Page 104 of Dearest Beast
“Yes, I see. Mazel tov,” she said as Isabelle redressed herself. “Both on the pregnancy and on obtaining the buxomness you’ve always sought to achieve.” Rebecca couldn’t help teasing her friend. It felt right and normal. She was happy for her and had known this would happen. Everything would still be fine and normal for all of them, despite the changes.
Happy. She was happy.
“Thank you,” Isabelle said with a grin. “I’m quite pleased.”
“Now you won’t need to stand next to me as a favorable comparison anymore,” Rebecca continued.
“No, only for the jokes,” her friend said with a laugh. “And to remind myself I’m not the cleverest person in the room, hard as it is to believe. What?” Isabelle asked as Rebecca rose to place her hand on her friend’s forehead.
“Just checking to see if you’re feverish,” she said, settling back down in her seat.
“I admit that regularly and freely,” her friend said, shimmying her shoulders a touch. “You’re also kinder than I am.”
“Did you fall and hit your head in the snow?” Rebecca could not help but ask.
“As if I’d let that occur in my new pelisse,” Isabelle scoffed. “It’s beaver,” she added rather proudly.
Rebecca snickered despite herself. “Appropriate,” she murmured.
Her friend squinted at her. “That’s naughty, isn’t it?” she asked, excitement in her voice.
“Very,” she told her. And not particularly clever or mature, but it was what it was.
“Thank god,” Isabelle told her, and Rebecca could not help it. Everything was just so… strange and normal that she started laughing once again, because what else was there left to do? Isabelle joined her. And it was good.
Normal.
Almost.
Perhaps a new normal.
“You know this won’t change anything, right?” her friend asked when they stopped, searching Rebecca’s face yet again.
“I know,” Rebecca said, even though she knew it was not quite true. Nothing stayed the same, the good or the bad. This was good.They’d assimilate it into their relationship. And truly, this was not what was causing the gnawing in her gut. Not really.
It actually might help her make it stop. Or help it go away faster.
Hopefully.
“I love you,” Isabelle told her. “Very much.” Now her friend’s voice was thick, which was—Rebecca swallowed. She would not, could not cry. She did not cry.
“I love you too,” she returned instead.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Isabelle asked.
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Just tired.” Something, that with some more sleep, tomorrow, in her own—well, her new own bed—was curable.
“I suppose I should permit you to go to bed,” Isabelle said, getting to her feet. “I’m going to need you strong.” She wagged a finger at Rebecca. “After all, I’ve seen Sol’s hovering with Hannah, and I’m not sure everyone will survive a similar dynamic in our home.”
That would not be good, as some might think Hannah, the older, taller, not-necessarily-so-former criminal was the tougher of the two women, but she knew better.
“Aaron is rather young to die,” she teased.
“Precisely.” Isabelle gave her a wink as she promenaded to the door. “Get some sleep,” she instructed. “I’ll see you at services on Shabbos, and after for luncheon.”
“You can count on it,” Rebecca told her as she waved good-bye.
Yes, it would all be good again. Normal. Even if slightly different at the edges. Which was the best of all worlds and couldn’t become any better.
