Page 110 of Josephine and Clay

“You can’t ‘no’ objective truth.”

“I look unlike myself.”

“Maybe you look like a version of yourself who’s allowed to go outside without carrying antiseptic wipes in three pockets.”

“I still have wipes in my bag.”

“Of course you do. Growth has limits.”

I glance down at myself, smoothing the skirt. “It’s too much.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t dress like this.”

“You look fab.”

“I’ll be uncomfortable.”

“You’re uncomfortable in jeans too right now because your body is staging a revolution.”

Fair.

I meet my own eyes in the mirror again.

My hand drifts toward my stomach. The dress shows nothing. Of course it doesn’t. It’s too early. There's no visible evidence that my life has split into before and after.

But I know.

That changes everything.

Penny notices. Her smile fades into something softer. “You okay?”

I breathe in slowly. “I don’t know. I keep thinking…” I stop, embarrassed by the thickness in my voice.

She waits.

I swallow. “I keep thinking I should feel different. Maternal or certain or… something. But mostly I feel terrified and tired, and like I’m one unexpected expense away from losing my mind.”

Penny stands and comes to me, cracker still in hand. “That sounds pretty normal.”

“Does it?”

“I have no authority on this, but yes.”

A laugh escapes me.

She reaches for my hand. “You don’t have to become someone else overnight.”

“I might have to.”

“No. You have to become a mother. That’s not the same as erasing yourself.”

My eyes sting. I look away before it can become worse.

Penny squeezes my hand. “Tonight's just music, bad dancing, and Clara’s cookies. That’s all.”

“And gossip.”