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has, it’s cancer of the uterus; like an octopus has eight tentacles, not eight testicles; like—”
    â€œThat’s not the same as what Michelle told me,” I join in. “Michelle can do something about those things. She can stop using the wrong words. I can’t do anything about what Nan did in the home.”
    BJ stares at me, blinking her eyes in an exaggerated way and I know she’s debating, not rebating, whether or not to say something. “You could buy her body suits that snap up in the crotch to make it harder to get her clothes off.” She blinks again. “And you know we’ve pointed out stuff Michelle says all the time but she never learns. So it’s exactly the same as what she said about your nan.”
    â€œI don’t say that much wrong,” Michelle says. “You make it sound like I’m an idiot. I’m a biologist.”
    â€œYeah, you are, and a brilliant one at that. Book smart doesn’t mean everything though.”
    After a minute of silence at the table, Michelle turns to me and says, “My friend Sarah, at work, says BJ looks like she’s gaining weight.”
    â€œWhat? I’m not.”
    Michelle shrugs. “That’s what she said.”
    â€œWell, Sarah is one to talk, I know. She’s not exactly easy on the scales.”
    They continue to argue as I sip my Caesar. There’s comfort in their back and forth, in the loving bickering the three of us share. Like I imagine I’d have with sisters if I had them. Sometimes BJ, with her cutting remarks, crosses the line, but Michelle often doesn’t get it, and I usually give back as good or better than what BJ gives me. For a few minutes I don’t join in the fray. I just drink and watch, like an outsider, a voyeur with full access to listen to these people without having to participate.
    â€œHello,” BJ says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “What do you think?”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œYou’re thinking about Jamie, aren’t you? You’re lusting after him.” BJ smiles the way she always does when she’s said something she’s not sure she can get away with.
    â€œNo. I hate him. I can barely stand to be in the same room as him. I’m not lusting after him. And I won’t. Ever.”
    â€œOkay, okay. No lusting after the sexiest man anywhere near your garage. Of course you don’t want to feel those strong arms around you,” BJ says.
    â€œNo,” I say and slam down my napkin. Everyone looks at us and then the whispers and pointing start. Everyone who hadn’t already noticed now sees that BJ Brown is sitting with us. I try to ignore it and whisper to them, “Why do you think I’d want anything to do with him? Don’t you think he hurt me enough?”
    â€œWell,” BJ says while Michelle says nothing.
    â€œDamn it. You always think it’s my own fault, don’t you? Some friends you are.” I stand up to leave before I hit something or cry, my two responses to this kind of frustration. Michelle grabs my arm.
    â€œI have some really big news. Subject changed. Okay?”
    I hesitate. BJ mouths “I’m sorry,” and I sit down. The Caesar is just too good to leave it.
    â€œWell, what’s the news?” BJ asks.
    â€œI met someone,” she says with a smirk on her face.
    â€œI thought you said this was news,” I say.
    â€œYeah. He’s new.”
    â€œYes, but you met someone last week, and the week before, and the week before,” BJ says.
    â€œAnd the week before the week before, and the week before that, then two days before that,” I add.
    Michelle’s face is grim. “Well, I tried to change the subject for you. We can go back to Jamie if you’d like. Or I can tell you about the new guy.”
    â€œTell us about him,” I say before BJ can open her mouth.
    And as Michelle starts to tell us about her new