Serene shrugged and the smile disappeared from Erica's lips.
"Why do you want to go by they?" Serene asked.
Erica fell silent for a full minute. Just when Serene thought Erica might not answer the question, they began to speak.
"Many of us are gender fluid and don't want to fall under the hard and fast rule of having to bend to the gender binary of man or woman. Some of us feel we're a little bit of both."
"But you're a woman. Anyone can see that, and you haven't had a sex change."
"Yes, that's true, but I don't feel completely like either."
"Is that how Jesse feels?" Serene stopped walking, her mouth hanging open slightly.
"We don't know. We've just been following his lead, letting him experiment, doing what's comfortable for him."
"Do you think Jesse can figure out something like that at nine?” Serene watched Erica do that thing they were good at, drawing her features into soft patience.
"Maybe," Erica said.
This time, Erica's patience only frustrated Serene. She wanted more discussion about this weird gender thing that was going on. A definitive answer, not the wishy-washiness of maybe, an answer she'd expect from Ramani. Did Jesse need help? Serene wondered. Perhaps it was a good idea that Claudia was going to see their family. Maybe she could help Jesse and talk reason into Erica. Jesse might have some kind of psychological problem. Serene started walking again, pondering this. It was a fact that she had her own issues; did she somehow do something to her son? Talk him into dressing like a girl when she was Dora?
The elusive Dora. A flash of anger shot through Serene. Who was this other part of herself who had so wholly sabotaged and destroyed her life? The diary she'd found two days ago, the one that had caused her breakdown, sending her back to acute psychiatric care, came to mind. The thought of it and what its pages contained, as well as its disappearance and reemergence, sent an icy chill of fear down Serene's back. Dora had come back a few nights ago and left that diary for her to find. Would she, as Serene, disappear again and wake up at the age of seventy or eighty? What was the point of getting to know this family Dora created if she was only going to disappear for god knew how long?
Serene was so deep in thought that she didn't notice Carrie walking in their direction.
"Erica, Dora," Carrie called out. "What's up with my two favorite peeps? Well, except for my extraordinary niece, Barbara." Carrie laughed and held out her arms, pulling Erica in for a kiss, and then hugged and kissed Serene. "It's freezing," she said. "On my way to the folks. Where are you off to?” Some of her enthusiasm was dampening down after taking in the somberness of Serene and Erica.
"Oh, just taking a walk," Erica said.
"Ron and Maggie are still across the street?" Serene asked.
Carrie looked momentarily taken aback. "Oh, yeah. They're not going anywhere."
"The kids don't visit them?"
Now Carrie looked uncomfortable.
"There's been some issues," Erica said.
"Anyway," Carrie said, sounding a little breathless. "Going to make them a pot of soup and try to talk them out of that cruise. You know my dad." Carrie rolled her eyes. "If Trump thinks it's okay, then it'll be fine.”
Trump.
Serene had looked him up online. He didn't seem to be all that remarkable or interesting. In fact, Trump reminded Serene of her friend Pono Boy's uncle, who used to go off on rants about politics. Family members would listen politely, but often he got so worked up that he stopped making sense. Serene was surprised that a man like Trump could be president of the United States, but a lot had changed in twenty-four years. Often, she found herself corrected for using words she'd always used but were now considered inappropriate. Words like lame, exotic and skinny. Mostly it was her eldest daughter Barbara who corrected her, explaining that there was better, more considerate language. A lot of younger people seemed old, somehow, wise beyond their years, but also overly fussy about semantics. The few times Barbara's friends visited, Serene had sat quietly in the corner of the living room, listening to them. They said things like, “let's talk it through,” and “I need to sit with that.”
There was also a lot of talk about white privilege and the environment. Serene had known there were serious environmental issues in a vague sort of way, but now those problems seemed much more imminent. No one in Serene's crowd on Maui or LA had spent their time discussing climate change, genetically modified food, gun laws and immigrant rights. Serene felt dumb around these kids. They engaged with technology as if it were second nature and were highly empathetic. They looked at fashion differently, too. It was all about buying used clothes and using organic, environmentally friendly products. Many of the girls didn't even wear makeup, which was definitely not the LA vibe in the nineties. It was as if southern California had spawned a bunch of Ramanis with a more sophisticated and sharper intelligence.
Serene focused back on Carrie, who was still talking––something about her parents getting more stubborn as they got older. She waved goodbye. Serene and Erica returned the gesture before continuing on their way.
"The thing is, it's your house," Erica said and took a sip of their coffee while Serene blew on her hot chocolate.
"We're married. It's your house, too," Serene replied. This won her a tiny smile from Erica.
"Yes. But, Serene, that closet of a bedroom is not where you should be. I've asked Cuppa to get her own place. We need to have space to figure this out. I think you should have our room and I can take Cuppa's."
Serene shook her head no. "I don't want to tell Cuppa to leave."
"She'll be okay. I think it's important that you move back into the room
