“That’s one way to describe it.”

Holly shook her head. “So much of everything. Wetness, pain, stretching. I couldn’t take it. Katie stayed right by your side. Held your hand, remember? I had to go.”

I’d thought for so many years she had walked away in indifference. Now, seeing that Holly had been overwhelmed, not detached, I wanted to soothe her, to tell her it was okay. It would overwhelm anyone. “I remember you brought me two roast beef sandwiches for after.”

“I was going to drop them and leave, but I froze. I wanted to stay, but I was worthless. You don’t know this, but in the hall I got super dizzy and had to lie on a gurney. Somebody had to get me off it. It was for someone going to surgery. I threw up in my coffee.”

“I had no idea?” I knew I sounded incredulous, but I remembered nothing. During the delivery I’d had drugs and couldn’t process what was happening around me. Afterward I didn’t have time to think of Holly. I was too busy bonding with Maddie. Now here we were, Samantha and Holly, talking like old friends.

“I can’t handle all this.” She waved her arms around the clinic. Pointed to Griff, the cat, the exam tables with their large overhead lights. “This. Hospitals. All of it.”

It occurred to me then that what I was seeing was Holly’s future labor-and-delivery stage fright. She was worried for Rosie. Scared she would identify the baby as moving poop and freak out.

My tender feelings for Holly had me responding, “You and Rosie will be great. You rise to every occasion. You two seem to be able to do anything you want.”

Holly snapped her head up, eyes lit from within, furious. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I stepped back, bumped into one of the cold examination tables. “You’re good at everything.”

“That’s not what you mean, though. Rosie and I are just as able and qualified to be parents as you and Jeff.”

“I know that.” And I did. Of course I knew that.

“Do you? I don’t think you do. I think you’re pissed at us. Me. I think you don’t believe a child should have two moms.”

“What are you talking about, Holly?” I said so loudly that I shocked myself. “I was a single mom. Two moms would be much better than one mom.” I flashed a look at Griff, who didn’t seem at all alarmed by the drama on the table or from the two women getting into it in front of him.

“But you did have a man at one time.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Your thinly veiled homophobia.”

“My what?” I laughed bitterly at the ridiculousness from a woman who should have known better.

“Yeah, except it’s not so thinly veiled, is it?”

I backed away from Holly, but she stepped into the argument. I planted my feet and said, “Is this about graduation night? You can’t still be angry about Mike.”

“You don’t like us, do you? Rosie and I. Us as a concept. Us as a couple.”

“You know that’s not true.” I wasn’t even angry at the notion. I didn’t feel defensive, but I did feel misunderstood. “This is why you hate me? This made-up thing you have in your head about my being homophobic?” I should have been angry about the label, but instead I felt deeply hurt, saddened. I wanted to understand her thoughts, what had I said or done that was so obviously insensitive.

“Hate? How could you even say that to me?”

I felt wobbly, and my edge of sharp understanding began to dull with fatigue. I tried to clear my head and said, “I have never understood what happened to our friendship. I never thought you were disgusting. Mike was a jerk. Is this what we have to get over to be friends again?” I hadn’t heard my voice this shrill in years. I knew I was stepping into it. And I didn’t care. I wanted it over. All the tiptoeing, all the shame of feeling responsible for this great wrong in my life and having no way to right it.

The barking started low and almost conversationally. I heard it but had more to say before the lights of my focus succumbed to darkness. I lightly slapped both cheeks. I would not take a pass on this. I would stay awake.

“I’m sorry you’re not prepared for the grit of childbirth, but you can’t take out your fear on me.” A series of louder whines followed the lower rumble.

“You will never be ready to talk about anything, Samantha. Everyone who knows you knows that.” A sharp series of dog complaints filled the air, and Holly added over the din, “And don’t think for one minute I’m not ready to be a parent.”

“Stop it, Holly. When did you get so ruthless?” I wished it had come out stronger. But I was feeling a wash of sleep-disordered fatigue that was all-consuming. I imagined it was the same for an epileptic who felt a seizure coming on and was not able to stop it. If I could get a glass of cold water. Maybe that would help.

“I swear to God, Samantha, if you’re going to pretend to fall asleep right now—”

That did it. “Stop it! You’re a bully, Holly.”

I needed to sit somewhere. Put my head down, clear my thoughts. The dog barking, Holly, it was all too much. I felt an arm around my shoulders and another at my waist and heard Griff’s voice. “Holly. Go calm Peanut down. Samantha, you come with me.”

I looked over my shoulder and glimpsed Peanut standing on his hind legs, howling. Moose stood on all fours, emitting a series of high-pitched, staccato yips. I felt more supported by those two dogs in that moment than almost anyone in my life. It was clear Holly had no idea how to calm down the chorus of animals, but for once she did what she was told. I saw her move to the kennel, her hands out in front of her, saying something I couldn’t hear.

“She’s so . . .” I struggled to label her in the way she had labeled me. “She’s so mean,” I said like a kid on the playground to the teacher who had come to rescue her.

Griff guided me to his office, set a tall glass of water in front of me, and left me alone. I’d have given anything for one of my pills. If I took one just before I fell asleep, I’d wake in twenty minutes feeling like a superhero. Normal humans called this a coffee nap, but mine would more appropriately be called a speed nap. I drank the water, rested my head, and fell sound asleep.

When I woke, it was as if my thoughts were a child, waiting for me to reengage. Homophobic? Am I homophobic? Is there a Google quiz on this? I mean, I’m sure I have prejudices I don’t even know I have, but homophobia? No, I thought. I’m not. But maybe that was exactly what homophobic people thought. There had to be types of homophobia exhibited by well-intentioned people who didn’t understand their own biases. Was that me?

I shifted my position, closed my eyes, waited for the relief of my thoughts. I blinked. When did she come to this conclusion? When did Holly decide that I was against what she was at her core?

I dialed Katie, and she picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Nugget,” I heard myself say with delight at resurrecting our bond with one word.

“What’s wrong?” Katie examined my face for the distress I thought I’d ironed out before I’d rung her.

“Nothing! One more day here. The vet says we can leave, and boom. On the road.”

She wagged her head disappointedly. She knew me inside and out. I could hide nothing.

“Holly said I’m homophobic.”

“You’re not homophobic.” Boom. No preamble. Just real talk, real support, in real time.

“I don’t think I am. Maybe I said something once that was insensitive? I’m sure I did. Who doesn’t?” I thought about it. “You, I guess. She talks to you, so she doesn’t think you’re homophobic.”

In college Holly’s sexual orientation wasn’t a question. She dated guys, and later never came out as far as I know. “One minute she was in New York alone, and the next she was in New York with Rosie, and then when she called and it was, my wife and I,” said Katie. I heard the frustration I felt in her voice.

“Okay, Katie, it’s all so pointless.” I felt like I did when my dad was yelling at me, making me feel like I couldn’t get away from the reprimands, and if I tried to defend myself, his anger would intensify.

“Are you going to make her talk about it?”

“Make her? Have you tried to make Holly do anything?”

“You’ll have the time in the car. Maybe you two can talk. You’re going to need each other.” Katie sounded worn out.

I held my breath. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not in remission anymore.” Her voice took on the false pluck of a girl who just didn’t care that she didn’t make the cheerleading squad. She was going to continue to do cartwheels just the same.