolo.” She smiled. I hadn’t called her ‘Lolo’ since I was a baby and couldn’t pronounce ‘Laura.’
“I love you too, Teddie.”
----------------------------------
Friday December 22 - Thumper was as big as kale. I could work with kale. It was dirty, it was sour (thanks, heartburn) but, in the end, it was good for you.
The day had not started off well.
It was 45 degrees and raining, fat intermittent drops.
The train was crowded and we were all crammed in. There were no available seats. I looked down to see a man sitting with his legs spread, pushing the woman next to him against the arm at the end of the row. He just looked at me, like,‘’you chose to be pregnant.’ A woman sitting with her toddler in a stroller looked with tired eyes at me and said, ‘you want?’ I smiled and shook my head. She looked at the guy and mumbled, ‘cabron.’ Asshole.
To add insult to injury, I felt a hand grab my ass. This was not the first time this had happened. As Jessa, I had become inured to the ‘misplaced’ hand and the ‘mistaken’ grab on the train. I hated it and, more importantly, hated that there was little I could do but try and move away. I fantasized about kicking someone in the groin and screaming but knew that, on a train, I was trapped and couldn’t do anything. If we were at a station, I could knee someone and try and run but, with each passing day, that wasn’t an option. Today, however, was something different. I turned around, so that my belly was visible, looked down at it and then glared at him. The bastard just grinned at me and got off at the next stop.
Then, I got to work and walked past the coffee maker. In the past twenty-six weeks, my sense of smell had become acute. Which was great because, for the first three months, I was constantly nauseous. While the nausea had passed, the sense of smell remained and today I was greeted by the smell of coffee. Rich French Roast coffee - coffee I couldn’t have. I sighed and went to work.
It was 11:00 AM. I was in my office, working on a brief, when Mike knocked on the door. "Busy?”
Uh oh. "Kinda."
He ignored me and sat down. "Mind if I sit?" I looked at him and smiled as if to say, 'not really a question, is it?'
"What's up?"
"How are you doing?" he said, looking around.
"Fine," I said slowly.
"So where are you going again?" He picked up my stress ball and started throwing it up in the air.
"Madrid and Barcelona." I watched the ball go up and down, inexplicably transfixed.
"That's terrific. Pack warm clothes. It gets cold at night."
"Ok.... What's up?"
He looked at my bulletin board. I had the new sonogram up. "Is that the baby? Can I see it?" I handed it to him. "That is truly amazing. The detail. You can really see little Michael's face."
"Ha ha. What's up?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing," he said, throwing the ball up one last time and catching it backhanded.
"Huh? Something wrong with my work?"
"Not at all. But something's up lately. What's up?" He kept staring at the sonogram then me.
"Just trying to tie stuff up before I go." Will this be over soon, I thought? I have a lot to do and I don't want to waste too much time.
"I want you to relax while you're away." Now, I was nervous. My heartburn acted up and I tried to surreptitiously rest my hand on my stomach. It comforted me. I thought of Thumper and knew that, no matter what, I had him. Or her. I put my hand under my belly, which Mike couldn’t see because of the desk.
"Ok. I'll have my phone if anyone needs me. And I'll check emails every couple of hours."
"No you won't," he said. "I said relax, and," then he picked up my phone and mimed swiping through, "this is not relaxing. It's called a vacation. Go vacate."
"What if there's an emergency?"
"We’re not criminal lawyers. There’s no emergencies in real estate litigation the week between Christmas and New Year's?" He laughed. "Someone will handle it."
"I'm serious, Mike. I'm working on a lot."
He smiled, "I know. You've billed enough this year. And I want you to relax. You don’t realize it but this is the last relaxing trip you're going to have for years. After this, it's going to be 'how is the baby? Is the baby ok? Call your mom and make sure Mikey’s OK' then, 'no, I'm not buying more plastic crap. You have enough plastic crap.' Then, 'do I hear a party going on?'. This is you and Dan and just you two. Relax. See the sights. Eat some tapas. I'd say have some sangria but that's out, right? But relax. You can look at email once a day and unless it has a 911, you are not to respond." He looked at my eyes, "what's wrong, Jessica?"
"Nothing. "
"Seriously, what? I know that look. Maureen gives it to me all the time. You say nothing’s wrong, I say ‘OK’ and then six weeks later you bring it up. What’s wrong?"
I took a deep breath and thought about what Jodi said. I had spoken with Jodi about this. In her old life, ‘B.L. before Leo,’ she had been an employment attorney, representing management. When I told her what I was thinking, she said be forthright. Respectful but forthright. "What's going on, Mike? I've been getting the shit cases..."
"What?" He started squeezing the stress ball. Hard.
"You've been giving me third year cases to handle. Low grade condo suits. Anyone could do them."
"Anyone could," he said. "But did you notice the name on those cases?". I shrugged. They were various entities. "Ok, did you notice the address?" I looked at one file. It was a very well known address. "You know who's headquartered there," and he gave the name.
"Yeah. That still doesn't explain why you're giving me scut work.”
He let out some air. "All of those entities are owned by the same person. We are trying to steal that work away from Fried Frank. I didn't give it to you because it's scut work, Jessica. I gave it to you because I wanted it done right and efficiently, so they'd see how good we are."
I felt embarrassed. "Oh," was all I could mumble.
"What did you think?"
"I just thought.... I mean Lindsay."
"Lindsay was a fucking idiot, excuse me. You are not. What? You thought because I gave you these cases, I was trying to tell you something? When have I ever not told you something? I remember giving it to you after that Friesland case..." I just looked at my hands. He said, "look at me. You are not going anywhere. Even if you want to, you're not. You think I'm pushing you out because you're having a kid?". I looked at a spot on the wall behind him. "I'm serious."
"I just..."
"Jesus, Jessica. What the hell do you think of me? Have I ever treated you any differently than Jeff or Stephen or anyone?"
"No." I took the stress ball from him and started squeezing it, which made him laugh.
"And I'm not now. You are as valuable a member of this department as anyone, even Jeanine". He said that last part in a lower voice.
I laughed. "I'm telling."
"Then I will fire you. Seriously though, you are not going anywhere. I'm not letting you off that easily."
"Sorry, Mike."
"Don't be. But do me a favor. Two favors. Relax and next time, say something."
"Thanks, Mike.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he said, looking at the sonogram one more time. “Damn, this is amazing,” and he left.
---------------------
Saturday December 23.
“Are you sure this is OK?” I said. We were in the car on the way to the party. I was wearing the dress with my Tiffany heart and flats. I put on heels but my legs started to really hurt. I played with the heart. It reminded me of Danny and made me feel loved. “It’s not too dressy?”
He smiled. “You look gorgeous, Jessa.” He was wearing, as predicted, a navy suit with a blue checked shirt and no tie. He looked really handsome.
“Really? You’re sure? It’s not too dressy? I won’t look ridiculous?” I kept having to adjust my bra straps. They were digging into my shoulders. I really needed to get refitted but didn’t want to deal yet, so I just adjusted constantly.
He laughed. “God, pregnancy has made you more neurotic. Which I didn’t think was possible.”
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to look pretty for you,” I said, reaching over to his waist, opening the zipper and sticking my hand in. I felt bad. Sex had become more and more difficult and I felt guilty.
“Stop, Jessa.”
That was unexpected. “Seriously? I can’t believe you’re turning it down.”
He groaned, “I want it more than anything but I need to focus on the road, Jessa.” He touched my belly. “I need to keep you and Thump safe,” and he touched my belly.
“Fine,” I sighed.
We drove the rest of the way listening to the radio. I alternated touching my belly and flicking the visor up and down, until Danny put his hand on the visor and said, with a smile, “enough.” I started to look at my phone but the motion of the car gave me a headache - like everything else these days. I opened the window a crack and let the cool air blow over my face until we got to Rich and Carrie’s.
We walked up to the house and rang the bell. Carrie met us at the door. She was wearing a black v neck cocktail dress and heels. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks for coming. Ohmigod, Jess, you look gorgeous.” She kissed both of us.
“Stop, I look like a mauve oompa-loompa. This is for you,” I said, as I handed her a bottle of wine, and, “these are for Rich.”
“Oh god, you didn’t…” I had bought her husband Rich black and white cookies from Glaser’s, a bakery on the Upper East Side, near their old apartment. She yelled, “Rich, come here.”
As I saw him walking over, I said, “you said that he liked them and I just thought…”
“You and Jill. I swear. Dan, I love your wife,” which made him smile. “Rich,” she said, handing him the box.
He looked inside the box and grinned from ear to ear. “From Glaser’s? Oh wow….I’m putting these in the downstairs refrigerator.”
She rolled her eyes. “Child...what do you say? I swear to god he’s like Noah,” her eight year old.
He gave me a kiss. “Thank you Jessica.” He stuck his hand out, “Rich Fung, Dan. Good to meet you,” he said, “let’s leave these two,” and they walked off.
Carrie and I walked into the living room. I was on the dressier side, but not so dressy that I felt awkward. Jill was wearing a black dress and standing with their old preschool friends, Andrea and Elissa. I stopped for a second and pretended to get a drink. I watched the way they interacted. Andrea stood with her hip facing to whomever she was talking, with her shoulders tensed. Elissa was always standing with one foot back and Jill was Evelyn, although she’d never admit it. She had an open, welcoming stance, her arms hanging loosely by her sides but the look in her eyes told you that she was ready for whatever happened. Jill saw me and smiled, “Hey sis!” She gave me a kiss and brought me over.
Andrea and Elissa gave me the once over. Andrea was wearing a red v neck dress with three quarter sleeves and Elissa a pale blue shift, that complemented her coloring. They were all wearing heels which made me feel even more oompa-loompa like.
Andrea looked me up and down but, unlike the bat mitzvah, gave me a big smile. “Look at you. You look absolutely gorgeous. How are you feeling?”
I smiled and said, “Thank you for lying. Fine. The usual fun stuff.” They all laughed knowingly and she said, ‘ah, the fun stuff. How far along are you?’ “Twenty-six weeks.”
“Constipated yet?” Andrea asked.
I looked at all of them and they all looked perfectly fine with it so I said, “oh god, yes. I feel like…”
“You have your period times ten with the bloating?” Elissa said, laughing. “I hated that.”
“Ohmigod, yes. It is fucking killing me. That and the hemorrhoids,” I said, laughing.
Just then, Danny, Rich and Andrea’s husband Bryan walked in. Danny was holding a glass of scotch in one hand, and seltzer in the other.
“Hey, honey,” he said, handing me the seltzer. “I thought you might want a drink.” He leaned down and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks, honey,” I said.
“Bryan, you remember Jessica,” Andrea said, with a big smile. He clearly didn’t. “From the bat mitzvah? Jill’s sister-in-law?”
He smiled. “Oh yeah,” he said, looking through me. “I remember now.” I nervously smoothed my dress and wondered if the shoulders looked ok. I hoped my bra strap wasn’t showing. “Congrats, you two,” he said, mostly to Danny, who smiled and shook his hand.
Jill got up and punched Danny in the arm, then gave him a kiss. “I was wondering when you’d come over.” I looked at him towering over her and smiled.
“Did you really care?” he half-joked.
“No, but I still wondered.” She introduced him again to everybody and they all just looked him up and down with contempt, which I appreciated.
He laughed, held up his glass and said, “Very nice seeing you all again. Excuse me.” I watched him walk away, him to his room and me in mine.
Jill smiled and said, “1 to 10, how much do you want to kill him?”
I smiled, “3.” Then, I saw him come back in and take a piece of tuna sashimi from the table. No tuna for me - mercury. “Sorry, 4,” which got a laugh from the women. Then, he took a piece of brie. Not that either - might not be pasteurized.
“5?” Elissa said, as we watched Danny leave the table. “Anyway, enough about him. You look gorgeous. I love that dress.”
I smiled. “Thank you. Yours too. That is a great color.” It reminded me of the dress that Laura and I saw, the one I wondered whether it would ever fit me again. “Yours too, Andrea.”
She smiled. “Thank you. You really look amazing. You really are glowing.” I looked at Jill, who smiled and gave a slight shrug.
“So, how did Chloe’s concert go? How was the solo?” Sarah had told me how Chloe (Andrea’s daughter) had a solo on ‘Let It Snow’ at the school concert. I asked partly because I cared (Chloe had come in one more time and was better without an audience) and partly to keep her off guard.
It worked. “Uh, great. Thanks for asking.” I smiled and turned to Elissa. “How’s Matt,” her sixteen year old, “doing? How’s the driving coming along?” I didn’t mind Elissa actually, but figured I should be fair to all parties.
“Well, he’s driving Mark,” her husband, “crazy, thanks for asking,” she laughed. “He’s doing fine though. I’m not looking forward to him being behind the wheel. It’s funny. I remember him in one of those little mechanical cars in the mall and now....it goes fast.” I started to tear up, thinking of Thumper driving. I shook my head, realizing that he should probably leave my uterus before he got behind the wheel. She looked at me and smiled. “You have a while yet. But it goes fast, faster than you think.”
Andrea laughed, “The years and the months fly by, but you’re going to learn exactly how long twenty-four hours is.” Then, they started on college admissions. Matt was a sophomore in high school.
“So, where is he going to do his volunteer project?” Jill said. She turned to me. “You have to do a volunteer project now to get into a good school. It’s expected.” Oh, I thought.
“He’s thinking of doing two weeks in a village in Senegal. They have them put up solar arrays for power.”
“That’s terrific,” Andrea said. “Sherri Marks’ son did something like that. He dug wells in Ghana, and he just got into Amherst.” I smiled, wondering what the causal link was. Was he mediocre, but Amherst said, “well, he dug a well, so come on in?’ I sat and listened to them for a while, about the college admissions process and wondered what Thumper would have to do.
Elissa read my mind. She smiled and said, “By the time yours is ready, he’ll probably have to travel to space to get in,” which made me laugh. Which in turn made me sneeze. Which in turn made me pee. Apparently, Thumper was putting pressure on my internal organs - including my bladder.
“Damn it,” I said. “I snissed myself.” The Bump gave it the cute name of ‘snissing.’ On top of everything, I had to wear a panty liner all the time. Which went along with the dress shields in my bra to prevent leakage.
Elissa said, “Snissed?”
Jill said that I turned red. “I sneeze…” I said.
And Elissa smiled and sighed. “And then you pee yourself. Snissing. Real cute. After Lily, I had no bladder control for years.” She looked at me and said, ‘sorry.’ ‘Sisterhood forever,’ I thought.
I shrugged. “It’s not enough that I spent the first three months teaching myself to hold back my own hair when I puked…”
Jill smiled. “You get to leak like a sieve. Come on, I’ll show you where the bathroom is,” she said. I felt mortified, like a child being taken to clean herself up.
She showed me where the bathroom was and I said, “I’ll be fine. Go back to your friends. Maybe, I’ll get something to eat after.” I sat down, cleaned myself off and put a new pad in my panties.
I walked out of the bathroom and stopped for a second, thinking about everything. I wondered if all the leakage this was nature’s way of getting me ready to care for an infant. De-sensitizing me to bodily fluids.
I was just thinking when I heard Yoram say, “I said, ‘Ma shlomech ima?” It meant ‘How are you, mommy?’ I liked that.
I gave him a kiss. “Oh hi, Yoram. Sorry, I space sometimes.”
He laughed, “I went through it twice. Pregnancy brain, she called it. How are you doing? You eat yet? You should eat something.” I smiled and he took by the arm into the dining room. I looked at the buffet. I half-heartedly picked up some baby lamb chops and grilled vegetables; I knew those were safe.
He laughed, picking up some sashimi. “Tuna won’t kill you. In Israel, they eat whatever. And smoke. In the delivery room. The doctors. ‘OK, here it comes,’ and then he mimed a doctor looking, then taking a drag off a cigarette and exhaling, ‘it’s a girl.’”
I laughed. “Don’t make me laugh, Yoram.”
He smiled. “Sorry. So how are you doing?”
“I’m doing,” I said, with a smile. Yoram brought out the fatalist in me. “How about you? Did the kids get off OK?” Jill had to grade end of semester exams, so she sent Sarah and Yoni to Florida for the week earlier that day.
“Fine,” he sighed.
He didn’t say that he was worried, but I knew he was. I was worried too, but I wouldn’t let on. Instead, I said, with what I hope he knew was sincerity. “I spoke to her honor and I laid down the law. I told her that I better not get any phone calls and she promised….”
He smiled, a sincere smile. “Thanks, Jess,” he said, taking me by the arm. “I’m not looking forward to it, you know.”
“I told you. I spoke to her. And I told Sarah to call me if she starts with her.” I was going to be in Spain. Any calls would be on a delay but he didn’t need to know that.
“I know. I know. You really think it’ll be OK?” He was never worried. He wasn’t naive about what went on. He just never worried.
“They have to survive driving with Marty…” which made him laugh. “Nah, I think so. She knows better now and Sarah knows better.”
He gave me another kiss. “Thank you, Jessica. For everything.”
I smiled and just said, “Please.” I looked toward the family room where I saw Danny in conversation. “How’s he doing in there?”
He smiled. “Why are you worried about him? He’s doing fine. When I left, they were talking about golf…”
I smiled, “Your favorite topic, I know.” He mimed pointing a gun at his head and pulling the trigger.
He said, “It’s fine. He’s fine. They all talk the same language. How about you? How’s Andrea?” He had a devilish grin.
I swatted him. “Stop. She’s my new best friend.”
He looked at the women and smiled. “I’m sure.”
“The college stuff is giving me a headache though. This one is going to Ghana to dig wells. This one is going to Senegal to put in solar arrays....”
“Ma’azeh (what) solar arrays in Senegal?” Clearly, whatever the men were talking about, it wasn’t this.
I smiled. “Elissa’s son Matt. That’s his project.”
“I don’t know. We all went to the army and came out. I think I did OK for myself.”
“Imagine what you would have done had you gone to Ghana.” I lowered my voice, “is it just me or is it all bullshit. Like I want to ask a college admissions counselor if they actually believe this shit…” He laughed. I continued, “you want to impress me? Go raise money so someone who knows how to dig a well can dig a well. Or study hydrology, so you’re not in the way when you go to dig your well. Better yet, go help some poor people in the Bronx.”
He smiled and, in a low voice, said. “Brown people there, good. Brown people here, not so much.” I started to giggle and clenched my vagina, which was surprisingly difficult, but the crisis was averted. “You know what the sad part is?” I smiled, and he said “you’ll do it and I’ll do it.” The sad part was he was right. “Anyway, we should probably get back.” He gave me another kiss. “I’m glad you’re here.”
----------------
We had an early flight on the 24th. I wanted to get to Madrid as early in the day as possible.
The alarm rang at 5:15. “Fuuuuck,” Danny said.
I gave him a peck on the cheek. “You can sleep for another fifteen minutes, at least. I’ll get ready first.” He pulled the pillow over his face and I went to shower. I stood in the shower, letting the water run over me while I talked to the baby, in a high-pitched sing-song voice. ‘Hey, Thump. Guess where you’re going today? Spain. Vamos a España. We are going to Spain. We are going to have so much fun. You and me and daddy. I am very excited….” I felt Danny staring at me. “What?”
He smiled. “Nothing. I just love watching you…”
I smiled, “Perv.”
“Not even close,” he said, wrapping my towel around me as I got out and giving me a hug from behind. “You are going to be the best mommy.” I smiled, holding back my thoughts. We were going to have a babymoon. A relaxing, romantic babymoon. Without my neuroses.
I put on a blue dress with black horizontal stripes, and black tights. For some reason, maternity clothes tended to horizontal stripes, which made me laugh. I’m not fat enough? You need to make look fatter? I took a selfie in the mirror. I went to post it to Facebook with the caption ‘babymoon’ with little baby emojis and smileys and stopped. I was a woman, not a fourteen-year old girl. Instead, I went with “Off to Spain. My belly arrives at 3. I get there at 4.”
Danny came up behind me, put his hands under my belly and said, “Look at you, all dressed up.”
“Stop,” I said, turning to my arms on his shoulders and kiss him. “I wanted to look pretty. To feel pretty.” I needed to feel pretty. Otherwise, I’d feel bloated. I hadn’t flown pregnant and could only imagine what that would do to my system.
He kissed me. “You’re beautiful. I love you, Jessa. Are you ready?” I smiled. “Paperbacks, right?” I smiled.
We took a cab to the airport, holding each other’s hands. Mercifully, the security line was short and I didn’t have to go through the x-ray machine. We were walking through the terminal when Danny stopped at the first class lounge.
“Um, honey, you have to have first class tickets…” He smiled and showed his phone to the guard, who waved us through. “Danny? What’s up?”
He smiled and said, “Thank Bruce. He gave us some of his miles. Between his and mine, here we are. Water? Juice? Muffin?”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve thanked him.”
“He wanted it to be a surprise for you.” He opened his arms wide. “Surprise!”
I started to cry. Stupid hormones. “Well, I have to thank him,” I said, taking out my phone.
He put his hand over mine. “No phone. Relax. Doctor’s orders.”
I smiled, “What doctor?”
“Doctor me.” Which was cute. I expected something like ‘Dr. Love.’
-----
Our hotel was in the Barceloneta district of Barcelona. Near the beach, and pretty central. Just walking distance from the train station where we arrived. Given Thumper, I didn’t want to do much walking.
We arrived at night, having taken a train from Madrid. The receptionist, who was a tired looking Eastern European woman, greeted us as we entered. I let Danny do the talking. I should have practiced my Spanish, as I rarely had the chance to speak, but I was tired. Instead I looked around. The hotel was originally built in the late nineteenth century (I’d been online and checked) and the style owed a lot to Art Nouveau. I’d been reading about the Catalan Renaixença and Modernisme and was eager to learn more. In the center of the foyer was a metal cage for the elevator. The cage was made out of iron, welded into a beautiful pattern resembling the leafs of flowers.
After we got the keys, I watched Danny wrestle to get the thing down. The receptionist had to come over and explain the trick. By the time it reached us Danny didn’t look too happy.
As the elevator went up I rested my head on his shoulder, hoping to show I appreciated his effort.
He sighed, “You couldn’t book a regular hotel?”
I had booked the trip. I could have booked a Radisson or a Hilton, which would have been cheaper and more modern, but I wanted this trip to be special. I wanted to stay in a classic old world European hotel. I hadn’t planned on the elevator though. “I thought this would be more romantic,” I smiled, looking into his eyes. Which proceeded to roll like slot machines.
The corridors were mostly quiet. In fact, we didn’t see anyone until we reached our room. Two women, one tall, with long hair and bangs, the other with short hair dyed red. They smiled and nodded at us as they opened their door. Danny was struggling with the key in the lock, so the taller woman leaned over and showed him how you needed to turn the handle at the same time.
“Thanks,” he said with a smile, although I could tell he was frustrated.
“Not a problem,” she smiled back, and then was gone. Just strangers passing in the night.
The room made up for the lack of service. It was beautiful, and decorated in the same Art Nouveau theme as the rest of the hotel. By the look of it, they were original features. Danny didn’t seem to see any of it and simply flopped on the bed, turning the widescreen TV on in an almost seamless movement.
“You OK?”
“Sure, sorry. I just need ten minutes.”
I lay down next to him nuzzling myself against his side. Not so easy these days with Thumper getting in between us. I felt his arm coming around me. I was only half watching the TV, just enough to notice he’d settled on a woman’s soccer match.
“Who’s playing?” I whispered.
Danny leaned forward, squinting, “ENG verses ESP, I’m guessing England vs Spain.”
I drifted off after that. I half remember Danny getting me undressed and into bed. The next thing I remembered was waking up to the sun coming in through the window. The clock by the bed said 6:46am, so I just rolled back asleep.
By the time we got up, the hotel was busy. A new receptionist, this time a young Spanish woman, greeted us as we came out of the elevator. Danny went to get some tourist information while I sat and people watched. I was surprised by how full the hotel was. Most seemed to be young Europeans and I spent a happy ten minutes trying to guess what country they were from. I half glanced down at the papers on the table, all were European, I didn’t see any American ones. There was a large picture of Trump on the front of most of them. I flipped the ones at the top over. This was a vacation, I didn’t want to know.
Danny came and sat next to me, “We’ve got a table in the restaurant. It’ll be about ten minutes.” His demeanor had completely changed from the night before.
The couple from the night before walked into the restaurant. “Do you mind if I take that one,” the taller one said, pointing to the Guardian, “I want to read about the football.” I hadn’t noticed her British accent the night before.
“Be my guest,” I said. The shorter one smiled at me, her eyes looking me up and down and, for a brief but noticeable second, alighting on my stomach. I smiled back, having become used to it, and she looked away.
Danny smiled, “I watched the game against Spain yesterday. Your women did well,” he said, putting his arm around me. “Do you know Barcelona?”
“I studied here, why?”
“Anything you’d recommend?” I was slightly annoyed, having planned what we were going to see. Then, I thought, ‘if she studied here.’ I wondered if he was enjoying being able to talk in English with someone other than me.
She smiled, “well, if you’re interested in football, go see Camp Nou, where FC Barcelona plays.” She took a piece of paper and pen and started writing one of those impossibly long European numbers. “You can do a tour…”
Her partner gave me a smile and a quick eye roll and said, “it has the best views. On a clear day you can see the sea in one direction, and the mountains in the other.”
The taller one smiled and continued, “if you’re in luck and they’re playing one of the midtable teams, you may be able to get tickets in the visitor’s section.”
“Thanks! Er…” I said.
“Oh, sorry, Liz,” I introduced the two of us and then she was off.
The rest of the day was busy. First we walked up Las Ramblas. I was disappointed as it seemed very touristy. Lots of stalls selling the sort of cheap crap that gets aimed at gullible American tourists. We had more luck with the Picasso Museum. Danny smiled, “in context, I totally get it,” he said. “Like the Warhol exhibit at the Tate. Sometimes, you just need to see the work together to get it.”
That led us into the narrow streets of the old medieval town. According to my Lonely Planet, Barcelona is split into three sections. There’s the old winding streets of the medieval city that makes up the most of the city center. Then there’s the grid system of the later, 19th century buildings, with its beautiful apartment buildings to the north. Then there’s the more modern city that surrounds that, which grew after the death of Franco.
We spent most of the day wandering, interspersed with sitting in cafes to give my feet a rest. I was glad we’d come in winter, I don’t know how I would have coped in the heat.
Sitting in a café overlooking one of the beaches, I put my feet up on one of the chairs. Without asking, Danny started massaging them.
“Oooo, that’s good.” I slipped down in my chair.
“How about the beach tomorrow?” he said, in a tone that went between pleading and commanding.
I looked up at the sky. Compared to New York, it wasn’t exactly wintery, but the sun was weak and the sky was equal parts blue and grey cloud. “I mean, it’s not exactly beach weather,” and I smiled thinking of Sarah’s bat mitzvah and ‘beach party chic,’ “but OK. We’ll take it easy.”
We were wandering around, slightly lost when we came across a little square near their main modern art gallery, the MACBA. Danny’s phone was struggling to get a signal so I pulled out the little tourist map the receptionist had given us. Two old women approached me. The first put her hand on my belly, while the second took my arm. I didn’t speak at first, I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I got that, for the most part, they were cooing over Thumper. By this point I was used to being manhandled as a pregnant woman, but this seemed to be invasive by any standards. I looked over at Danny who caught my eye.
As soon as they caught a look of him, they seemed to evaporate. It took me only a moment to realise something was up.
“Danny, my purse!” I yelled.
My ears started to ring. I could hear shouting. I remember two blond girls, Dutch I think, leading me over to a little seat. There was an older Spanish man talking angrily and before I realized it two cops were standing over me.
The next hour or so was a nightmare. The cops were friendly enough. They took mine and Danny’s statements. I just kept asking was about my passport. I wasn’t worried about the credit cards - they could be canceled and new ones sent; besides, Danny still had his wallet. I only had 50 euros. But, my passport was lost and I started to panic. Why had I taken my passport? How long would I be stuck? Would Thumper be born here? Did that mean he or she couldn’t be president? Would our health insurance cover me out here? It took Danny a while to calm me down.
By the time we got back to the hotel, we were exhausted. The American consulate had been amazing. I’d have my replacement passport in the morning, but I still felt like something had gone wrong. Our babymoon was spoiled. Worse yet, I had read about these sorts of things and had still fallen for it. I had put Thumper in danger. We headed to our room and ordered up through room service then spent the next few hours mindlessly watching Spanish soaps and game shows.
Danny fell asleep around ten-ish but I couldn’t settle. The day’s events had set Thumper and he was taking his frustration out on my bladder. The image I had in my head was of a pinata. After the fifth trip to the toilet, I decided to go explore, hoping to calm both of us down.
I ended up in the bar where I ordered a club soda with lime, wishing I could have something stronger. There was a pianist in the corner playing old jazz numbers and, for the first time in hours, I could feel myself relaxing. Looking around the near empty bar, I spotted one familiar face.
“Hi Liz, would you mind me sitting down?” I felt bad when I noticed she she was reading.
“Hi, Jessica, isn’t it? Please do.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your reading.”
She looked at her book, “Don’t worry. ‘Homage to Catalonia.’ “I read it every time I’m here. And, so far, I was just staring at the page. Please sit, I need the company.”
For a few minutes, we both watched the pianist quietly.
“Off on your own tonight?” I asked, realizing it was relatively early.
“No, I just can’t sleep. Kate was out like a light, but I was just lying there. I thought these might help,” she held up her book in her right hand and a glass of whiskey in the left.
I laughed, “Well, at least I can still read,” then I patted my belly. She laughed as well. “Do you mind me asking what you’re doing in Barcelona? Come to see old haunts?”
She looked at me for a while, swirling around her drink, “Sort of,” she said, cryptically.
“Spy mission?” I joked. She gave me a quick, ‘heh’ and a look. “Everything OK?” I asked.
She took a sip from her glass, “can I trust you?” I nodded, hopefully looking concerned enough. Now, I really began to wonder. A complete stranger asks that and your mind wanders. OK, my mind wanders. “Please don’t tell anyone, but we are here for fertility treatment. Apparently Barcelona is the egg donor capital of the world.” I realized why Kate was looking at me.
I would never tell anyone. Besides who would I tell? I went with, “Well, I’m not sure if it applies here, but say, ‘should I get sued in New York?’”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “What?”
I smiled, “Just say it.”
“OK...should I get sued in New York?” I thought I saw her shift down the bar.
“No, you shouldn’t. Now, this is privileged.” She continued to stare at me. “Lawyer humor,” I said, weakly. “Anyway, egg donor capital? I mean my friend Michelle and her wife did IUI in the states last year. The baby’s two and a half months now, Sebastian. He’s adorable,” I babbled. I went to take out my phone and then thought, ‘oh, shit, I have to replace it.’ Then I remembered it was in the safe, where I promised Danny and Mike I’d leave it. “But, they needed the, uh, other stuff…”
She laughed, “Very delicately put. I’m transgender and Kate’s family has a genetic illness we don’t want to pass on.” She took a big sip of her whisky. The pianist had finished and we all clapped politely.
“I get it. We’re both Jewish, Eastern European. We had all these rounds of testing before and I still have to do it now. Apparently, generations of marrying in the tribe has deleterious effects. Who knew?” I laughed a little, she didn’t.
“Yes, well, this is a nasty one,” and she left it hanging there.
I sat thinking for a while, my hand resting on Thumper. “Would you mind if I asked you a question? It’s kind of personal...”
She laughed to herself. “We’ve covered personal, haven’t we?”
“When did you know you wanted to be a woman? I mean, did you always know?” She looked at me directly. She had good, clear skin, but you could see the stress lines around her eyes. “Sorry that was totally inappropriate. None of my business.”
She looked at me thoughtfully. “On some level, I always knew, but it took me a long time, and about four years of therapy to realize what it was I was feeling and then be able to articulate it.” Silence fell and I feared I’d gone too far. I started to wonder if I always knew too but hadn’t realized or acknowledged it. “The hardest bit was accepting that was what I wanted. We like to think we’ve evolved as a society but as the referendum...”
“Brexit?”
She shuddered, “Please don’t mention that word. The referendum and, other… er.... elections.” I didn’t need to think too hard, remembering what Michelle said when they started trying, how they wanted to be sure they could still do it. I debating saying something but she continued, “but we really haven’t. We all,” and she half-smiled, including me in her ‘we,’ “pay lip service to difference, but we don’t mean it. Male means power. Female means weak, different,” which made me think about the past few weeks, months. “I’m a suspect. I hear it, feel it all the time, even from so-called feminists. My choice,” she said, dripping with sarcasm, “makes no sense to them.” I could see she was getting a little agitated and put my hand on hers, to, I don’t know? Comfort her? Show solidarity? It seemed to work. She smiled and looked down at her empty glass, “Sorry. I’m going to get another drink. Will you keep me company? Make me look like less of an alcoholic?”
We sat at the bar for a while and listened to the music. We talked about work briefly, but mostly about ourselves and our partners.
“Tell Kate to get ready is all I have to say,” I said, to Liz’s laughter. “You don’t want to know all the gross stuff I go through regularly.”
She laughed, “I’ve heard.”
“Well, seeing is believing. I mean I hope you’ll see.” She gave me an indulgent smile. “I mean, even with all the gross stuff,” and I put my hand on my belly, “it’s truly amazing. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” I wouldn’t. I had never articulated it but I wouldn’t. If we had never changed, I would never have known, but I was glad it was me. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being such a girl about it.”
She smiled. “If you can’t be a girl about this…”
-------------------
We woke up and then went to the beach and walked along. Before we left the hotel, I went to a shop and bought the cheapest pocketbook that I could find, hoping that it would distract the thieves. I hated being on edge like that but facts were facts. I started to beat myself up mentally over falling for it when Danny smiled and said, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t beat yourself up over yesterday. It could happen to anyone. They’re replacing your passport. You’ll get new credit cards. You lost what 50 euros? That’s like $60. It sucks but that’s like dinner at the diner. You’re safe, I’m safe, Thumper,” and he put his hand on my belly, “is safe. When we get old, you’ll have a story to tell at the pool - ‘I did not like Spain. We went when I was pregnant with Emma and they robbed me. A pregnant woman if you can believe that…”
I laughed. “Stop making me laugh. It makes me pee.”
He kissed me on the cheek. “You are so cute - ‘it makes me pee,’” he said, in a feeble attempt at a cutesy voice. “We’re great. We’re going to have a great time. Right?”
I smiled. “Yeah. We are.” I kicked off my sandals and he leaned over to pick them up. “Thanks.” I walked, the cold sand between my toes. I wanted to tell him about Kate and Liz but promised that I wouldn’t. Thumper was calm. I think the walking made him relaxed. I looked up at Danny and smiled. We rented two beach chairs and an umbrella and just sat, looking out at the Mediterranean and holding hands.
At one point, Danny said, “what’s it like?”
I looked up from my book, “the book? It’s fine.” I was reading ‘Hero of the Boer War.’ “History. Churchill. It’s good. You can read it when I’m done.”
“No, I meant being pregnant,” he said, intently studying the sea.
I laughed. “Glad to see you’ve been paying attention the past five and a half months. You’ve been to the appointments. You’ve seen me puke.”
He smiled, still focusing on the sea. “Is that it?”
I ran my finger up and down his palm. I wanted to put my head on his shoulder, but we were in separate chairs. Six months ago, I could’ve curled up in his lap and it would’ve been cute. Now, we’d be replacing a chair. “Is everything OK, Danny?”
The smile left his face. “I just wanted to know. What’s it like? What’s it like to be pregnant?”
I thought for a second, about how to articulate it. I didn’t know what he wanted to hear. I knew what I felt but something was up. I said, “it’s amazing, in every sense of the word.”
He turned to look at me and said, in a grave tone, “what do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve seen the gross stuff so far. I don’t need to explain puking and snissing and leaking, do I?” He laughed and I continued, “but you’ve seen the sonograms too.” I took his hands in mine. “That’s ours. That’s our baby. You and me,” and I started to tear up.
He smiled, “What’s that like? For you, I mean. To have her wave the wand over your belly and know that’s part of you?”
I smiled. “Amazing. I would never have guessed it in a million years but it’s really amazing. Every day, I think about it. I wake up and I look at my belly and I think, ‘I’m having a baby.’ I kiss the sonogram good morning every morning at work, and think, ‘that little baby is in me, it’s me, I give it life.’” He was smiling but I could see the tears in his eyes. “Are you OK? Is this bothering you?”
His voice cracked a little and then he tried to regain composure. “No. I was just wondering. We spend so much time on the day to day and I never asked you. But I’m good,” he lied. He got off his chair and knelt in the sand, putting his hand on my belly. “You’re the mommy,” and he kissed my belly, then my lips.
“You sure?” I said, not really believing him.
“Positive,” he smiled, looking out at the sea again.
------------------
I woke up early the next day. We had plans to see Parc Guell. When I said that I had wanted to see Spain, in large part it was because of Gaudi. I had seen the pictures of Parc Guell and Sagrada Familia cathedral and I had to see them in person. When I was a kid, I liked drawing. I had half-entertained being an architect until, in 8th grade, we had to take aptitude tests. They had us put down our choices of careers. They were legendarily awful at predicting what you should be. They told my friend Jordan’s uncle, who was the CEO of a bank, that he should be a farmer. I put down architect as one of my choices and I swear the test came back - ‘look, we know we’re usually way off base on this, but we’re not here. You have no mechanical aptitude or spatial relations. At all. Please don’t be an architect. Please.’ Anyway, notwithstanding my lack of aptitude, I still loved architecture and Gaudi’s colors and fantastical swooping buildings were as much art as architecture. Form didn’t follow function and that was what I wanted. “I’m so excited,” I said, putting on my sneakers. I had decided to wear leggings, a sweatshirt, my down vest and my sneakers. I debated, not wanting to look like the ugly American tourist but, in the end, went with comfort - and varicose vein prevention. I knew the walking would put pressure on my legs and, while I wanted to be stylish and look European (or what I thought was European), I wanted to keep my legs more. “Are you excited?”
Danny smiled, putting on his jeans and sneakers. He was not concerned about fitting in. He had said, ‘we’re Americans, Jessa. It’s fairly obvious.’ He gave me a kiss. “Are you sure about this? I looked at it. It’s a pretty steep climb.”
I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Are you scared you can’t keep up with me? I ran. I swim. I will be fine.”
“Promise me you’ll stop if you get tired.”
“Promise me you will,” I said, joking. Sort of.
“I’m serious,” he said.
“I promise, Danny.” I was annoyed. I was pregnant. I wasn’t an invalid. I could do this.
I had downloaded the map to the Parc to my phone. As a concession to Danny, I had turned off the data plan, so that I could access the map while not checking e-mails.
We approached the Parc from the southside, the Carrer D’Olot. I was excited and was talking to my belly.
“Hey Thumper,” I said, not really caring if anyone was listening. “Mommy is really excited. We are going to see the Parc Guell. These are a lot of buildings designed by a famous architect, Antonio Gaudi. When you get older, I’ll show you pictures and, if you’re good, which you will be, because you’re the best baby, I’ll take you here and you can see for yourself. Would you like that?” Thumper gave a little kick. “I think Thump likes that.”
Danny smiled at me and shook his head. He leaned down, “Mommy likes art, Thump. A lot.” I stuck out my tongue.
You enter the park up a long flight of stairs. “Hey Thump,” I said, looking at my belly, “these are the dragon steps. A dragon, grrr….”
Danny laughed and said, “You are so cute.” Then, he looked at the stairway, “are you sure you can handle those?”
I looked at him and said, “can you?”
He looked concerned. “Seriously. Those are really steep.” He saw a taxi going up hill. “Can we take a cab?”
“No,” I snapped. “I want to see the stairs. There are all kind of mosaics and statues on the way. I want to see everything.”
“Please, Jessa. Just promise you’ll be careful. Please.”
I was annoyed. I wasn’t an invalid. I was pregnant. I wasn’t running a marathon. I was climbing stairs. I climbed stairs all the time. I could do this.
At the entrance to the stairway was a multicolored mosaic dragon. “Look at this,” I said. “Look at how amazing this is. Look at the detail.”
Danny looked at it, “it is amazing.”
“Don’t placate me,” I joked.
“I’m not. Stand next to it. Let me take a picture.” I stood next to it, smiled and pointed at my belly. I wanted something to show Thumper when he or she was born. “OK, now take one of me.”
A couple came over and the man said, in a British accent, “would you like me to take one of both of you?” I handed over the camera, trusting that he wouldn’t take it. I hated that I thought it, but I wouldn’t have done it had they looked like the two women from the other day.
He took the picture and the woman said, in a Scandinavian accent, “so, how far along are you?” Into the box again.
“Five and a half months,” I said, with a smile.
“Congratulations. Your first?” I smiled and nodded. “It goes fast. Our son is studying here now.”
Danny smiled. “He must be his from his first marriage. You’re far too young.”
The woman smiled, “And you’re far too blind or far too bad a liar, young man. Congratulations again.”
We started walking up the steps. I could feel my legs tightening up, which the Bump said was to be expected. My joints and ligaments were stretching, preparing my body to give birth. About halfway up, we stopped to look at a dragon carving on the wall. “Isn’t that something?”
“Are you getting out of breath?” he said, with concern.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Besides, we have tickets for the 1:00 PM. tour.”
“So what? If you’re tired, rest. We’ll get other tickets.”
“I’m not tired,” I said, bouncing on my toes to try and stretch my calves.
“Yes, you are,” he said. “You’re trying to stretch your legs. Don’t lie to me.”
“I am fine,” I said, through gritted teeth. “If you want to stop, just say so and I’ll meet you up there. But we have tickets and I. Am Not. Missing. This.”
About three-quarters of the way up, I felt light headed, like I was going to collapse. I paused and leaned against the wall and started to slump.
“Jessa!” Danny yelled, putting his arm around me and gently putting me on the steps. People walking up tried not to stare. “Goddamnit, Jessa!”
“People are looking, Danny…” I said, trying and failing to stand up. “Come on, let’s finish.”
“I don’t care. Goddamnit, Jessica,” he said, using my full name. “Sit down!”
“Danny! Don’t talk to me that way!”
“What way? Like you’re being pigheaded? You are and you know it.” I was. He was right. I wouldn’t admit that though, no matter what my body was saying.
“I want to get up there,” I huffed.
“I don’t care what’s up there! There is nothing up there that is as important as you and that baby!” he said, pointing at my stomach. People stopped pretending. They were now staring. ‘Come one, come all, come see the crazy pregnant woman climb stairs. And fail!’ “That’s all I care about.”
“And I don’t?” Now I was angry. I was wrong, but I was angry nonetheless.
“Of course, you do,” he said, sitting down next to me. I put my head on his shoulder and took a sip from his water bottle. The crowd started to disperse. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just winded is all.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I knew that. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“I can do this,” I said, starting to tear up. “I can totally do this.”
“Jessa, I hate to break this to you but you’re pregnant. There’s nothing wrong with getting tired or taking a cab. Your body is changing.”
I smiled, “I’ve heard.”
“I’m serious. I know you. I know that you want to do everything just like you used to but maybe you can’t. At least not now. And that’s OK.”
“No, it isn’t. I can do this.”
He put his arm over my belly. “No, you can’t. If something happens to you, do you know how much trouble I’ll be in?”
I smiled, thinking of my dad trying to fight him. And then my mom and Evelyn joining in. I laughed, “I’ll take it slowly, OK?”
He smiled and rolled his eyes, “and they call Sammie the Bull.” He took my arm and we walked slowly up the steps.
When we got to the top, it was 1:15. “Dammit. We missed our tour.”
Danny smiled and walked over to the ticket agent, while I sat on the bench. “Perdone me, estábamos en la excursión de una hora, pero,” and he pointed at me, “mi esposa esta embarazada y ella decidió intentar subir las escaleras.” My wife is pregnant and she decided to climb the stairs. The agent laughed and Danny continued. “Yo se, yo se. Es posible para cambiar estos boletos?” Can we exchange these tickets? The ticket agent smiled and said to me, “ven aca.” Come here.
I walked over. “Si?”
She smiled. “Cuantos meses?”
“Cinco y media.”
She smiled, handing us two new tickets. “Estos son para el tour especial. Pero, no puedes bajar las escaleras. Prometeme!” These are for the special tour. But, you cannot go down the stairs. Promise me!
I smiled and sighed. “Si. Muchas gracias.”
“Por supuesto. Buena suerte.”
Danny smiled, “See? It’s all OK. You’re not missing anything.”
“I’m not a child,” I said, taking another sip of water.
In a patronizing voice, he said, “no, you aren’t. You’re a big girl,” he said, spreading his arms wide.
I laughed in spite of myself. “Shut up.”
He gave me a kiss and said, “seriously though. Please. “
We walked through the Monumental Zone, the guide explaining the architecture and history, how it was all supposed to be an estate.
“Look at this, Danny,” I said, as we passed through the ‘Laundry Room Portico,’ its walls shaped liked waves, “Isn’t this amazing? “ I wanted to tell Thumper what we were seeing, but decided that would look ridiculous. Danny and the guide smiled every time I spoke, the guide periodically congratulating me on ‘having done your Gaudi studies.’
At the end of the tour, we were headed to La Sagrada Familia, the cathedral on which Gaudi was working before he was unexpectedly killed. It was a forty-minute walk away. I felt up to it but decided to take a taxi. After all, I had promised the tour operator.
It was about 5 PM when we finished the tour. In the states, we would have waited a couple of hours and then went to dinner. However, a restaurant in Spain at 7 is like a restaurant in the US at 3 PM. The chairs are up and the staff listlessly milling about, getting ready for the dinner rush at 11. Thump, however, was not interested in the Spanish customs on dining, He was hungry. We went to a bar and had tapas. I was picking at a plate of olives and cheese when I looked at Danny, “I love you.” I looked at him in his button down shirt, the way the green of the shirt brought out the flecks of green in his eyes. The way he smiled. I looked at him and hoped that our baby would have that smile. It’s funny. It’s what I always loved about Jess. Intellectually, I knew I was looking at the old me but, when Danny smiled, I saw the smile I fell in love with. The one that made me feel safe, feel loved.
He smiled, “I love you too, Jessa. What brought that on?”
“Nothing,” I said, taking his hand. “I’m just really happy, you know? Are you having a good time?”
“Of course.”
“You’re not bored?”
He smiled, “of course not. I’m having a great time. I loved watching you speak with the guide. It’s one of the things that I love about you, that I’ve always loved about you. You’re so smart and, when you love something, you see the passion come out.”
I smiled. “It’s not annoying?”
He laughed, “no. That’s what people love about you. Remember, the Breakers? That’s why Ellen loves you too. It’s what’s going to make you a great mom. You want to share what you know and you make people like it too.” He leaned across the table and gave me a kiss. “So, I spoke to the concierge and we’ve got a dinner reservation at 10 at some place in the Eixample district. Supposed to be trendy and all that.”
I smiled, “that sounds wonderful. I made plans to see Camp Nou tomorrow. We may be able to see them play Villa Real.”
He smiled, “Great. Is that a good game?” We both wanted to see a football game. I supposed it would have helped to know something.
I shrugged, “would we know if it wasn’t?”
We finished our tapas and went back to the hotel. We came into the room and, as the door closed, I stood on my toes and forced open Danny’s mouth with my tongue. He put his arms around me and pulled me close, well as close as my belly would allow. He pulled my shirt over my head and unhooked my bra, kissing my breasts and putting his hands down my leggings and grabbing my ass. He went to pull down my leggings. He laughed, “damn, these are tight.”
I giggled. “Try wearing them. I better not get varicose veins,” I said, as I wrestled them down while he took off his pants and underwear. We laid down and began kissing each other again and running our hands all over each other. I had noticed how he would play with my breasts, but not touch my stomach. I was getting excited and said, “please Danny...now….please.”
He started to move pillows around to put them under my back. There weren’t that many. In an American hotel, there were multiple pillows, probably to accommodate the sleep apnea that was becoming prevalent as we got fatter. Not here though.
I was watching Danny look around when I took a deep breath and said, climbing on all fours, “this is silly, Danny.”
He said, “are you sure? I mean…”
I smiled, “don’t kill the mood, Danny. Stop talking and make love to me, OK?” He started to say something, and I said, “stop. Don’t talk. Just grunt.” He flipped me over and kissed me again, making silly grunting sounds. “Oh, stop it, you ape,” I said, rolling myself over and pushing myself up on all fours again, which was making me winded. If he rolled me over again, all bets were off.
I sat there on all fours, feeling the weight of my boobs and belly pulling on my spine. He entered me and began thrusting away. I could feel his balls slapping against me as he grabbed my hips. ‘Oh god, oh god,’ he kept saying, ‘unh...unh...unh,” and that I felt him come inside me. He pulled out and I could feel it dripping. I rolled myself over and then went to the bathroom to clean up. As I sat on the toilet, wiping myself clean, I thought, ‘it wasn’t awful. I mean I didn’t come but it wasn’t awful. Nothing changed.’ I thought about it and laughed to myself. ‘You’re a woman. A pregnant woman who had sex with her husband. Stop thinking about it, Jessica.’ I smiled and walked back into the bedroom. Danny was lying there, looking at me while I walked out, a big smile on his face. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, as I got back into the bed.
“Hey,” I said, with a smile. “Someone’s happy.”
“I am,” he said, his arm draped over my belly, while he kissed my neck. “What about you?”
‘Please don’t ask me if I’m OK. Please don’t,’ I thought. “I’m great. I’m in Spain with my husband, who I love. We had a great day and we just made love. Nothing could be better.” That seemed to satisfy him because he said, “I love you,” and he kissed my neck. And then we both fell asleep, him spooning me while his hand sat on Thumper.
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December 31 - our last night in Barcelona
It was 10:30. We were going out for a late dinner and to celebrate the New Year on the beach. I had taken a nap that afternoon so that I could welcome in the New Year, our last New Year’s before we became a family.
I was wearing the blue dress with the lace sleeves that I had seen when I was with Laura. I had loved it that day, maybe more than the mauve, and went back for it. I was wearing it with a pair of wedge sandals and a shawl. “Do I look OK?”
Danny smiled, “you look,” and he kissed me on the lips, “gorgeous. I can’t believe it’s almost 2018.”
I kissed him again. “Me either. This is going to be one hell of a year.”
“One hell of a great year,” he said, pulling me to him. “This time next year…” and he put his hand on my belly. “We’re going to be mommy and daddy.” I looked at myself in the mirror, at my hair and my dress and my growing belly and I felt at peace. I was mommy and it was right.
We went to dinner and, at around 11:30, started walking to the beach. Danny had gotten a bottle of champagne from the hotel and two glasses.
“A sip won’t hurt Thumper,” he said, taking my hand.
I smiled, “I know. I checked with Dr. Andopolis before we left. You know, she thinks I’m nuts.” My feet were killing me and I planned to kick off my heels the minute we hit the sand.
He kissed me. “You are nuts and that’s why I love you.” He took my hand and we walked slowly to the beach, walking past the bars, all filled with revelers. I had no interest in any of that. I had Danny, he had me, we had a bottle of champagne and the beach and that’s all I needed.
Around 11:50, we got to the beach. I took off my shoes and was immediately 3” shorter than Danny and I liked it that way. I remembered how Jess had always said that she liked how much bigger I was, how it made her feel safe. I had liked that she liked it but had never really thought about it before. “It’s colder than I expected,” I said. He immediately took off his jacket and wrapped it around me. I pulled it in tight, smelling his cologne, and felt loved and protected. I thought how he would always be there for me and Thumper. I didn’t need to be protected, I could take care of myself if I had to. But I liked it.
The beach was crowded, but we found a relatively secluded spot on the beach and sat down on the sand. “Are you sure you’re OK?” Danny asked. “I wish I had brought a blanket with us.”
I put my head on his shoulder. “I’m fine,” I said, looking up into his eyes. “Between the dress and my pantyhose, I am fine. No, I’m great. I couldn’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather be…”
“And anyone else I’d rather be with,” he finished. I hoped no one was nearby and had to hear that. Vomiting is no fun on New Year’s. Well, not until later, at least.
Danny looked at his watch. “20, 19, 18,” he began counting down. At midnight, he gave me a deep kiss, then poured us two glasses of champagne. “Happy New Year, Jessa,” he said, clicking my glass. “I love you.”
“Happy New Year, Danny. I love you too.” We sat for a few minutes looking at the lights of the ships at sea, holding hands and not talking. Life was perfect, for now and that’s all I needed.
The saga of Danny and Jessa comes to a close. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me and special thanks to Lizzy Bennet, whose input has made this a much better and fuller story than I expected.
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Week 33 - the baby was as big as celery, which I found hard to believe. I had, as of my last doctor’s appointment, I had gained twenty-seven pounds and was now a DD cup, which Danny enjoyed. My belly was big enough to have its own zip code.
I had gotten used to being pregnant, to the invasive nature of being pregnant. When you’re pregnant, your body ceases to be your own. You lose all sense of shyness and privacy. You have to. I had to pee in specimen jars like a parolee being tested. If I saw stirrups, I stripped down and spread my legs. When I was first pregnant, I flinched when they took my blood and Danny had to hold my hand. At my last appointment, I’m pretty sure the UPS man took my blood in a closet. The little hotel guest inside me took over my life; why not let the maintenance staff do its job?
I woke up every morning and just looked at myself naked. We were less than two months away and it was really hitting me. I was having a baby - and soon. It wasn’t a clump of cells, a fetus anymore. It was a baby. A real baby, with a brain and bones and everything.
We had had an ultrasound this morning. The technician squirted the goo onto my stomach.
“Damn, that’s cold. I’m going to invent goo warmer and make a mint.” ” She just smiled and said, ‘you say that every time.’
She waved the wand over my stomach and we saw the baby sucking its thumb and looking at us, I thought. This was our baby. Danny didn’t speak for a while, he just stared in amazement. I could see him tearing up and squeezed his hand. “You OK, honey?”
He smiled. I couldn’t tell what was behind it. He squeezed my hand and croaked, “I’m fine. I love you, Jessa. That’s our baby,” and he kissed me.
We finished up the sonogram and I got dressed again. I would have loved to spend the whole day just rubbing my belly and thinking, but I had to get to work. The firm gave you three months paid leave for pregnancy and I planned to work until I went into labor. I wanted every second with my baby.
I had to head to a client meeting downtown by the courthouse. It was on the big condo project. Jake and Rachel were meeting me.
I took the cold bottle of water that I now carried everywhere and held it against my neck. It was forty-five degrees out but I was sweating. Apparently, my metabolic rate was going up which made me sweat. I was holding the bottle against my neck and walking when all of sudden, I felt a bump and heard a woman say, “Shit,” in a British accent.
“I am so sorry,” I said, looking up at her. She was at least 5’10” tall and wearing black jeans and a black wool coat, on which was now spattered coffee, the cup of which was now on the ground. “I wasn’t watching where it was going.”
She looked at my belly and smiled, “It’s quite alright.”
“No, it isn’t. I’ve ruined your coat,” I said, reaching into my bag and taking $20 out of my wallet. “Here, take this to get it cleaned,” I said, forcing the money into her hand.
She took it and gave it back. “I appreciate the offer, but you really don’t have to. Accidents happen.”
“Well, the least you could let me do is buy you another cup of coffee. I won’t take no for an answer.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “If you insist,” she said. “It’s just over there,” pointing at a shop called ‘The Jumping Bean.’
We walked and I stared at the drying coffee on her coat. She didn’t seem upset but I couldn’t handle the silence. “I’m Jessica, by the way. Jessica Silverman,” I said, offering my hand.
She was the first woman in a long while who didn’t look me up and down. She put out her hand, “Esme Entwistle.” The shop was interesting, concert posters up. Weird indie folk playing. Legitimately weird, and not the focus grouped, preplanned weird that came from corporate in Seattle. It smelled like coffee. And spelt bread.
The barista smiled and said, “You back for a second cup already, Esme? You got a problem.” Clearly, she was a regular.
She laughed, a throaty laugh that reminded me of Tea Leoni. “Not quite, Juwan. Jennifer…”
“Jessica,” I interjected.
“Sorry, Jessica here bumped me and wouldn’t let me go without buying me another one.”
“Yes, sorry again. Whatever she wants, Juwan. Please.” He smiled and made her a double shot cappuccino. I smelled the beans roasting and sighed. Eight months in and I still wanted caffeine. I ordered a green tea and stared morosely at it. I said, “This place is great. I’ve never been here. How do you know about it?” A woman came in, looked at my cup and gave me a judgmental look. I smiled tightly and said, ‘green tea.’ Stupid bitch.
She was standing at the counter, putting some brown sugar in her coffee. “I work nearby,” she said, looking at her watch. “I’m a reporter. At the Reporter.” She looked bored.
I wanted to ask her about it, and tell her how I was a reporter too, sort of, but thought better. I was the pregnant woman who had spilled her coffee and made her take a new one. She wasn’t interested in conversation but I couldn’t let her go. I wanted her to like me. All I could come up with was, “Are you from the North?”
She smiled, “Excuse me?”
“Your accent. It sounds Mancunian.” I had camp counselors from all over England and the ones from London would mock the ones from the North as ‘savages.’
That worked. She smiled and said, “You’re one of the few Americans who can tell the difference. What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m an attorney. Litigation. Mostly construction and real estate.” I pointed at her coffee and smiled. “You should probably take a sip of that to stay awake.”
“Probably,” she said. “Well, anyway, I should get back to the office,” she said. “Thank you for the coffee.” Then she paused, “do you have a card? In case I ever need comment on a real estate story. Or working mums.” I smiled at ‘mums,’ it sounded so classy. I handed her a card, hoping that it wasn’t idle chatter. Then, she said, with an eye roll, “I suppose I should let you know that we have, the paper that is has, a podcast. The Weekly Briefing, shite name in my opinion, available on iTunes and Stitcher and what not.” She laughed, held up her cup and said, ‘well, now, if anyone asks what I’ve done for promotion, I can answer truthfully. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I said as she walked out the door. I took another sip of my tea and, when no one was watching, threw it away. I hated green tea.
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Jake and Rachel were supposed to meet me in the lobby of the client’s building before we went upstairs. When I got there, Jake was waiting in the lobby, with a rolling case of files. “Hey, Jess,” he said.
“Good morning, Jake. Did you bring all of the financials, all the paperwork showing the delays?” This was a high-end condo project. Most of the suits were about overselling, but a few buyers raised the issue of delays. One of our defenses was that the project had been subject to unavoidable delays due to a strike in Italy. The buyers of the condos expected not just marble, but a specific marble from a specific quarry in Italy. Every so often, I thought how patently absurd it was. There were people who needed legal assistance - people on death row, abused women, people, like Michelle and Amanda and that couple from Spain, who were discriminated because of who they loved and who they were - and I was arguing over multimillion dollar apartments and marble.
He smiled, “It’s all in here. Plus, I put together a PowerPoint to show the major points. I figured the client is not going to read 200 pages…”
I smiled. As much as he was Golden Boy, he was a great attorney and dedicated to the case. I would have done a PowerPoint too, when I was his age. I laughed, “You’re right. Thanks. Good job, Jake.” I looked around, “Where’s Rachel?” He shrugged.
We waited ten minutes and she still hadn’t shown up. I sighed, “email her and tell her to meet us upstairs.”
We went upstairs and were waiting in the conference room, when Rachel came in - fifteen minutes late. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was at Brendan’s yesterday and my alarm didn’t go off and then I had...”
I held up my hand. “Do you have the files I told you to bring?”
She rummaged through her litigation case and pulled out a file. “Here it is,” she said, with a smile.
“Did you make copies for the client?” She had been told to make clients.
“Er….”
“Go to the desk and ask if there’s a copier you can use.” She was driving me crazy. I hated that she couldn’t remember something so simple and that she didn’t seem bothered. I had been doing my best and was slowly realizing that this was who she was.
Luckily, the client was delayed on a call so that we were still waiting when Rachel came back with the copies.
I took her aside and said, “Rachel, come on. The alarm? And copies?”
“I, uh….I mean I know I screwed up, but it’s OK. He’s not ready yet.”
“It is not OK, Rachel. It’s a problem. The fact that, in this particular instance, there’s no consequence,” and I paused, “with the client doesn’t mean it’s not a problem.” Thumper gave me a big kick and I winced.
“Are you OK?” she said, with genuine concern.
“I’m fine,” I said, and she interrupted me with, ‘how was the doctor today?’ I regretted letting her know. I needed to set boundaries. Jake didn’t know that I was at the doctor, I didn’t think, and even if he did, he didn’t ask.
“Fine, Rachel. But, next time there is no next time. This can’t happen again. And someone else won’t be so nice. Understood?” She nodded, looking like a kicked dog. “Good. Let’s go in and show them what we’ve got.” I put my hand on her shoulder, “it’s over. Do better next time, OK? Maybe make lists.” She looked down. Jake, to his credit, looked off in the distance, his face bearing no emotion whatsoever.
When all was said and done, the meeting went well. The client was impressed with our presentation. He wasn’t happy but clients never are. The best you can hope for is not upset and we got that.
We left the meeting and hailed a cab. “Would one of you mind scooching in? It’s, uh….” They both smiled, looking at me like I was an invalid old lady. ‘Hey,” I thought, ‘I was running ten miles. Eight months ago.’ Jake looked at the two of us in back and said, ‘I think I’ll sit up front.’
We were in the cab back and I said, “Jake, I meant to tell you before. Great job today. The client really liked the PowerPoint.”
He smiled, “Thanks. Hey, Rach, good point on the delays. The client seemed really impressed.” I smiled, admiring his generosity in a situation where he could have said nothing and been fine.
She smiled and then gave me a hangdog look, “Thanks.”
“We’re a good team, the three of us,” I said, half-meaning it. “Tomorrow, I want to take you guys to lunch. If you don’t mind being seen with an old lady,” I said, with a smile. They both accepted and I remembered back to when I was their age. Victoria took me to lunch. I was grateful for the face time but was so nervous the whole time, thinking before I spoke and eating unusually slowly. I assumed that she came back and told everyone she thought I was developmentally challenged.
I was sitting in my office doing work when Robin came in. “How did it go today?”
I sighed, motioning to a chair. “What the hell am I going to do with her?”
She rolled her eyes, “What now?”
I started to describe what she did and then stopped. “I just wonder if she gives a shit or not.”
Robin smiled. “That’s the wrong question. It’s not whether she gives a shit. It’s, ‘Is she capable of giving a shit?’ Or ‘if she does, can she do anything about it?’”
“And?” I said, holding my water bottle to my neck. Robin looked at me, the way she did whenever I did it. “Fucking hormones. What do you think?”
“I like Kimmy and all, but yeah. I don’t know.”
“So, what do I do? If I tell Mike she’s not cutting it, do I look bad?”
“Maybe, but if she fucks up the case, you look a lot worse.”
“That won’t happen,” I said. “I’m not giving her the real shit to do.”
“So, who’s picking up the slack? You or Jake?” She wasn’t really asking, just pointing out the obvious.
“Fuuuck. I have to figure this out. Do we stop the lunches?” To be honest, I had come to dread lunches with Rachel. I couldn’t speak freely and always felt like she was watching me.
Robin smiled, “It’s your call.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Make me the bad guy.” I laughed, “Yeah, we’re done. I tried. I failed.”
“You didn’t fail. She is who she is. Not everyone can do the job. They all can’t be us.”
“That’s probably not all bad,” I laughed.
Robin picked my stuffed Bucky the Badger off my bookshelf, and started sitting it on my desk. “How was the doctor?”
“Fine. Everything is,” and I knocked on the desk. “Fine. Moving along.” She looked at me. “Yeah, I’m superstitious. I’m up twenty-seven pounds…’
“Stop it. You’ll lose it. Bet Dan loves your tits though.”
“Oh, ick, Robin,” I laughed.
“Oh, ick,” she said, mocking me. “I bet Dan is always burying his face in them and motorboating you. I would, if I were into that kind of thing.” I needed this. I needed a good, disgusting NSFW conversation. I could always count on Robin.
“You wish,” I said, laughing. “My fucking back is killing me. Like I thought maybe the belly and the tits would balance each other out. But, nope, just means my whole back hurts.”
She smiled, “you’ll be fine, Jess. With everything.”
“Here’s hoping,” I said, holding the water bottle up.
----------------------------------------
Week 35 - Thumper was as big as pineapple.
It was Saturday morning. Jill was bringing Sarah in for our monthly visit.
“You sure you’re up to it?” Jill said on the phone that Friday.
“I’m fine, Jill. I’m a big fat pregnant lady, but I’m not an invalid,” I said, laughing. “I go to work every day and everything.” I was sitting on the couch in a t shirt that showed the bottom half of my belly and a pair of sweats. Once I got home, I no longer cared what I looked like. I was going to be comfortable. Sometimes, for laughs, Danny would put his drink on my belly. I actually found it funny. We couldn’t have sex very often so this was what passed for intimacy - being a coffee table.
She laughed, “You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I look forward to it. Does Sarah?” I was wondering when she’d stop wanting to see me and just hang with her friends.
She said, “Yes. She is totally into it.”
“She’s not just placating me because I’m pregnant?” Pregnancy had made me, as Danny said, ‘more neurotic, scary as that is.’
“Are you kidding, Jess? She loves you. She’d come in every weekend if you’d let her.”
I wasn’t sure I believed her. “Sorry, I’m just getting nuts lately,” I said, putting my hand on my belly.
She laughed. “I totally get it. How’s it going?”
“My hips hurt like hell.”
“That’s just…”
I interrupted. “My body getting ready. I get it. But, it still sucks.”
“How’s my brother?”
I debated asking her what she thought about his response at the doctor, about him asking what it felt like, but decided not to. He kept Jill at arm’s length, he always had, and it wasn’t for me to push them together. Besides, it would probably only drive them apart. “He’s fine. How’s Yoram?”
“Good,” she said. “My brother’s being good?”
I laughed. “He’s being great. He comes to all the appointments, rubs my feet, does everything he’s supposed to.”
“And her honor?”
I laughed. “Oh stop. She’s fine. I spoke to her the other day.”
She said, “You have no idea how excited she is for this. She loves you.”
I blurted out, “yeah, so your brother never tires of pointing out.” I regretted it the minute that I said it. I was twirling my hair around my finger. Lately, I was mesmerized by the way it would curl then unravel. I didn’t think I had pregnancy brain, but that pregnancy ate my brain. Soon, I’d be swatting at balls of yarn like a cat..
“Oh, god, is he still on that?”
I thought about it and decided that she had seen it first hand, so it was different than the doctor. Yeah, it was a cop out. “Not as much, but yeah. I don’t know what to do.”
“She likes women better. And she loves you. You’re her buddy,” she teased.
“Why don’t you share THAT with him? That’ll make him feel great,” I said. Then, I got serious. “I wish I could make him feel better about it. I really do.” I really did. I hated the way his shoulders would slump and then he would tense up whenever she called.
“I know. I know. Once you have the kid, you won’t have time for existential angst.”
“Great,” I said, drawing out the word. I smiled and touched my belly. Soon, I’d be done being pregnant. I’d be mommy. Me and my baby. “Anyway, I can’t wait to see you guys tomorrow.”
“Me too.”
“You’re sure Sarah’s into it?”
She laughed, “Yes. Stop. She can’t wait to go shopping with you. Softie.”
“She’s my niece. It’s not just because we go shopping, is it?”
She laughed, “I’m done dignifying that. See you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you too, Jill. And I’m pregnant, you have to humor me.”
“No, I don’t, Jess. Bye, Jess.” She hung up and I went to Dan’s dresser. I began organizing his t shirts, first by those with logos and those without. Then by team and then by color. OK, it sounds nuts but it wasn’t. Last week, I had started nesting in earnest.
Last Saturday, Dan came home from basketball. I was in the bedroom and he walked in.
“What’s up? What happened?” he said, pointing to the bed, on which I had laid out all of my clothes.
I pointed to the various piles. “These are my sixes, these are my eights,” and I took a deep breath, “these are my tens.”
He smiled, “Uh huh. And?”
“I’m organizing them. That way, as I lose the weight, everything will be together. It makes sense.”
He kissed me on the nose. “Nesting?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re nesting. It’s totally normal. I get it.”
“Hello?”
He smiled. “I’ve been reading up. Plus,” and then he stopped and got a look on his face. Lately, I saw that look more and more. Like he wanted to say something about I don’t know what. Melissa. Jill. How it used to be. Or maybe I was just crazy. He continued, “I’ve just been reading,” he said, with a small smile. Then he kissed me. “With your OCD and nesting, I’m afraid.”
“Stop it,” I said, putting my hands on my way too big hips. “I just like being organized.”
“It’s cute,” he said, grabbing me and pulling me close, well as close as possible. He kissed me deeply. “I love you Jessa.”
“I love you too. What brought that on?”
He went around me (which now required a navigator), lifted my shirt and put his hands on my bare belly, linking his fingers together. “I just do. And I love watching you be pregnant. Is that weird?”
I thought about it. I loved the way he’d put his hands on my belly and help me up. The way he’d play with my hair and kiss my belly with little kisses. The way he’d wipe my tears when I cried during a movie (hormones). I loved being pregnant and loved the way he was during it. “Not at all.”
“Good,” he said. We just stood there for awhile, not saying anything.
-----------------
Saturday morning, 10 AM.
“You sure you’re OK?” Danny asked, as he tied his sneakers. “I don’t have to go.”
“Would you stop? I’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s Sarah.” I felt a pain in my abdomen, like I was menstruating. It was Braxton-Hicks contractions. The first time it happened, I freaked. I called Sammie, who said, ‘it’s probably just Braxton-Hicks, but call your OB.’ I went to see Dr. Andopolis, who examined me and said my cervix looked fine. She told me that I could expect these for a while. ‘Great,’ I thought. I asked when I’d know they were for real and she smiled and said, ‘you’ll know. They’ll hurt like hell and, once they start, they don’t stop.’ She said it to make feel better. I didn’t.
Danny looked worried. “Are you OK? It’s not…”
I waddled over and kissed him. “For the tenth time, it’s a Braxton-Hicks. Fuck Braxton and fuck Hicks. Go. Nothing will happen but keep your phone on loud, OK?”
He smiled. “I will.” He would. He was good that way. “Do not push yourself. If you get tired, sit. If you’re hungry, eat. You and Sarah get together and you lose all sense…”
I laughed. “Who’s 14? Me or her?”
“I just want to make sure you and Thump are OK.” He leaned down to my belly, lifted my t shirt and kissed my belly. Then he said, “Take good care of mommy, Thump.” He paused. “No kick,” he said, with a frown. “Try and get some rest today. We have dinner with Larry and Meeka today.” Larry had a new girlfriend. We had gone out with them once. She was perfectly nice but I felt like she was staying a safe distance from me, like if she came closer, she’d get pregnant.
“I know. Go have fun. Say hi to the guys for me. Love you.” He said, ‘I love you too’ and left. As the door closed, I thought for a second about how it used to be. How I always assumed that it would be me going with the guys while Jess was pregnant. Then, I thought about it. I didn’t miss it at all. I liked being pregnant (overall). I liked being a woman. I liked being me.
I went into the bedroom and looked in my closet. I thought about pants and a sweater, but decided to go with my blue and white dress. It was a v neck, which meant that guys were forever staring at my cleavage which was, to be fair, visible from space. I shimmied my tights up my legs and then pulled the dress over my head and belly. I brushed my hair and put on my makeup. I went over to the full length mirror and checked myself out. “We look good, Thump. It’s all you, sweetie.” Yeah, I was nauseating. And I didn’t care.
An hour later, Sarah and Jill came. “Ohmigod, look at you, Jess. You look gorgeous,” Jill said.
“I look like a parade float,” I said, giving them kisses. “Hey, Sarah. That outfit is really cute. Is that from when we went to the place in Brooklyn?”
She was wearing a black skirt and blue top, with boots. She smiled, “The top and the boots are. I bought the skirt with Em at the Westchester,” a mall in, well, Westchester.
“It is really great. You look great.” I went to ask her about Emily’s crush, and stopped myself. She had told me on the phone how Emily had a crush on a ninth grader, Charlie, who told someone that he might be interested. I almost said something and realized that Jill was there. Sarah would have said nothing and then given me a headache about it later. “So, what are you up to today, Jill?”
She smiled. “You mean I’m not coming with?” Sarah looked at me in abject horror. Jill laughed. “I’m kidding Sarah. I told you already I’m meeting Hannah for lunch. Relax.” She turned to her. “I’m trusting you to make sure Aunt Jess doesn’t push herself.”
“Jesus, Jill. You and your brother.” I took Sarah’s arm in my mine. “I will be fine. We will be fine. Go. Say hi to Hannah for me,” I said, giving her a kiss. “Now shoo. We have stuff to do.” Jill left and Sarah stood there.
“So, what do you want to do today?”
Sarah looked scared. “Are you OK?”
“What?”
“Are you OK,” she said, fidgeting with her feet, the way Jess used to. “I mean are we OK going?”
“Yes, Sarah. We are totally fine. Your mom and Danny are just overprotective.”
“You promise?”
I exhaled loudly. “Yes, Sarah. I promise. If I get tired, I will let you know.” I smiled, “Don’t be like them,” which made her smile. “So what do you want to do today?”
To my complete lack of surprise, she said, “can we go walk around Soho?”
“Of course, Sarah. Can I tell you how happy I am that you’re here?”
“Ick,” she said, smiling. “Don’t get all gross on me.” I felt better. She wanted to be here.
We walked along the streets in Soho, looking in the windows. We went past one store and I saw a gorgeous black slip dress in the window. I tried to imagine myself in it, in a pair of 4” heels and couldn’t. I must have sighed because Sarah said, “are you OK?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, looking at the dress.
“That’s a really pretty dress. You’d look great in it.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks, Sarah. Not any time soon.”
“You can do it, Aunt Jess. You did it before. You’ll do it again.” Her cheerleading made me feel better, loved. She mimicked me in Miami. “Remember, my parents were bananas,” she said, moving her hand around.
I giggled. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks Sarah.”
“I’m serious. I’ll babysit so you can work out.”
I went to give her a kiss and stopped, so she wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of people she didn’t know. I gave her hug instead, which was acceptably embarrassing. “Thanks Sarah. I appreciate that.”
“I mean it.”
I smiled. “I know you do. Thank you.” I looked at the dress and thought that, if nothing else, I had support. I still wanted the dress though. “So what’s up with Em and Charlie?”
She rolled her eyes. “She’s being ridiculous. I told her what you said.” I said that she should lay back, let him come to her. Even like this, I remembered what it was like to be a 15 year old boy, how you only wanted the girls that ignored you. And how they only wanted the guys who ignored them. “And she still keeps going over to him and touching his arm and everything. She’s stupid.”
I smiled at her indignation. She loved her friend and I think she was afraid that she’d lose her. I remembered how Laura and her friends were like electrons, forever drawn together until a new guy came on the scene to draw one of them away. “I get it.”
“Oh, can we go to that store next to the Strand?”
“Forbidden Planet?” It was a comic-book and sci-fi store. I couldn’t imagine why she wanted to go. “Sure. Why?”
“You can’t tell mom.”
I smiled. “Why can’t I tell mom?”
“Promise you won’t,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, which only made it funnier.
I stifled a giggle. “I promise. Who is he?”
She looked down and blushed. “I could like that stuff.”
“Sure you could,” I teased. “But you don’t. Who is he?”
“His name is Sam. He’s in the tenth grade….”
“Oooh, an older man.”
“I’m sorry I said anything. I could get this from mom.”
“Ouch,” I said. “Point taken. You don’t have to be mean about it,” I joked, which got a smile. “Anyway, sorry. So tell me about Sam.” Sam was a tenth grader. He was into comics, graphic novels and anime and Sarah, like girls from time immemorial, wanted to learn about what he liked. I remembered Lindsay Steinmetz, a girl in eighth grade, who started liking the Knicks because my friend Mike did. It didn’t work. He thought she was fat. I looked at my belly and felt sudden empathy for Lindsay.
We went to Forbidden Planet and she looked around. Her expression was somewhere between confusion and disgust. She picked up an anime book and started flipping through. “Ick,” she said, putting the book back onto the shelves with two fingers. “Why is he into this? The girls are gross looking.”
I shrugged. Even before, I was never into comic books. “Guys. I imagine he’d feel the same way in Forever 21.”
“Whatever.” She was a little better with the graphic novels, at least the ones that weren’t filled with women with big tits and skimpy outfits. “Which ones do you think he’s into?” I thought, ‘probably the ones with big tits and skimpy outfits.’ We bought the newest most popular ones and walked to lunch.
“Just play it cool,” I said. “Like, when it’s totally organic, say, ‘oh, did you read the new American Gods? And then talk about it. But, don’t go up to him and say, ‘I got the new American Gods.’”
“I know, Aunt Jess,” she said, in an exasperated tone. I hoped that she did. I felt a Braxton-Hicks and leaned against a wall. She looked nervous. “Are you OK? Should I call mom?”
“I’m fine, Sarah. It’s totally normal. It’s false labor.” She didn’t look placated. “I went to the doctor. She told me it was fine. OK?”
“I’m just worried for you,” she said. “You’re my favorite aunt.”
I gave her a kiss on the cheek, embarrassment be damned. “Thank you Sarah.”
“Are you scared?”
“About what?”
“The baby. Having the baby. They showed us movies in health. It looks scary.”
I took her hand and we walked. “It is. Remember that.”
This was a running joke between us. She used to ask me what it felt like. I told her, ‘nothing you need to know about until after grad school.’ “Yeah yeah yeah. I’m serious. Are you scared?”
I was scared. I was scared that something would happen, that I would lose the baby. I was scared that would something would go wrong in labor. I was scared that the baby would have issues. And that I wouldn’t be a good mom. “Kinda. But I don’t have much of a choice.”
“It’ll be OK,” she said. “I can’t wait for my cousin.”
I smiled. “They can’t wait for you either Sarah.” I smiled, touching my belly. Whatever else happened, this child would be loved.
---------------------------------------------------
Week 37 - Thumper was as big as romaine lettuce.
3 AM, I woke up. I had to pee. If you needed a 3 AM wake up call, you could depend on me. I was up every morning now at 3 AM to pee. I scooched to the side of the bed, dropped my legs to the floor as quietly as I could - no need to wake Danny too - and waddled off to the bathroom. I closed the door and turned on the light, dimming it as low as I could and sat down to pee.
I looked at my stomach, which now dwarfed my feet and was lined with stretch marks. I had gained twenty-nine pounds, which scared me. I knew a lot of it was baby weight but I was afraid I’d never lose it. Danny said that he would do whatever I needed to help me - let me go to the gym, hire a trainer, whatever - but I noticed, when I went out, that you saw a lot more moms and couples pushing infants in a stroller than you saw dads alone. I looked at my belly button, which had popped a few weeks ago. If the bun was in the oven, the timer was popping. I rubbed my belly and started singing, in a low voice, ‘hey, little baby, I’m your mommy. I’m your mommy. I’m your mommy. Hey, little baby, I’m your mommy and I. Love. You.’ I had no idea where the tune came from or the words, but I knew that I was the mommy and I loved this baby. I had an all-consuming love. A pure, all consuming, almost scary love. I wiped myself and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes had bags beneath them. My hair was a mess and I was wearing an old t shirt, the nighties having been switched for comfort a long time ago. People had switched from ‘you look beautiful’ to ‘how are you holding up’ a while ago. I rubbed my belly and waddled back to bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the light leaking under the bedroom door from the living room. I came out to see Danny sitting on the couch, staring ahead.
“Hey,” I said, standing in the doorway. “What’s up?”
He looked at me, his eyes red. “Did I wake you?”
“No, of course not. I had to pee.” This was normal. The baby had dropped down in my pelvis. Dr. Andopolis told me last week that, ‘this little one is getting ready to say hello.’ I laughed and told her, ‘this little one is like a bowling ball. A men’s ball. I think it’s going to say ‘AMF’ on it.’ “What’s up?” I said, sitting down on the couch next to him. I leaned my head on his shoulder. He started twirling my hair around his fingers. I remembered how he used to do that, when he was me. It seemed strange to see my husband do it now.
“It’s...I….” and his voice started to crack.
I put my hand on his and started rubbing. “What? Danny. What? What’s wrong?”
“I...I just feel like..I feel like...I’m missing something and I should be the one who...and….”
“What do you mean missing something?”
“I mean, I don’t know. Lately, I’ve been thinking about everything. How did we get here? Why did this happen?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It did. Are you sorry it happened?”
He said, “No. Of course not. You are beautiful and smart and I know this is right…”
“I mean, after nine months, if you took labor, it would only be fair,” I tried to joke.
He sort of smiled. “Funny. I mean I don’t know why, but like two weeks ago, I started thinking about it. A lot. Like I’m missing something I wasn’t supposed to miss.” He kept twirling my hair around his finger. Twirling and un-twirling it.
“Danny. You’re not missing anything. This is our baby. You and me. 50/50. You’ve been here through everything. You’re going to be in the delivery room. You won’t miss anything. If you want, I’ll kick you in the nuts to simulate the pain. Michelle and Sammie will too, if that will help.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I’m serious. You’re giving this baby life, as stupid as it sounds.” I wanted to say that I didn’t think it was stupid, but the most amazing thing I could imagine. But that would have hurt him more. “And I’m not. And for 33 years, I was supposed to. And now I’m not.”
I smiled. “Maybe for 33 years, you weren’t. Maybe I was supposed to and maybe that’s why this happened.” I had never articulated that. “Maybe this was the right way and it just took a little while to get there. Are you not happy as you? Is that what this is about?”
“I’m happy,” he said in a flat tone.
“Happy as us or happy as Dan?” It had been a long time since we had spoken about it. We were just Danny and Jessa. Us. “There’s no right or wrong answer here. Seriously.”
“I’m happy with us and with me. I guess it’s just scaring me. I keep waiting…”
“For the other shoe to drop?”
He smiled. “Yeah. I don’t know. I’m just scared. This,” and he rubbed my belly, “is coming soon. We’ve said we’re mommy and daddy but we’re going to be it. Mommy and daddy. You and me and baby makes three and I guess it’s been hitting me. I’m going to be someone’s daddy and I never thought that it would happen.”
I smiled. “And I’m going to be someone’s mommy. Wasn’t exactly on my radar either, you know.”
“I know. But I guess I never thought about it. You’ve had nine months to get used to it, to being a mommy. Me, it’s binary. One day, I won’t be daddy. Then, the next day, I will be. I guess it hit me.”
“Are you sorry it’s me?” I said. “And I’m asking, not fishing.”
He smiled, kissed me and then kissed my belly. But then he paused for a minute. “No. This is right. You were meant to be the mommy, not me” which made me stop for a second. I was back to where we started. Did she always think of me like that? I started to breathe heavily, to freak out. Intellectually, I knew how ridiculous it was. I was a woman, a pregnant woman. I liked being a pregnant woman - mostly. I was ready to be a mother, to be a mommy, but to hear it articulated from Danny hurt.
“Jessa?” he said. I waved my hand in his face, to say ‘stop’. “Jessa? Are you OK?” He stood up and I laid down on my side. “Are you OK? Please. Please. Please say something. Anything.”
I took one last deep breath and sat my Weeble self up. “I’m fine, Danny.”
“I am such piece of shit,” he said. “I am such an absolute piece of shit,” and he started hitting himself with a pillow.
“No you aren’t.” He was, sort of. You don’t do that to a woman in her last month.
“You freaked out because I said you were meant to be the mommy.” I looked down and he said, “don’t lie.”
I decided not to lie. “You’re right. It freaked me out. Maybe it’s stupid after all this, but it did. Like it makes me wonder about everything all over again.”
“Me too,” he said, rubbing tears from his eyes.
That was not what I expected. I expected him to validate me, to tell me it wasn’t about that. “Huh? What do you mean?”
He leaned back and said, “Lean back into my arms.” I did and he put his arms around me, well as much as he could, resting his hands on my belly. “Like I said, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. I look at pregnant women and I think, ‘why?’”
I looked back up at him, smiled and said, “When a man loves a woman….”
He didn’t laugh. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that I wonder why this happened. Did I make this happen?”
I rested my hands on my belly; it soothed me. “How could you have made this happen?”
“I mean, like was there something wrong with me as a woman that made this happen? Like the universe made this happen because I was, I don’t know, defective or something as a woman.”
I put my hands on his thighs and pushed myself up. I turned and looked at him. “You were not defective as a woman. You were great as a woman. Why would you think you were defective?”
He looked at my stomach, then nervously looked me in the eye. “I didn’t like babies the way you did. I don’t get along with the Barbies the way you do. I wasn’t pretty and sweet…”
“Don’t say it.” I could feel myself getting short of breath again. I paused, hands on belly and took a deep breath. “You were absolutely beautiful. Who am I? I’m you.”
“You’re me better,” he mumbled.
“I’m me different. Not better. Different. You were beautiful and caring and you were everything that I wanted in a woman. If you were defective, what did that make me? Huh? Was I defective because I chose you?” I forced myself to smile. “Think about the answer first.”
“You weren’t defective. I was,” and he started to cry. I maneuvered myself to hold him. “I was defective. I couldn’t do all the woman stuff that I was supposed to and this happened. Whatever it is that did this knew that I was defective and it made me this….”
I said, “so men are defective? You’re being punished by being a man?” I stopped and looked at swollen ankles, which were now indistinguishable from my calves. I shifted myself to minimize my back pain and thought about everything at work. ‘If you’re being punished, Danny, I could go for some of that punishment.’ “Are you unhappy the way you are?”
“I am, I guess…” he sniffled.
“So, is it me who’s being punished? Was I not good at being a man? Was I defective as a man?”
“No,” he sniffled. “You aren’t. You’re perfect the way you are, the way you were.”
I laughed. “I have that on tape now,” and then I pushed him off my shoulder and looked into his eyes. “So are you. We’re both perfect the way we are. Or perfectly imperfect,” which got a smile. “I have no idea how this happened. But I know we’re not being punished. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m scared shitless about everything.”
“Me too,” he said, with a smile.
“Good. It means you’re paying attention. But I know this isn’t punishment, although you’re welcome to labor, if you want. Lamaze class scared me.” It had. We called it ‘everything that can go wrong’ class. He laughed and I continued, “we are who we are. You were the best woman I knew” and we both looked at each other and then at my belly and smiled. “And you’re the best man I know.” He gave me a small smile and said, ‘thanks.’ “And you are going to be the best daddy I know, because I’m going to make you be. Got it?”
He smiled, “Got it.” He leaned back again and I leaned back, his arms around me again. “When I said that you were meant to be the mommy, I meant it. I hear you singing to it, talking to it and I know that this is the way it’s supposed to be. I never thought you weren’t a man before y’know all this. I guess I was just feeling selfish. Like I was missing out on something I wasn’t supposed to miss.”
“You weren’t selfish. You were scared. I’m scared too.”
“Still, sorry,” he said, with a smile. “We’re going to be OK, right?”
I smiled. “I hope so.” He looked concerned. “We’ll probably fuck it up. ‘They fuck you up, your mom and dad, they don’t mean to, but they do. They give you all the shit they had and add some special just for you.’ Philip Larkin,” I said.
He had no idea who Philip Larkin was, but it didn’t matter. It made him laugh, which was the goal. “Hopefully, we fuck up differently than they did,” he said.
I laughed. “That’s the goal. Give Thump new and different issues. Are you OK?” He nodded. “For real, are you OK?”
He smiled and I knew it was real. “Yeah. I am. We’re almost there,” he said. “You and me. Parents. Mommy and daddy,” and he kissed the back of my neck.
“Mmm hmmm. Mommy and daddy.” Suddenly, a picture of me breastfeeding our baby came into my mind. Me on the couch, while Danny watched. I pictured myself smiling beatifically. I knew the reality was more Sammie looking miserable while she tried to get Charlotte to latch on at 3 AM, the glow of a rerun of ‘Friends’ lighting her face, but I wanted my fantasy for now. I had had enough reality lately.
------------------------
Week 39 - Thumper was a pumpkin. A big pumpkin. A big pumpkin that was sitting so low on my pelvis that it hurt to sit. And stand. And that gave me sharp stabbing pains - lightning crotch they called it. Whatever they called, it hurt.
Robin and I were going to lunch. I was wearing black stretch pants and a shirt that could charitably called a dress shirt. Basically, I went with the bare minimum that could pass for work clothes. No one said anything, but I felt like everyone was staring at me.
I was meeting Robin for lunch, but first I had to pee. I always had to pee. I went into the bathroom. Victoria came in after me. “Hey, Jess. How are you feeling?”
“Pregnant,” I joked. “Very pregnant.”
“How much more?” she asked, with a smile.
“I’m 39 weeks.” I looked down at my belly. “Any day now, kiddo.” Thankfully, she spared me her labor story.
I went into the stall and sat down. As I peed, I felt something drop out. I wiped myself and stood up. “Oh fuck,” I said.
From the next stall, Victoria said, “Are you OK?”
“Can I ask you something Victoria? I apologize in advance.”
I heard her stand up and the toilet flush. She knocked on the stall door and I opened it. I had no choice. She looked down at the bowl and said, “You lost your mucus plug.” I started to hyperventilate. She put her arm around and led me to a bench. “Calm down. You’re going to be OK. I lost mine at my mother-in-law’s. Think about that,” she said. “I had to say something to Mark in front of her.”
“Should I go to the hospital?” I had read the books and websites. Intellectually, I knew that losing your plug didn’t mean you were in labor. That it could be another week, at least. And, saying that, all intellectuality went out the window. And left me with, “should I go to the hospital?”
She laughed. “Don’t go on a long car trip, but you should be OK.”
“Sorry. I must sound like an idiot.”
“You sound like you're having your first kid,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. Keep me in the loop.”
I walked over to Robin’s office. She looked at me and said, “is everything OK?”
I debated not saying anything. Robin didn’t have kids and didn’t want them. On the other hand, she was always interested in me, in my pregnancy. She asked detailed questions about it, about my doctor’s appointments. On the other, other hand, it was gross. On the third other hand, she was my friend. “It’s gross…”
“Lost your mucus plug?”
“How did you know?”
“I have a uterus, Jess. I may not be using it for storage, but I have one.”
I laughed, grateful for her crassness. “That’s an image. Maybe after I give birth, I’ll store old clothes up there. It’s big enough.”
“Are you OK?”
“Victoria said it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. And I haven’t felt anything else. But, it’s really gross. It’s like…”
She held up her hand. “Stop. We’re going to lunch. What do you want?”
I smiled, thinking of things that looked like a bloody mucus plug. “Oysters and steak tartare?”
“My sister said her placenta looked like London Broil.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t know but I couldn’t eat meat in front of her for like a year after that.”
In the end, we went for salad. Lunch was fine and we talked about work, but the whole time, I kept looking for other signs that I was in labor. I coughed and thought it was contractions. I snissed, and thought my water broke. I had to imagine that I looked like a crazy woman.
By the end of the day, I had no other signs, so I went home. I normally took the subway but figured my luck the train would break down and I’d go into labor on the train. It was a trite sitcom plot but it sure as hell wouldn’t be my life.
I walked in the door and Danny was there. He got up and kissed me. “Hey sweetie, how was work?”
“Fine. The usual. I lost my mucus plug in the bathroom,” I said, as I walked to the bathroom to pee. For the sixth time.
He followed me in. “What?”
“I lost my mucus plug,” I said, as I wiped myself. I started to get undressed. I took my t shirt and sweats off the bed. I had gotten to the point where I would wear the same thing for a couple of days. I didn’t have it in me to be care about being stylish. I went into the bathroom again to take off my makeup. ‘Sorry, Danny,’ I thought. ‘I’m not your hot sexy wife. Not for now.’ “I’m fine. Nothing else happened.”
“What did it feel like?”
That was weird. “It plopped out. It’s nasty looking. Like…”
He smiled. “Mucus?”
I smiled, “Yup.” I sat down on the bed, my back supported by a bolster pillow. “That feels good.” Danny began massaging my feet. “You’re the best, Danny.”
“Please, Jessa. Hey, baby,” he said to my stomach. “Are you planning on coming soon?”
I felt a sharp kick. “I think he just said yes.” I started to tear up. “Holy shit. This is going to happen, isn’t it?”
Danny smiled. “Yup.”
I start to breathe shallow breaths. “Soon? Really soon?”
Danny kept smiling. “Yes, it is. I’m going to be a daddy.”
“And I’m going to be a mommy.” I started to take off my shirt and pants.
“Uh, Jessa,” he said.
I smiled. “Come spoon me,” I said. “Please.”
He took off his shirt and pants and laid next to me. I could feel his warmth against my bare skin and his hands on my belly. He kissed the back of my neck, with little butterfly kisses. I realized that our days of just laying here like this, in the early evening, were numbered and I couldn’t wait. At some point, I fell asleep until…
“Ow!” I yelled. I felt a sharp pain. I knew this wasn’t Braxton-Hicks.
“What?” Danny said, startled from his sleep.
“I think,” and I took a deep breath, “I am in labor.”
“Oh shit,” he said.
I smiled, putting on my pants and t shirt. “Oh shit? That’s the best you have?”
He fumbled around, putting back on his clothes. He smiled. “Sorry.”
“I’m teasing,” I said. “I’m going to sit on the couch, in case.” I figured one contraction was no big deal. Why I thought sitting on the couch made sense was another issue.
It wasn’t. However, the three in the next hour were. After the third, Danny said, “OK, let’s go. You’re in labor for real.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know you are,” he said, lifting me up. “You’re great. You’re beautiful. And you’re in labor.”
I won’t bore you with labor. I will simply say that it is not beautiful. It is not magical. It is painful. Horribly, horribly painful. Unfathomably painful. You’re up all night, sweating while it feels like someone is twisting a wrench around your abdomen. And you can’t eat. Or drink. You can have lollipops and ice chips. If I never see another ice chip, I’ll be fine.
After 36 hours, I was moaning, “why did I want this?” I thought how I always wondered what it would be like. Now I knew.
Danny said, “come on. You can do this, Jessa. You’re beautiful. Can I tell you how beautiful you look?”
I was pushing, hard. “Can I tell you fuck off?” He just grinned, the bastard. I could feel the sweat dripping in my eyes as I looked down at my hospital gown, my legs spread wide in the stirrups. I was not beautiful, not by a long shot.
“Come on, Jessica,” Dr. Andopolis said. “I see the baby crowning. You can do it. One more big push.” I summoned every ounce of strength I had and pushed. “Here it comes. I have the head.” I looked down and saw my baby’s head and started to cry. “Come on Jessica, we’re almost there. You can do it.” I pushed again. “Here it comes. Here it comes. Here he is.”
I started to cry. “He?”
Danny teared up. “He. We have a boy. A son.” He kissed me.
“A son?”
Dr. Andopolis said, “Ten fingers, ten toes, one penis. It’s a boy,” she said, as she suctioned out his mouth. He let out a cry. My son. They cleaned him up and put him on my chest. “I think he wants his mommy,” the nurse said.
“Hey,” I said. “Hey, Zach.” It just popped into my head.
Danny smiled. “Zach? Not Harris or Ian?”
I smiled, looking down at his little body, at his ten perfect little toes and fingers. At his little legs and arms. And at his perfect little face, his eyes barely open. “Nope. He’s a Zach, Zachary. What do you think?” I said, as I put my finger on his hand and it opened slightly. “He likes it.”
Danny came over and kissed me again, then the baby. “Zachary Silverman. I like it. Hi, Zach, I’m daddy.” The nurse took the baby and cleaned, weighed and measured him. At 8:30 AM on Saturday March 17, 2018 at Cornell Hospital, a baby boy was born. He was eight pounds, nine ounces, 21 inches long and he was perfect.
We went to the recovery room and I pulled down my gown and put my baby to my breast. It took him a couple of seconds but he latched on. Danny and I sat transfixed, watching him suckle. I was feeding my baby, giving him life. I had fed him for nine months, but now I could watch him. I looked over at Danny, who was tearing up. “Are you OK?”
He smiled. “I’ve never been more OK. You’re mommy. No ifs, ands or buts. If I ever wondered if this was right, this is right.”
I smiled. “I’m mommy.” I didn’t have time to think about what it meant. I was mommy. I was Zach’s mommy. I had a little boy. I was a mother of a little boy. “You’re daddy. Are you ready?”
He smiled. “Nope. You?”
I laughed and saw Zach’s little body move up and down. “Not at all. But I know that there’s no one I’d rather be totally unprepared with but you.”
He kissed me on the lips and we watched Zach. Poor kid. He had no idea what he was in for.
------------------------
Epilogue
One month later -
I was walking Zach to his weekly pediatrician visit. It was about 75 degrees and sunny and I was grateful to be walking the ten blocks. Basically, these visits forced me out of the apartment and I needed it.
I spent way too much time in the apartment since he was born. For the first ten days after we came home from the hospital, we had a nurse. It was Evelyn’s present to me (‘you’ll have plenty of time to take care of him yourself, Jessica. Don’t be ridiculous.’ It was one of the few things about which she and my mother were in complete agreement). After the first few days, Danny went back to work. When the nurse left, it was just me and Zach. My mother came over once a week but it was a lot to drive in every day. That and her parking in a lot would have killed my father. Sammie came over a couple of weekends, but it wasn’t easy coming from Brooklyn with a rambunctious toddler. Don’t get me wrong. I loved Charlotte. She was a sweet little girl. I was ‘JeJe’ and Zach was ‘baby,’ said with emphasis. She would come over and stare at Zach. I would say ‘make nice,’ and, if we were in luck, she would pet him. If we weren’t as lucky, she’d put her hand on him and press him like she was ironing out wrinkles. Then, she would climb on my furniture and open cabinets, while Sammie or Jon chased her. Still, I appreciated the company.
Zach was waking up every two to three hours and I hadn’t started expressing yet. It was stupid, but I wanted to be the only one to feed him. I had given him life for nine months and I wasn’t ready to give that up yet. Plus, I had read that this would strengthen our bond. If I thought about it, it was strange. I’m going to bond you to me by being the only one who feeds you. Then I thought it worked for my mother and generations of mothers, so who was I to question it? After the first week and a half, when I’d hear Zach cry, I’d look over at Danny, who would halfway stir and fall back asleep. And I wanted to kill him and then kick myself for not expressing. Then, I’d get up and trudge into the living room and look at my squalling baby. And I’d melt. ‘Hey, Zachy, mommy’s here,’ and I’d pick him up. The downside to this was that I had no energy. I’d try to go out once a day, but a lot of time I could barely get myself up and get Zach ready.
We went to the pediatrician and everything was great. He was 9 pounds 9 ounces and he was in the ninetieth percentile for height and weight. My big, strong boy. It was ridiculous, the way we waited to see what percentile he was in, like it was a test. From what I could tell, babies in New York were either tenth percentile or ninetieth. While I wasn’t a statistician, I knew the majority had to be in the middle of the curve. I wondered where these kids were - somewhere in the Midwest?
We finished at the doctor’s and I looked down at Zach in the carriage. “Whaddya say, Zachy? Treat mommy to Starbucks?” He gave me what I decided was a smile and we walked back home. I looked down at myself, with my barely combed hair, in my glasses, big t shirt stained with spit up and pee and my yoga pants and laughed a little at how I got here. I couldn’t, wouldn’t shower unless someone was there to watch Zach. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t getting into any trouble and I could take the baby monitor into the shower. But I couldn’t do it. I was too worried. So, I’d spend my days looking like hell and, if I had the energy, shower when Danny came home. A lot of days, I didn’t even have that. Danny would kiss me and tell me I looked beautiful. I think he felt guilty, but I’d take it.
We lived in a mixed use neighborhood, so our Starbucks had as many office workers as residents using it. I went to the counter and ordered a ‘non-fat vanilla skim latte.’ I wanted a mochaccino and a cake pop but was trying to lose the baby weight. At least, it was caffeine, sweet caffeine. I lost 12 pounds just after he was born, between the baby and the placenta and all, and had lost another 5 since then. I wanted to lose another fourteen, and get back to where I was. As promised, Laura brought over the jog stroller after the bris, but most days, I was too tired to move, much less go for a run. Every day, the stroller stood in the corner, taunting me. This weekend, I decided, I would do it. I’d put Zach in it and we’d go for a run. Of course, I said that last weekend. But this weekend, I meant it. I needed to lose the weight before I went back to work.
I got my coffee and went to sit outside for as long as Zach would let me. I sipped my drink with one hand and gently rocked the carriage with the other. It was 2 in the afternoon, so there was a gaggle of 20-something girls there, all in their cute spring dresses in their 3” heels with their perfect breasts and legs and asses. I wanted to kill them. It didn’t help that nursing had brought me to an H cup. I’d look at myself in the mirror and think, ‘I look like a stripper. I have big fake-looking stripper tits,’ and start to cry. I tried to cover them as much as possible, but you couldn’t miss them. They were huge. At least, Danny was smart. When Sammie was nursing, Jon took one of her bras and put it on his head to show how big the cup was. He meant it as a joke. I learned that you could choke a man with just a bra and his own tongue.
They were sitting at a table over and started giggling. I was sure that they were laughing about something at work or something some guy said, but sleep deprivation and a lack of continuous adult contact had made me a little (OK, a lot) crazy.
All of a sudden, I felt someone behind me. “Fuck them,” the voice said. “Fuck them and their perfect asses.”
I turned around to see an Asian woman with a carriage. She was dressed like me, with the same disheveled hair and tired eyes. “Tell me about it,” I said, with a smile. “Jessica Silverman,” I patted the chair next to mine.
“Sabrina Chen,” she said, with a smile. “Look at them. Look at them looking at us.”
I looked over at them. “Hey girls, fuck you,” which got a laugh. I looked in her carriage, and saw a little blob, bundled in pink. “She’s beautiful. How old?”
“Jade Alexandra just turned eighteen days,” she said, cooing. It was funny. If people asked, you gave the full name and you counted in days, then weeks, then months. I wondered if my mother would say, ‘Jessica Renee just turned 422 months!’ She looked over at Zach “And how old is this handsome boy?”
“Zachary Seth just turned one month yesterday. We just had his checkup and he is perfect,” I cooed and he gurgled. I imagine, to a passerby, we sounded like idiots and I didn’t care. I was mommy and this was the way mommy spoke to her baby. I just had to break the habit around adults. So far, it had just been family and friends. Sammie would just shake her head and smile, saying, ‘I am totally dropping the ball compared to you, Jess.’ My parents didn’t care. They weren’t listening to me at all, just fighting over Zach.
Just then, Zach started to cry, his hungry cry. I looked at Sabrina and said, “Do you mind?” I didn’t have to specify what.
She laughed and said, “Go for it.” Then, she looked over at the girls and said, with a mean laugh, ‘“That’s right, girls. Get a good look. This is your future.” And, for a little while, I felt less alone.
-----------------------------
Six months - I had been back to work for three months already.
From the bedroom, I could hear Celia, the nanny, playing with, and singing to, Zach. She was from St. Kitts and was the friend of Sammie’s nanny.
I came out of the bedroom and said, “Hey Zachy!” He gave me a big smile, with the three teeth he had just begun cutting. I turned to Celia and said, “so what are you guys doing today?”
She said, “we are going to see Zach’s friend Jordan today.” His friend. Every time she said that, I had to laugh. He was six months old. You’d put him with another infant and they’d stare at each other. Basically, his ‘friends’ were the children for whom Celia’s friends cared. As a result, all of his friends had, as Sammie had told me would happen, ‘nannies from St. Kitts. Maybe one of the other islands, if that. But, St. Kitts.’ Sebastian’s nanny was from Poland and, as a result, we basically had to force the two nannies to get together. Michelle wanted to hire a friend of Celia’s, but Amanda said she, ‘felt guilty having a woman of color working for them.’ So, they went Polish. On a day off, I had gone to the park and observed. The island nannies’ kids played with each other, and only each other. The Indian nannies’ kids played with each other and only each other. The Polish nannies’ kids were the same. And none of them played with the kids whose moms stayed at home. When I pointed this out to my mother, she shrugged and said, ‘why do you think you were friends with Ashley and Allie? I liked their moms.’
“That sounds great,” I said. “Have a good time.” I leaned down and gave him a kiss. “Mommy loves you Zach. Be a good boy,” and I headed out the door.
“Wait,” Celia said, handing me a bag. “You almost forgot your pump.” I picked it up and was surprised she said anything, to be honest. We had begun food a couple of months ago - cereal, then fruit - and I think she couldn’t understand why we were still giving him the bottle. I went back and forth. He was eating up a storm but the books said it was good to keep breastfeeding for a while longer. Plus, I liked the closeness - most of the time. We had a pediatrician appointment soon. I’d ask Dr. Berlin what she thought.
When I got to the office, I did my morning ritual. I’d get my coffee, go to my office and kiss my fingers and touch the picture of Danny and Zach at the swings in the park. ‘Good morning, my guys,” I’d say and then go to work.
I was buried in work, with barely time to go downstairs, get a salad and eat at my desk. Around 4, the alarm on my phone went off and I closed my office door, so that I could pump. When I came back, they sent around a memo saying that, if my office door was closed, everyone had to knock, no exceptions. The women in the firm knew why, and the moms, those who had had kids while they were here, would smile. The younger men knew not to say anything. It was the older men, the ones who made the decisions, who worried me. One of the senior people, Jerry, had knocked on my door. When I said, ‘give me fifteen minutes,’ he said, in a tone somewhere between mortified and disgusted, ‘oh yeah, that’s right. Come find me.’ They all had kids but, like sausage or a vacation at a resort, didn’t want to know how things got done.
I attached the pump to both breasts (I had done a double pump, so as to take as little time as possible), and watched it suction my nipples. The first couple of times, I was transfixed, like watching two invisible hands milk me roughly. Now, I hardly noticed and went out about my work. I had, as Evelyn had predicted, become much better at multitasking. After 15 minutes, I’d disconnect and put the milk in the mini-fridge in my office. I didn’t need to buy it. I could’ve stored it in the office fridge but decided $150 was money well spent not to call attention to it too much. I didn’t need the smirks of the junior guys and the disgust of the senior people.
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Ten months - Saturday morning
“Baaaaaaaaaaaaaah,” I heard, from the living room. Zach had started babbling. He and I would have whole conversations. He’d speak gibberish and I’d say, ‘is that so? Well, I disagree. I think you would be better off investing in index funds,’ or ‘I don’t get why everyone likes ‘Game of Thrones’ so much either.’ He was learning to talk, he may as well learn correctly, I figured.
I looked at the clock - 5:49 AM. “Fuuuuck,” I said, moving one leg off the bed, in preparation to get up.
Danny said, “Relax. I’ve got this. Go back to sleep.”
“You sure?” I don’t why I asked. He was offering. Why was I giving him an out?
“Yes,” he said, kissing me. “I’ve got this. Go back to sleep.”
I listened as he walked into the living room. “Hey, monkey,” he said. “What’s up? Decided to see the sun rise?” I fell back asleep, quickly.
I woke up and looked at the clock - 8:45. ‘Shit,’ I thought. ‘I should relieve Dan.’ From the living room, I heard Danny singing. ‘Ah ah baby. Zachy is a super boy. And mommy loves you. And daddy loves you. And grandma Barbara loves you. And grandpa Dave, he really loves you, even more than he loves mommy, which is saying a lot,’ which made me smile. And he continued through the list, naming his parents and our siblings ‘and cousin Sarah really loves you. And Yoni loves you, although he wouldn’t say that out loud. And Tucker, well, he loves you even if he doesn’t always show that.’ I heard him blow on Zach’s belly which made him laugh.
I came out in my t shirt and sweats, and saw them on the floor, Zach in Danny’s lap with a book open. “How are the two loves of my life?” I gave each of them a kiss. “Did daddy behave himself, Zachy?”
Danny smiled, “we are doing great. We are reading about...surprise, surprise, trucks.” Zach was all boy. We had truck pajamas. We had books about trucks. He would bounce up and down in his stroller if we saw any kind of truck.
“Thanks for letting me sleep.”
“Please,” Danny said. “We had a great time. We ate breakfast. Oatmeal and strained pears. Then we went out…”
“Did you put on his snowsuit?”
“No, he went naked, but I wore a snowsuit. Yes,” Danny said, rolling his eyes. “I put on his snowsuit and then we went for a walk. We went to the dog run, where we saw the big doggies. Right, Zach?” And then he barked. “And then we went by the construction site on 59th.” A client of the firm’s was building a 50-story residential tower to the virulent protests of the neighborhood, who said, ‘it would block out sun to the playground.’ That was fun litigation. I got to be on the side of blocking light to children. Then Danny continued, “and we saw the crane, which lifts,” and he threw Zachy into the air, “things up. And then we got bagels and Zachy flirted with the girl behind the counter.” There was a 22 year old girl behind the counter who always said, ‘hey, blue eyes’ to Zach. He looked like me, with dark hair and big blue eyes. He was about 20 pounds now, tall and solid like Danny. He was the handsomest baby, if I did say so, and a perfect combination of the two of us.
I joked, “did you get her to throw in cream cheese for free, Zachy?” Then, I kissed Danny, “thanks honey. You’re a pretty good dad, you know.”
He picked me up and twirled me. “Look at the crane, Zachy.” Then, he kissed me lightly on the lips. “Not so bad yourself.”
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12 months. Well, 12 months in a week.
Mike had called me into his office. He hadn’t said why.
“Hey, Mike. What’s up?” I said, leaning on his desk.
He took a deep breath. “Sit down, Jess.” He looked grim.
“Is everything OK, Mike?” I hoped there was nothing wrong with him. “Everything OK with your mom?” She was 85 and had had the flu recently. Not to be morbid, but at that age, you get nervous.
“She’s fine, thanks for asking. I don’t know how else to say this, but I wanted you to know before the email went out…” ‘Please, please, please,’ I thought. ‘Let him be screwing with me.’ “They’re announcing the new partners today.”
“And?” OK, Mike, here’s where the big smile comes in.
It didn’t. “You have to know that, if it was up to me, you’d be partner.”
I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. “But, I’m not.”
“No,” he said, looking despondent. If he was expecting me to comfort him, it wasn’t happening.
“Did anyone make it?”
“Your friend Robin, and,” and he took a deep breath, “Jeff.”
OK, Jess, do not say anything stupid here. Do not say how it’s bullshit. How you work longer hours and bring in business. And don’t spend an hour a day on your fantasy football team. Don’t say that. “Oh,” was all I said. “Can I ask why?” Is it because I have a uterus? Because I put it to use? Because I had the gall to breastfeed my child and close my office door for 15 minutes, once a day?
“The vote just didn’t go your way.”
I stared at him and willed myself not to cry or yell. That would just play into what they wanted. “Am I being fired?” Part of me hoped for it. I’d get a severance package and could move on.
He looked shocked. “Oh god, no! As long as I’m here, you will always have a job.” A job, not a career though. Not a future. I could service the partners. In six years, I could report to Jake. Yippee. “Off the record, why do you even want this?”
“Excuse me?” I was mentally keeping notes and would write them down as soon as I left. If this went south, I would be prepared.
He realized that he fucked up. “No no no. I mean you have your writing and your, whaddya call it, podcast appearances.” I had begun appearing on the Reporter’s podcast. Originally, it was because of a real estate matter, but had expanded into commentary every other week on politics.
“Is that it? Is it the politics that’s bothering them?” I thought about how Ted, the managing partner, had been a finance chairman for several candidates.
“No,” he said. “It’s just not your year.”
“Mike, I billed 2200 last year. And 2400 the year before. And brought in new business. Be honest with me. You owe me that much. If it wasn’t this year, will it ever be?”
He looked at the floor, the wall, the window. Anywhere but me. “If you want to take the rest of the day, go ahead.”
I looked him in the eye. “No, Mike, I have work to do. And regardless of this,” and I waved my hand around. “I take care of my clients. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get to work. OK?” I stood up and he said, ‘if it was up to me.’
I walked back to my office and closed the door. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I looked at the picture of Zach, Danny and me, this one at the Bronx Zoo. I could say that I realized what was truly important, but I didn’t. Not at that moment. At that moment, all I could do was seethe.
I buried my head in work. At 1 PM, my Outlook popped up. ‘Fuck you,’ read the subject line. Well, it actually read, ‘Congratulations,’ but sometimes you read between the lines. I read the text, choking when it said, ‘Jeff lives in Westchester with his loving wife Tracey and their two children, Emily and Sean.’ Yup, Jeff lives with his wife. Jeff, the partner, lives with his wife. Jessica, the associate, the perpetual associate, lives with her husband. I walked out to my office to go congratulate Robin and ran into Jeff. “Hey, Jeff, congratulations.” I couldn’t say, ‘you deserve it.’ I wasn’t that big a person.
“Uh, thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it.” You could tell he wanted to say something else. Some bullshit like ‘we’re a team.’ Thankfully, he didn’t.
I walked into Robin’s office and gave her a hug and kiss. “Howdy, partner!” I was truly and unreservedly happy for her. She deserved it.
“Hey, thanks. Fucking Jeff. That’s fucking bullshit. You deserved it.”
“Thanks but stop. This is your day. Enjoy it. So, are you still going to go to lunch with me, now that you’re all important?” I needled her.
She smiled, “Stop. I mean, now you can’t eat until I finish…”
I smiled, “Until you finish, huh? What am I, Gib?”
She laughed then sighed. “Then, he’d go hungry. Seriously though...”
“Seriously, stop. I am totally happy for you. Let me take you to lunch tomorrow to celebrate.” I just couldn’t do it today.
She smiled. “If you insist.”
I walked around the office and felt like everyone was staring at me. Then, I thought, ‘snap out of it. They thought about it for 15 seconds, and most of that was to think what it meant for their own chances.’ And I went back to work. OK, I spent a couple of hours on parenting websites, on Bucky’s 5th Quarter, a Wisconsin football blog and on HuffPo, rereading my old articles. I was better than this. I could do more. So, why was I so upset?
I went home and Zach greeted me at the door, with his little push mower, the kind with the balls that popped around as he pushed. He was really starting to walk and, with his motor, could really zoom around the playground. I had lost three pounds just chasing after him. He gave me a big smile. “Hey, Zach,” I said, scooping him up and kissing him. “How did it go today, Celia?”
She was already putting on her coat. “Terrific. We saw Jordan today.” As the Passover Haggadah said, ma’nishtana? Why is this day different from all other days. “Mr. Zach and Jordan went up and down the halls at Jordan’s.”
“That’s great. He napped? Ate well?”
She came over and gave him a big hug, and he gave her a big smile. “He was terrific.” The smile he gave her bothered me. “I will see you in the morning,” she said, hugging him again. I was happy. She really seemed to care for him.
Danny came home and we ate dinner. I gave Zach his bath, watching him take his plastic tub cups and fill them up and dump them. I dried him off and then Danny put him to bed, reading ‘Mike Milligan and his Steam Shovel.’ Ellen, Dan’s boss’ wife, had bought him it when he was born and had written, ‘may it be the first of many that you share’ on the inside.
Danny came to bed. I was there reading. “So what happened today?”
“I didn’t make partner,” I said, moving towards him.
He took me in his arms. “I am so sorry. You deserved it.”
I started to cry, the tears I hadn’t cried all day. “It is so fucking unfair. It...is...not...fair. Robin made it….Jeff made it. Fucking Jeff made it,” and I bawled. Danny rubbed my back, and just said, ‘let it out, Jessa.’ I alternated crying and ranting. “This is such fucking bullshit.”
“What did Mike say?”
“I’d always have a job,” I said, through gritted teeth. “That and he asked why did I even want it?”
Danny put his hands on my shoulders and said, “why do you want it?”
“Are you fucking serious? I’ve spent ten years working towards this and you fucking ask me that? Are you fucking kidding me? What? I should stay home like fucking Tracey, is that it?”
“No, Jessa. That is not it. Not at all. And I’ll accept it only because I know you’re pissed. What I mean is, why this? Why do you want to be partner there? Didn’t you once say, ‘it’s like a pie eating contest where first prize is more pie? Why do you want more pie?”
I laughed. “I hate when you listen to me.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “Maybe this is your chance. You’ve said how much you hate your job. How you hate arguing about whether hedge fund assholes have marble and defending blocking sunlight. I know you think this is bullshit, and it is, but maybe this is a sign. What would you do if you could do anything?”
“That’s not an option,” I sniffled.
He smiled. “Why not? I’m not saying quit tomorrow, but if we make a plan and save, maybe it can be in a year, if not sooner. So what? So we won’t go on an expensive vacation? We’ll be OK. I do OK. We have savings. My parents have funded college.” Marty had made a big scene after the bris about that. My father just smiled and said, ‘that’s great. Zachary’s a lucky boy.’ “But what would you do? You can do anything. I’ve always believed that. Now, let’s do it! We’ll make a plan and we’ll do it. OK?”
I started to cry, but was smiling at the same time.
----------------------------------------------------
13 months - Zach and Dan had been at the playground for a couple of hours now.
I had been feeling under the weather lately, and Danny had offered to take him. Actually, he commanded me to relax, saying that I had been pushing myself too hard at work, ‘although god knows why.’ The litigation continued over the tower on 59th, even though ground had been broken. Part of the problem with our neighborhood was its high concentration of lawyers, retired ones to be exact. They were my worst nightmare, brains plus time. I spent more time in court fighting nuisance complaints than I had ever wanted, even though we always won. Well, the client won. I didn’t care, not the way that I used to.
I heard the door open and Zach yell, ‘mama!’ On the one hand, I loved hearing him say that, most of the time. He came staggering towards me, with a stiff-legged gait. He had begun walking at 11 and a half months. My aunt Helene told me, ‘it’s overrated, Jess. Knock him down and tie his legs together, if you have to.’ Sometimes, I regretted not listening. “Hey, guys, how was the park?”
Danny laid down on the couch, on his back with his hand over his forehead. “Tiring,” he said, with a smile. Zach toddled over and Danny laid him on his chest, Zach’s head resting near his heart. “We saw Jordan and Jade and Liam. Daddy doesn’t like Liam’s daddy.” Liam’s daddy was hyper-competitive and forever comparing the two boys, on everything including height. It galled him that Zach was taller. I used to tell him that we stretched Zach at night. “But we had fun, right Zach?” Zach responded, ‘dada,’ in an emphatic tone that we decided meant yes. “How about you? How are you feeling?”
“I think I figured out what’s bothering me,” I said, with a smile.
“What?” he said, as Zach moved to be put down. He wandered over to his toy corner (also known as my living room) and picked up blocks.
I took something out of my pocket. “This,” I said, with a smile. It was a positive pregnancy test. “I missed my last period and…” He got up off the couch, kissed me and lifted me up.
I knelt down next to Zachy. “Guess what? You are going to be a big brother…”
And nine months later, he was. To Emma Riley Silverman. 7 pounds 6 ounces and 19 ½ inches long.
At the hospital, Danny put his finger on her hand. “Hey Emma, I’m your daddy.” And with that, a love affair was born. Unlike my mother, I was happy with it.
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Seven years later ----
“Eyes on the ball, Sebastian. Not on me. The ball. Stop looking at me. Come on. Come on.”
“Ma,” he yelled, as I blew past him for a layup. “Aunt Jess is being mean!”
Michelle looked over from the grill, where she was making lunch. We were at their weekend place in Rhode Island. “Seb, she’s not being mean. Listen to her. She’s trying to help. She’s a great player. Not as good as me, mind you....”
I made a talking motion with my hand. “Talk is cheap, Shell. Put up or shut up.”
I heard Amanda say, ‘Excuse me, Dan, but our wives are being, well, themselves. I need to take over the grill.’ Then, she said, ‘I’m not treating either of you when you pull something.’
Michelle looked at Zach and said, “OK, Zach, you and me against Seb and your mom. You’re Nkilitina and I’m Porzingis,” the Knicks’ point guard and center. “We’re winning the title, like they did.”
“Seb,” I said, in a stage whisper, “your mom can’t go to her left. Never could. Never will.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Danny and Amanda roll their eyes and get back to the grill.
We were playing to 21, and we were up 18-15, when Emma and Maddie, Amanda and Michelle’s seven year old daughter, came out; yes, we had our second at the same time too. Emma said, “Mommy, can I get a pink streak in my hair like Sarah?”
“What?” I said, as Zach went past me for a pull-up jump shot. ‘Hey, no fair,’ I said, to his big grin. Little wiseass. “No, you cannot. You’re seven.”
Just then, Sarah came out. She was a senior at Brown, majoring in economics and semiotics. Yoram joked, ‘the first generation works its fingers to the bone. The second gets educated and innovates. The third studies the study of studying.’ She had come down, ‘to spend time with my favorite cousins.’ “It’s fine, Aunt Jess. It’s not like mine. It totally washes out.”
I looked at her and said, “if it doesn’t, I am holding you personally responsible.”
She smiled, “Trust me. Come on girls.” And she walked off, her two acolytes following her. I trusted her. I was proud of her. She had really grown into a beautiful, confident young woman. She had avoided the eating disorders that had plagued all the women in her family. Whenever she visited, she and I would go for long runs and just talk about life. I knew when she lost her virginity to, all of people, Jordan Glick. She smiled and said, ‘it’s not small, but god it’s not good either.’
Me? Six months after Emma was born, I walked into Mike’s office and gave my notice. While I was pregnant with Emma, I wrote an article about Trump’s asinine ban on transgender military personnel. I looked at these people who had devoted their lives to protecting my family and how they were being forced out for being who they were. And I thought about all the couples who were harassed, who had to travel overseas, to live their lives and have children. And I thought about how I didn’t want to fight over pieces on an overpriced Monopoly board anymore. So, I called my friend Michael from law school, who was on the board of Lambda Legal. He hired me as a senior staff attorney on their transgender rights initiative, even as he laughed at the pay cut I happily took. My first day at work, I sat at my desk and laughed to myself about everything that brought me there.
Danny and I sat on the deck on lounge chairs, watching the sun go down and holding hands. I looked over at him, the little flecks of gray that had begun appearing at his temples and the way he still looked good, even as his body got a little thicker, and I smiled. With each passing day, the memory of Dan and Jess was fading, like an old picture in a photo album. I couldn’t even remember the last time that we had talked about it, them. They were less and less us and more like your grandparents or a favorite teacher. You remember specific events and the lessons you learned, even as you forget the day-to-day.
I took a sip of my wine and thought, ‘who am I?’ I am Jessica Renee Silverman. I am a happily married, forty-three year old mother of two wonderful children who drive me crazy sometimes. I’m ten pounds heavier than I’d like to be, and color my hair more and more. I get up every day and hope that one day I’ll be successful enough at my job to make it irrelevant. I have good friends and a family that loves me. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.