Chapter 1

“Fuckin’ rabbits!”

Katie looked up from the book she was reading. She was used to Cynthia’s random non-sequiturial outbursts, but this one was odd, even by her standards. “So, now you don’t like rabbits?”

“What? No. Freya and Alex. Ever since she decided that she wanted to have a baby, they’ve been going at it like fucking rabbits,” Cynthia complained.

Katie nodded in understanding. “Well, that is how babies are made.”

“Yeah, but do they have to screw all the damn time?”

“What does it matter to you?” Katie put her book down and looked at Cynthia. “Oh.” She nodded in understanding. “Are you feeling a little left out?”

Cynthia frowned, then shoveled half a pancake into her mouth.

“You know, you don’t have to eat like a pig every time you’re upset about something,” Katie commented.

“Phuk ooo!” Cynthia shot back, her mouth stuffed with half-chewed pancake, syrup dripping down her chin.

Picking her book back up, Katie muttered, “Or happy about something. Or sad about something. Or scared of something. Or frustrated. Or –”

With the other half of the pancake already crammed into her mouth, Cynthia just stuck her middle finger up and continued chewing.

Katie looked at her, angrily. “You know, I’m just trying to help because I love you.”

Cynthia put her fork down with a clatter and gave Katie two middle fingers.

“You’re a jerk,” Katie replied and resumed reading her book.

Cynthia swallowed, took the last gulp of her coffee, then sat there stewing. “It’s just not fair,” she finally said.

Katie rolled her eyes, put her bookmark back into the book, carefully placed it onto the table, and looked coolly at Cynthia. “What’s not fair?”

“We just started to – you know – all have sex together –”

“You had just started to enjoy Alex’s penis, you mean?” Katie interrupted.

“Well, yeah ... but...”

“No. That’s exactly it,” Katie stated firmly. “What does Freya give you that I don’t?”

“No. But –”

“Yes, but!”

Cynthia closed her mouth in a pout.

Katie continued. “I know that you love me. Blah, blah, blah. But you miss his penis.”

Now it was Cynthia’s turn to roll her eyes. “Can you at least call it a dick?”

“His wee-wee. His little pee-pee.”

“It’s not little,” Cynthia interjected.

“You’re suffering from weiner withdrawal.”

Cynthia shrugged and stared down at her empty plate.

“You miss his johnson,” Katie added.

Cynthia looked up at her. “‘Johnson?’ What are you, a ninety-year-old spinster?”

Katie stood up and began to collect the breakfast dishes. When she tried to pick up Cynthia’s plate, Cynthia grabbed her hand and held it. Looking up at Katie, she told her, “I love you, Katie-bear.”

“I know.” Katie smiled down at her. “Sometimes you’re just such a handful.”

“I know.”