Page 32 of Her Second-Hand Mate

Margaret sat up.

“I can ask you some questions if you want, but first, may I ask why you’re asking me that?”

I looked down at the rug I spent months weaving, back in another lifetime.

“What you just described as codependent sounds a lot like what I thought love was supposed to be. And to hear you portray it as something negative was really disconcerting,” I finally admitted.

“Okay,” she said gently. “I’ll bring you a list of questions tomorrow and if you answer ‘yes’ to most of them, then we’ll talk more, alright?”

I just nodded.

“It’s just... Things with Dominic have been weird. At first, I didn’t know they were weird, but now I’m starting to wonder,” I trailed off.

“Can you tell us a bit more?” Mira asked.

So I did. I told them about how we met, my first months in the pack, I talked about Father and Eden, Cassie and Heather, and Dominic’s cold attitude towards me outside the bedroom.

“What we need is a plan,” Lynn said, “things you can do to get closer to him. Like planning a date, bringing him lunch at the office, and so on. I agree that you two haven’t been off to a great start, but so far, he hasn’t done anything really... bad or cruel, right?”

She looked around the room.

Margaret nodded thoughtfully, “Yes, he’s been cold and distant, but he was grieving and this was an unexpected second chance mating. And we all know how big and busy this pack is, so I do believe he has a lot of work to do, especially if he was slacking during his grieving period.”

I hadn’t even thought of that.

“So you really think this can be improved?“ I asked, hopeful.

“I think so,” Margaret said. “Just try the things Lynn suggested, and if they don’t work, we’ll hammer out a new plan during ournext sleepover,” she grinned with all the confidence in the world and I felt excited.

“Since we’re in a sharing mood,” Grace sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “My heat is coming up in two weeks, and I’m freaking out.”

No one said anything. Last time, she shared that she was still pupless five years into their union, so we all could imagine what the source of the freaking out was.

“What I failed to mention last time was that I have no problem getting pregnant,” she admitted in what was almost a whisper. “It’s that I can’t seem tostaypregnant. I almost don’t want to try anymore,” she concluded as a tear slid down her face.

Charlotte, who was sitting next to her, wordlessly took her hand in both of hers.

“Whatever we say will not take away your pain,” Mira said solemnly, “but we are here for you. Through the good and the bad, whatever you need.”

“Thanks,” Grace sniffed and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

???

We were on our final trip in Lenox, MA, a small town that could be described as a beautiful, giant, carefully curated park. We’d visited The Mount, Edith Wharton’s home, got a sandwich from a popular deli, had a tour through the Ventfort Hall Gilded Age Mansion and Museum, and were now sitting on the grass in Lilac Park, discussingThe Age of Innocence,and I wasfuming.

Everyone was trying to make Newland and Olenska into this amazing, star-crossed couple when they were nothing but two cheaters! A female from the New York pack, I think her name was Tiffany, went on a tirade about gender socialization and subverting societal expectations and all I could think was that Ellen was a harlot who needed to keep her hands to herself. And with her cousin’s man! Theresa would never do something like that to me.

“Does Penelope the Weaver have something to add?” Prof. Bell asked playfully, a knowing glint in his eye.

It was obvious to him that I was bursting at the seams with righteous indignation, but he also knew that I hadn’t spoken a word in class since the beginning.

“I actually do,” I said primly. “I don’t understand why Newland is looking down on May for being the product of the very society he and all the males around him exalt so much. He pities her for being what circumstances made her, whereas she’s done nothing wrong. All she did was do exactly what was expected of her, since when is that a bad thing? Or is it only a bad thing when she doesn’t do what is expected of herby us?”

Everyone was silent. I lifted my chin, not wanting them to see how mortifying it was for me to vomit up all my thoughts in front of all of them.

“Ms. Hedge makes an excellent point. We compliment Countess Olenska for acting like a woman of our time, for breaking the mold, for defying the conventions that were in place more than a hundred years ago. Yet, what would we say if our conventions right now were more in line with May’s behavior? This is definitely something to think about, not only when readingbut also when judging others. We're all the product of our environment, which we, by default, believe is the right way to live. But is it?”

On the bus, on the drive back, when most of my friends had fallen asleep, I took out the questionnaire Margaret had brought over two days after the sleepover. The ink on it was starting to fade from how many times I’d touched it since then. I only left it alone when Dominic was in the house with me.

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