Chapter 27 - What Else Don’t I Know

Jennifer woke before the alarm she no longer needed.

For several seconds she remained still beneath the floral comforter.

Listening.

No shouting.

No front door slamming.

No Ethan standing in the kitchen looking at her like she was something he had never seen before.

Just the muffled hum of the furnace.

The faint movement of someone downstairs.

And Luke Perry staring confidently at her from the wall.

Jennifer turned her head.

Jason Priestley appeared equally pleased with himself.

Leonardo DiCaprio brooded from beside the closet.

She sighed.

“You three are starting to feel judgmental.”

None of them responded.

Typical.

Jennifer pushed herself upright.

She had slept through the night.

Almost eight hours.

No waking at two in the morning.

No crying into the pillow.

She should have felt relieved.

Instead, the first thing she felt was guilt.

Ethan was sleeping at someone else’s house because of her.

Michelle was waking up alone.

Sophie was caught between everyone.

And Jennifer had slept better than she had in weeks.

It felt unfair.

Almost disloyal.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and looked down at herself.

Soft pink pajamas.

Deep red fingernails.

Blonde hair falling messily around her shoulders.

The room no longer looked quite as ridiculous as it had on Friday.

That bothered her too.

Jennifer gathered her hair into a loose ponytail, pulled on leggings and a white sweater, and went downstairs.

Kathy was already in the kitchen.

Of course she was.

Coffee brewed beside the sink.

A pan of scrambled eggs sat on the stove.

Bagels were arranged in a basket as if a Sunday breakfast committee might arrive at any moment.

Kathy looked over.

“There she is.”

Jennifer stopped halfway into the room.

“You used the voice.”

“I said three words.”

“You made them sound maternal.”

“I am maternal.”

“Not toward me.”

Kathy slid a mug of coffee across the island.

“That ship appears to have sailed.”

Jennifer accepted the mug.

“You’re enjoying this niece thing far too much.”

“I waited decades To hav one.”

Jennifer tried not to smile.

Failed.

She took a sip of coffee instead.

“How did you sleep?” Kathy asked.

Jennifer looked into the mug.

“Better.”

“That’s good.”

“I feel guilty about it.”

“That’s less good.”

Jennifer leaned against the island.

“I shouldn’t be comfortable here.”

Kathy turned off the stove.

“Why not?”

“Because this isn’t my home.”

Kathy looked at her.

“You’re staying here.”

“That isn’t the same thing.”

“No,” Kathy agreed. “But it doesn’t mean you have to suffer every minute.”

Jennifer stared into the coffee again.

Before she could answer, the doorbell rang.

Her stomach tightened instantly.

Kathy looked toward the foyer.

“They’re here.”

Jennifer set down the mug.

She already knew who.

Still, her pulse quickened.

Kathy opened the front door.

Michelle stepped inside first.

Sophie followed close behind.

Sophie saw Jennifer and immediately crossed the foyer.

She wrapped both arms around her.

Jennifer hugged her back.

Tightly.

“I missed you,” Sophie said.

Jennifer closed her eyes.

“I’ve been gone two days.”

“I know.”

Sophie held on for another moment.

“It feels longer.”

Jennifer kissed the top of her head.

“It does.”

When Sophie stepped away, Jennifer looked at Michelle.

For a second neither moved.

Michelle looked tired.

Not as tired as Friday morning.

But close.

Michelle finally stepped forward and hugged her.

The embrace was careful at first.

Then less careful.

Jennifer closed her eyes again.

Michelle smelled familiar.

Shampoo.

Coffee.

Home.

Jennifer almost asked if she could come back.

The words rose.

Then died before reaching her mouth.

Michelle pulled away.

“You look better.”

“I slept.”

“I’m glad.”

Jennifer managed a faint smile.

“Me too.”

Kathy appeared behind them.

“Everyone into the kitchen.”

Nobody argued.

Within minutes they were seated around the table.

Coffee poured.

Bagels passed.

Eggs spooned onto plates.

Nobody seemed especially interested in eating.

Jennifer sat across from Michelle.

Sophie beside her.

Kathy at the end of the table, pretending not to monitor everyone.

Jennifer tried to wait.

She lasted less than a minute.

“How is Ethan?”

Michelle set down her coffee.

“He’s okay.”

Jennifer’s shoulders loosened slightly.

“He’s still at Ryan’s?”

“Yes.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Mostly texts.”

Jennifer looked down.

“Mostly?”

“He called this morning.”

Jennifer looked up quickly.

“What did he say?”

Michelle hesitated.

“That he’s going back to school tonight.”

“So soon?”

“He has class tomorrow.”

“And finals are coming.”

Jennifer nodded.

Of course they were.

The world had not stopped because their family had exploded.

“When will he be back?”

“Probably the middle of December.”

Jennifer absorbed that.

Two weeks.

Maybe a little more.

“So he’s leaving without seeing me.”

It was not a question.

Michelle reached across the table.

“I think that’s what he needs right now.”

Jennifer stared at Michelle’s hand covering hers.

“Did he ask about me?”

Michelle did not answer immediately.

That was answer enough.

Sophie shifted in her chair.

“He asked if you were still at Grandma’s.”

Jennifer looked at her.

“He did?”

Sophie nodded.

“That was all.”

Michelle squeezed Jennifer’s hand.

“He knows you love him.”

Jennifer swallowed.

“Does he?”

“Yes.”

“How can he?”

“Because one terrible night doesn’t erase nineteen years.”

Jennifer looked away.

“I lied to him for months.”

“We all did,” Sophie said quietly.

Jennifer turned.

Sophie’s eyes had filled.

“I knew too.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“It feels like it.”

Jennifer reached for her hand.

“You were trying to protect everyone.”

“So were you.”

Jennifer almost laughed.

It came out closer to a breath.

“That worked well.”

Nobody responded.

Michelle leaned forward.

“I don’t think you should call him today.”

Jennifer looked at her.

“I wasn’t going to.”

It was a lie.

She had imagined calling at least twelve times since waking.

Michelle knew it.

Jennifer could see that she knew it.

“He needs to get back to school,” Michelle said. “He needs classes. His friends. Finals. Normal things.”

“And when he comes home?”

Michelle was quiet.

Jennifer felt the answer forming before Michelle spoke.

“I think it would be better if you stayed here for now.”

The room went still.

Kathy looked down at her coffee.

Sophie stared at the table.

Jennifer nodded once.

Slowly.

“Okay.”

Michelle’s expression tightened.

“We all need some space to figure things out.”

Jennifer looked at her.

The distinction mattered.

Even if Jennifer no longer knew exactly what being Michelle’s husband meant.

Even if she now apparently qualified as her mother’s niece.

Even if the entire family tree had become something no one should attempt without professional assistance.

Michelle continued.

“I’m asking you to give Ethan somewhere familiar to come home to.”

Jennifer stared at her.

Michelle’s eyes shone.

“I want him to walk into the house and feel like something is still where he left it.”

The words hurt.

Because Jennifer understood exactly what Michelle meant.

And exactly what she did not say.

Jennifer was the thing no longer where Ethan had left it.

She nodded again.

“I understand.”

Michelle’s voice softened.

“I don’t know how long.”

“I know.”

“It might only be until he’s ready to talk.”

“I know.”

Jennifer looked down at their joined hands.

“But if he comes back in December and I’m there…”

“He might not come home at all,” Michelle finished.

Jennifer closed her eyes.

“Okay.”

Michelle tightened her grip.

“I’m not choosing him over you.”

Jennifer opened her eyes.

“You shouldn’t have to choose.”

“I know.”

“But right now, he’s nineteen. He’s hurt. And he doesn’t understand any of this.”

Jennifer looked toward Sophie.

“Do any of us?”

Sophie gave a sad smile.

“Not really.”

Silence settled over the table again.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

Kathy allowed it to remain for approximately eight seconds.

Then she placed both hands flat against the table.

“Well.”

Everyone looked at her.

“If Jennifer is staying here for the time being she has a schedule.”

Jennifer narrowed her eyes.

“I do?”

“She does,” Kathy confirmed.

Michelle looked suspicious.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Jennifer and Michelle spoke together.

“Yes, you did.”

Kathy ignored them.

“Jennifer is attending the ladies’ club holiday cookie party next Saturday.”

Michelle stared.

Then she began laughing.

Not politely.

Not carefully.

Actually laughing.

Jennifer looked at her.

“What?”

Michelle covered her mouth.

“My mother has been trying to drag me into that group for twenty years.”

Kathy lifted one shoulder.

“You resist enrichment.”

“I resist being trapped in rooms with women discussing table linens.”

“We discuss many things.”

“Such as?”

Kathy thought.

“Other women.”

Sophie laughed.

Jennifer pointed at Kathy.

“That is at least honest.”

Michelle was still laughing.

“You got Jennifer to go after one lunch?”

“There was wine,” Jennifer said.

“That explains some of it.”

Kathy frowned.

“She was invited because they liked her.”

Michelle leaned back in her chair.

“This is unbelievable.”

“What is?”

“I have avoided that club since college.”

Jennifer smiled.

“And now your husband is joining.”

Michelle blinked.

Jennifer tilted her head.

“Actually, no.”

She looked toward Kathy.

“I’m her favorite niece.”

Kathy smiled proudly.

Michelle groaned.

Jennifer continued.

“Which I believe makes us cousins.”

Sophie dropped her head into her hands.

“No.”

“I’m just following the family logic.”

“There is no family logic.”

Michelle laughed again.

“I’m not being cousins with my own husband.”

Jennifer smiled.

“Former son-in-law. Current niece. Essentially cousins with his wife.”

“Please stop.”

Kathy nodded thoughtfully.

“I think second cousins by marriage.”

Michelle pointed at her.

“Do not encourage this.”

Jennifer sipped her coffee.

“I’m just trying to understand my place in the family.”

Sophie looked up.

“Can we please not draw this?”

“No diagrams,” Michelle agreed.

For the first time since they arrived, the tension loosened.

Not disappeared.

But loosened.

Kathy turned toward Jennifer.

“Now we need to decide what you’re baking.”

Jennifer blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“For the cookie party.”

“I assumed I would buy something.”

Three women stared at her.

Jennifer looked around the table.

“Apparently that was the wrong answer.”

“Very wrong,” Kathy said.

Michelle smiled.

“She’ll know.”

“Know what?”

“That you bought them.”

“How?”

“Mothers always know.”

Jennifer looked toward Sophie.

“Is that true?”

Sophie nodded solemnly.

“They know everything.”

Jennifer gave Michelle a pointed look.

“Clearly not everything.”

The humor vanished for half a second.

Michelle looked down.

Jennifer immediately regretted it.

Kathy stepped in before the silence could return.

“Sugar cookies.”

“No,” Michelle said.

Kathy looked offended.

“Why not?”

“Because she’ll have to decorate them.”

Jennifer raised a hand.

“I have no relevant skills.”

“Linzer cookies,” Sophie suggested.

Jennifer looked confused.

“What are those?”

“Too complicated,” Michelle said.

“Chocolate peppermint cookies,” Sophie tried.

Kathy frowned.

“Everyone brings chocolate.”

“That seems like a feature.”

“Presentation matters.”

Jennifer leaned toward Michelle.

“She means appearance.”

“She always means appearance.”

Kathy ignored them.

“What did Michael used to bake?”

Jennifer stared.

“Nothing.”

Michelle smiled faintly.

“He made brownies once.”

“They came from a box.”

“And he forgot the oil.”

Jennifer looked offended.

“I added butter.”

“You added margarine.”

“They survived.”

“Barely.”

Sophie laughed.

“What about Italian rainbow cookies?”

Jennifer looked toward Kathy.

“Can we purchase those?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

Eventually they settled on chocolate crinkle cookies.

Mostly because Sophie claimed they were difficult to ruin.

Kathy claimed that sounded like a challenge.

Jennifer claimed she was withdrawing from the club before officially joining.

Nobody listened.

The conversation continued until the coffee had gone cold.

For several minutes they discussed ingredients.

Powdered sugar.

Cookie tins.

Whether Kathy owned festive ribbon.

Kathy owned enough festive ribbon to restrain a small parade.

Jennifer watched Michelle and Sophie argue about whether peppermint belonged in chocolate.

The scene was ordinary.

Almost painfully ordinary.

And for a little while Jennifer let herself believe they were simply four women sitting around a kitchen table on a Sunday morning.

Not a wife.

A daughter.

A mother-in-law.

And a displaced husband wearing leggings and a ponytail.

Just family.

Complicated.

Damaged.

Still family.

Eventually Michelle looked at the time.

“We should go.”

Jennifer’s chest tightened.

Sophie stood and carried her plate toward the sink.

Michelle collected her purse.

Jennifer followed them into the foyer.

“Are you going straight home?”

Michelle nodded.

“I have some things to do before Ethan leaves.”

Jennifer looked down.

“Tell him…”

She stopped.

Michelle waited.

Jennifer tried again.

“Tell him I love him.”

“I will.”

“And that I’m sorry.”

“He knows.”

“Tell him anyway.”

Michelle nodded.

“I will.”

Sophie hugged her again.

“I’ll text you tonight.”

Jennifer squeezed her.

“Okay.”

Then Michelle reached for her coat.

“Oh.”

Jennifer looked up.

“I will pick you up for work tomorrow, David needs you there.”

“He said that?”

“Twice.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

Jennifer nodded.

“Okay.”

There was another awkward pause.

Then Jennifer smiled faintly.

“This is convenient.”

“What is?”

“Getting a ride to work from my cousin.”

Michelle closed her eyes.

“Please let that die.”

“I don’t think it will.”

Kathy called from the kitchen.

“It’s funny because it’s true.”

“It isn’t true,” Michelle called back.

Jennifer smiled.

“See you tomorrow.”

Michelle looked at her for a long moment.

Then stepped forward and hugged her.

Longer than before.

Jennifer held on.

She did not ask what the hug meant.

She did not ask whether Michelle missed her.

She did not ask if David’s name had landed between them as heavily as it felt.

She simply held her until Michelle let go.

Then watched as Michelle and Sophie walked to the car.

Sophie waved from the passenger seat.

Jennifer waved back.

The car pulled away.

She remained at the front window until it disappeared.

Then the house became quiet again.

Kathy appeared beside her.

“That went well.”

Jennifer continued looking through the glass.

“Did it?”

“As well as it could.”

Jennifer nodded.

“That isn’t the same thing.”

“No.”

They returned to the kitchen.

Jennifer gathered coffee cups.

Kathy wrapped the untouched bagels.

Neither spoke for several minutes.

Jennifer wiped the table.

Kathy rinsed plates.

The normal rhythm felt comforting.

Eventually Kathy asked:

“How are you really?”

Jennifer continued wiping the same spot.

“I’m fine.”

Kathy looked over.

“That was unconvincing.”

Jennifer sighed.

She set down the cloth.

“I don’t know.”

“Try.”

Jennifer leaned against the counter.

“I should be falling apart.”

“You are falling apart.”

“Not the way I expected.”

Kathy waited.

Jennifer looked toward the kitchen window.

Bare branches moved gently beyond the glass.

“I’m scared.”

“My son won’t speak to me.”

“I’m living in my mother-in-law’s house.”

“My wife just told me I should stay here.”

Kathy opened her mouth.

Jennifer continued.

“I know why.”

“I know she’s right.”

“That somehow makes it worse.”

Kathy nodded.

Jennifer folded her arms around herself.

“But underneath all of it…”

She hesitated.

“I feel peaceful.”

Kathy became very still.

Jennifer noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.”

Kathy looked down at the sink.

Jennifer studied her.

“I don’t understand it,” Jennifer continued. “Everything is wrong. But I wake up and…”

She searched for the words.

“I don’t feel like I’m fighting myself every second.”

Kathy said nothing.

“At work, I used to think about every movement.”

“Every word.”

“How I sat.”

“How I walked.”

“How I held a coffee cup.”

Jennifer looked down at her hands.

“Now sometimes I forget.”

“Forget what?”

“That I’m supposed to be pretending.”

The sentence remained between them.

Kathy slowly dried her hands.

Jennifer watched her.

“What?”

Kathy looked toward the table.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

Jennifer’s stomach tightened.

She almost laughed.

The sentence had become a warning in their family.

“What else don’t I know?”

Kathy flinched.

Ethan’s words.

Neither needed to say it.

Kathy pulled out a chair.

“Sit down.”

Jennifer did not move.

“Kathy.”

“Please.”

Jennifer sat.

Kathy took the chair across from her.

For once, she did not look amused.

Or confident.

Or in control.

She looked nervous.

Jennifer had never seen Kathy look nervous.

“The pills you take at night,” Kathy began.

Jennifer’s eyes narrowed.

“What about them?”

“And the patch.”

Jennifer reached instinctively toward her shoulder.

“What about it?”

Kathy took a breath.

“They aren’t vitamins.”

Jennifer stared.

“I know the patch isn’t a vitamin.”

“I mean they aren’t what I told you they were.”

The room seemed to contract.

“What are they?”

Kathy held Jennifer’s eyes.

“The pill is a testosterone blocker.”

Jennifer did not react.

Not because she was calm.

Because the words had not fully landed.

Kathy continued.

“The patch contains a low dose of estrogen.”

Jennifer blinked.

Once.

Twice.

“What?”

“I thought it would help.”

Jennifer stared at her.

“With what?”

“Becoming Jennifer.”

The room went silent.

Jennifer touched the patch again.

“You’ve been giving me hormones?”

Kathy looked down.

“Yes.”

“Without telling me?”

“Yes.”

Jennifer stood so abruptly the chair scraped backward.

“You drugged me?”

“I didn’t think of it that way.”

“Because you weren’t the one taking it.”

Kathy closed her eyes.

“You’re right.”

Jennifer paced toward the counter.

Then back.

“I’ve been taking these for almost two months.”

Jennifer pressed both hands against the edge of the table.

Her deep red nails stood out against the wood.

“Did Michelle know?”

“No.”

The answer came immediately.

Jennifer looked up.

“Sophie?”

“No.”

“Anyone?”

Kathy hesitated.

Jennifer saw it.

“Who?”

“You haven’t met her yet.”

“Kathy.”

“One of the women in the club is an endocrinologist.”

Jennifer stared.

“A doctor?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“Dr. Susan Reynolds.”

“You got these from her?”

Kathy nodded.

“She specializes in hormones.”

Jennifer could barely process the sentence.

“What did you tell her?”

“That you were living as Jennifer for work.”

“That it was stressful.”

“That you wanted something to make the transition easier.”

Jennifer’s voice dropped.

“Did she know I didn’t know?”

Kathy looked away.

“No.”

Jennifer laughed once.

A sharp, disbelieving sound.

“So you lied to her too.”

“Yes.”

“You told a doctor I consented.”

“Yes.”

Jennifer turned away.

Her eyes burned.

She refused to cry.

That lasted approximately three seconds.

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

She wiped them angrily.

“Is this why?”

Kathy stood.

“Why what?”

“This.”

Jennifer gestured toward her face.

“The crying.”

“The mood swings.”

“The way everything feels so close to the surface.”

“It could be.”

Jennifer touched the front of her sweatshirt.

“My chest has been sore.”

Kathy nodded carefully.

“That could be part of it.”

“My skin feels different.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been calmer.”

“Possibly.”

Jennifer stared.

She also thought about the how she hadn’t had any males urges in awhile, but didn’t dare mention it aloud.

“So none of this is me.”

Kathy frowned.

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s chemicals.”

“It may be both.”

Jennifer shook her head.

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” Kathy said. “I don’t.”

Jennifer cried harder.

Not loudly.

Just helplessly.

She lowered herself back into the chair.

“I thought I was losing my mind.”

Kathy sat beside her.

“I’m sorry.”

Jennifer looked at her.

“I should hate you.”

“You have every right.”

“I’m furious.”

“I know.”

“You made a decision about my body.”

“I know.”

“You don’t ever get to do that again.”

“I won’t.”

“Not even if you think you’re helping.”

“I understand.”

Jennifer wiped her face with both hands.

Then gave a broken laugh.

“This is going to sound insane.”

Kathy waited.

“I’m relieved.”

Kathy looked surprised.

Jennifer nodded through the tears.

“It explains things.”

“I thought I was just…”

She searched.

“Weak.”

“Unstable.”

“Too emotional.”

Kathy shook her head.

“You aren’t any of those things.”

Jennifer looked down at her hands.

“Lately everything has felt different.”

“Not just harder.”

“Different.”

She swallowed.

“Softer.”

“Quieter.”

“Right.”

The last word came out barely above a whisper.

Kathy did not respond.

Jennifer looked at her.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You don’t have to know today.”

Jennifer touched the edge of the patch.

“Where is Dr. Reynolds?”

“She has an office about twenty minutes away.”

Kathy leaned forward.

“I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Jennifer’s expression hardened.

“You’ll tell her the truth.”

“Yes.”

“All of it.”

“Yes.”

“That I didn’t know.”

“Yes.”

“That I never agreed.”

Kathy nodded.

“I’ll tell her everything.”

Jennifer stared at the table.

“And then?”

“She’ll explain what you’ve taken.”

“What it may have done.”

“What the risks are.”

“What stopping would mean.”

“And what continuing would mean.”

Jennifer looked up.

“You think I’ll continue.”

Kathy chose her answer carefully.

“I think part of you wants to.”

Jennifer looked away.

“That isn’t your decision.”

“No.”

Kathy’s voice was quiet.

“It never should have been.”

For several moments neither spoke.

Then Jennifer said:

“There’s more.”

Kathy waited.

Jennifer could feel her face warming.

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t say that until you hear it.”

Kathy sat back.

“Fine.”

Jennifer looked toward the doorway, as though Michelle might somehow still be standing in the foyer.

“I don’t want her to know.”

“About the hormones?”

Jennifer hesitated.

“The endocrinologist.”

“The plastic surgeon consultation.”

“And…”

She stopped.

Kathy’s expression shifted.

“And Joe.”

Jennifer closed her eyes.

“You enjoyed saying his name.”

“I only repeated what you said.”

“You did it with enthusiasm.”

Kathy smiled faintly.

Then became serious again.

“You want all of it kept from Michelle?”

“For now.”

Kathy watched her.

“Nothing happened with Joe.”

“I know.”

“I’m not planning for anything to happen.”

“I know.”

Jennifer looked down.

“I liked talking to him.”

“He made me feel…”

She searched for a word that did not sound as dangerous as the truth.

“Seen.”

Kathy remained quiet.

“And attractive,” Jennifer admitted.

There it was.

She had said it.

Again.

Out loud.

“I liked that he was flirting with me.”

Kathy’s eyebrows lifted.

Jennifer pointed at her.

“Do not.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re doing it internally.”

Kathy pressed her lips together.

Jennifer sighed.

“I had a dream about him last night.”

That defeated Kathy.

A smile escaped.

Jennifer groaned.

“I knew it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“What happened in the dream?”

Jennifer looked toward the window.

“He took me to dinner.”

“That’s all?”

Jennifer nodded.

“It was someplace nice.”

“I had a dress on.”

“He held my hand across the table.”

Kathy’s smile softened.

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“We talked.”

“He looked at me like…”

She stopped.

“Like what?”

“Like I was the person he had come to see.”

The words surprised Jennifer.

Kathy did not interrupt.

“I wasn’t worried he’d find out.”

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“I wasn’t Michael underneath it.”

“I was just…”

She looked down.

“Jennifer.”

Silence.

“When I woke up, I was disappointed.”

Jennifer laughed softly at herself.

“How terrible is that?”

“It isn’t terrible.”

“I’m married.”

“Yes.”

“To your daughter.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’m now apparently cousins with my own wife.”

Kathy smiled.

“That part is less clear.”

Jennifer shook her head.

“I don’t know if I’m attracted to Joe.”

“You dreamed about him.”

“That proves nothing.”

“It proves you thought about him.”

Jennifer sighed.

“I think I liked being attractive to him.”

Kathy nodded.

“That may be enough for now.”

Jennifer wiped beneath her eyes.

“And I’m excited about the consultation.”

“The plastic surgeon?”

Jennifer nodded.

“More than I should be.”

“What are you excited about?”

Jennifer thought.

“The possibilities.”

“What possibilities?”

Jennifer looked toward the dark screen of the microwave and caught a faint reflection.

Blonde ponytail.

Soft face.

No makeup.

Still Jennifer.

“I want to know what could be changed.”

“My jaw.”

“My brow.”

“Maybe my nose.”

She hesitated.

“And…”

Kathy waited.

Jennifer glanced down at her chest.

“You know.”

Kathy smiled.

“I do.”

“I’ve been thinking about it since lunch.”

“What size?”

Jennifer looked horrified.

“I haven’t gotten that far.”

“You asked about recovery.”

“The Chardonnay asked.”

“The Chardonnay was very informed.”

Jennifer laughed.

Then became serious.

“I want to know if they would look natural.”

“If my clothes would fit differently.”

“If I would look…”

She stopped.

“More like her.”

Kathy tilted her head.

“Who?”

Jennifer looked again at her reflection.

“Jennifer.”

The answer came easily.

Too easily.

Jennifer’s eyes filled again.

She laughed through the tears.

“This is ridiculous.”

“No,” Kathy said softly. “It’s honest.”

Jennifer looked back at her.

“That’s what frightens me.”

Kathy reached across the table.

Jennifer let her take her hand.

“I need you to promise,” Jennifer said.

“Michelle cannot know yet.”

“Not about Joe.”

“Not about the surgeon.”

“Not about Dr. Reynolds.”

“I need time before everyone starts deciding what all of this means.”

Kathy nodded.

“You want to tell her yourself.”

Jennifer shook her head.

“I don’t know if I’ll tell her.”

Kathy frowned slightly.

Jennifer continued.

“I don’t know what any of it is yet.”

“If I tell Michelle now, she’ll start trying to make sense of it.”

“And I can’t even make sense of it.”

She squeezed Kathy’s hand.

“No hints.”

“No comments.”

“No little smiles.”

Kathy looked offended.

“I don’t make little smiles.”

Jennifer stared.

Kathy smiled.

Jennifer pointed.

“That.”

The smile disappeared.

“You have my word.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

Jennifer released a breath.

Then Kathy asked quietly:

“Are you afraid Michelle will try to stop you?”

Jennifer thought about it.

“No.”

The answer surprised both of them.

Jennifer looked down.

“I’m afraid she won’t.”

Kathy said nothing.

“I’m afraid she’ll tell me she supports me.”

“That I should do whatever makes me happy.”

“That she’ll make it easy.”

Kathy watched her carefully.

“Why does that frighten you?”

Jennifer swallowed.

“Because then I can’t pretend I’m only doing this because everyone expects me to.”

The truth settled between them.

Kathy stood and walked toward a cabinet.

She returned carrying the small pill bottle and a fresh patch still sealed in its package.

She set both on the table.

Jennifer stared at them.

Kathy sat across from her.

“I’m not asking you to take anything.”

Jennifer looked at the patch on her shoulder.

“I’m not asking you to stop.”

Jennifer touched the edge of it.

“I’m calling Susan tomorrow.”

“Dr. Reynolds,” Jennifer corrected.

Kathy nodded.

“Dr. Reynolds.”

“I’ll tell her the truth.”

“You’ll make an appointment.”

“And then every decision is yours.”

Jennifer looked at the bottle.

The pills inside shifted softly when she picked it up.

Her hand trembled.

She turned the bottle over.

Read the label she had never bothered to inspect closely.

Then touched the patch again.

She peeled one corner back.

The skin beneath it looked slightly pink.

Jennifer stared at the exposed edge.

She could remove it.

Right now.

Throw it away.

Wash everything from her system.

Begin finding her way back toward Michael.

Whatever that meant.

Instead, she smoothed the patch back against her skin.

Kathy watched without comment.

Jennifer opened the pill bottle.

She shook one small tablet into her palm.

Held it there.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“I know.”

“This doesn’t mean you were right.”

“I know.”

“Tomorrow, we call a real doctor.”

“Yes.”

“And after that…”

Jennifer looked directly at her.

“I make every decision.”

“You do.”

Jennifer looked down at the pill.

Then smiled faintly.

“One more can’t hurt.”

She placed it on her tongue.

Reached for the glass of water.

And swallowed.

The patch remained exactly where it was.

For months, Jennifer had taken the pill because Kathy had decided she should.

Tonight, she took it because she had decided not to stop.

Not yet.

The distinction was small.

Almost invisible.

But it belonged to her.

Jennifer set the empty glass on the table.

Tomorrow she would ask questions.

Tomorrow she would hear risks.

Options.

Consequences.

Tomorrow she would have to begin deciding what all of this meant.

But tonight…

Jennifer rested her fingertips against the patch beneath her sweatshirt.

And allowed herself one more day.