“Lucy.”
“Lucy.” Izzy narrowed her eyes. “She’s not the Lucy with the frizzy black hair who wears the overalls with homemade patches on them, is she?”
“Different Lucy.”
“Good,” said Izzy. “I couldn’t quite see you with a woman who patches her own overalls. There are so many things wrong with that Lucy, I might actually feel bad about fucking her husband.”
“I’m telling you, you don’t need to feel bad. This is allowed.”
“You’re not getting it. I wouldn’t feel bad even if it wasn’t allowed. This is me, not feeling bad. I, Izzy Radford, no longer feel bad about fucking other women’s husbands. Excuse me, but I’m going to drink to that.”
She reached over and grabbed her goblet from the nightstand and took a healthy swig of what Owen would come to think of as her house wine, a thick buttery chardonnay that came in a jumbo-size bottle.
“I have lost my faith in the sisterhood of women.”
“Why? What happened?”
“My best friend slept with Christopher.”
“Christopher…”
“My ex-husband. But we were very much married at the time. My yoga teacher Ilianna slept with him too. She spent a weekend with him in a bed-and-breakfast in Woodstock. Christopher claimed he was in Oregon at the time.”
“How do you know about all this?”
“Oh, I figured it out eventually,” she said. “I downloaded keystroke spy software onto his computer and tracked his car and his cell phone, I found a secret credit card he had with a bunch of motel charges, and when I had enough detail, I confronted him with it. And he spilled his guts. Told me things I didn’t even have a clue about from years ago. I filed for divorce the next day.”
“So, uh, we good?” Owen said to Izzy. He had already grabbed his coat and was just about to let himself out. He was eager to check his phone—something he felt would be rude to do in Izzy’s presence—and see if something terrible had happened to Lucy or Wyatt while he’d been committing adultery. Even though, he told himself, it wasn’t technically adultery.
And the truth was, he was a little bit afraid of Izzy. But he liked her spirit. She was who she was. The ultimate no-bullshit woman. She was erotically adventurous and, from what he could tell, temperamentally the opposite of his wife. She was a good choice, arrangement-wise.
“We’re good,” said Izzy, “as long as we’re going to do this again sometime soon.”
“We are,” said Owen. “I mean, I’d like to very much. I’ll text you.”
“Do that.”
When Owen walked through the front door, he was immediately accosted by Wyatt, who was bouncing up and down on his toes with excitement and twisting a string of Mardi Gras beads around his neck.
“Dada, Dada, I gotta tell you something,” Wyatt said. “Guess what?”
“What, Wyatt?”
“Mr. Lowell is now Mrs. Lowell!”
“What?” said Owen.
“Yes,” said Wyatt. “Mr. Lowell is now Mrs. Lowell.”
“No way,” said Owen.
“Mr. Lowell is now Mrs. Lowell.”
“Does that blow your mind?” Owen said.
“Yes.” Wyatt laughed like this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “He was a boy but now he’s a girl!”
“Let me put down my stuff and you can tell me about it,” Owen said. He slipped out of his coat and set a bottle of wine on the kitchen counter while Wyatt walked over to the table and started to play with his beads. Wyatt played with his beads when he was excited, or when he was stressed, or when he was happy.
“Dada, Dada, I gotta tell you something.”
“What?”
“Mr. Lowell is now Mrs. Lowell!”
“You told me that already,” said Owen. “What do you think about it?”
“Mr. Lowell is now Mrs. Lowell!” Wyatt repeated. “He started out as a boy but now he’s a girl!”
Wyatt was shaking his Mardi Gras beads frantically on the kitchen table. His face was about six inches away from the beads, and he was staring at them with wide-open eyes while he spoke.
“How did he do that?” said Owen.
“I don’t know! He started out as a boy but now he’s a girl. He wears dresses!”
“He wears dresses to school?” said Owen.
“Yes. Mr. Lowell is now Mrs. Lowell and he wears dresses to school! And he’s going to use the ladies’ restroom!”
“He is? How do you know that?”
“He told the class he’s going to use the ladies’ restroom. And that it’s totally normal. Mr. Lowell is now Mrs. Lowell and he wears dresses now and even ladies’ underpants!”
“Well, that sounds kind of silly,” said Owen. “Do you think it’s silly?”
“It’s super-silly!”
“Do people usually go from being a boy to being a girl?”
“No, because it’s very hard to do.”
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s very, very hard to do but it’s totally normal.”
“You’re right, Wyatt.”
“You have to take special medicine to turn from a boy to a girl and it’s very, very hard to do.”
Owen looked over at Lucy, who’d been watching the whole thing from the doorway, and shrugged his shoulders. At least the kid had his facts straight.
“Guess what, Dada? Mr. Lowell is now Mrs. Lowell!”
“I know, Wyatt. You told me that already. What color dress did Mrs. Lowell wear today?”
“It was green. It was a green dress and he had on ladies’ underpants because he’s now Mrs. Lowell.”
“Is that okay with you, Wyatt? That he’s now Mrs. Lowell?”
“Yes, Mr. Lowell is now Mrs. Lowell.”
“Did Mr. Lowell tell the class he was wearing ladies’ underpants?” Lucy finally asked. She couldn’t help herself. It seemed like a little more information than was called for, frankly.
“No.”
“Who told you that?”
“Brannon did! Brannon said that Mrs. Lowell was wearing ladies’ underpants! And probably a bra!” Wyatt started talking in circles again, this time about bras and ladies’ underpants, while he stimmed with his beads and laughed and laughed.
Lucy had given Owen a heads-up, of course. Owen was driving home from Izzy’s when Lucy called him. He’d felt a flash of guilt and then what could only be called confusion when he saw his wife’s picture show up on his phone.
“Wyatt has something big to tell you when you get home,” Lucy said. “I think you should be prepared.”
“What is it?”
“You know Mr. Lowell?”
“Wyatt’s teacher?”
“Yes,” said Lucy.
“What about him?”
“He’s turning into a woman.”
“What?”
“He’s transitioning. He’s becoming a woman. He started wearing a dress to school this week. And Wyatt’s going to want to tell you the second you walk through the door, and I thought you should have a bit of a warning.”
“Are you serious?”
“I am.”
“That’s insane.”
“Well, yeah,” said Lucy. “Act like it’s normal around Wyatt. That’s what I’ve been doing.”
“Okay. Wow.”
“Yeah. See you soon,” said Lucy. “Don’t forget the wine, please.”
“Already got it.”
*