Five

Gwen kissed me. You're going to have to look at some point.

No I don't.

Well, you have work in half an hour, and I have spay day. They schedule all the spays and neuters for the same day every week, and Gwen spends the whole day in the animal OR. She can get a uterus out of a cat in two and a half minutes.

Maybe someone spayed me. I flopped backwards on the bed. And that's why I can't get pregnant.

It's only been three months.

Four, if this is negative. Jesus, I'm twenty-six years old, I'm supposed to get pregnant just from looking at a sperm. There's something wrong with me.

It's early to take the test anyway, she said, sitting next to me on the bed and kissing my neck. Maybe we wait a couple days.

I sighed. I already peed on the thing, might as well look.

Yeah, you don't want to have peed for nothing.

Exactly. I took a deep breath and picked up the pregnancy test. Fuck.

Gwen sighed and gave me a hug. We have all the time in the world, baby.

Maybe not. It seems my ovaries have already shriveled up.

She took my face between her hands and kissed me. I love you, she said. Even if you're barren.

I laughed even though my eyes were still kind of teary and batted at her. Why do I tell you anything? I shouldn't even tell you if I get pregnant. You can find out when I'm at the hospital and I spit it out.

Then who's going to wait on you hand and foot while you're pregnant?

Hmm. Good point. Though probably not worth thinking about since it seems I'm never going to be pregnant.

We can try the test again tomorrow, she said. Today was a long shot anyway. I've got to go.

Yeah, me too.

**

I do the same thing every morning, which I like. I've always found routines kind of hypnotizing, and I needed that especially today. I needed to stop being sad infertile Emily and be awesome assistant Emily, and what better way to do that than to put my heels on on the subway and click my way over to the cafe next to Kinnetik to get morning orders for my bosses. The barista there knows me and likes to show off the couple of signs she's picked up. She signed Everyday? when I came in.

I shook my head and held up four fingers with my left hand. I ran my fingers over the first three and signed, Everyday. Same, then pointed to the last one. Large coffee, two sugars. Justin was starting at the office today, working on a new campaign for the hearing aid guys. I don't usually make a habit of bringing stuff to the art department people, but it's different when one of them has agreed to sire me a child. Also he's my best friend and all that.

I'm the first one at Kinnetik every morning besides the office manager. I get Cynthia and Brian's files on their desks and order their emails by priority. And I line their coffees up on my desk for them to grab the second they come in. Today they had a meeting first thing with Isabel, just a staff thing, no clients for me to get sorted, which was too bad. I liked getting the clients all settled before Brian and Cynthia got in. They never knew what the fuck to make of the Deaf assistant.

Cynthia and Brian breezed by and grabbed their coffees, and I pointed to the extra and said, Justin.

Went straight downstairs, bring it down? Brian said. I gotta go.

Yeah, sure. Good luck.

He headed for the staff room and I brought Justin's coffee to the elevator and down to the art department. People were starting to come in, and I waved and said good morning and basked in the way they signed it back to me. Jerky and uncomfortable, but they were doing it.

Justin was standing by the boards, speaking out loud to one of the art interns. It weirds me the fuck out when I see him do that! He looks like a fucking hearing person. He stopped when he saw me and smiled. Is that mine?

Being the boss's husband comes with perks.

You're my hero.

I handed him the coffee and he drank about half of it on the spot, before he set it down clumsily and said, Oh, shit, wait. Well?

Negative.

He sighed. Are you okay? He gave me a hug.

Yeah. I'm sad.

It's me. It's got to be me. I fried my sperm with my anticonvulsants.

That's not a thing.

Maybe they have PTSD and they're hiding up in my abdomen.

That's...really not a thing.

Or maybe they're just too fucking gay to know their way around a cervix.

Okay, that could be it. One of the perks of sign language is getting to talk about your cervix in a room full of business professionals. You want to sleep over tonight? I'm taking another test in the morning, maybe if we're both together it'll give it like...extra mojo.

Okay, but I don't want to watch you pee.

I left him to sketch and went back up to desk and started going through some of Brian and Cynthia's less important emails and did some of the assistant stuff I should probably hate but kind of love: arranging to pick up Cynthia's dry cleaning, calling the hotel Brian was staying at in a few weeks and demanding he get an east-facing room. Brian jerked his head at me when he left the meeting, so I came into his office with the new files the courier had dropped off while he was in. Eyeconic, I said.

Okay great. And the stuff from Tullers is—

Uh, it's under... I moved a file out of the way. Here.

Good. All right. Did you hear back from Lewinthal on the deadline for the cleats campaign?

I didn't, but I already emailed him again to follow up.

He can just get it when he fucking gets it, then. He took his suit jacket off and sat down. You got the hotel reservations?

All taken care of.

He checked one of the files on his desk. Can you keep tabs on the hearing aid progress downstairs, and set up conference calls with the top ten percents for sometime next week, and...who was it who needed the gift basket?

Lindsay Ashfield, but you wanted to wait until next week for that.

Did I? Fuck it, let's do it now.

On it, I said. Anything else?

That's it, thanks. Oh, today was test day, right? I shrugged, and he chewed the inside of his mouth. I'm sorry.

Another shrug.

He leaned forwards and said, Have you met the guy Justin's seeing? he said, kind of gossipy. Clearly trying to distract me.

I didn't hate it. Calvin? Yeah, he's Gwen's friend, I met him before Justin did.

What do you think?

He's like...the most attractive person I've ever seen in real life.

Jesus, right? Justin asked me what I thought of him and I'm like...I honestly don't know a thing about him because every time he talks to me I just look into his eyes and start imagining running down a beach in slow motion.

Yeah, I don't know how Justin landed that.

Brian laughed. Me neither.

He looks like Ronan Farrow.

Oh, fuck, he does look like Ronan Farrow. He's gay, y'know.

Calvin? I figured since he's fucking your husband.

Brian rolled his eyes. Ronan Farrow.

But not Deaf! I said on my way out.

**

Brian let me off work a little early—I think he felt sorry for me and my empty uterus—and Justin had already gone home at noon because he can't really work full days with the headaches he gets, so I figured we’s be starting our sleepover early, but he didn’t come until seven, Brian in tow. Not crashing the party, just wanted to see how the thunderstorm looks hung up, he said, but we exchanged a glance and I knew Justin hasn’t felt up to making the trip out here on his own. It’s two trains and a transfer at Times Square to get from their place to mine, and Justin’s had a lot of trouble with maps and stuff since the concussion in February.

Still, I showed him where we’d hung Justin’s painting and Brian glanced at it and said it looked good, then gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, Asleep by midnight, okay? Shouldn’t be hard. Make sure he doesn't forget his meds, he's had trouble.

Okay, I said, and he got Justin’s attention and gave him an obscenely long kiss goodbye.

Justin and I smoked a little pot and ordered pizza and made popcorn and watched a million episodes of Switched at Birth and messed around with Gwen's tarot cards.

Justin dealt out a card for me. Ace of cups.

What does that mean?

Well, you've got this bird-like thing diving into a cup, so...suicide?

I rolled onto my back. Sounds good.

Or maybe it can swim.

It's dive-bombing right into that cup, I said. There's no hope.

Maybe it's my sperm dive-bombing into your uterus.

Or maybe it's my uterine lining dive-bombing out of my vagina.

That's...vivid.

I sighed and reached for another slice of pizza.

How long does it usually take? I said.

Eighty-percent of healthy women my age are pregnant in the first three months. And we were now at four.

Oh.

I nodded a little.

I really think it's me, he said. Do you want me to go to a doctor, get it...I don't know, tested?

No. It's me. I can tell.

He rolled his eyes. How can you tell?

Because I know my body. It's the same way you can tell when you're going to have a seizure.

Oh, the room's spinning and there's a metallic taste in your mouth?

Yes, I said stubbornly.

You should talk to a doctor then, he said. Talk to Daphne. I'll come with you if you want.

Gwen came home, then, before I had to answer. I got up and kissed her, her hands running up and down my sides, and Justin stayed on the floor but stretched his arms up for a hug.

Let me change out of these clothes first so I don't kill your allergies, she said, and he made a heart with his hands and she blew him three kisses on her way to our bedroom. Gwen's all mother hen with my friends—well, except Brian, because you can't—even though Justin's like only a year younger than her. It's just how she is. She came out in pajamas and sat in the armchair and ate pizza.

We asked her about spay day and she told us about the kittens she worked on and we squealed about that for a while—kittens never get old—and then Gwen asked how stuff was going with Calvin.

He's sweet, Justin said. And he's, um...

Incredibly good-looking? I filled in.

That. But I think, I don't know, he might be a little...

Moronic? Gwen filled in.

He laughed. I was going to say 'simple.'

How's the sex? I asked.

It's okay. I think he's one of those people who's so pretty he never really learned to try. He stretched. It's not going to last, but I'm going to enjoy looking at him while it does.

Gwen asked Justin how he was feeling, and she always does it by asking these specific questions, and he always kind of lights up about it. He wants to talk about this stuff, wants to feel like people give a shit, but he's also got his pride or his WASPy manners or whatever so unless you ask him direct questions he'll tell you oh, I'm fine while he's like, hemorrhaging from the eyes.

She's going to be such a fucking good mom, Justin said, when Gwen had left to take a shower.

I know.

He massaged his right hand for a little while, then said, Is she worried about having a sick kid, maybe?

No. Kids get sick, she says.

I'm scared it's going to be sick and then resent me for making it be born.

Do you wish you weren't born? I asked.

Well, sometimes, but I have depression. I'm a bad focus group. He leaned forwards and kissed my cheek. We will get there, he said. Taking a test again tomorrow, right? Maybe tomorrow.

Yeah. Maybe.

**

It wasn't.

On Sunday I went to my parent's place in Chelsea for our usual family dinner. Brothers, nephews cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, all crammed into my parents' apartment. We do it every week. It's awesome.

I don't see what all the rush is for anyway, my oldest brother said to me. You can just borrow one of mine.

Mom sighed and said, like she always does, I just think you're going to look back and wish you'd have gotten married.

I'm not getting married.

But we love Gwen!

That's good, because she's sticking around.

Then why not— she said, and I waved my hands to shut her up.

Kids these days, my brother said.

Gwen did magic tricks and amazing my nephews while Derek helped me set the table. He usually comes to these, since we've been close since we were little so he's basically part of the family. He brought Daphne once but even Justin can't keep up with how fast my family signs. Daphne didn't stand a chance. There were people all around us, going in and out with platters and silverware and babies, but nobody stuck around long enough to catch much of me and Derek's conversation.

Derek looked at Gwen. It's so funny you ended up with someone like her, he said to me.

I narrowed my eyes. Why?

She's so wholesome.

I thought about what we'd gotten into the night before. She's not that wholesome.

And now a kid.

Well. Maybe.

He shook his head a little.

What?

I just didn't think I'd see you settle down like this, that's all.

What's that supposed to mean? You're all playing house with Daphne.

I didn't say I never thought I'd settle down, he said. I knew I would. But you were always, you know. The yang to my yin.

I'm plenty yang, I said.

I just... He shrugged. Would you be having a baby if she weren't around?

Without her eighty thousand salary, would I be trying to get pregnant right now? Probably not.

That's not what I mean.

I set down the stack of napkins. I've always wanted kids. I didn't think I was going to partner up either, but I always knew I was going to have kids. You know I love kids.

Okay, he said, but with a bit of that “look who snapped” face and I just don't take that from a man, I fucking don't. Don't look around at some pretend audience to make sure they know that a girl's crazy just because you don't have a comeback. Not even my best friend, no.

I said, Don't stand there fucking smirking like I'm making shit up. I'm doing what I always said I would. I'm not the one who changed the rules around here.

Really? This is about Daphne?

I didn't say anything about Daphne.

Bullshit. We get it, you don't like her. Everyone gets it.

I like her.

Then why haven't you talked to her about... He gestured to my pelvis.

Was that my uterus or my vagina?

Uterus, Jesus.

She's an ER doctor, I said. I don't think she does a whole lot with fertility.

She had an OB rotation.

It's not like I'm fucking infertile.

I didn't say you were.

It's just taking a little longer than I wanted, I said. I don't need to talk to a doctor.

He shook his head and didn't say anything.

What?

You'd think with how much you like Justin you'd be more trusting of his taste in friends.

I like Daphne! Christ, how many times do I fucking have to say it?

Until it sounds real? I don't know.

I like Daphne. I shrugged. I don't like her with you.

There it is.

Motherfuck. How is it a surprise that I don't support this?

You like Brian just fine.

And I like Daphne! It's not about not liking them.

You don't tell Justin he shouldn't be with a hearing person.

It's different, they were together before Justin went Deaf. He didn't grow up in this like we did. Imagine looking back at fifteen-year-old Derek and telling him he's going to end up shacking up with a hearing girl. And then standing here and telling me I'm the one who didn't stick to the fucking plan.

He shook his head. You're jealous.

I'd completely given up on setting the table at this point. I'm jealous of a hearing girl, you want to run that by me again? What, you think because you and I don't fuck once a year anymore I'm sitting at home crying about what I've lost?

So prove it, he said. Talk to her!

She can't help me! She can't do anything!

I felt hands clap on my shoulders and I jumped. Everything good out here?

Everything's great, I said. Find out what's taking Mom so fucking long with the macaroni.

**

Gwen took out her earrings and stepped out of her shoes once we were home. Are you going to tell me what you're mad about?

It's not you.

I know it's not me. She tugged me down to the bed and pressed her lips against mine. I'm amazing.

I laughed and straddled her lap and just...decompressed for a while, smelling her lilac shampoo while she kissed my neck and drummed her fingers up and down my back. I sighed a little and rested my forehead against her cheek.

What's wrong, baby, she said.

Derek thinks I don't like Daphne.

I've always thought you liked her.

I do!

She tucked my hair behind my ear. So why does he think you don't?

He thinks I'm jealous.

I think it's normal to be kind of jealous of the people dating your best friends, she said. You see them less, you stop being the person they confide everything in...it's natural.

Yeah, maybe. Ugh. I don't think it's even that, though, I think it's just...I mean, she's a doctor. I'm a fucking administrative assistant.

Executive assistant.

I get coffee. She saves lives. And she's older than me and she's fucking...she looks like a model, I look like an extra in the orphanage scene of a community theatre production of Oliver Twist.

Gwen laughed and kissed me. You're beautiful.

She's accomplished, and she's successful, and...

Gwen watched me. And she's hearing?

I blew out a mouthful of air. Do you hate me?

You're allowed to be intimidated by a hearing person, Gwen said. I promise it doesn't make you less Deaf-strong.

I just don't get why she has to date one of our people, I said. What, there's some shortage on hearing guys? She could have anyone she wanted.

So Derek doesn't deserve her?

No, he sucks.

She laughed a little, then said, There was a girl at vet school kind of like that. Beautiful, smart, hearing. She was top of our class, got the best score on every test. And she was nice to me, which just made me feel bad about hating her, and then I didn't want to feel bad about hating her so that made me hate her even more.

So what'd you do? Gwen never tells stories that don't have a point.

One time it was New Year's Eve and I just decided...I didn't want to live like this anymore, wasting all this energy on someone who wasn't actually hurting me. Because it wasn't hurting her, it was just hurting me. And it's not fun, walking around with hate like that. So I just decided to stop.

Oh, just like that?

She shrugged. It's not like once you decide it it just goes away, but...you start making decisions to shut down the thoughts when they come up, and eventually they come up less and less often.

I don't hate Daphne, though, I said.

She kissed me. Then it should be no problem.

God, you're annoying, I said, and I shoved her down on her back.

**

Daphne sipped her beer as she looked through the paperwork. And all this is recent? We were meeting at that bar we like close to her hospital. Just the two of us.

Yeah, I got it done before I started trying to get pregnant, I signed, a little slower than usual.

I'm not an expert on this stuff, but all of this looks really good, she said. Vaccines and immunity are all up to date. Not on any medications that would affect fertility. You've been taking folic acid, avoiding alcohol?

Yeah, since we started trying.

Daphne shook her head, flipping through the pages again. From everything I see here, you should be pregnant. Justin got tested too?

Just for STDs and stuff.

The problem might be him, or there might be no problem.

Eighty percent of healthy women are pregnant by now.

Yeah, which means twenty percent aren't, Daphne said gently. Someone has to be in that twenty percent.

Yeah, but I was valedictorian.

Daphne smiled a little. Me too. She set the papers aside. So if I were you I would keep doing what you're doing for a few months, give it some time. But you should make a doctor's appointment if you think it would make you feel better, there's no harm in it. They can run more blood work and do an exam.

I hate doctors, I said. I don't like using interpreters at all unless I absolutely have to; it's fine for presentations or work meetings or whatever, but in one-on-one situations I'd really just rather work it out with a hearing person than add a third party in the mix, and that's not an option for medical situations where you really need to be able to communicate well. So having an additional person in the room while a doctor shoved her hand in me and secretly thought about how sad it was that I was trying to add another Deaf baby to the world? God, not until I couldn't avoid it.

I can come with you, if you want? Daphne said. If you want an advocate there.

Because you're hearing?

She gave me a look. Because I'm a doctor. And a woman.

God, I am such a bitch sometimes. I wish I were pregnant so I could blame the hormones.

Also I just wish I were pregnant.

Thanks, I said. But I think you're right. I think I'll just give it time.

She squeezed my hand, and I let her.

**

I'm ovulating, I told Gwen one morning a week or so later, while we were getting ready for work.

I can tell, you're glowing.

Shut up.

She grinned. So Justin's going to come over after work and jerk off?

Yeah. Or he's still at the office working on that project, so maybe he'll just do it at lunch in the bathroom. I can get pregnant on the job.

Knowing the kind of sexual energy Brain exudes, I'd bet it wouldn't be the first Kinnetik baby.

You know how he loves perpetuating family values.

Brian and Cynthia swung by my desk for their coffees, as always. You know we have a meeting at nine? Cynthia asked me.

Yep, with Remson. Everything's set up, Stephanie will be there to interpret.

Great. Brian's going to sit in, he's worked with them before.

Ew, Brian's going to be there? Never mind.

I met them in the conference room with a couple people from marketing and some from the art department—not Justin. Brian breezed past me on his way to Cynthia's right. Today's the day? he signed to me, subtly.

Don't jinx me.

The guys from Remson came in and exchanged a lot of handshakes and boring small talk that Stephanie interpreted for me. “So, I hear we have a new product to discuss?” Cynthia said.

“Yes.” Remson opened up his file and passed a fact sheet to each of us. “We're still working on a catchy name for it—hopefully can help us out with that.”

“Well, that's what we do,” Brian said.

“It's a new treatment for infertility in women,” he said.

Fuck.

“Ten percent of women in the United States struggle with infertility,” Remson said. “That's 6.1 million women, in the U.S. alone. And it can cause significant relationship distress, depression, and not to mention costs families hundreds of thousands of dollars of treatment.”

Cynthia, who didn't know about any of my shit but had a sister who'd had trouble getting pregnant, started asking Remson how this compared to various other drugs on the market, while I sat there half-watching Samantha and half wishing I could get swallowed up by the earth.

Relationship distress. Depression. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.

“It's one of the hardest medical conditions for women to deal with, emotionally,” Remson said. “They struggle with feeling like they're less of a woman, that they're failing at a biological imperative that—”

Can I go? I said to Brian. He'd already been watching me.

He nodded, and I got up and exited as unobtrusively as I could. I saw Cynthia look at Brian questioningly, and at that minute I didn't care what he told her, if he made up some excuse or he told her the truth right in front of a bunch of fucking executives, I didn't care, I just needed to fucking get out of there instead of sitting and listening to some fucking men tell me I should feel like I'm failing to be a goddamn fucking woman because my fucking body isn't...

I went to the ally behind Kinnetik and tried to calm down, but I kept breathing fast no matter how much I tried not to. I crouched down on my heels because the ground was too gross to sit but I couldn't stand up, and everything felt like it was tunneling in around me.

There was a hand on my shoulder and I jumped. Justin.

Brian told me to take you home, he said.

No, I don't need...I'm fine, I just...I just...

Okay. He crouched down next to me. It's okay, take your time.

But it didn't matter how much time he gave me, I couldn't pull my fucking self together. I kept trying to explain to him what was going on, and I did, in bits and pieces, but I wasn't making any fucking sense and I knew it, and I couldn't stop breathing like I'd just been sprinting or something. I just...I can't...it won't...I keep trying, and...

Justin was so patient, just watching me, nodding, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I think I'm going crazy, I said.

No.

No, I do, I just...I don't know what's wrong with me.

Justin was quiet for a minute. It's awful, he said eventually, hitting the sign hard, when your body won't do what you trusted it to do.

I felt something let go inside of me and I just cried.

**

Justin made me a mug of hot chocolate back at my apartment. That Remson guy always struck me as a shithead. Even if he is sort of how Brian got Kinnetik in the first place.

Don't insult him, I said, sitting on the couch with my laptop. I might need that infertility drug if this keeps up. Are you gonna jerk off any time soon, or what?

I just got a blow job like an hour ago. Give me time to refill the tank.

You're supposed to be abstaining!

I quit smoking for you, I'm not quitting sex. What are you looking at?

Stuff about artificial insemination. I'm trying to figure out if our odds are higher if we do this at a doctor's office instead of here. I scrolled down the page. Holy shit. Look at this.

He sat down next to me. Where?

This. Look. With artificial insemination, you have a ten to fifteen percent chance of conceiving every cycle. Are you...why the fuck didn't anyone tell me this?

Well, how high is it for just regular sex?

Like sixty! Jesus Christ, it takes six fucking months of this to equal the chance of one week for the fucking heteros? I flopped back on the couch. You'd think someone would have fucking told me that instead of telling me I'm supposed to feel like less of a woman! Fuck! I've been sitting around thinking it's me when like...Jesus, ten to fifteen percent every time? That's nothing.

Versus sixty percent for sex, he said.

Yeah.

He looked at me.

What?

I mean... He gestured towards my computer. Sixty versus ten.

Yeah, but...

He raised an eyebrow.

Are you messing with me? I said.

That'd be really cruel of me. Would you...I mean, do you want to?

Do I want to? I have sex with guys...you know, semi-regularly. Or I did before this whole adventure started. You don't have sex with girls!

It won't kill me, he said, and he pulled his shirt off.

I covered my face. Justin! I said, peeking through my fingers.

Do you want to? I just figured...

Are you sure?

You want a baby, he said. I want to give you one. I'd rather not be jerking off in your bathroom for six more months.

I couldn't believe this was fucking happening. Sixty percent, I said.

Sixty percent.

Okay, I said, and he kissed me.

**

Derek choked on his beer. So you two have just...been sleeping together. We were crowded around our usual table at the bar. Sparkling water for me, since I was done ovulating and hopefully, hopefully, like two days pregnant at this point.

Twice a day this week, Justin said. Like brushing your teeth.

Except instead of a toothbrush it's Justin's penis, Gwen said.

I said, And instead of a mouth, it's—

Okay, okay, we get it, Derek said.

Brian sipped a glass of Jim, watching Justin with his eyes slightly narrowed.

So how was it? Derek asked Justin.

He shrugged. It's fine. I don't mind sex with women, I just wouldn't make a career out of it.

I actively hate sex with men, Gwen said.

Well, men are awful, Daphne said, and Derek pretended to be wounded.

He said, This means we've all slept with each other, you know. By the transitive property. This was the missing link.

Justin shook his head. We already had.

Really?

Justin nodded and pointed around the table. Brian to me, me to Daphne, Daphne to you, you to Emily, Emily to Gwen.

Fuck, I said. We're sluts.

Look at superstud Justin here, Derek said. Just bedding women left and right.

Justin rolled his eyes.

What does gorgeous Calvin think of what a ladykiller his boyfriend is? Daphne said.

Justin said, You all are impossible. I was performing a civic duty. And why are you looking at me like that? he said to Brian.

Gwen said, Wait, are you mad that they slept together? I'm not even mad.

I'm mad, but not about that, Brian said.

Justin snorted. This is turning him on and he doesn't like it.

I should not be turned on by talking about you having sex with women!

But you are, Justin finished.

Yes, I am, and I'm fucking...Jesus Christ, get your coat.

Justin laughed as Brian stalked up to pay our tab. I am so topping him tonight.

We should get going too, Gwen said to me. Spay day tomorrow.

Okay.

She went to the bathroom, and so did Derek, so it was just me and Daphne at the table for a minute.

Did you know? I asked. I couldn't help it. That the odds were so much lower with artificial insemination?

No, of course not. I would have told you.

Right. Sorry.

She drummed her fingers on the table. So now we've slept with all the same guys.

Well...I'd slept with plenty of others, and hopefully so had she, but I guess she meant in our little group or whatever. Yeah. First one to Brian wins, I guess.

She laughed. That'll be the day. She shook her head a little, her cheeks pink like she as cold. You know I've always been kind of intimidated by you.

I choked on literally nothing. By me?

You sign so fast. You've got all this history with Derek. She shrugged.

I felt warm, somewhere in the pit of my stomach. You don't have to be intimidated by me, I said. I mean...I don't want you to be.

Oh, I'm not anymore, she said. Now you're just another pathetic girl who's slept with Justin.

I burst out laughing, and she grinned.

**

Where the fuck is my shoe? Gwen said one morning, a few weeks later. I had it last night, this apartment's the size of a fucking postage stamp, how far could it...

I waved my hand for her attention, but she was too busy ranting to herself.

I swear to God, the next shoes I buy are going to be hot fucking pink, fuck these eco-friendly shoes that try to camouflage or some shit.

I waved my arm up over my head, and finally she looked at me.

What? she said. Do you know where my shoe is?

No, sorry.

Then what, I have to—

I held out a pregnancy test and watched a smile break across her face.