Free Once More With Feeling by Megan Crane

head, baffled by my own choices. ‘It’s like I turned into someone else and I don’t even remember doing it. Is that normal?’
    ‘People change when they get married,’ Dad said, in hislow, easy voice. So soothing. So supportive. So suspicious, really, when I thought about it. I tried to stop thinking about it. ‘It’s part of becoming a unit – of forming a partnership. Not only is it normal, I think it’s necessary.’
    But I wondered. There was a partnership, and then there was pretending to be someone you would have laughed at if you’d met them a few years earlier. Did everybody go through that? I didn’t think they did. Lianne, for example, was exactly who she’d thought she would be when she grew up. That was one of the reasons she was so
solid
. She had worries and problems, like anyone, but she didn’t have
doubts
. She wasn’t racked with regret. I kind of thought this was a crucial distinction. Or should be.
    ‘The public defender’s office would never have been a good fit for you,’ Mom said, with a dismissive wave of her fork that rubbed me the wrong way.
    ‘You don’t really know what would be a good fit for me.’ I fought to keep my voice calm, light, easy. Because I knew points would be deducted if I got noticeably emotional. That was how my mother played this game. It was where Carolyn had learned that insulting
calmness
she’d used on me at the hospital the night of the accident. ‘
I
don’t even know, so how could you? But who knows? Maybe this is the perfect opportunity to think about it again.’
    I was surprised to feel that little
click
inside, as if something had finally fallen back into place. Or wanted to,anyway. Maybe this really was an opportunity, however unwanted. Or maybe the key point here was that I had to start thinking about it that way, or I’d go crazy. I was close enough to crazy as it was. No need to walk any further down that road.
    ‘I think that’s a wonderful idea,’ Dad said, smiling as if he couldn’t hear Mom or see her concerned frown. As if the conversation he was having was perfectly pleasant and lacking all murky undertones. ‘It’s never too late.’
    ‘Of course it’s never too late, and you should do anything you set your mind to,’ Mom said then, sounding almost impatient. She shrugged. ‘But do you really want to start a new career at thirty-three? Or older? As a single woman? That sounds exhausting. You’d be far better served continuing to reap the benefits of the career you already have and finding a new husband if you want one, surely.’
    ‘A new husband,’ I repeated, unable to believe what I’d heard. I pressed my fingers against my eyes and shook my head, helplessly. ‘Did you really just say that, Mom? You’re aware that I’m still married to the old one, right?’
    My mother sighed, as if I was being unnecessarily argumentative.
    ‘There’s no point clinging to something that’s already gone,’ she said, and the worst part, I knew, was that this was my mother’s version of being gentle. Caring and thoughtful, even. It just happened to feel like a baseball bat to soft tissue. Surely she didn’t
mean
it.
    But I’d been telling myself that for a long, long time.
    ‘I’m glad that you’re over my marriage,’ I said, when I could speak. Not that my voice was at all even. It was a mark of how upset I was that I was letting them see it. ‘I’ll let you know when and if I am, but I should warn you – it might not happen on your schedule.’
    ‘I’m only trying to help you, Sarah,’ Mom said, in that aggrieved way, as if
her
feelings were hurt, as they so often were. She put a hand to her temple as if she had a sudden headache – the implication being, of course, that I’d brought it on. ‘You don’t do yourself any favours by being so
intense
all the time, you know.’
    This was not the first time my mother had told me I was too intense. Oh, no.
Intense
, as far as I could tell, was my mother’s favourite