A TURN OF THE MOON
by
Jessica Drew

Day Fourteen
Men

“… and that’s why I believe my proposal, which reframes your customer base as a community environment, will deliver on your objectives, and help engender trust and retention. My intention is not just to work for you, but to be your trusted and valued partner.” Lauren stepped back, taking a breath.

“Well, Mrs Carter, thank you for coming in to present to us today. We’re all very impressed with your proposal, which is why we’re unanimous in our decision to offer you the contract.”

Lauren’s mouth hung open and she placed a hand at her chest.

“Add to that the fact that you’re stunningly beautiful… incredibly intelligent… and generally wonderful and amazing,” I continued, beaming at her from where I sat, cross-legged at the breakfast bar.

“Stop it!” Lauren laughed, grabbing her glass of water and taking a gulp.

“Seriously though, it’s really good, Lauren,” I said, through a mouthful of yogurt and peaches. I leaned across the bar and slid a bowl toward her. “Now sit. Eat.” I tapped the counter.

Lauren smoothed her skirt and hopped onto the stool next to mine. “I’m not sure I can eat very much,” she said, stirring the yogurt with a spoon. “My stomach’s in knots.”

“Don’t get any on your blouse,” I said, watching as she finally managed a small spoonful.

“Are you still okay to drop me at the station?” Lauren asked.

“Yes, of course, nine forty-five, right?” I said, picking up my phone from the counter to check the time. I figured that would give me a couple of hours before I needed to meet Henry at The Boathouse.

“Thanks, honey,” Lauren said, taking another quick mouthful of yogurt. “Alright, I better finish getting ready.” She started to get up, but paused, reaching for my arm. “You’ll be okay, won’t you? What are you going to do today?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, glancing down at my phone. “Actually, uh… I was going to…”

“What?”

“You know... just kick around the house. Maybe watch a movie or something,” I said, smiling a little uneasily.

Lauren looked at me for a moment. “Well, if you get the urge to bake again, maybe hold off until I can be there with a fire extinguisher ready!” She grinned and slid down from the bar stool.

* * * * *

Lauren leaned in close to the full-length mirror near the lounge area. She had emptied the contents of her makeup bag across the coffee table in her rush to find what she needed. I watched from the kitchen counter as she carefully flicked at her lashes with a mascara brush.

“Uh, I should have got up earlier,” she said, blinking a few times and dabbing at the corner of her eye with her little finger.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got time.” I turned back to the counter and reached for her laptop bag. “Do you need your charger?” I asked, glancing back over my shoulder.

“Yes please, honey. I can plug it in on the train,” Lauren said. She returned to the coffee table, tossing the mascara back onto the pile of cosmetics. She began to rummage through, finding a tube of red lipstick.

I unplugged the charger from the wall socket by the breakfast bar and placed it into Lauren’s laptop bag. Turning, I stepped over to the fridge, opening it to grab her a bottle of water. I tucked it into one of the side pockets.

Lauren returned to the full-length mirror, applying the lipstick evenly to her top and bottom lip. She drew her lips in to smooth the red colour out. “Do I look okay?” she asked, turning around to face me.

Lauren wore a smart business suit consisting of a black pencil skirt that ended above the knee, along with a matching blazer. Her legs were bare and she wore a pair of black high heels. She wore her brunette hair in a neat bun, with a few strands pulled forward to frame her face. Despite the rush, her makeup was faultless — eyeshadow, mascara, red lips, along with subtle contouring along her cheekbones and jawline. She looked professional, poised and elegant.

“You look ready to take on the world,” I said, smiling.

Lauren fussed with the top button of the white blouse she wore under her blazer. “Done up, or undone?” she asked, demonstrating the two options. With the button undone she displayed a little more of her cleavage.

“Er, well… both look nice,” I said, unsure what the right answer should be.

Lauren turned back to the mirror to check. “Undone,” she decided. “Doesn’t hurt when there are men in the room,” she said.

I felt my cheeks flush a little. Lauren grabbed a small perfume bottle from the table and spritzed a little under her neck and across her upper chest, before spraying a little more in an arc above her head. I grabbed her bag, walking over to hand it to her. Looking up at her, I breathed in the pleasant floral scent of her perfume.

“That smells gorgeous,” I said, smiling.

“Thanks,” Lauren said, sounding surprised. She took the bag and slipped her perfume bottle in, along with her red lipstick for touch-ups. She seemed tall again, and it wasn’t just her heels. It was like the act of putting on her makeup had suddenly equipped her for the day, making her stand straighter with a renewed confidence. She gazed past me toward the mess of cosmetics on the coffee table.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it later,” I said.

* * * * *

Lauren shifted restlessly in the passenger seat of the red convertible, checking her appearance in the visor mirror for about the fifth time. I glanced across at her as I drove.

“When do you think we’ll hear from Emma about Rachel?” I asked, trying to distract her.

“Hmm? Oh, well, I was hoping we’d hear something today,” Lauren said, checking her laptop bag to make sure she had everything she needed. “I’ll message her later. I imagine Rachel is a busy woman.”

“She’ll be even busier if she takes our case,” I said, turning onto the tree-lined access road that led to the drop-off zone. I looked over. Lauren was staring out of the passenger window.

Our case.

It still seemed a bit surreal to think about. I figured Lauren could feel the weight of it too. I pulled up outside the station entrance. A few people were still coming and going, but we had missed the morning rush. A wooden archway led through to the ticket office and waiting room. There were only two platforms — one leading into the city, the other further into the hills and out toward the coast.

“Alright, wish me luck,” Lauren said, taking a deep breath. Her confidence seemed to drain from her, and suddenly she looked a little lost.

“Good luck, I’ll be thinking of you,” I said, patting her thigh.

Lauren opened the passenger door and swung her legs out. She turned back to me. “Love you. Bye, honey.” She kissed me quickly on the lips. “Oh… sorry.” She reached and wiped at the trace of lipstick she’d left. We locked eyes for a moment.

“Love you too,” I said, feeling my cheeks warm. Lauren stepped out of the car, her heels clacking against the sidewalk. She smoothed her hands across her skirt and fastened the button of her blazer. “Lauren, your bag!” I called after her, hefting it up from the footwell.

“Oh, right.” She smiled, leaning back in to grab it.

“Go get ‘em,” we said together, our eyes meeting.

* * * * *

I sat perched on the edge of the sofa, with the TV remote in my hand. I gazed blankly at the movie playing on the screen, twirling a strand of my blonde hair.

Finally, I clicked it off. I hadn’t really been following what was going on. Instead, I found myself thinking about Henry.

It would be good for me. We could just talk and have a beer, like we used to sometimes after work. Even though he had been my boss, Henry had been a friend to me as well. We’d always find something to have a good laugh over. We could talk about movies, though I hadn’t updated my Letterboxd in a while. Plus, he might have some intel on what was going on at Axis. Doctor Hartwell had said they were trying to replicate what had happened to me, though hopefully her departure had set them back.

My cellphone buzzed at my side, making me jump. I picked it up and saw a text from Lauren.

“Hey honey. I arrived safely and I’m about to go in!”

I added a heart emoji and tapped a quick reply.

“Be wonderful. Be you!”

I sat there for a moment.

She’ll be fine. As long as she holds her nerve.

I glanced up at the clock on the wall. I needed to start getting ready if I was going to make it to lunch with Henry. My left leg began to jiggle. I needed to pee again.

* * * * *

I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my leggings and panties, shrugging them down together over the curve of my hips. As I sat, the toilet seat felt a little colder than usual. I began to pee, my arms crossing my lap, hands resting on my opposite knees, as if trying to cover myself from an invisible gaze. I wiped and stood up, quickly pulling everything back into place. I’d felt like this ever since my examination with Doctor Hartwell. I took a breath and flushed.

Washing my hands, I gazed into the bathroom mirror. My ponytail was coming loose, so I pulled my hairband free and gathered my hair back to retie it. I rubbed at my eyes, remembering how Lauren had commented before on my pale face. I angled my head, left and right, then up and down. I wondered if she was right.

I walked back downstairs and made my way through to the kitchen. Collecting up the breakfast bowls from earlier, I took them over to the sink, scraping Lauren’s leftover peaches and yogurt into the bin.

Suddenly I felt woefully unprepared. Maybe it was the prospect of letting yet another person in my life see me as a woman. I thought back to what it had been like when Emma had first seen me. Sure, she’d been pretty surprised at first… who wouldn’t be? But that initial shock had worn off pretty quickly. Then she just seemed to accept it. And she wasn’t even my friend.

Or maybe the knot in my stomach was trying to tell me something else… Maybe it was reminding me that I had chosen not to tell Lauren about my planned lunch with Henry.

I walked over to the lounge area, beginning to collect up Lauren’s cosmetics, putting them back neatly into her lilac-coloured makeup bag. I picked up the mascara brush, holding it for a moment. I thought back to how different Lauren had seemed after putting on her makeup — ready to stare down a room full of executives. I glanced over toward the mirror by the lounge.

Instead of dropping the mascara in the bag, I found myself drifting over toward the mirror. I looked at my reflection. My lashes were fair — like my hair — but it made my eyes look small and indistinct on my face.

I popped open the mascara tube, the brush wet and glistening as I held it up. My hand trembled a little, hesitant to bring it close to my eyes. My lashes were longer and fuller than they had been. After a moment I found it easier just to blink them against the brush.

I looked in the mirror. There was now a clearer definition to my eyes. They stood out from my face, their blue colour looking even more vibrant. I brought the brush back, adding a little more to the corners of my eyes and my lower lashes. I’d obviously pushed my luck as there was now a sticky clump at the corner of my left eye. I used my fingernails to pick it free, then looked down at the black smears it had left on my fingertips. My nails were starting to get a little long now.

Looking back in the mirror, I was satisfied with my first attempt with the mascara. At least from a distance. But it wasn’t like anyone was going to get close enough to notice my lack of technique.

I returned Lauren’s mascara stick to her makeup bag, then went to the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser to wipe my fingers.

* * * * *

I grabbed my navy purse and slipped it over my shoulder. I unzipped it, checking I had everything I needed, including my brown leather wallet to pay for lunch. I reached in and pulled out my rose-tinted lip balm. I paused for a moment, then uncapped it, smearing it across my lips. I drew my lips in and dropped it back into my bag.

I checked myself a final time in the mirror. I wore one of my new tops — a fitted t-shirt in burgundy that followed my shape nicely. I knew it was called burgundy as I’d read it on the label. I now seemed to be navigating a world of new colours — rose, sage, plum, lavender…

I adjusted my wedding ring necklace so it sat straight just above the line of cleavage exposed by my top. I swept my hands across the hem, so it sat smoothly over the curve of my hips and backside. My eyes scanned down further, to my black leggings and borrowed black flats.

I turned to look in profile, then straight on again. I felt happy with how I looked. Best of all, my face no longer looked like a pale blank slate. Instead, my eyes and lips were defined by the dark mascara and the pink tint of the lip balm. And it wasn’t too much. Yes, I was wearing makeup… but only a little.

Reaching up, I pulled a few strands of blonde hair forward in front of my ears, so that it framed my face. I flicked my ponytail out behind me, then stood with my hands on my hips, taking a breath as I met my reflection.

“Go get ‘em,” I said to myself, though it sounded empty without Lauren there to say it with me.

* * * * *

I pressed the accelerator, the convertible’s engine revving as it climbed the banking driveway. Coming to a halt at the sidewalk, I glanced briefly over to the mailbox that looked every bit like some idiot had knocked into it with their ridiculous car. I needed to buy a new pole, at least. The box itself could be salvageable if I beat it back into shape. I just needed to put aside a bit of time. Somehow, I always seemed to get distracted and forget about it.

I leaned forward, checking the main road. I looked across to Vic’s house directly opposite, though there was no sign of him today. He was often out working in the yard, and had the best lawn on the whole street. I pulled forward, turned right, and headed along the side of the lake. The road was quiet, so I opened her up a little – after all, Lauren wasn’t there to tell me not to. The convertible purred as it picked up speed. I allowed myself to smile as I felt myself pushed back into the seat.

I flicked the stereo on as I drove. In the absence of Lauren’s phone, the Bluetooth system connected to my own phone in my purse. It picked up my David Bowie playlist, a scraping guitar line joined by a familiar pounding rhythm.

“Yes!” I enthused, beginning to tap the steering wheel.

“I know when to go out, I know when to stay in—” I began to sing along, then paused to clear my throat, my voice straining to match Bowie’s low register.

I signalled and turned at the next roundabout, heading across one of the smaller roads that ran along the north edge of the lake.

“Things don’t really change… Uh!” I had to stop singing again. I experimented with singing an octave higher, but that felt like a strain as well. “But I try… I try—” My voice cracked.

I looked across the road, the lake now over on my right. I was coming up on the new house that we had watched — mostly heard — being built over the last few months. Turning the stereo down, I slowed and pulled over at the side of the road. I rolled the window down and looked across to the house, its gleaming windows reflecting the midday sun. It looked impressive, though I would probably have chosen to do the roof differently if it had been my choice. With the nearby trees they would have a hell of a job clearing the leaves that blew over.

The pale blue truck that we’d seen before was parked in the driveway. I was close enough now to be able to read the company name on the side.

Harper & Hayes Construction

Suddenly a man appeared, coming around the side of the house. He was dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a bag of tools. He hefted them up onto the flatbed of the truck, then turned in my direction. His hand came up to shield his eyes from the sun.

“Shit!” I quickly looked away and hit the accelerator.

* * * * *

The Boathouse Bar and Restaurant overlooked one of the larger lakes. It was one of the more touristy areas, and the parking lot outside was beginning to fill up for lunch. I pulled the convertible in, found a space, and parked up.

I grabbed my purse from the seat beside me and took a deep breath. Unzipping it, I found my compact mirror and checked myself briefly. I’d almost forgotten about my mascara. I blinked a few times, then snapped the mirror shut, dropping it back into my purse. I sat there for a minute, watching as people milled about outside, taking advantage of the nicer weather. I jumped a little as someone walked past the driver’s window, threading their way through the parking lot to get to their car.

I waited a few minutes and finally opened the door, forcing myself to step out. I slipped my purse over my shoulder and looked past The Boathouse to the lake beyond. It sprawled off into the distance, dwarfing our own lake back home, and offering a scenic view of the mountains on the horizon. A few people were out in hired rowboats and pedalos, and there was a gentle, constant thrum of chatter and laughter.

The Boathouse was made up to look rustic, with a faux timber exterior, along with the usual nautical references — not least a pair of crossed oars above the entrance. It was a bit cliched, but it was a nice place. Lauren and I had enjoyed some evening meals here before, sitting out the back with a view across the lake.

Lauren.

I realised now why I hadn’t yet moved from the car.

I should have told her...

I swept my hands across my leggings, then smoothed the hem of my burgundy top. I straightened my wedding ring necklace. Holding onto the shoulder strap of my purse with both hands, I took quick hurried steps across the parking lot, my black flats tapping against the asphalt.

* * * * *

I pushed the glass door that led into the entryway of The Boathouse. A pleasing gust of A/C hit me and lifted the strands of hair that hung loose about my face. I paused, my eyes scanning the open space. There was a circular bar in the center, with high stools and tables in front of it. A number of booths lined the walls and at the rear was the main dining area, with large windows offering a panoramic view of the lake. Other than some soft music playing, it felt reassuringly quiet inside. There were a few people dotted here and there, but most seemed to have gathered out back in the outdoor seating area, crowded beneath the shade umbrellas.

I smoothed a hand through my ponytail, scanning the room for Henry.

“Hello, ma’am!”

A voice startled me and I turned to see The Boathouse hostess smiling at me. “Will you be dining with us today?” she asked, beaming as she offered a menu to me.

“Uh... no, thanks... I mean, yes...” I shook my head. “I’m meeting someone,” I said, finally remembering why I was there.

“Oh great! Well... are they already here?” she asked, glancing around her.

“I, uh, don’t know...” I said, reaching into my purse for my phone to check if there was a message to say that Henry was there.

“Do you want to take a look out back?” the young woman asked. I held my phone in one hand, my purse hooked on my other elbow, as I looked over her shoulder to the packed outdoor seating area. I could already feel a few eyes on us as we talked, and I wasn’t ready to go parading around outside, checking every table. I glanced down at my phone, but there were no messages.

“I’ll just take a seat at one of the booths and wait,” I said, smiling politely at the hostess and taking the menu from her.

“Of course, take your pick!” she said, gesturing either side of her like a flight attendant. “When you’re ready to order food or drink, just go up to the bar.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Have a nice day!” she said, shrugging her shoulders up. She looked far too happy to be working there.

I slid into one of the booths, setting the menu down on the wooden table in front of me. I slipped my bag from my shoulder and placed it beside me. Looking back over to the hostess, I watched as she roamed the floor, looking for someone else to be excessively nice to.

I gazed over to the bustling outdoor area beyond the windows. A group of men were sitting around one of the tables and erupted into raucous laughter at a joke one of them had just told. The laughter was deep and sonorous. Damn. I missed that. Being a part of that.

Uh, who was I kidding?

I hated social gatherings. Always had. I much preferred something quieter, or one-on-one. You could actually get down to a decent conversation and not have to shout to be heard.

I glanced back over my shoulder as I heard the entrance open, watching as a couple came in. The hostess immediately homed in like a guided missile. The man nodded and smiled as he talked with her, pointing over toward the back. He guided his wife — or girlfriend, lover, or mistress — over to the glass door that led outside.

I sighed and got up, shifting to the opposite side of the booth so I could keep an eye on the door.

* * * * *

The door swung open and Henry stepped through awkwardly, like he’d been pushed from the other side. I found myself sitting up in my seat, a flicker of a smile creeping across my face. There he was, just the same as when I’d last seen him at the lab. It had only been two weeks, but it felt like I’d not seen him in years.

He was wearing the same crumpled jacket and brown corduroy pants that he wore to all the Axis Christmas parties. His brown hair was wavy and unkempt, his narrow features looking perpetually bewildered. I watched him talk with the attentive hostess, trying to read his lips, though I figured it was pretty much the same conversation I’d had with her just now.

The hostess gestured to the bar and seating areas, then left Henry to it. He squinted as he scanned the room, his eyes locking with mine for a moment.

I held my breath...

And he turned away, scanning the other side of the room. He looked to be about to approach another woman sitting on her own at a table, then hesitated. Finally, he gave up and went over to the bar to get a drink.

I leaned forward, resting my chin in my hand, watching Henry for a moment. I was slightly reassured to see that he was just as awkward and out of place as I was. And he didn’t even have an excuse.

He got served a beer and tapped to pay with his phone. He gazed down, looking like he was checking his messages. Smiling, I grabbed my own phone from the table and quickly text him.

“Look to your right.”

He immediately straightened and turned, looking over toward my booth.

I waved my hand and mouthed a silent “hi”.

* * * * *

“Scott...” Henry said, sitting opposite me now as he carefully studied my face, his brown eyes flicking back and forth.

I searched his eyes, hoping for recognition. I nodded my head just a little.

“Scott,” he repeated.

“Yes!” I said, rolling my eyes. I leaned back against the padded backrest and folded my arms. “And the answers to your next questions are yes, no and sometimes.”

“Heh.” He gave that short, sharp acknowledgement of amusement, which is the most he ever came to a genuine laugh. He looked down at the table for a moment, straightening the beer mats in front of him. “Only sometimes?” he said, looking up and raising an eyebrow.

I smiled, tucking a strand of blonde hair back behind my ear.

“How are you?” we said at the same time.

“You first,” Henry said, gesturing.

“Well, uh, where to start...” I looked up for a moment, toying with my ponytail. “Well, the accident I guess...”

“Sorry, I uh, just need a minute...” Henry said. His eyes scanned my face, then he looked away, his cheeks turning red. He let out a long, whistling breath. “Okay.”

“Are you okay?” I reached across the table, placing my hand on his arm. “Do you need me to get you anything?” I teased, trying to keep a straight face.

Henry paused, looking down at my hand resting on his arm. My smile faltered and I pulled my hand back.

“Listen, Henry,” I said, scratching at a mark on the table, “can we just forget about all of this for a moment? What you said in your text, about being normal for a bit...” I exhaled and gazed across the room, to the woman sitting at the table on her own. The woman Henry had nearly mistaken me for. And what was normal about that?

“Yeah, of course. No problem!” he said, straightening. His expression almost made it look like he was rebooting. “So, uh... have you seen the new Guadagnino film yet?” He glanced up at me as he took a sip of his beer.

“No... I guess I’ll just wait for it to hit streaming,” I said, sighing.

Henry looked even more shocked than when he first saw me. “Scott, what happened to you!” he joked.

I was about to say something. Something glib, no doubt. I closed my mouth again.

“I noticed you haven’t updated your Letterboxd in a while,” Henry said.

“Thinking you might finally catch up now?” I said, smiling.

“Heh, maybe!” Henry’s eyes darted away. He wasn’t very good at eye contact at the best of times, but today it was even more noticeable. “So what have you been doing?” he asked.

“Err... baking?” I said, screwing up my face as I said it.

“Baking...” Henry repeated. “Baking what?”

“Oh, mostly inedible stuff!”

I laughed, and even Henry couldn’t help chuckling, his shoulders rising and falling.

* * * * *

Henry walked back over from the bar. He set a lemonade down onto the bar mat in front of me, the ice clinking in the glass.

“Thanks.” I smiled as he slipped back into the seat opposite. “So, uh... I guess I should thank you,” I said, cradling my hands around the cool glass.

Henry cleared his throat. “What for?”

“Well, you’re the one that found me unconscious in the lab, right? They said you called the ambulance...” I sucked at my straw, the sweet lemonade fizzing against my tongue.

“Oh... I, uh... thought you didn’t want to...” Henry trailed off, ruffling his brown hair. He paused for a moment to take another sip of beer. “I couldn’t wake you,” he said, taking a breath. “But at least you still looked like... you. None of this had happened yet.” Henry waved his hand toward me, and I felt my cheeks warm in response. “Scott... I honestly thought I wasn’t going to see you again... But then we heard what had happened to you at the hospital... I mean, a part of me was relieved it wasn’t something worse.”

I took another long draw of my lemonade, thinking back to what Emma had told me about Lauren. How she’d broken down at the hospital, fearing the exact same thing. I looked down, noticing that I had left a smear of my pink tinted balm on the straw.

“So, what did you hear exactly?” I asked, leaning forward a little. For a second I caught Henry’s gaze dropping to my chest. I realised I had presented him with a clear view down my top! He looked away, taking another gulp of his beer, while I quickly leaned back in my seat and reached for the wedding ring that hung about my neck.

Henry wiped at his mouth, then continued, his gaze fixed on his beer glass. “Well, uh, you know how us worker bees like to talk. It wasn’t a secret for very long. We just heard that after you’d been admitted to the hospital... that’s when you started to... when you turned into... well, a girl.”

“A woman,” I said, carefully. I swirled the ice in my glass.

Henry shifted a little in his seat and scratched at the back of his neck with a finger. He took another gulp of beer as if steeling himself for his next question. “So, uh... what’s it like?” he asked, his gaze dipping again.

“I, uh—”

“How is everything?” the hostess asked brightly. She stopped in front of our table, holding a tray full of empty glasses. She looked down at us both. “Oh, you found each other! So, what is this, like a blind date?”

“I guess so!” Henry said at the same time I gave an emphatic “No!”

The hostess looked between us, seeming delighted. She set her tray down on our table, while she reached into the pocket of her black skirt. “Well, if you’re interested, we’ve got a coupon for our couples dinner package this week,” she said, handing me a card. “It includes a three-course candlelit meal out on the veranda — it’ll be very romantic!”

I almost choked on the last of my lemonade.

“Heh,” Henry said, looking down at the table.

I felt my cheeks flush red as I coughed. “Uh, thanks but... we won’t be needing this,” I said, looking down at the card for a moment before offering it back to her.

“You keep it in case you change your mind!” The hostess gave me a wink and placed my empty glass onto her tray. I waited until she was out of earshot and glanced back to Henry. His eyebrows were raised in amusement.

“I think I need a proper drink.” I sighed, rubbing at my forehead.

* * * * *

I leaned against the bar, resting my elbows on the counter as I waited to get served.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” the bartender asked, smiling at me as he walked over. I dipped my head for a moment, closing my eyes to steel myself from saying something I would regret. “Just a beer... whatever you’ve got on tap,” I said.

“You got it,” he said, grabbing a glass and holding it at an angle under the tap, beginning to pour.

I stared straight ahead, not wanting to look back at Henry, and not wanting to make eye contact with the bartender either.

“So, you here on your own?” the bartender asked, placing the beer in front of me.

“Let me get this,” Henry said as he came up behind me. The bartender glanced at us both, then took a step back.

“I don’t need you to buy me drinks,” I said over my shoulder. I unzipped my purse, searching for my leather wallet. The other day I had avoided using it, for fear of it looking too out of place. Today I almost defiantly pulled it from my bag, finding a few bills and placing them on the bar. My fingers curled around the beer glass, bringing it to my lips. I winced.

“What is it?” Henry asked.

I turned toward him. Now that we were standing side by side I could see how much taller he was than me now. “It, uh... I don’t know... it tastes bitter,” I said, drawing my lips in.

“Oh, has it gone off?” Henry took the glass from me and tried some. “Hmm, tastes fine to me.” He shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter,” I sighed.

“Let me get you something else. Wine?” Henry asked, placing the beer glass down on the bar.

“Fine,” I said, looking up at the ceiling. “No... I’m driving, I shouldn’t be drinking. Just a water.”

“You sure?”

I nodded.

Henry gestured toward the bartender. “Hello, yes um, could she... my friend I mean... get a water?” he asked. The bartender seemed to smile to himself as he put some ice into a glass.

“So, Scott, there’s something else you should know,” Henry said, looking down at me. “You remember Doctor Hartwell? Well, she left Axis.”

“Shh, keep it down!” I said with a hushed voice. The bartender came over, placing the water in front of me. I smiled politely and took a sip, washing away the aftertaste of the beer. I waited until he had moved away from us to serve a couple of guys that had come in from the veranda. I placed a hand on Henry’s arm, turning him so we had our backs to them.

“Listen, did Axis make you and the other ‘bees’ sign anything?” I asked, quietly.

Henry nodded. “Oh yeah, one of their classic NDAs.”

“Exactly, so you can’t go letting people overhear you talk about this!” I said. Henry just seemed to look lost and bewildered again. “I mean it, Henry. Not any of it.”

Henry held up his hands. “Okay, okay! You’re the boss!” he said. His brow tightened. “I mean, I thought I was your boss but...”

“Not anymore...” I said, flatly. I sipped at my water.

“Yeah...” Henry looked down at his shoes. “You know, I didn’t have anything to do with that, right?” He looked up again.

“I know... it’s them,” I said, stroking back a strand of hair. “They’re trying to shut me out.”

“Why would they do that?” Henry leaned an elbow against the bar, placing it in the wet patch where my water had sat. “Uh.” He held his arm up.

“I... don’t think I can get into it right now,” I said as I watched him. I could feel myself backing away from revealing too much. About Hartwell... about our legal action. “Henry, have Axis talked to you about any of this?”

“Scott... I signed an NDA, remember?” Henry said.

“Of course,” I shook my head and forced a smile. “Sorry.”

“But screw that,” he continued. “They had their lawyer interview me.”

“Shaw,” I said.

Henry nodded. “He asked if you’d ever ignored procedure before,” he said. “If there’d been any mistakes in your work. Any warnings. Anything like that.”

I swallowed. “And what did you say?”

“I said you were irritatingly careful,” Henry said, giving a half-smile.

I exhaled, though I could feel my pulse beginning to race as my mind tried to grapple with what this all meant.

Henry helped himself to the spare beer. He seemed to sense that I was somewhere else. “So, how is Lauren doing? Is she coping as well as you are?”

“Wait, who said I was coping?” I said, still feeling on edge.

“Well, heh... I mean look at you. You’re wearing lipstick!”

“It’s lip balm.”

“And did you do something with your eyes?” Henry asked, looking more closely.

I turned my head away. “Look, I’m fine, Lauren’s fine... Is that what you want to hear?” I said, feeling increasingly exasperated.

Henry paused for a moment, leaning to try and catch my gaze. “I want to hear the truth,” he said. “Look... I get it. This must be hard for you and for Lauren. I mean... technically you’re her wife now.”

“Henry... can you just...” I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a breath. I turned my back to him, smoothing a hand over my leggings as I started back over to the booth with my water.

“Wait.”

“What is it now?” I asked, turning around.

“Are you wearing panties under your leggings?” he asked quietly, seeming fascinated.

I stepped back over. “Yes, Henry!” I said, speaking too loudly now. “I’ve got a fucking vagina, so of course I’m wearing panties!”

If the bar was quiet before, it fell silent now, with only the conversations outside still continuing. I looked down at my glass of water, then back up to Henry.

“Uh!” I gave a shrill huff, and walked past him to put the glass down on the bar, spilling some of it. I grasped the shoulder strap of my purse tightly and strode to the door, my ponytail swaying.

“Hey... what about lunch?” Henry said.

“I just lost my appetite.”

* * * * *

I slammed the car door shut and dropped my purse onto the passenger seat. I clipped my phone into its cradle on the dashboard, then hit the starter button, shifting into gear. As I pulled out of the parking lot, my music started blaring from the speakers, louder than I expected.

“Modern love walks beside me, modern love walks on by...”

“Fuck off,” I muttered, tapping at my phone to stop the music. I glanced down for a second, seeing that there was an unread message from Lauren. I waited until I’d turned at the next roundabout and had a clear stretch of road, then quickly scanned the message.

“Just finished. I think it went well! Fingers crossed. Heading back to the station now. How are you, honey? xxx”

The tree-lined streets caused the sunlight to flicker at my side. I could almost imagine Lauren telling me to slow down. And not to look at my phone while driving. I eased off the gas pedal, comforted by the thought that she would be home soon.

And I could admit what an idiot I’d been for not telling her about Henry.

I turned onto the next road that led along the north edge of our own lake, feeling a longing to get back to the lake-house. I hit the button to roll the windows down, letting the breeze whip through the car.

“Hey, Siri... play Taylor Swift.”

* * * * *

I pulled into the driveway and eased the convertible down the slope toward the garage. I hummed to the music as I hit the button above the visor, the garage door retracting upward. With a sharp squeal of the tires, I brought the car to a halt alongside the SUV. As I turned the engine off, the music stopped and the garage fell silent.

It felt good to be back home, even though I still felt a little shaken from how things had gone with Henry. I grabbed my bag and unclipped my phone from its cradle. I sat for a moment and quickly texted Lauren, my nails catching the screen and making a light tapping sound.

“Well done! I knew you would ace it. I hope you hear something soon. All fine here. Let me know when your train’s due in and I’ll come pick you up. xxx”

I got out of the car and stepped back outside. I started to rummage through my bag for my door key, briefly noticing the discount coupon for The Boathouse that I’d stuffed in there earlier.

“Rrrmmff.”

I heard a strange whimpering noise that made me pause and look up.

“Oh, shit,” I said, nearly jumping out of my skin.

Vic’s German Shepherd sat at the bottom of the driveway, cocking its head as it looked at me.

I felt the small hairs go up at the back of my neck. I slowly began to back up toward the front door of the lake-house.

“G-good boy...” I said, my voice trembling. I felt that at any moment it would bare its teeth and start barking at me, just like it had always done. Only now I was smaller, and it could probably eat me if it wanted to!

Suddenly it bounded toward me and an impossibly high-pitched shriek escaped my lips. I backed up against the door, with nowhere else to go, just as the dog reached me. It stopped suddenly, sniffed at me, then snuffled its nose against my hand.

“Oh... err, hey,” I said, breathing fast. I brought a shaking hand onto its head, stroking a few times. Its brown and black fur felt soft and I gradually settled into a soothing rhythm. “Hey, you’re not so bad, are you?” I said, trying to convince myself more than anything. I felt a flicker of a smile at my lips. I reached behind Toby’s ear to offer a scratch. “Hey... where’s your papa, huh?” I looked up the length of the driveway, toward the road. Toby whimpered again.

* * * * *

“Okay... err, wait!” I said as we reached the top of the driveway. I’d managed to find a length of cord in the garage and looped it through Toby’s leather collar to walk him back over to Vic’s. Not that I could really claim to be in control of him. If Toby decided he wanted to take off, there would be little I could do about it.

I checked the road both ways. “Come on, boy,” I said, starting to walk. Fortunately, Toby chose to trot obediently at my side.

Vic’s driveway rose up toward his house. My black leggings stretched against me as I marched up the incline. His front yard had an immaculate lawn — the shrubs were shaped, and the colourful flowers were in bloom and well-tended. Despite that, there wasn’t any sign that Vic had been out here today. No hose... no rake or trowel.

Vic’s place was smaller than ours — a single-story house, not quite as luxurious or expensive as the lakeside properties. I started up toward the front door when Toby suddenly pulled away from me, the fibre cord slicing against my hand painfully.

“Ow!” I clutched my stinging hand with the other, as Toby dashed around the side of the house. “Hey wait! Err... here boy!” I called after him. I waited for a moment to see if he’d return. “Damn it.” I followed around the side of the house, shaking out my sore hand.

The back porch door was open but there was no sign of Toby. I stepped forward, hovering at the entryway. A wind chime clinked softly beside me. I placed a hand on the doorframe and peered in, the house gloomy and dark inside.

“Vic?” I called in my soft register. “Are you in there?” I waited for an answer. I took a hesitant step inside, letting my eyes adjust. The kitchen was white with quaint yellow accents that reminded me of a forgotten summer. There were a number of pieces of artwork on the wall, mostly intricate pencil drawings of flowers. My gaze drifted across to the sink where a large pile of plates, pots and pans crowded the sink. A half-eaten loaf of bread and some cheese lay out on the kitchen counter, alongside several tins of dog food.

“Vic?” I called again, more cautiously this time, as I made my way down the hall, trailing my fingers against the wall. “Toby? Here, boy...” I said, almost whispering now.

The hallway opened out into Vic’s living room. I carefully peered around the corner — first seeing the coffee table, then the empty sofa, then — the armchair. I caught a glimpse of feet... then a pair of legs... Someone was sitting there... not moving!

“Ahh!” I shrieked loudly for the second time that afternoon, turning tail and hurrying back the way I came.

I heard a series of deep hacking coughs. “Sarah... is that you?”

I slowed to a halt. “Wait... Vic?” I cautiously made my way back through, peeking around the corner again. Vic was stirring in his armchair. “Jesus, Vic, I thought you’d died or something!” I said, feeling a little annoyed now. I gripped my purse strap as I stepped fully into the lounge. Toby sat beside Vic’s chair, panting.

Vic looked up at me from his chair, looking confused for a moment. “Oh, it’s you... the cousin!”

I stared down at my feet, taking a breath. “Susie,” I said, looking back up.

“Oh, yes.” He pushed himself to his feet, with his fists on the arms of the chair. I reached for his arm to help steady him, but he patted my hand away. “I’m alright!” he said, his white beard wagging as he spoke. “Certainly not dead!”

“Didn’t you hear me calling?” I stepped over to the windows, opening the blinds. Sunlight filled the room, revealing a haze of dust. I glanced around — another unwashed plate and cup, old newspapers, cardboard boxes half-full with belongings.

“I was trying to take a nap,” Vic said, sounding annoyed himself now. “Until some busybody thought it would be okay to let herself into my home.” He raised his bushy eyebrows.

“You left the back door wide open,” I said. “Toby got out and I found him in my driveway.” Toby’s ears pricked as he heard the mention of his name. He padded back over to me. I bent at the knees, coming down to his level and scratching under his chin. Reaching under, I unthreaded my makeshift cord from his collar. “That’s a fast road outside Vic,” I said, looking up. “You need to be more careful.”

“Like driving into Scott’s mailbox ‘careful’?” Vic chuckled to himself, his laugh turning into another hacking cough. He cleared his throat and looked down at Toby, who was now trying his best to lick at the remains of my lip balm. “He has been getting a little restless of late, bless him. I can’t walk him as far as I used to these days.” He went to pick up the used crockery, though I could tell his back was giving him some pain as he bent.

“Let me get that, at least,” I said as I swept up the cup and plate from the floor. I made my way back through into the kitchen, calling over my shoulder, “When’s the last time you cleaned up, Vic?”

I heard a small grumble.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I said, stop nagging!” he chuckled.

I looked for a spare surface to put the plate and cup down, having to make do with stacking them on top of the rest in the sink. I reached for the handle of the back door, pulling it closed so Toby wouldn’t get out again. As I turned back, my gaze settled on the kitchen table. My fingers drifted over a small pile of prescription slips, noticing some of the dates on them were old. Next to them was an open sketchbook. I reached down to pick it up, beginning to leaf through its pages. It was filled with beautifully detailed line drawings. I stopped when I recognised our lake in one of the pictures. It was a view from the west bank, looking outward. There was even our lake-house sketched in over on the right.

“Are these yours?” I asked, carrying the sketchbook through with me into the living room.

“Hmm?” Vic turned, scratching at his round stomach. He looked down to see what I was holding. His face creased as he smiled, his expression softening.

“Oh no... They’re hers,” he said, shuffling over to a cabinet. He picked up one of the photos arranged on top, stroking his thumb across the frame, lost in his memories. “They’re Sarah’s,” he said, looking down sadly.

* * * * *

I sat next to Vic on the sofa in the living room, turning the pages of the photo album that he had found for me. I saw a life mapped out. An enduring marriage — Vic and Sarah.

Vic enjoyed talking about her. I looked at the photos as he reminisced. I could feel the love he had for her, his gruff voice softening as he spoke. They’d been together for decades, the photos getting more frayed and faded the further back the book went.

“Oh my god, is this your wedding day?” I asked, looking at Vic.

“Handsome, wasn’t I?” Vic smiled from under his moustache and beard. I smiled back.

“She was too,” I said, seeing Sarah in her wedding dress. She looked like a kind woman, and I began to feel sad that we’d never known her. She’d already passed away by the time Lauren and I had moved out to the lake. We’d only ever known Vic.

I raised my head, gazing at the once beautiful living room that seemed to be falling into disarray. I looked to Vic, then down at Toby. I realised I hadn’t known Vic. Not at all.

“Did you hurt yourself, hon?” Vic asked, his large, calloused hand reaching over to turn my palm. There was a red mark running straight across where Toby’s cord had slipped through my grasp.

“It’s nothing, really,” I said, closing my hand.

“Let me get you something for it,” Vic said, pushing himself up with a groan. He shuffled off down the hall.

I carefully set the photo album down beside me on the sofa. As I stood, I saw there were more of Sarah’s drawings on the walls. More studies of flowers and plants. Some of them I recognised as being from Vic’s front garden.

“Here we are... Hand, please!” Vic said, coming back through.

I offered up my palm.

“Ow!”

Vic shot a quick blast of antiseptic spray across my hand. He smiled down at me. “Who needs doctors, eh?”

“Hmm...” I murmured, looking him in the eye for a moment as I held my palm in my other hand, flexing my fingers.

A chime broke the silence between us, and we both looked down. It came from my purse, lying on the floor beside the sofa. I reached for it and pulled out my phone, tapping on the message from Lauren.

“Be at the station in fifteen. xxx”

“I’m sorry Vic, I need to go,” I said, holding my phone up. “I need to pick Lauren up from the station.”

“Oh, is Scott not around?” Vic asked as he picked up the photo album, carefully closing it and returning it to the cabinet. He treated it almost like a small ritual.

“Uh, not at the moment,” I said as I got up. I hesitated, trying to read Vic from behind the mask of his wispy white beard. I touched his arm lightly. “I am sorry though.”

“Nonsense! A young woman like you shouldn’t be wasting her time with an old horse like me, anyway,” he said, beginning to usher me to the front door. He unlatched it and held it open for me.

I stepped out into the cool afternoon air. Vic’s garden looked like a perfect oasis from the clutter inside his home. And the memories. Maybe that was why he spent so much time out there.

“Maybe I could visit again… you could tell me some more about Sarah,” I said, looking up at him.

“Maybe.” He shrugged.

I gazed over to our house on the opposite side of the road, my thoughts turning to Lauren. Suddenly, I felt a snuffling wet nose against my hand.

“And you!” I said, stroking Toby’s soft head. “No more sneaking out without telling anyone!”

* * * * *

Lauren spoke quickly and excitedly as we walked back into the lake-house together. “... and that’s the moment where I feel like they were really leaning into what I was saying. Like, just lots of nodding, smiling and positive body language, you know?”

“Uh huh,” I said, as I smiled and nodded at her.

“Knock it off!” she said, playfully nudging me with her elbow. We went through into the kitchen. Lauren set her laptop bag on the counter and I placed my purse down next to it.

“So, when do you think you might hear their decision?” I asked as I went over to ready the coffee machine.

“They’re pretty eager to get going. They’ve got some other deadlines waiting on this. So if it does come through, it could all happen quite quickly,” Lauren said.

“Oh...” I paused, looking back at her.

“But please don’t worry,” Lauren said, stepping over to take both my hands.

“I know, I know — you told me already. ‘You come first!’” I said, in a fair imitation of Lauren’s voice.

Lauren blinked. “Okay, that’s scary... don’t ever do that again!” she laughed. “But seriously Scott, I could barely concentrate today. All I could think about was you.” She reached up to cup my face. “Your smile... the way you laugh...” She looked away, and I noticed her blush. “I know, it’s silly isn’t it. We were only apart for a day.”

I cleared my throat, smoothing out the hem of my burgundy top. “I missed you too,” I said.

“Oh, I got you something on my way back to the station!” Lauren said, suddenly remembering. She went over to her bag, unzipping one of the side pockets, producing a small gift bag.

“What’s this for?” I asked, smiling.

“Well, you know what today is, don’t you?” Lauren said, waiting for me to open it.

I began to panic, wondering if I had missed some big important date. Was it our wedding anniversary? No... I reached into the gift bag, pulling out a small bottle.

“Perfume?” I arched an eyebrow at Lauren. “Oh right, two weeks... my femversary,” I said, flatly.

“Scott... I’m sorry. It’s just you commented on my perfume this morning... I thought maybe...” Lauren shook her head and went to take the bottle and gift bag back from me.

“Hey!” I said, holding my hands up away from her. Lauren took a step back, watching as I uncapped the top of the bottle, bringing the atomiser to my nose. It had a floral aroma. A subtler scent than what Lauren had worn this morning. It reminded me of the flowers up in the hills where we had our picnic.

“It smells lovely,” I said. “Thank you.” I leaned in and hugged her.

* * * * *

We sat on the sofa together. Lauren was lying lengthways with her bare feet up on my lap. She sipped at her coffee, still enthusing about her day, telling me her plans for Riverside — if they accepted her bid. I loved it when she was like this, all giddy and confident. But I could feel the nagging, gnawing feeling at the back of my head. I gulped down my coffee too quickly, feeling the burn in my chest on the way down.

I leaned forward, setting my mug down on the table in front of me, then rested my hands on Lauren’s feet. I began to gently massage them like I used to.

“Mmm,” Lauren purred. She reached behind her head, pulling the pins from her hair and shaking it out so it rested over the arm of the sofa. Leaning her head back against the cushion, she closed her eyes, a look of contentment on her face. Suddenly her eyes snapped open again. “Oh, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you! I heard from Emma while I was on the train. Rachel’s interested and wants to meet with us! Isn’t that great?”

My hands froze. “Only interested?”

“Well, what do you expect at this point?” Lauren said. “I mean, would you believe a story like ours? Anyone we talk to about this is going to need some convincing first. That’s why we need to be so careful.” Lauren wiggled her toes, reminding me I had stopped.

“Uh, there’s something I need to tell you,” I said, my hand resting against her ankle.

“What is it?” I could feel the tension in Lauren’s body almost immediately. She pulled her feet back down and sat up.

“I... went to see Henry today,” I said quietly, feeling the weight lift from me.

“You what!?” Lauren’s eyes were wide.

“Look, don’t overreact, it was just—”

“I’m not overreacting... I’m reacting,” Lauren said, with a sharp tone in her voice.

“It was just lunch!”

“Oh, lunch…” Lauren folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Great.”

“You see, this is why I felt I couldn’t tell you in the first place!” I said, my voice getting higher.

“So you chose to lie to me and meet up with a strange man behind my back?”

“Henry’s my friend! And you wouldn’t be talking like this if I was still a man!”

The silence hung between us. Finally, Lauren got up, rubbing at her forehead. “Well, you might have just blown our whole case with Axis now, so I hope you enjoyed yourself!”

“No, I didn’t enjoy myself! It was horrible!” Suddenly I burst into tears, cupping my face in my hands.

“Hey, hey,” Lauren sat beside me, quickly wrapping her arms around me.

“I… I thought it would be okay… I thought it would make me feel normal… but it’s all messed up now! Everything’s messed up now!” I sobbed, with my face pressed into Lauren’s shoulder.

Lauren stroked my hair for a moment, then put her hands on my shoulders. She gently guided me back so she could look me in the eye.

“Scott, did he do anything to you? No more secrets. Did he—”

“No. No, nothing like that,” I sniffed.

“Okay.” Lauren breathed a sigh of relief.

“He was just being a dick,” I sobbed a small laugh as I rubbed at an eye with my palm.

“Yeah, men are like that,” Lauren said, looking serious still. She clasped my hand in hers, turning it over. “What happened to your hand?”

“Oh, that was Toby.”

Lauren straightened, her nostrils flaring as she took a breath.

“No, it’s… he’s Vic’s dog!”

“Oh, right! Of course!” Lauren shook her head. “Wait, did he bite you or something?”

“No, uh…” I cupped my face in my hands again, drawing my palms slowly down. “I think I better start at the beginning…”

Lauren looked at my face for a moment, then wiped at my cheek with her thumb. She held it up, showing it now stained with my mascara.

“Yeah,” she said, “I think you better.”

* * * * *