Around noon that day her phone buzzed and a text appeared alongside a cute picture of her and Stuart at an outdoor show eleven years ago, when the band was still in semi-existence. Mandy and Stuart weren’t even married then. They hadn’t gotten married until after Teddy—he sat in the sand while they said their vows. Mandy had never even thought about kids or marriage. They’d never even discussed it. But then her IUD had fallen out while they were surfing—or attempting to surf—in Montauk. She hadn’t even noticed until more than two months later when she suddenly craved strawberry shortcake ice cream bars and couldn’t stay awake any later than nine. Stuart had been very sweet about marrying her and embracing the whole daddy thing, which should have made it a lot easier, but nothing about their lives was the same or any kind of easy again.

That July day, still in bed, Mandy read Stuart’s text.

did you call dr. goldberg?

She found the doctor’s number in the list of contacts on her phone, stared at it for a moment, and then went back to Stuart’s text and typed a reply.

yup, news is not good

!!! calling u now!

A few seconds later her phone rang and the same picture of her and Stuart, looking tan and young and thin and happy, lit up the screen. She watched it ring and go to voice mail. A few seconds later it rang again.

can’t talk waiting for tests

She tossed the phone aside and slipped down under the covers, pulling them up to her eyes. It didn’t even feel that weird to lie. It didn’t even feel like a lie. She probably did have MS. All the symptoms matched up. She didn’t even need to go to the doctor.

She sat up, reached for the iPad again, and googled “treatment for MS.” There was a lot of information, stuff about vitamins and injections of hamster placentas and changes in diet. She clicked on a few links and ordered some massive jars of vitamins and green juice powder from Amazon, paying the extra $6.99 so it would arrive the next day.