A TURN OF THE MOON
by
Jessica Drew

Day Seventeen
Two Roads

“So, this is it,” I said, leaning down and staring at the flask on the lab bench. It looked so unassuming — a translucent liquid with just a tinge of blue. Powder blue. My hand automatically reached towards it.

“Careful,” Doctor Hartwell said, and I jumped a little, drawing my hand back. “I don’t want you touching that without gloves.”

“Compound B-579H,” I said, straightening. The designation for Hartwell’s formula was still seared into my mind from the incident at Axis Labs.

“Yes.” Hartwell sighed, placing her hands in the pockets of her white lab coat. “And to think we were going to put this one into cold storage — as a failure.”

I nodded. Did that mean it was now a success? Because of what it did to me? I smoothed the hem of my burgundy top over my charcoal grey leggings. I certainly didn’t feel like much of a success story. I gazed around Hartwell’s laboratory. The white surfaces gleamed under the bright lights, spotless and sterile. An array of diagnostic and imaging equipment occupied the benches.

“Wait, how do you even have the compound?” I asked as I stepped over to grab the spare lab coat from the hook on the wall. I threaded my arms through and began to fasten the buttons. It felt familiar, but disconcerting, like I was stepping back into a profession that had chewed me up and spat me out. The coat hung from my body, straight and boxy. It was a unisex coat and didn’t seem to care whether I was male or female.

“There were one or two things I helped myself to before leaving Axis,” Hartwell said, her expression remaining neutral.

“Err, are you allowed to do that?”

“All of this is my research,” Hartwell said plainly. “Now, Axis may have a piece of paper that says otherwise, but we shouldn’t let that stop us now, should we?”

“No... I guess not,” I said, though I couldn’t help but think what Rachel might have to say about it this afternoon. We would finally be meeting with Emma’s cousin to see if she could help us build a case against Axis Laboratories. I still wasn’t sure what we’d be able to get out of it. We were hoping it would force them into prioritising a genetic reversion pathway. Hartwell had the research and the expertise, but she was only one woman in a limited laboratory. Axis had the resources, but had lost the one woman who really understood all this.

I reached back, touching the bun at the back of my head. Lauren had helped me to put it up, to keep it out of the way while I worked. I looked over at Hartwell, seeing that she wore her greying, auburn hair in the same way.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I said, the white lab coat reaching as far as my knees.

“Gloves, please,” Hartwell said, pointing to the dispenser.

“Of course.” I pulled a pair of blue gloves free, stretching them over my fingers and hands with a crisp snap.

“Now, before we get down to the real work, I want to show you something,” Hartwell said. I watched as she went over to the laboratory refrigerator, opening it and reaching in, selecting two small test tubes. The tubes were a dark colour, almost black until the light caught them, revealing the crimson hue of the viscous liquid within.

“Is that... my blood?” I said, remembering the various samples I’d let Hartwell take from me a few days ago.

“One of them is.” Hartwell placed them carefully into an upright rack on one of the benches.

“And the other?” I asked, my voice sounding small and hesitant.

“Remember that couple from yesterday?”

“Yes,” I said, swallowing. I felt a wave of emotion well up inside of me, remembering how distraught they had looked the other day. I didn’t know the full details. I only knew that Doctor Hartwell had been unable to help them conceive, and there was little more that could be done for them.

“They agreed to provide me with some samples,” Hartwell continued. She stepped over to the M5000 cell imager, switching it on. “You see, even though I couldn’t help them, they wanted desperately to be able to do something that might help others.” I looked down and took a deep breath. The woman had wished me good luck. “Now, Scott. Can you prepare the sample dishes for me?”

“Right, okay,” I said, taking a breath as I stepped over to the workbench.

“Pipettes are over there. There are clean culture dishes in the drawer under the bench,” Hartwell said as she wheeled a stool up and sat in front of the imager. The display lit up as she adjusted the controls.

I began to get to work, carefully preparing the dishes and applying a thin smear of blood to each. The cell imager beeped behind me, its processor fan whirring. I could feel my heart beat a little faster. The lab was coming alive. I was actually doing something.

I stepped back over to Hartwell with the dishes, setting them side by side on the stage under the lensing apparatus of the cell imager. I used the small clamps to click them into position.

“Good,” Hartwell said as she got up from her stool. “Here, take a seat. Have you used one of these before?”

“Err... not this exact model,” I said, taking her place on the stool in front of the machine.

“It’s simpler than anything you might have used at Axis,” Hartwell said. “Just use the dials on the sides to pan and zoom.”

“Alright,” I said, gazing at the LCD display screen above. I began to adjust the dials in unison. The screen began to fill with round pinkish blood-cells. There was a line down the centre of the screen. Hartwell had already set it up to show a split-screen view of both samples.

“This is the other woman’s blood sample,” Hartwell said, tapping the left-hand side of the screen. “And here’s yours. Just find a nice dense patch of cells for us to look at.” She stepped over to the bench, picking up the B-579H flask, along with a long-stemmed pipette. I paused, suddenly feeling uneasy.

“Now... watch,” Hartwell said, as she carefully applied a couple of drops to each sample. The cells on the screen shifted a little with displacement from the added liquid. I could feel my heartbeat thumping as I held my breath.

Finally, I breathed out. The red blood-cells remained undisturbed. Both the woman’s… and my own. “Nothing happened,” I said softly.

“And why is that?” Hartwell said, looking at me.

I looked up at the ceiling, my eyes darting as I thought about it for a moment. “Uh, because red blood-cells don’t contain any genetic material.” If I could have kicked myself, I would have. I’d been so desperate to see something. Something that might have helped to tell us what had happened to me.

“We’re just shaking off the cobwebs,” Hartwell said, as if apologising for me. “So, what next?” She removed her glasses and wiped the lenses against her lab coat.

“We need to use different cells. Cells with nuclei.” I closed my eyes, forcing myself to say the next part. “The vaginal or cervical swabs,” I said, clearing my throat and feeling my cheeks flush a little.

We went over to the incubator, opening the door, a warm waft of air hitting us. Every shelf of the modest-sized unit was filled with sample dishes. I could see that many of the samples were labelled with an ‘SC’ prefix. This was… me. Extracted and laid out on miniature slabs. It seemed strange to think these cells were alive, existing independently of me. And they certainly weren’t aware of — or cared at all about — that little extra X-chromosome.

“I’ve been growing some cell cultures,” Hartwell said, looking at me.

“We should have just cloned me,” I said, sighing heavily. I reached in for one of the dishes. “This one?”

“Cervical cells. Perfect,” Hartwell agreed. “And we also need one from our donor.” She reached for another dish. One that was labelled ‘MB’.

“Right. The control,” I said. As with the blood samples, we needed something to compare against.

We set them carefully, side by side, on the stage of the cell imager. I sat on the stool, twisting the dials to home in on the cells. I could see the difference immediately in the shape of the cells, the cell membranes, and the all-important nucleus containing that precious genetic information.

“Shouldn’t we be testing on a male donor sample?” I asked.

“Oh, believe me, Scott, I had plenty of time at Axis trying to coax a reaction out of male cells,” Hartwell said, exhaling.

“Rourke said you’d been working day and night...”

“Yes, that he didn’t lie about,” she said, rubbing at her temples. It was like her body was suddenly recalling all the sleepless nights. “It didn’t occur to us at the time that you were the key to all this.”

“Right… my genetics,” I said, looking down at my hand and flexing my fingers.

“I should have realised it sooner,” she said, sounding almost frustrated, “but Axis seem to have a way of getting you to look at the things they want you to look at.” Hartwell picked up the B-579H flask, using the pipette to apply a small amount of the compound to each of the cervical cell samples. “Well, let’s see, shall we?”

“This isn’t going to do anything though, right?” I said, studying the split-screen display. “I mean, I can’t become any more female.”

I sat there in silence, drumming my fingers against my thighs. After a minute, we both seemed to breathe out at the same time. My shoulders slumped.

“A null result is still valu—” Hartwell froze as we looked up at the right-hand side of the screen. The cells began to almost vibrate. “Good heavens,” Hartwell said, leaning in closer. “Look, look!” She pointed at the screen with her little finger to a cluster of cells around the edge. “These are dead cells.”

“Wait, they’re… coming back to life?” I said, my throat suddenly feeling dry.

“No… not quite. They’re being replaced. The adjacent healthy cells are dividing to replace them. This is extraordinary.” I watched as she slipped her glasses off, turning away to steady herself against the lab bench.

“Doctor Hartwell?” I asked softly as I got up from the stool. “Philippa?”

She turned back to face me and that’s when I saw it. A streak of tears across each of her cheeks. I stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“This... this is what you were trying to do all along,” I said. “Regeneration of female reproductive tissue.” I looked back to the screen, seeing an ever more dense accumulation of healthy cervical cells.

“Yes...” Philippa answered, though her voice rasped, barely making any sound at all.

“But it only works on me? Not the donor,” I said, looking to the undisturbed sample on the left-hand side of the cell imaging display.

Philippa slipped her glasses off and wiped at her face, looking embarrassed. “Yes... yes, that’s right.” She drew a breath, then put her glasses back on. “Come on, let’s reset and try it again.” Suddenly, it was as if Philippa had put her mask back on. Her voice was even and measured, her expression neutral.

We spent the next hour or so verifying and studying the results. Every repeat of the experiment had produced the same unprecedented replication of my cervical cells. The more I thought about it, the more astounding it seemed. And only a few days ago, the most astounding discovery had been that I even had a cervix to begin with.

“Right. I think we can safely say we’ve verified our results,” Philippa said, pulling her blue latex gloves off and tossing them into a pedal bin. “Let’s move on. The genetic reversion pathway — let’s get you back to being you. What we’ve proved this morning is that we have to be testing against your genetic profile.”

“Well, we’ve got enough samples,” I said, looking back over to the incubator.

“But we’d never be able to track the full genetic response. Not with the equipment I’ve got here.” Philippa glanced around the lab. “We might stumble across the genetic reversion pathway and never know it.”

“So, we’re stuck...” I said flatly, staring down at the dishes on the stage of the cell imager.

“No... Though we may need to think bigger.” Philippa tapped at the keyboard attached to the M5000, naming and saving the results. “If we can just… introduce enough of your genetic information into another host…” she said, thinking aloud. “We’d be able to chart the effects on a macroscopic scale.”

“You... you don’t mean testing this on... another person?” I asked, feeling my blood running cold.

“Oh, nothing so macabre,” Philippa said as she unclipped the sample dishes, carrying them back over to the workbench. “We’re not Axis...” she said quietly, as she opened the door to the incubator.

* * * * *

We made our way back into the consultation room. I slumped down into one of the chairs by Philippa’s desk, rubbing at my aching shoulders from being hunched over the M5000. Philippa went over to the counter and flicked the kettle on.

“Oh, wait, I got you something,” I said, suddenly remembering. I found the wicker tote bag I’d brought with me, pulling out a cafetière and a packet of ground Colombian coffee from Gabriella’s. I stepped up beside Philippa and tore the bag open, bringing it to my nose to savour the fresh aroma. When I looked across at her, I saw that she was gazing off out of the window.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, tipping an unmeasured heap straight from the packet into the glass cafetière.

“Hmm?” Philippa looked back, the age lines at the corners of her mouth tightening. “Oh, I was just thinking about next week,” she said.

“What’s happening next week?”

“I’m supposed to be presenting a paper at the annual reproductive medicine conference in the city,” she said.

“Wow, that sounds like a big deal,” I said as the kettle began to rumble.

“They invite me every year,” she said, “though this will be my first time presenting separately from Axis.”

I glanced across at Philippa as she wrapped her cardigan around her. “Will they, uh… will they be there?” I asked tentatively.

“Oh, yes,” she said, nodding. “In fact, Axis are one of the major funders. Hence why it’s happening so close to home. And of course they reserve a headline slot for themselves. I imagine in my absence it will fall to Doctor Rosenstein to present.”

“I think I met her once,” I said as I began to pour steaming hot water into the cafetière. “She seemed… nice?”

“Yes. She’s young and ambitious, but her heart’s in the right place. I tried to convince her to leave with me, actually.”

“But she didn’t... obviously,” I said, my voice sounding a little more accusatory than I had intended.

“No. But I can understand her reasons,” Philippa said. “She has her whole career ahead of her still. She can’t be making enemies of the industry. Not like this old prune who’s got nothing to lose.”

I chuckled a little and glanced back at her, my smile faltering when I saw her serious expression. “Or someone like me who lost everything already,” I said, trying — and failing — to lighten the mood.

“Everything?” Philippa asked.

I stared down at the cafetière, absently tracing the handle with my finger. A week ago I’d weighed up my ledger of gains and losses. I’d thought about hair and hips, penis and vagina. Now I was thinking about my identity, my purpose, and my burgeoning friendships with people like Emma and Gabriella. Even Philippa.

I took a deep breath, then pushed down on the plunger of the cafetière with both hands. “So, this conference?”

“Yes. I wanted to ask you something...” she said.

“You want to know if you can present this research,” I said, still staring down at the counter. I glanced up but Philippa stayed quiet. All I could think of was the face of the woman from the clinic yesterday. The way she had hoped desperately for a better outcome for me. “What about Axis?” I said at last.

“Oh, they’ll be furious, I’m sure.”

I gave a flicker of a smile. I began to pour the coffee out, the steam rising up from our mugs. I looked around for a spoon to stir with. Philippa handed me a sealed wooden tongue depressor. I shook my head, amused, and tore it open, using it to stir the coffee.

“They… they can’t know about me. That I’m working with you,” I said, looking up to the ceiling for a moment. “Uh, Lauren’s going to kill me.”

“We’ll keep everything anonymised and be as careful as we can be,” Philippa said, a flicker of emotion returning to her face. “This will just be about the reproductive regeneration. It will look like a natural fruition of my own work. They shouldn’t have any reason to link it to you.” She took a deep breath as if trying to reconcile everything. Her work… my genetics… and now what? I was apparently the start of some new medical marvel in female reproductive biology. But wasn’t I supposed to be reaching for the end of something?

* * * * *

“So, should I come in tomorrow?” I asked, following Philippa into the reception area.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” she said.

“Oh, right!”

“Give me a few days to get everything ready for the next phase… I’ll message you.” Philippa turned back to look at me.

“Hey, Susie, how did everything go this morning?” I looked across as Julia, the receptionist, rose from her seat on the other side of the reception counter. “I hope Doctor Hartwell didn’t have you working too hard!” She smiled easily, flashing her white teeth.

“Actually, I think I’m the reason we’ve both been working so hard,” I said, adjusting my tote bag on my shoulder.

“Well, I think it’s great seeing another woman in STEM. There aren’t enough of us doing it,” Julia said. “It’s pretty fucking inspiring, actually.”

“Julia!” Philippa tutted and folded her arms.

“Sorry!” Julia covered her mouth with her hand. I stared at her for a moment, not knowing quite what to say. I was… inspiring?

“Julia here will be leaving us at the end of the month to study biomedicine at the university,” Philippa said.

“Oh… that’s great,” I said, smiling.

“Thanks! Better late than never! So, what made you want to get into women’s health?” Julia asked. “Was it… since you transitioned?”

“Julia!” Philippa repeated in a more scolding tone.

I looked between them both, my mouth hanging open. I suddenly remembered the mix-up yesterday with my name on Julia’s computer system. She… she must have assumed I was…

“Sorry, was that the wrong thing to say?” Julia looked down, sheepishly arranging some papers on her desk.

“Actually, women’s health kind of fell into me,” I said, trying to save her embarrassment. It seemed to work as she flashed her smile again.

“Oh, Doctor Hartwell, there was a call for you,” Julia said, checking her collection of Post-It notes, “from a Doctor Rosenstein?”

“Ah, Rosenstein! We were just talking about her, weren’t we?” Philippa said, seeming almost pleased. “She probably wants to see if I’ll be daring to show my face at the conference next week.”

“Well, I better leave you to it,” I said, stepping over to the door. Rain tapped against the glass, draining down in fine rivulets.

“Do you want to borrow an umbrella?” Julia asked, already reaching down under her desk.

“No, I’ll be fine. I’m parked right nearby.” I reached for the door handle.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” Philippa said. I paused to look back at her. “And… thank you,” she added sincerely.

I nodded. “See you soon. Bye, Julia.” I waved over at her and opened the door, the dull roar of the overpass welcoming me back to the real world.

* * * * *

I hurried across the sidewalk over to where I’d parked the convertible. Luckily, it was just a fine, light summer shower and I didn’t get too wet. As I jogged, my breasts jumped on my chest and I quickly became aware of my thong riding up beneath my leggings.

I reached into my bag, having to rummage through an increasing amount of stuff to find the key remote for the car. Opening the door, I slid into the driver’s seat. I pulled the door closed and sat there for a moment, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain against the windshield. My hair was still pinned up in a bun and it nudged annoyingly against the headrest of the seat. I realised that I hadn’t thought about any of this while I’d been working in Philippa’s lab. Not about my hair, my breasts, my thong… I’d just been working. And now it was like I was suddenly back to the job of being a woman again.

I reached into my tote bag for my phone, finding a message from Lauren, reminding me to pick up some food for lunch from the deli on my way back. I tapped my thumbs against the screen.

”Thanks, just leaving now, see you soon xxx”

There were also several more messages from Emma, still desperately wanting to hear how things had gone last night. I left those. I’d be seeing her in a few hours. Couldn’t she wait till then?

I started up the engine and pulled the seatbelt across my body, clicking it into place. I flicked the wipers on and reversed out of the parking space. As I joined the freeway, I found my thoughts turning back to last night.

After our cinema and dinner date, Lauren and I had found our way back to being intimate in the bedroom — taking our first steps toward exploring something that neither of us really understood yet.

Lauren had been the one to put a halt to it, but it felt more like she’d let me off the hook. I had overthought all of it. Where to place my hands. When to kiss. When to breathe. It was like I knew what I was supposed to do — what Scott used to do — but it no longer came naturally.

The rain began to pick up a little. The wipers worked harder to clear the windshield as I drove. I thought back further, to our conversation over dinner. Had I really drifted that far from being Scott? After two and a half weeks?

No. This morning had proved I could still slip back into Scott’s life and do ‘Scott’ things. Yes, but this morning meant using my brain rather than my vagina. Last night it couldn’t be Scott. It had to be something different.

Glancing up into the rear-view mirror, I noticed that a car was tailgating right up close behind me.

“I’m doing the speed limit. Go around me for fuck’s sake,” I muttered to myself.

The car accelerated, speeding up beside me, far too quickly for the road and the driving conditions. I jabbed at the horn, the red convertible making a rather feeble high-pitched beep. I glared as they overtook me. Of course, it had to be a man!

I exhaled and rolled my shoulders to shake the tension off. Signalling, I pulled the convertible across to take my exit.

* * * * *

I pulled into the narrow street for the deli, the hedge row on my right, and the small parade of stores coming up over on my left. It looked busier than when we’d visited the other week to get supplies for our picnic. A few people were milling about the sidewalk holding umbrellas. It was also looking like there was nowhere to park.

Damn. I hovered for a moment, the engine humming and the windshield wipers squeaking, as I waited to see if a space would become available. As I leaned forward over the steering wheel, I noticed a new boutique had opened up since last time, and that seemed to be generating most of the interest. I finally ran out of patience and pulled the car forward, tucking in at the end of the row beneath a ‘No Parking’ sign. It’ll be fine. I’ll be quick.

* * * * *

The door to the deli chimed as I entered. I paused and wiped at my face from the rain, then smoothed a hand across my hair, hoping I didn’t look too disheveled. I breathed in to savour the cheeses and freshly baked bread. It was a pleasant mix of aromas, though not quite as intense as I’d remembered from the other day.

I reached into my tote, finding my phone so I could bring up the list that Lauren had sent me.

“Get some nice bits to pick at. And a bottle of wine.”

Thanks, Lauren, that was no help! I sighed. We needed lunch for four, so I needed to make sure there would be enough for everyone. I grabbed one of the plastic baskets by the door and hooked it over my arm. There were a handful of people browsing the narrow aisles already and it was enough to make the deli look even more cramped.

I started by choosing some things to make a salad — tomatoes, cucumber, peppers, lettuce and some balsamic dressing. A few things we could snack on like olives and vegetable crisps. When I came across their fresh home-made quiches, I couldn’t resist and had to get one. At least that was the main event dealt with, and there would be enough of it to feed all of us. But wait, what if Rachel didn’t eat dairy? What if she was gluten-intolerant? Uh… she’ll just have to have salad!

In the next aisle, I found myself pausing then taking a step back to look at all the various cake-making paraphernalia. I grabbed a cookie cutter and a bag of chocolate chips, wondering if I could have another go at baking sometime. Hopefully, I wouldn’t burn the house down.

As I carried on, I had to turn my body sideways to slide past a tall man. My right breast nudged against his arm.

“Sorry!” Fuck. Why did I apologise? Now I’d just brought attention to it.

I kept my head down and walked quickly to the counter, grabbing a bottle of white wine at the last minute. I had to wait for the older guy in front to get served, so I set my heavy basket down on the floor.

“Have a good day,” a voice behind the counter said. As I looked up, I noticed it was the same curly-haired young man who had been stacking shelves the other day. The older man turned with his bag, giving me a polite smile as he shuffled past me.

“Hello, welcome to—” The younger man paused, mid-sentence, his eyes widening as I stepped up.

“Hi again,” I said, hefting my basket onto the counter. “Tomatoes,” I said, pointing at him.

“Whu-what?” he stammered.

“The other week. You helped me find the sun-dried tomatoes,” I said.

“Oh, right, yeah. I remember” he said, and I noticed his cheeks flushing red as he absently scratched at the back of his head. “Well, uh, I remember you anyway.”

“Hm.” I forced a smile back, feeling awkward myself now. I drummed my fingers on the counter, watching as he agonisingly scanned each of my purchases.

“Did you find everything you needed today?”

“Yes! Yes, thanks,” I answered too quickly, glancing back over my shoulder at the rain-flecked windows.

He finished scanning everything and I turned back in time to see the final total flash up on the card reader.

“What? H-how much!?” I stared at the figure, thinking there must have been some mistake.

“Oh, it’s the wine,” he said, turning the bottle to look at the label.

Shit. I hadn’t even looked at how much it was. I’d just grabbed the first bottle in reach. Usually, I’d leave it to Lauren to choose the wine. “I uh, I better find a different one.”

“It’s the best white we sell, I think you’d like it,” the young man said, smiling tentatively. He looked back over his shoulder, then dropped his voice. “Listen, uh... I probably shouldn’t do this. But I could use my staff discount. Get you fifteen percent off?”

“No, you don’t have to—”

“I want to...”

This was stupid. Why was the guy bending over backwards to help me out like this?

Oh. Oh, right.

* * * * *

I marched out of the deli with my full tote of groceries. I didn’t know what felt heavier — the bag, or my guilt for having accepted the discount.

My sneakers splashed on the sidewalk as I hurried back over to the car — just in time to watch a parking enforcement officer slip a ticket under the windshield wiper of the convertible. Where the hell did he come from?

“Oh, hey, sorry… I uh, I was only a couple minutes,” I said as I jogged up to the man, my tote bag clinking at my side.

“Sorry. No parking.” He pointed with his pen to the sign above us. The rain tapped against his navy baseball cap.

I sighed, hanging my head and looking down at my tote of shame, an idea beginning to form. I bit my lower lip, then looked back up at him.

“Isn’t there… um… anything you could do… just this once?” I said, putting a little extra softness into my voice. I awkwardly placed one hand on my hip and leaned against the car with the other, though the rain made my hand slip against it with a squeak.

The parking officer looked down at me, raising a confused eyebrow. I desperately tried to regain my composure, straightening and wiping errant strands of wet hair out of my face. I could feel the rain running down the back of my neck.

“No. Parking,” he repeated, shaking his head as he turned away.

“Uh!” I whimpered in frustration, snatching the ticket from the windshield before getting back in the car.

* * * * *

“Hey, I’m home,” I said, walking through the rear door from the garage. Lauren was in the dining area setting out placemats on the table.

“Oh, hey, honey!” She noticed me struggling in with my bag of shopping and hurried over to help me lift it onto the kitchen counter.

“You look nice!” I said as we set the bag down. Lauren wore a grey dress, fitted at her waist and flaring a little at her knees, with a soft peach cardigan over the top. It looked stylish and comfortable. When I’d left her this morning, she’d still been in her bathrobe.

“Thanks,” Lauren said, smiling. She looked me up and down — at my damp clothes and messed-up hair. “You look… like you’re going to be late for lunch!” She laughed.

“Yeah, I need to go and get changed and do something with my hair.” I reached back and pulled the pins out of my already collapsed bun. I shook my blonde hair out so it hung loose over my shoulders.

“How did you get on with Hartwell?” Lauren asked as we began to unpack the groceries. I peeled the lid back on the pack of olives I’d bought, popping one into my mouth.

“Mmm, good,” I said as I chewed.

“Don’t eat everything before they get here!” Lauren said, slapping at my hand.

“Hey, I didn’t have any breakfast!” I opened the fridge, beginning to put away some of the things I’d bought.

“So… it was just ‘good’?” Lauren asked, pulling the expensive wine bottle from the bag. She looked at the label, seeming surprised.

“Well, Philippa thinks my cells are ‘extraordinary’.”

“Oh, it’s Philippa now is it?” Lauren turned her head back to look at me.

“She was really onto something, Lauren,” I said, coming back over to her. “Reproductive cellular regeneration… that’s what my cells are doing. We watched it happen!” I could feel the excitement in my voice as I stared off, remembering it all.

“I see… and how’s the cure going?” Lauren asked, reaching up to tuck a straggly strand of hair back behind my ear.

“Well, uh… this is like the first step.”

Lauren sighed and took both my hands in hers. “Look, I’m not going to say anything. This was your choice to help her. Just make sure that you get to decide the next step.”

“So… that’s you not saying anything?” I smiled knowingly up at her.

Lauren laughed. “I missed you this morning,” she said, cupping my cheek with her palm.

“I missed you too.”

Lauren leaned down and kissed me. She lingered, giving me a couple of soft kisses in a row. My eyes closed for a moment.

“Mm.” Lauren pulled back, drawing her lips in thoughtfully and smiling. She slipped past me, tapping my butt. “Come on, you better go get ready.”

I took a breath, my hands on the kitchen counter as I glanced back at her.

* * * * *

I was still in the bedroom when I heard voices coming from downstairs. Shit, they were here already. I quickly ran my pink lipstick across my lips before drawing them in and smoothing them together. I flicked the ends of my brushed blonde hair back over my shoulders, checking myself in the mirror one last time. I was quite pleased that I could manage the half-up now without having to ask Lauren for help.

My one-inch heeled sandals clicked against the floor as I walked across the hallway to the top of the stairs. I paused, smoothing my blush-pink floral top and tugging on the hem of my denim skirt. I looked over the rail of the staircase down toward the kitchen. I could see Lauren and Emma talking with another woman. Rachel. She had dark hair, like Emma, though it was shorter and hung just below her jawline. I was relieved to see her smiling, and even from here I could see there was a family resemblance between the two cousins.

I began to make my way down, angling my feet to the side a little as I descended the staircase. The girls continued to talk, exchanging pleasantries.

Rachel was slender-framed and about my height. She wore a black skirt, dark pantyhose, black high-heeled pumps and a cream satin blouse. She carried a binder tucked under one arm and a black purse on her opposite shoulder. She looked rather more polished and professional than I’d been expecting — for what I thought would just be a casual lunch. Suddenly my skirt felt too small and my neckline too low.

“Oh, here he is,” Lauren said, looking over as I reached the bottom of the stairs and came over, my bare legs brushing together and my heels clicking under me.

Rachel turned her head, her red-lipsticked smile faltering just a little, her eyes sweeping my body. And my clothes. I felt a fresh wave of self-consciousness hit me. I should go and change. No, it’s too late for that.

“Hi, I’m… Scott,” I said, offering my hand.

I watched as Rachel’s eyes scanned my face. They had the same greenish tint to them that Emma‘s had. “Yes… hello. I’m Rachel,” she said, remembering to shake my hand and smile again. I could feel my cheeks warming.

“You know, Rach, you didn’t have to come dressed like an undertaker!” Emma said, stepping forwards. “You’ll scare them off!”

“This is how I always dress,” Rachel said plainly, looking down at herself.

“Oh, yeah, it is!” Emma chuckled. In contrast to Rachel, Emma wore a bold mustard top with dark jeans, casual enough to make me feel better about the outfit I was wearing. Her hair was tied back in her familiar long braid.

“Are you both ready to eat?” Lauren asked. “We can go straight through if you like.” She gestured over to the dining table.

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Rachel said. She kept casting me quick glances, as if unwilling to stare at me for too long.

Lauren showed Rachel through, but I noticed Emma’s demeanour change. She refused to look me in the eye and went to walk straight past me.

“Hey, Ems. What’s wrong?” I asked, reaching for her arm.

“Oh, so now you’re talking to me?” she huffed, turning toward me and folding her arms across her chest.

“What do you mean?” I could hear the defensiveness in my voice.

“I must have sent you like a dozen messages. You ghosted me!” she said, looking genuinely hurt.

“What? That’s what you’re upset about?”

“I thought we were friends,” Emma said, looking up at me.

“We are!”

“I wanted to know that you two were okay last night. This date was a big deal. You read my messages and you couldn’t find the time to reply to one of them?”

I was beginning to realise that my usual habit of replying to my texts if and when I felt like it, wasn’t going to cut it with Emma.

“I’m sorry,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re right…”

Emma looked at me, her eyes suddenly widening as a thought crossed her mind. “Ooh, were you two boinking all night? Is that why you didn’t reply?”

“Ems!” I looked over my shoulder, checking that Lauren and Rachel hadn’t overheard.

Emma placed her hand on the small of my back, guiding me over to the dining area to join the other two. “This conversation is not over!”

* * * * *

The dining table came alive with the sound of bowls clinking, knives and forks scraping across plates, and the gentle glug of wine being poured from the bottle.

“Thank you,” Rachel said, picking up her glass and sipping at the wine. “Oh, that’s a nice one.”

“Scott spared no expense. Apparently.” Lauren glanced at me and smiled as she poured another for Emma.

We each had a slice of quiche on our plates and Rachel helped herself to the salad from a bowl. She sat beside Emma, while Lauren and I sat together across from them. Rachel still seemed hesitant to meet my gaze.

“Would you like some dressing?” I asked, reaching for the balsamic vinegar.

“Yes, thank you,” she said, looking at me at last as I handed the bottle to her.

Lauren smoothed the back of her grey dress and took her seat. “Well, thank you for coming, Rachel. We really appreciate it, don’t we, Scott?”

“Yes, thank you.” I smiled and nodded, not knowing quite what else to say.

“It’s my pleasure,” Rachel said, picking up her knife and fork. We began to eat and I cut into my quiche, popping a small piece into my mouth. I could taste the mix of cheeses the deli had used, along with the sweetness of the tomato.

“This weather’s a pain, isn’t it?” Lauren asked, looking to her right at the tall windows overlooking the lake. The skies were grey and the lake was misty and indistinct.

“Did you seriously just open with ‘the weather’?” Emma teased, grinning at Lauren.

“It is a pain,” Rachel agreed.

“See?” Lauren gestured at Rachel. “I hope you didn’t get too wet travelling over from the city,” she said, sipping at her wine.

“It was fine.” Rachel covered her mouth as she chewed.

“What about you, Susie, did you get wet?” Emma asked, raising her eyebrows at me for some reason.

“A little, yeah,” I said, wondering why she cared.

“I love your home,” Rachel continued, wiping her mouth with her napkin and leaning back in her chair to look around. “I grew up on a lake myself.”

“Rach’s side of the family lived out in the countryside,” Emma said. “I always loved visiting when we were girls. Remember when we collected up tadpoles in a jar and used them to terrorise your brother?” Emma giggled at the memory of it.

“Oh, yes, that was hilarious,” Rachel said. “And remember what he did after that?”

“He put a spider in my hair...” Emma said flatly.

“Haha, yeah that’s right!”

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Oh...”

Lauren and I looked at each other and smiled. Somehow, Emma and Rachel were alike and yet totally different all at the same time.

“So, what was your childhood like?” Rachel asked, glancing up at me. “What were you like as a girl?”

“You mean a boy!” Emma said, turning in her chair to face her cousin. “Wait, you do believe us, right? Because you said on the phone—”

“I said I’d meet with you all,” Rachel said plainly, looking at each of us in turn. “And I’m sorry... but I don’t know what any of this is yet!”

“So, you don’t believe us...” Emma huffed.

“Emma, think about what you’re asking me to believe... and then what you’re asking a court to believe...” Rachel paused, seeming to stop herself.

The sound of the rain hitting the rear windows seemed to grow louder. “I was just a normal boy, really,” I said at last. I felt the eyes of all three women on me. “I mean, I wasn’t into tadpoles.” I smiled, running my fingers along the edge of the table. “I used to spend a lot of time in my room, playing with my toys... making up stories. Especially after... uh...”

I felt Lauren rub at my arm affectionately. “Scott’s father died when he was young.”

I took a deep breath as she said it, the emotion catching me by surprise. I dabbed a finger at the corners of my eyes, hoping my mascara wouldn’t run.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, her voice a little too loud for the sentiment.

“It’s fine. I’ve just been thinking about him recently,” I said, clearing my throat and taking a sip of my wine. My free hand slid across and found Lauren’s. She squeezed back gently.

“And your mother... is she still with us?” Rachel asked.

“Rach...” Emma said, warning her cousin.

“Yeah... she is. She’s just... uh...”

“She doesn’t know.” Lauren looked at me as she answered. “We, uh... we kind of hoped we might get this all sorted out quickly and we wouldn’t have to tell anyone else.”

“Except for me. I’m special,” Emma said, looking pleased with herself.

“You are, Ems.” Lauren rolled her eyes.

“So, how long has it been since the accident?” Rachel asked, tucking into her food again.

“It’s been a couple of weeks now, hasn’t it?” I said, looking at Lauren.

“Seventeen days,” she said.

“That’s... not very long.” Rachel’s gaze lingered on me. “So... uh, what is this? Is this like, an act? Or...”

“Jesus, Rach!” Emma almost choked on her wine, though I wasn’t sure if it was shock at the fact that the most inappropriate question hadn’t come from her. “What do you mean?” she asked, casting daggers at her cousin.

“I mean — I’m sitting opposite a woman in a cute top and a little skirt — with great skin and better hair than me. I’ve got you calling her... what was it? Susie? And I’ve got Lauren calling her Scott. I mean, why are you pretending to—”

“She’s not pretending,” Emma interrupted, offering me a reassuring smile.

Rachel looked down, her dark hair fanning across her cheeks as she collected up some more salad onto the end of her fork. “I think... you better tell me everything,” she said.

“About that,” Lauren began. “Before we start… Well, we’re kind of worried about this perpetual NDA that Axis keep talking about. They say we’re not supposed to speak to anyone about this.”

“Bullshit,” Rachel and Emma said at the same time. They looked at each other and smiled. “That doesn’t stop you getting legal advice,” Rachel continued. She pushed her plate to one side and brought her binder up onto the table. “Now, let’s start at the beginning.”

* * * * *

We were all too full to eat any dessert, and it was just as well. Rachel had colonised the table, with several pieces of paper fanned out around her as she scribbled notes by hand. Lauren cleared up the empty plates and bowls, while I came through with a tray of coffee and tea for Emma, setting a cup down for each of us.

“Thank you,” Rachel said.

“When are you going to… you know… buy a laptop?” Emma asked, watching her cousin work.

“I have a laptop,” she replied without looking up. She checked another piece of paper, then continued to make notes. “So, let’s go back to the accident. When you handled this compound… this B-5…”

“B-579H,” I recited, having spent all morning handling the stuff.

“Right. In your dismissal letter here, it implies that you may have mishandled the compound or failed to follow adequate safety precautions,” Rachel said, looking back up at me.

“That’s bullshit,” I said defensively, gripping at my ring necklace.

“Scott, are you sure? Because earlier you said that, just before you passed out, you felt ‘confused and disoriented.’”

I flopped back down in my seat with my hands in my lap. “I mean… I’m pretty sure.”

Rachel sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Scott, Axis will chew you up in court with an answer like that.”

“I’m just being honest,” I said, looking down at my lap. I rubbed my hand against my bare smooth thigh, finding it comforting.

“Here we go — it’s lesson time with Rach.” Emma feigned a yawn. “She loves to point out how she knows more about all of this than any of us.”

“But I do know more about all of this,” Rachel said, looking confused.

Lauren walked back through holding a piece of paper. “Here, I got the first letter we received from Axis after Scott was discharged from the hospital.” She handed it to Rachel, who immediately began to read.

“While you take a look at that, I’m gonna go use the bathroom,” I said, standing up and smoothing out my skirt.

“Oh, wait up, Susie,” Emma said, pushing her chair back.

* * * * *

I went into the bathroom first, pausing in front of the mirror to check my eye makeup. I wiped a finger at a dark smudge just under my left eye.

Suddenly, Emma marched in after me, closing the door behind her.

“Alright, Susie, I want all the details. What happened last night?” Without missing a beat, she went over to the toilet and unbuttoned her jeans. She turned and started to slide them down, along with her underwear.

“Oh, right… so this is happening!” I turned away, staring at the wall, not knowing what to do with myself. “We really are friends again, huh?” I folded my arms across my chest.

Whether it was part of her plan or not, I wasn’t sure, but I started to babble just to cover the fact that Emma was sat there brazenly having a pee just behind me. “It was nice. The film was pretty good — kind of emotional, you know? There was this couple, Ella and—”

“Forget the movie, what about you two?” Emma sounded genuinely annoyed now.

“Oh. Well, we had dinner together, but… well, that was emotional too. Kind of a ‘who am I now’ kind of thing. And we kissed down by the lake. And then—”

“Woah, hold up! What was that like?” I heard the toilet flush behind me and I breathed a sigh of relief. I turned back around as Emma went over to the wash basin. She looked at me with a faux-serious expression on her face as she rinsed her hands under the tap. “And I swear, if you say it was nice one more time!”

“It… felt like a relief,” I said, looking at Emma in the mirror. “But at the same time, it felt like the first time I’d ever kissed anybody.”

Emma glanced up at me as she shook her hands out. She turned and grabbed a towel from the rail.

“And did you…”

“What?”

“Have sex! Jesus, Susie, you don’t have to be such a prude about all this.” Emma shoved the towel back. I immediately picked it up again and folded it nicely.

I hesitated, trying to find the right thing to say. “I don’t even know what girls are supposed to do together,” I said, leaning my backside against the bathroom counter. “I mean, I know what they do in, uh—”

“You mean we’re not gonna see you two on PornHub anytime soon?” Emma teased.

I laughed. “Ha! No, maybe not.”

“So what did you do?”

I reached up, feeling my cheeks, wondering if they were on fire. “Ems… I, uh… I’ve never talked about stuff like this with anyone before.”

“Including Lauren?” she asked.

I sighed and looked down at the floor.

“And welcome to ‘lessons with Emma!’” she declared, putting her hands on her hips triumphantly.

“Alright. Point made.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. “We did a bit of… touching,” I said at last.

“Oh, you little minx!” I opened my eyes again to see Emma grinning at me.

“See, this is why I don’t wanna talk about this!”

“I’m joking!” she laughed. “Honestly? This is tame as fuck so far. So did the Earth move for either of you?”

“No. It’s not that simple.”

“Not that simple... yet?”

“I don’t know, Ems,” I said, looking down at mine and Lauren’s toothbrushes, together in their pot. “It was like I was in my own head too much, trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing. Like... like I was a virgin all over again.”

“Well, you kind of are. A beautiful, untouched maiden!” Emma teased, putting on a theatrical voice.

I tried my best to ignore her. “And then at the cinema, things just seemed to happen even though I didn’t want them to.”

Emma’s eyes lit up and I realised I’d said too much. It was like I’d cracked a door open by a centimetre and Emma had barrelled straight through it.

“The cinema?”

“Uh,” I groaned, wishing I hadn’t said anything. I began to jiggle my leg. “Ems, I need to pee, can we do this later?”

“Uh-uh! You don’t squirm out of it that easily! So what happened, were you two in the back row, like a couple of teenagers? Popcorn dropping on the floor?” Emma smiled as she conjured up the imaginary scene.

“No. We were just watching a scene. A sex scene,” I said, having to force myself to use the word. “And well... things were... starting to happen... down there.” I cast my eyes downward.

“So, you got fizzy watching a movie — where’s the shame in that?” Emma said, checking herself for a moment in the mirror.

“Fizzy?” My eyes darted around the bathroom, as if searching for the nearest hole to jump into.

“Look, at least you know everything’s working as it should.”

My leg jiggled faster as I gazed back at the toilet. “But that’s the thing. Why did it happen so easily then... but with Lauren, it felt so difficult.”

Emma’s expression changed, looking more sympathetic. “Maybe because you weren’t thinking about it. You weren’t caught up in your head, like you said. You just let it happen.”

I nodded my head, my eyes glistening.

Emma stepped forward, grabbing me in one of her bear hugs.

“Urh! Ems...”

“I promise you, you’ll figure this out,” she said, rubbing my back affectionately.

“No... Ems... I’m gonna pee myself.”

“Oh, right! Sorry!” She laughed and released me.

I reached for the bathroom door, quickly ushering her out. “And I don’t need an audience!”

* * * * *

We spent the next hour or so going through our story with Rachel. Lauren and I fell into a natural rhythm of taking it in turns to speak. That first visit from Doctor Rourke, treating me like some sort of lab rat, but building our hopes for the cure. The extra data Axis wanted us to collect, that seemed to indicate they were more interested in the effects of the transformation than they were in undoing it. Then, Elliott Shaw, the Axis attorney, throwing a grenade with the news that they were deprioritising the cure and dismissing me from my job.

Rachel listened and scribbled in her notebook, but as we brought her up to date, she looked increasingly exasperated.

“So, let me get this straight. You’ve been working with the scientist responsible for the compound, using stolen Axis Laboratories data?”

“It wasn’t stolen… it was her research,” I said, glancing sidelong at Lauren.

“Hmm, well, that would be another thing for a court to decide,” Rachel said, rubbing at her forehead.

“I warned Scott not to,” Lauren began, looking at me. Great, here we go. “And I’m still not entirely convinced of Doctor Hartwell’s motives. But Scott needed to take some control back. It was the right choice for him.” She smiled at me, and I gave a surprised flicker of a smile back.

“I’m not going to pretend that this doesn’t complicate things significantly,” Rachel said.

“Oh, believe me, these two are experts at that,” Emma said. I folded my arms and poked my tongue out at her.

“It seems to me you’re walking two roads at the moment,” Rachel continued, “this one, and the one you’re taking with Doctor Hartwell. Sooner or later you are going to have to decide which one you’re committing to.”

“I understand,” I said, nodding slowly.

“Okay… and what do you want out of this? Some sort of settlement. Compensation for damages?” Rachel didn’t look up, but her pen hovered above her pad, waiting for us to reply.

“Well, these bras aren’t cheap,” I said glibly, waiting for a laugh from someone. Anyone.

“No, they’re not,” Rachel said with complete seriousness.

“Never mind bras, Susie. You could hire a butler to put it on for you after you’re through with Axis!” Emma said, beaming at me.

“We don’t want butlers, Ems. We want the cure,” Lauren said.

“Okay, so you want them to continue to develop the cure and award it to you,” Rachel said, writing it down.

“Obviously!” Lauren seemed surprised that we’d even been asked.

“I didn’t want to assume,” Rachel said as she looked up at me. “I mean, you seem… happy like this.” She leaned back in her chair. “Are you?”

Suddenly I felt everyone looking at me. Emma actually leaned forward in her chair, though Lauren seemed frozen stiff. The silence stretched until it started to feel uncomfortable. “I’m not… unhappy,” I said at last.

Everyone seemed to exhale at once. Emma leaned back again in her chair, looking straight at Lauren. For the moment, I chose not to look at her.

* * * * *

The four of us stood by the open door, the cab waiting in the driveway to take Rachel back to the station before carrying on to drop Emma home. The rain had stopped now, leaving puddles across the driveway and that distinctive, earthy smell in the air.

“Thank you for coming, Rachel,” I said, leaning in to hug her. I felt her stiffen and I wondered if I’d been a little over-familiar.

“Yes, we really appreciate it,” Lauren said, hugging her as well and leaving her looking just as uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry if I seemed a little off when I first arrived,” Rachel said, straightening herself out and tucking her binder under her arm. “To be honest, I was still half-expecting this to be one of Emma’s jokes.”

“Hey!” Emma placed a hand against her chest.

“Your cousin knows you, Ems,” Lauren said, smiling.

“I’ll be in touch with the next steps,” Rachel said. The engine of the cab ticked behind her.

“So… does that mean you’re taking our case?” Lauren asked excitedly.

“I want to help you, yes.”

We stepped forward, arms outstretched, but Rachel held up her hands to ward off another hug. “Look, Scott,” she began, addressing me directly. “I probably can’t do this alone. I’d need a team. And it won’t be quick. This could take years. And if Axis choose not to settle. If it comes to trial — there will be no secrecy. Everyone will know what happened to you. There’ll be global media coverage. Everyone will know your name…” Rachel’s green-tinted eyes looked straight into mine. “Are you ready for that?”

I swallowed and turned my head, looking at Lauren as I answered. “Yes. I’m ready.” Lauren’s eyes glistened and she pulled me in for a hug.

“Well, while we’re all having a love-in,” Emma said, working her way between us for a three-way huddle.

“Thanks, Ems,” Lauren said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“Love you, girls,” Emma replied, rising onto her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “I’ll text you both when I’m home safe.”

“I’ll reply,” I said, making a promise to Emma, and to myself.

Rachel and Emma threaded their way between the puddles and got into the back of the cab. Lauren and I stood by the door, our arms slipping around each other’s waists as we waved them off.

* * * * *

That night I found myself standing in front of the full-length bedroom mirror, wearing one of Lauren’s nightdresses. I ran my palms across my hips, the silky, lavender fabric feeling soft — almost ticklish against my smooth skin. I adjusted the spaghetti shoulder straps, and straightened out the lace-edged neckline.

“See, it feels nice, right?” Lauren asked from the bed. She was sat up, with a pillow tucked behind her while she applied her moisturiser.

I turned my head back, smiled, and nodded. I gave one last look at myself in the mirror then came back round to my side of the bed, the hem of the nightdress shifting against my thighs. Lauren patted the mattress playfully, and I slid in beside her, feeling relieved to be getting into bed after a long day.

I grabbed my own moisturiser cream and started to apply it to my face and neck, just as my phone buzzed again on the bedside table.

“Let me guess… Emma?” Lauren smiled as I quickly picked up my phone and tapped out a reply.

“I said I wouldn’t leave her hanging anymore!”

“Well, that was a mistake! She won’t leave you alone now!” Lauren laughed.

We finished our skincare routines and settled down, lying on our sides to face each other.

“So, how are you feeling about Rachel?” Lauren asked, her eyes scanning my face.

“Yeah. I feel like she’s the one to help us.” My eyes flicked down. Lauren wore her own black satin nightdress that shimmered in the light of our bedside lamps. “It just sounds like it’ll be an uphill battle.”

“It does…” Lauren said softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of my hair back behind my ear. “I know you said you were ready to fight this, but I need to know that you’re not just saying that for me. If you’re feeling differently about any of this, then I need to hear it, okay?”

“I’m ready,” I said softly, placing my hand on Lauren’s bare shoulder. “I’m ready to be your husband again.”

Both of us leaned in at the same time and fell into a kiss. It was gentle. Unhurried. Just the soft wetness of our lips in the silence of the room. We shifted, letting our bodies press together as we stared into each other’s eyes. Lauren smiled, her finger stroking along the length of my arm.

“We don’t have to rush into anything tonight,” she whispered. “We’ll just feel our way back.”

I nodded a silent agreement and we kissed again, Lauren’s hand lingering on my cheek. After a few minutes I could sense Lauren’s breathing had changed, her kisses becoming more urgent. I felt her tongue lick across my lips as her hand slid from my thigh, around to my backside, squeezing through the silken fabric of my nightie.

My eyes opened and I placed a hand on Lauren’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Lauren said a little breathlessly. “I guess I got a little carried away.” She smiled, biting her lower lip.

“It’s okay,” I said, rubbing her arm.

We finally curled in, reaching for our bedside lamps. The room winked out into darkness. Although my heart was beating a little faster, I felt more relaxed than I had last night.

“Goodnight, Lauren,” I said, rolling onto my side and reaching back for Lauren’s arm to wrap it around me.

Lauren took the invitation and spooned in behind me. “Goodnight, Susie.”

I breathed a contented sigh, feeling safe and looked after.