Jumpstart the World by Catherine Ryan Hyde Page B

was probably only a second or two before he answered. But it was the longest second or two in the history of civilization.
    “It’s a phase of gender-reassignment surgery.” A heavy, dead weight in my stomach. A little nauseating. “It’s a double mastectomy, but then also with some cosmetic surgery to give the chest more of a male shape and appearance.”
    “I guess it’s none of my business,” I said.
    The words sounded like they were coming from someone else. My lips felt numb. Also my brain.
    “Well, you’re my friend,” he said.
    Which I took to mean I could ask more questions. If I wanted to. But there was only one more question I could think to ask.
    I didn’t want to.
    *    *    *
    I paced around in the waiting room for a long time. I had the whole area to myself. I read the pet cartoons on the bulletin board. Looked at the pictures on the walls. A puppy sleeping flat on his back, his belly exposed to the cool air from a fan. A cat holding a mouse, but not a real one. A computer mouse. Holding the thin cable in his teeth, the mouse hanging down in front of his chest.
    There was a canister of doggie treats on the counter, with a label that said THANKS FOR BEING PATIENT .
    A middle-aged woman with wildly curly hair came out from the back and stood behind the counter. The swinging door made a whoosh noise behind her.
    “Has anyone filled you in yet, dear?”
    “Oh. I’m waiting for Frank. Frank is back there with my cat.”
    “Right. The cat with the infected tooth.”
    Then I felt better, because it was just an infected tooth. How bad can that be? Right? Pull the tooth if you have to. Put the cat on antibiotics. Nobody ever died of an infected tooth. Right?
    Just then Frank came out through the swinging door. Whoosh . I looked at his face for encouragement, but he wasn’t giving anything away.
    “Shirley, I’ll call for an update.”
    I followed him out the door.
    “What?” I said. “He’s okay, right? It’s just an infected tooth. He’ll be okay, right?”
    “Yeah, that’s what we hope,” he said.
    We walked down the street together, and he steered me toward a coffeehouse.
    “Wait. Don’t you have to get back to your party?”
    “In a minute. We’re just going to talk for a minute.”
    My stomach felt like it was swarming with stinging insects. This was not going to be a good talk. I could feel that much. I could tell.
    “Can’t they just pull the tooth?”
    “Yeah, it’ll come out today. But we’re a little concerned because we think he might have a secondary infection.”
    He held the door open for me, and the sound of people chatting and milk being steamed felt welcoming in a weird way.
    “Is that serious?”
    “Can be pretty serious, yes. But he’s getting the best care.”
    “You know money is no object, right? I mean, my mother feels so guilty. No way she’s going to refuse me anything now. Whatever that cat needs—”
    “We’re doing the best we can for him, Elle. What do you want to drink?”
    I ordered a chai latte, and Frank ordered a cappuccino, and we shuffled around silently, waiting for them to come up. Then we sat at a tiny round table on uncomfortably high stools.
    I blew on my chai latte and felt the hot steam come up into my face. “I guess it would have been better if I’d caught it earlier.”
    Frank set down his cup and sighed.
    “Elle, that cat was voted least likely to ever get out of that pound on his own four paws. Do you know what the chances were that he’d end up with someone who would shout ‘Money is no object!’ on his behalf?” He waved his arm in the air as if he were waving a fistful of hundreds around.
    I smiled in spite of myself. “I didn’t do that, did I?” I imitated the money-waving gesture. I hated to think I was becoming that much like my mother.
    “No, I threw that in to try to make you laugh.”
    I looked at the expression on his face, kind of sympathetic but sad, and I did laugh, just a little. For just a