I glanced at Jessica sideways. Wary. Was this coming from a place of personal development? Jessica had been defined by her attractiveness the whole time I’d known her, but we’d never spoken about that explicitly. We’d never acknowledged the huge win she had over me—the win she had over every woman. “I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, she’s going to have to figure out what it means at some point.”

Jessica twisted to me, her eyes dark. “You know what I hate? She’s so young. She’s a child, and, please don’t think I’m weird for saying this, but, men. When they see her, when they walk past her. I see it. Something. In their faces. So many of them look at her in this way that... OK...they’re looking at my child. My actual child. And I know they’re thinking about what she’ll look like when she is older and what they’d do. Does that sound mad?”

I struggled to keep my face neutral. “She’s only, what, seven?”

“I know that. They know that. And you can see them be grossed out by themselves. It’s so... I dunno. Maybe I’m too dark these days. Too distrusting.”

Distrusting of men? This was never something Jessica had suffered from. This new knowingness was one of the many new sides to her that made me feel safer, more trusting toward her, even after encountering Liam. I located Bridget, who was queuing at the top of the slide. Her face was easy to find as it was so distinctive compared to the chubby blobs of other children’s faces. And she held herself already with Jessica’s same odd knowingness. Poised, a bit guarded. As if she was aware people looked?

Jessica misread my silence. “Hey, Fern? Look, I wanted to say so in person. I’m really am sorry for the other night. For going off on all those rants.”

“Huh?”

“I worried I went a bit too far. Infected you a bit with my mistrust.”

“You...” I smiled. “Well, OK, so I came home and chose not to share a bed with Ben.”

Her face dropped. “Oh my God—really? See, this is what I mean. I’m so sorry.”

“I mean, I was very very drunk. I could’ve just as easily, in that state, accused him of looking at our kettle in the wrong way.”

She laughed, but her eyes were wide with sorrow. “No, you wouldn’t. He sounds great. I’m sure he is great. I mean, if he’s with you, then he clearly has amazing taste. I’m so clearly going through something right now...not just the divorce. Everything...”

I turned toward her, the cold spreading on the new bits of my legs touching the bench. “What do you mean, everything?”