I wake up at around 9 with more soreness all over my body, especially in my genital areas. I examine myself and notice some odd vaginal swelling and sensitivity, in addition to even more hair growth on my legs and arms. I check the mirror and see that my facial hair is back, and some had been added on my chin. My hairline is also receding more. I call the doctor and leave a message asking if I can get in any earlier; this is starting to scare me.

I shower and shave. Getting dressed is difficult; none of my pants fit right and for some reason all my bras are too loose around the cup. I end up putting on a sports bra and a loose dress; they don’t match, but I’m willing to play the mourning widow card if someone gives me shit about it.

I get a basket of laundry together and head downstairs. The basket feels lighter today; it’s amazing what a good night of sleep can do for you. I wave to Sam as I pass the kitchen; he’s making himself breakfast. I don’t see Zoe, but when I check my phone, I see a text that she’s gone out to eat with Carina.

I join Sam in the kitchen and reach up into the pantry to get the pancake mix down. As I look at my son, I realize that he seems shorter than he did yesterday? No, wait, that’s wrong – I got the pancake mix down without wearing heels or standing on my toes. I’m taller today? This is getting weird.

The doctor calls back. She’s able to get me in today. Thank God.

I take some notes about what’s been weird about my body for the last two days and grab my purse. Sam stops me before I can leave. “Mom, are you okay? I know that Dad’s death is pretty hard on you, but… you don’t look great.”

“Honestly, honey, I’m not feeling great. I think it might be some kind of early menopause. I’m about to head to the doctor and see if she can tell me anything the Internet can’t.”

“Yeah, okay, but… does early menopause make you taller? Or give you guns?” He points to my bare arms.

Holy shit, he’s right, my arms are a lot more muscular than I remember them being. Maybe that’s why the laundry basket was lighter. “I… don’t know. This is weird for me, too, Sam. I promise I’ll tell you anything I find out.”

On the drive to the doctor, I try to remember if I have any family history of PCOS or early menopause, but almost twenty years of distance from them makes it hard to recall anything useful.

The doctor’s office is a bust. They tell you that women should go to doctors who are women because they’ll listen better, but the reality is that doctors of either gender don’t listen to women. My hair growth and hair loss are just stress reactions from grief. My vaginal swelling is just an infection. Suddenly being taller and more muscular is because women often experience “delusions” of changing height when they gain weight and take on more responsibility in the home and I should just go on a diet. She prescribes some antibiotics for my swelling – without examining me – takes less than ten minutes to drive me to tears, and leaves me at the front desk to pay my $30 copay for nothing.

I text Zoe and ask if she and Carina want to meet me for lunch. She does. I suggest a steakhouse near the mall. Zoe asks if we can go somewhere with a more diverse menu. We agree on Applebee’s. Fine, whatever, she can have her salad and I can have my steak.

By the time we get seated, I’m starving. The waitress takes our drink orders. Zoe and Carina get water, and I order a tall Blue Moon. Zoe gives me an odd look. The waitress asks if we’re ready to order food, and I tell her I’d like the steak with a side of mashed potatoes and fries. Carina gives me the weird look this time, and Zoe asks the waitress to give us a little more time to order. The waitress asks if she should put my steak in, and Zoe tells her no and sends her away before I have a chance to answer.

“Zoe, what the hell? I’m really hungry.”

She looks at me with concern. “Mom, are you okay? I’ve never seen you drink beer. In fact, you regularly made fun of Dad when he drank one and told him he’d need to gargle with mouthwash if he wanted you to kiss him that night.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “I’m just in the mood for one today.”

She keeps going. “And I’ve never seen you eat a meal without a vegetable, and potatoes don’t count as vegetables in your world?”

I roll my eyes. “What can I say, I’m really hungry. And I didn’t live an entire life of healthy eating so that my children could criticize me for being less healthy for one meal.”

Zoe and Carina share a look, but they back off. The waitress comes back, and I order steak and potatoes. They order salads and soup.

I offer to take them shopping after lunch, but Zoe declines. The lovebirds are going off to the library. Normally, I’d ask to join them, but given what happened at lunch, I don’t think my presence would be welcome. I head back to my car and drive home.

I do more Googling about resetting the ruby from the pendant, but again, nothing feels right. Truthfully, I don’t want a new setting; I want the pendant my husband gave me back. It was supposed to be a piece of him that I could hold onto after he was gone, and now I can’t hold onto anything anymore.

I tell Sam that I’m going to the gym. I try to change into running shorts, but they’re all too tight in the waist and too loose in the hips. I end up putting on a tracksuit.

At the gym, I go through my usual aerobic routines, but they’re not giving me the same satisfaction I usually get from exercise. My body’s craving something different, a shakeup of some kind. I see the weight room. I haven’t done any lifting in years – Josh got me do it on a dare early in our marriage – but it’s calling to me.

One of the trainers offers to spot me, and I play it safe by putting on ten pounds under what I was able to lift during the dare. I lift it easily. I have the trainer add more weight. Ten repetitions, easy. The trainer adds more weight, and again, and again. By the time that I’m done, I’ve done twenty reps with thirty pounds more than I was able to do over a decade ago – with no training. I look at my arms, and barely recognize what I see. They’re not just muscular (although they are – I’m built like Josh was before his stroke), I’ve grown more hair on them. If they’d been unattached from my manicured hands, I wouldn’t blame someone for thinking they belonged to a man. I thank the trainer for the spot and head home.

When I get home, I’m ready to start on dinner, but I notice that Sam’s already got ingredients out. He tells me he’s making a chicken and vegetable stir fry for the family and girlfriends. I don’t argue and head upstairs to clean up. I go to the bathroom and shave my arms. I check my face and notice a five o’clock shadow. I shave there as well, and then check my swelling. It’s gotten worse, and it’s even more sensitive. If this gets worse again by tomorrow, I’m going to the hospital, extra fees be damned. I put my dress from earlier back on and head downstairs.

Dinner’s pretty uneventful – mostly Sarah and Carina getting to know each other – but I can tell that Zoe and Sam are steering the conversation. I’ve seen them use this kind of twin-speak against their father when they want something from him, or don’t want him to know something, but I’m not willing to call them out in front of their girlfriends. It can wait until later.

After dinner, Sam and Zoe clear the table and start on dishes, and ask Carina and Sarah to pick a board game for us all to play. Sarah, being newest to the house, gets first pick and chooses Concept. We decide to play, as usual, without scoring, and have enough fun that the game starts to go into the night. I start to feel drained early and tell the kids they can stay up as late as they want, and that Carina and Sarah can stay the night as long as nobody makes a grandparent out of me. Carina quickly agrees, getting a laugh from us all, especially Sarah, who also agrees.

I get to my bedroom and realize a side effect of my increased swelling and sensitivity – I’m very in the mood. Knowing from experience that my bedroom is pretty soundproof, I get out my weakest sex toy. My extra sensitivity should meet it halfway, and I don’t want to risk putting too much pressure on an area that might get infected.

No joy. I’m barely feeling anything. Even less than usual.

I try a different toy and a different lubricant. I try using my fingers. I try massaging myself while using a toy. I try everything that I’ve ever done or thought of – at least the ones a woman can do by herself.

Nothing. Not even any stimulation from areas that would typically be my most erogenous.

Frustrated, I call it a night. Maybe I’ll be able to try again in the morning.

For the third night in a row, I dream of being Jordan. This time, I’m in the apartment I’m sharing with Josh my freshman year, and I’m showing him a pendant Jordan bought for Amanda. It’s a dead ringer for the pendant that Jordyn received from Josh. Josh inspects the pendant, eyeing me just as much as it. He hands it back to me. “It’s beautiful, man. Amanda’s a lucky woman. I’d give anything to be able to give something like that to someone I loved.”

As Jordan, I shrug the compliment off. As Jordyn, I can’t believe Jordan’s so blind that he can’t see Josh’s feelings for him. This makes me more than a little conflicted, as I’m a dream-man receiving the attentions of a man who will become my real-woman’s husband. Does this make Josh bisexual? Was he gay until he met me? What do I (Jordan) end up meaning to him?

Shit, Jordyn, get it together, you’re acting as if this is something that happened and not another strange grief dream.

I look at the pendant and imagine what it will look like on my girlfriend’s neck. The clear crystalline matrix reflecting light onto her beautiful features, with the ruby catching…

Wait.

In one of the few moments of true lucidity in these dreams, Jordyn forces Jordan to look more closely at the pendant. The stone isn’t red. Instead, the pendant frames a clear glass stone with the same facets.

Does this mean something?

I wake up, and two things are immediately clear.

First, I need to do some research on this pendant.

Second, my swelling had grown into a fully erect penis.