He wouldn’t have to be a maniac to flirt with you. People flirt with you all the time. I’ve seen it.

Beth

Are you talking about that time we were at the Chili’s in the Fort Worth airport, and that waiter called me “mama”?

Jennifer

Yes.

It’s because I was wearing an empire-waist sundress. He thought I was pregnant.

Well, he was clearly into it.

I haven’t been flirted with in a century.

In *this* century?

That’s correct.

Your husband flirts with you.

Mitch hasn’t flirted with me since nineteen hundred and ninety-three.

That’s a lie; I’ve seen him flirt with you; once, with a tuba. But I can’t argue with you right now—Lincoln is going to be here any minute. Do I tell him I might be pregnant?

Have you taken a test?

No.

Talk me through your thinking . . .

My period is late.

How late?

A week.

And that’s unusual? It’s usually pretty regular?

Historically.

Like . . . ten years ago, historically?

No. Usually. Recently. Mostly.

Okay. Well. You could take a pregnancy test.

You think it’s menopause, don’t you?

No. I don’t know what to think.

You think it’s perimenopause.

I don’t even know what perimenopause is.

No one knows what perimenopause is! It’s just what you blame when you’re old and you feel fucked up.

I don’t think that. I don’t make presumptions about other people’s perimenopause.

Don’t distract me with alliteration.

I’m sorry. (People with ovaries can be so touchy . . . )

How does it feel to think you might be pregnant?

I’m not pregnant.

You could take a test.

I told myself I’d never take another test.

I know.

Beth

Oh my GOD. That cute guy is still staring at me.

Jennifer

Wait—is he young or is he cute?

I think he might be BOTH. What the fuck. Should I tell him I’m infertile?

You could just tell him you’re married.

I’m not telling him anything. This is unnerving.

What are you wearing?

Why—do you think I might be asking for it?

Look, it’s my anniversary. I’m trying to lean into my assets.

I hear you, mama.

Oh God, sorry—I was trying to be funny.

No, it’s okay. It *was* funny.

I was just moving so that guy can’t watch me. Who goes to a tapas bar in the suburbs to flirt with middle-aged women?

Where is Lincoln?

I don’t know, he’s supposed to be getting his hair cut.

He’s cutting his Covid ponytail?

Yes. Finally.

Won’t you miss it?

Maybe? I don’t think so.

I thought you liked it.