My phone rings and wakes me up. Rude.

I check the caller ID. It’s Zoe. “Hey, baby, what’s going on?”

“Ohmygoshmom I’m SO sorry for notcheckingin I fell asleep and didn’twakeup and I promise I’m onmywayhomerightnow.”

“Honey, slow down, it’s okay, yesterday was rough on all of us, just be safe getting home.” I pause, thinking about the luncheon. “Where did you spend the night?”

“Umm…” I can almost hear my daughter blush over the phone. It’s cute. “You know my friend Carina? She might be… my girlfriend?”

I smile. Carina’s been one of Zoe’s best friends since elementary school, and they’ve always taken care of each other. It’s not terribly surprising that they’ve taken that care up a level. “Honey, I am way too busy worrying about you being safe about people trying to put things in your pants to worry about what they’re trying to put there. Having a girlfriend is fine if she makes you happy, and you know I’ve always liked Carina.”

I hear Zoe’s sigh of relief. “Okay, thanks Mommy. I’ll be home soon. Do you need breakfast?”

Do I need breakfast? I’m not really that hungry, and I think I have some eggs downstairs? “No, thanks, Zoe. Have you heard from your brother since the luncheon?”

“No, I think he went home with Sarah.” Sarah is Sam’s girlfriend; she’s sweet, but I feel like she’s getting a little more attached to him than is entirely healthy for her. “Do you want me to give him a call?”

“No, I’ve got it, you don’t get to act like the older sister just because the doctors cut you out a few minutes before him.” Sibling rivalry seems to be worse among twins, even when they’re different genders and have different interests.

“Okay, fine, Mom, just trying to help.” She hangs up before I can respond.

Fuck. I know my kids are at the age where everything their parents do is wrong no matter what it is. I just wish I didn’t take it so personally sometimes.

I swing my legs out of bed and put my feet on the floor. Ouch! What the fuck was THAT? I look down to see what I’ve stepped on, and I see the broken shards of my glass pendant. It does not feel comforting in the form of tiny sharp pieces embedded in the bottom of my foot.

I hobble over to the bathroom to get a pair of tweezers. I pick out the bits of glass in my foot and deposit them in a soap dish, as though I’m going to find some way to reassemble a shattered pendant in my spare time. The last piece to come out is the gemstone from the pendant’s center. This I take a closer look at – I might get this reset into a different piece, although probably not one made of glass.

My phone buzzes. Zoe, asking if she can go out with Carina instead of going home. Yes, that’s fine, just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

I turn on the shower and wash off the stress of the funeral and what remains of my response to last night’s dream. I make a mental note to wash my sheets today. As I shower, I notice the stubble on my legs. That’s weird, I shaved just yesterday. I shrug to myself. It’s not like I’m going to be showing anyone my legs today.

When I get out of the shower, I dry my hair and take a look at my face to decide if I want to attempt makeup. I frown and poke at my upper lip. I know it’s not unusual for women to have small amounts of facial hair, but I didn’t think it was something that started at age 38. Something else to add to the mental list, I suppose.

I grab a small broom and dustpan and sweep up the rest of the glass. I deposit the glass in the trash and put the ruby in my jewelry box. I get dressed in a comfortable shirt and pants and head downstairs for breakfast.

While I’m eating, I make myself a short to-do list:

THINGS TO DO AROUND THE HOUSE THE DAY AFTER YOU BURY YOUR HUSBAND
1. Put sheets in laundry
2. Call son
3. Shave your face
4. Look up whether you should be shaving your face
5. Sustain life with food

That’s probably enough for one day, Jord. You’re on summer break and your husband just died.

I start out with calling Sam. As we expected, he spent the night at Sarah’s. After getting the usual assurances that he didn’t do anything that was going to hurt his health or make a young grandmother out of me, I ask him to make sure he’s home for dinner and board games tonight. I text Zoe and ask the same. I don’t know if an activity that reminds me so much of Josh is a good idea today, but I need to do something to keep my kids close; without them, I feel like I don’t have anyone anymore.

I strip the bed, put the sheets in the wash, and remake the bed. I find Josh’s razor and am about to take care of my facial hair, then I pause. If I need to see a doctor about this, they might want some kind of proof. I take an unshaved selfie, then remove the unwanted hair.

I start Googling causes of sudden body hair growth. I learn that it’s called hirsutism and it’s usually caused by hormonal changes with the biggest culprits being polycystic ovary syndrome or menopause. I don’t match the other symptoms of PCOS and I’m probably too young for menopause, so I make an appointment with my doctor for later in the week.

I get the sheets in the dryer and double-check my list. I’m actually proud of myself for getting everything done today, even if it was a pretty small list. I grab myself a celebratory beer and turn on some trashy TV while scrolling my phone looking for new settings for the ruby from my pendant.

I’m not sure why, but thinking about the ruby makes me sleepy. I haven’t slept well since Josh died, and nobody needs me right now, so I head upstairs to take a nap.

I dream again of being the boy who looks like Sam. I’m about the same age as I was in last night’s dream, but instead of getting ready for prom, I’m in the back seat of my parents’ car, arriving at college for the first time. Unsurprisingly, I’m enrolled in the same university that Josh and the real me attended together. I’m nervous about meeting my new roommate, and I’m wishing Amanda had enrolled in the same college as me instead of traveling out of state. My parents offer me assurances, and while I believe them, it doesn’t ease my anxiety.

We get to the college. My dad suggests I introduce myself to my roommate while he unloads the car. I walk up to the door and see my name, Jordan, on the door, next to “Joshua”. The lucid dreamer part of me thinks it’s odd that my name, Jordyn, is one letter away from this boy’s, and that his roommate has the same name as my husband, although he always went by Josh.

I knock on the door, and it opens. On the other side of the threshold is Josh. My Josh, at the age I met him.

The surprise wakes me up. I get up to check the time on my phone; I’ve been asleep for about an hour. I’m sore all over, especially my breasts, and I have no idea why – it’s not like I slept in a weird position or anything.

When I turn back to the bed to reset the sheets, I notice a clump of my hair on the pillow. I check myself in the bathroom mirror and a little more of my hair comes off the front of my hairline in my hand. It looks like I’ll have another symptom to discuss with the doctor.

Sam and Zoe come home for dinner. Zoe looks at my hair, and gives me an inquisitive look. I shake my head and mouth “later” to her. Sam doesn’t seem to notice.

Dinner is pizza and board games are Just One (Sam’s choice) and a few rounds of No Thanks (Zoe’s choice). Sam mentions a game that Sarah recommended to him, Holding On: The Troubled Life of Billy Kerr. It’s a game about terminal illness and grief, and Sarah thought it might help us with the mourning process. Sam asks if he can invite Sarah the next time we organize a game night, since she’s into the same kinds of hobby games we are. I tell Sam and Zoe that they’re welcome to invite any girlfriend or boyfriend to share our game room, even if it’s just family, unless I tell them they shouldn’t. They both seem to like this answer.

Tonight I dream of being Jordan again. I’ve just had a fight with Amanda because she cancelled her plans to come home for Thanksgiving. I haven’t seen her since she moved to college, and I accused her of seeing other people. She got upset and told me that money was tight, after all not everyone has a great job like my parents do. I’m worried that we’re going to break up over this. Josh comes over and comforts me, the way he did in Jordyn’s life so many times during our marriage. He even puts his hand on my shoulder the same way, and the Jordyn part of me longs to feel that touch in the real world again. I, as Jordan, thank him for being supportive, and he gives me the smile that Jordyn had come to associate with retiring to the bedroom. Jordyn, the middle-aged lucid dreamer, wants to kiss him and tell him never to leave me again. Jordan, the young roommate, turns away and starts playing video games. Jordan doesn’t notice the pain in Josh’s eyes. Jordyn does.