Page 28 of Touch of Class

“And getting to be the smartest kid in class,” Daphne said, without her usual annoyance. “Honestly, Izzy’s the same way.”

“She mentioned.”

“I can only imagine.” Daphne sighed. “She has strong opinions, and she’s not afraid to share them.”

“A good quality in women,” Gillian mused. “Must run in the family.”

“Maybe.” Daphne smiled at the bank-shot compliment. “But the opinions are all hers, and she takes great joy in the ways they differ from mine.”

“Differentiation from parents is a benchmark in early adolescence.”

Daphne arched an eyebrow at the formality of the assessment.

“I can’t imagine it’s fun to parent through.” Gillian softened slightly. “But doesn’t hitting the milestones on time at least affirm you’re on track, developmentally?”

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way. I suppose cold solace is better than no solace at all. I’ll try to remember that the next time she stomps up to her room reciting a long litany of my shortcomings.”

Gillian grimaced. “Obviously, my knowledge of preteens is largely based on theory and my own limited lived experience.”

Daphne chuckled. “And your lived experience as an exceptional specimen likely exceeds the limits of what most people consider standard.”

Gillian shrugged. “Still, to return to your original point, Izzy’s presence was no imposition. I don’t mind having her here studying quietly, or even discussing the foundational concepts of algebraic thinking. I imagine it’s hard to juggle opening a new business with single parenthood.”

“Thank you, though I’m not a single parent. Not in the conventional sense.”

Gillian’s eyebrows went up quickly before she had a chance to school her expression. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

“It’s okay. Our family is unconventional, but it works for us.” Daphne gave the standard line she often shared with strangers but briefly found herself debating whether to say more. She’d long ago decided no one was owed the details of her personal relationships, but a part of her did want to tell Gillian more, to explain that while she wasn’t a single parent, she was single, but she wasn’t sure why.

In her pause to examine the impulse, Gillian effectively waved it off with a return to her formal tone. “Of course. And no matter the details, I only meant to say her presence is welcome. With or without math equations for me to consider.”

“Thank you.” Daphne smiled. “But be honest, you’d prefer there be homework involved.”

“Obviously,” Gillian said sardonically, “preferably the kind—”

She came up short as her phone buzzed, and Daphne suffered a pang of disappointment at not getting to hear the end of the sentence as Gillian glanced at the screen.

“It’s crisis services. I have to take this in private.”

“Go ahead.” Daphne lifted up the pile of sheets she still held. “I have to go make a bed.”

It sounded stupid the minute it left her mouth, but she left before Gillian could see the color rising in her cheeks. I have to go make a bed? As if that was as essential as caring for a person in a mental health crisis. Way to put things in perspective.

She was still kicking herself a bit as she crossed the hall and unlocked her own office. Tossing the laundry onto the bed, she fell on top of it and tried not to hear the echo of Izzy asking why she couldn’t be a normal mom.

Still, the longer she lay there, the more she played back the exchange, not just the parting salvo. It had likely been the most civil five minutes she and Gillian had spent together, which led her to wonder if it wasn’t the way the conversation had ended that brought down her mood, but rather the fact that it had ended at all.

Gillian disconnected the phone call, which turned out not to have been a crisis at all, but rather a mundane recordkeeping question. Normally, the interruption would’ve annoyed her, but this morning she felt only gratitude for the reset. The previous conversation had her head spinning, as so little of it made sense. Conversations with Daphne rarely did. Still, she’d spent much of last night marveling at the fact that Daphne had a daughter, she hadn’t had time to ponder the details of how said daughter came into existence.

Izzy had mentioned a “papa,” who was British and away, but Gillian hadn’t considered how any of that worked. Why had she assumed Daphne was a single mom? Because it fit the image she held of her? She wasn’t sure what else that image entailed, but it certainly didn’t involve her being married to a man.

She flipped through so many memories starting from the year they both came out in high school all the way up to Daphne’s flippant comment about Gillian not being a lesbian anymore. She’d been so flustered it hadn’t even occurred to her to ask how Daphne currently identified. She could not fathom Daphne being straight, but Brooke had taught her a lot about bisexuality, and Sawyer served as a beautiful, breathing example of fluid identities. Surely she didn’t expect anyone to remain bound by the labels they’d claimed at seventeen. Still, as was often the case with Daphne, Gillian’s clinical understanding of a situation felt woefully insufficient to explain the emotions accompanying it.

Curiosity clawed at her, and once Gillian latched onto a question, she wasn’t the kind of woman who relinquished it easily. Had Daphne gotten trapped in a heterosexual fling? Had she married a trans man? Izzy certainly shared DNA with her mother, but that didn’t mean she’d been conceived the old-fashioned way. Daphne’s assertion that she wasn’t a single mom suggested … Gillian shook her head. She’d drive herself crazy trying to guess all the unorthodox choices Daphne may’ve made over the course of her lifetime.

Brooke’s voice came back to her, asking why she was sitting here turning the puzzle over like a Rubik’s Cube when the woman who had all the answers was across the hall.

Gillian wasn’t a conversational coward, and she was tired of acting like one. Rising purposefully, she walked back through the waiting room, collecting two cups of coffee on the way.