“How was the parental conflict resolution class?” Lucy asks me.
“Probably the same as when you took it,” I tell her with a pointed look in the rearview mirror.
“Take a left here,” Mushroom says.
“I tried forgetting everything about it,” Lucy explains with a strange look on her face. “It felt like a failure, making that stupid parenting plan with the man I, at one point, believed I’d grow old with. My parents' voices in the background, constantly accusing me of ruining the lives of two little people for no good reason…” Her voice trails off, and the atmosphere in the car turns somber.
“Damn. Today was supposed to be fun,” Mushroom says.
*
“I need a new bra,” Lucy announces in front of a well-known, pricy lingerie store.
Mushroom shakes her head. “I barely wear bras anyway, why would I drop that kind of money on one?”
“I hate bras,” I say, expecting a busty girl like Lucy to commiserate, but she frowns at my chest instead.
“Have you ever been properly fitted for one?”
“It’s not that,” I try to backtrack. “It’s… after breastfeeding and everything that came with it, you know,” I lie.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she says and nods at her own boobs. “Two ziplocks filled with soup here. But they don’t look like it, do they?”
I have to admit, they don’t.
Lucy ropes me into getting measured and fitted by the very friendly saleswoman, and it’s an epiphany. The feeling, the fit, the support.
For the first time in my life, my bra truly fits.
I decide to buy two. And a new pair of underwear that goes well with both.
I spend more money than I received in my first paycheck this morning, but the items make me feel more like Marissa than I’ve felt since the beginning of my pregnancy.
“How long has it taken you to find your way back to yourself after having children?” I ask Lucy as we wait for Shroomie to choose between two identical pairs of boots.
Lucy ponders the question for a moment. “I started feeling more like myself after my younger boy turned three, but then my marriage started crumbling,” she tilts her head and raises her eyebrows, “or I noticed that it had been crumbling. That set me back quite a bit. It does get better, you know,” she adds with an encouraging smile.
“I know,” I respond. “I can already feel it.”
On the drive back, Lucy calls her hairdresser and gets me an appointment for the following week, after having promised beforehand that the woman, Jessica, was nice and would absolutely not judge me for the haircut I gave myself.
“Do we have time to stop at the diner?” Mushroom asks.
“The boys are at Brad’s, so I’m game,” Lucy says.
I glance at the clock. “I have an hour.”
When we settle in at our table, Dana comes over to take our order, and we chat about the shopping trip, Molly, and my upcoming week at the Friendly Fork.
“I have to go,” she says as she stands up. “I don’t want to risk Monica’s wrath.”
“Aren’t you Monica’s boss?” I ask, confused.
Dana shakes her head ruefully. “I am, but it means nothing. You’ll see next week.”
I’m excited to learn more about the inner workings of the diner, but I’ll also secretly miss being around Hawk every day at work. My favorite assignment is taking notes during the meetings he leads.
I'm focused on the words on the screen when I sense his warmth at my back. He leans over and whispers into my ear, “Close your eyes for this part.”
