Peggy Sue’s Revival
Copyright© 2025 by OmegaPet-58
Chapter 2: Planning and Logistics
PEG
What an overwhelming morning! If Frank had been shaken, I was worse. I realized I needed to take some time away from all this unreality and do something ordinary for a while.
“Honey, will you clean up the kitchen while I do the laundry?”
“You’re going to put fresh sheets on our bed so we can mess them up again tonight? Great idea!”
“Shut up, Frank.”
Almost an hour later, we were back seated together in the kitchen.
“Frank, I have a friend who is a lawyer; I want to call her.”
He put on his thinking face, something I always appreciated about him. Part of our successful marriage, I thought, was that he listened to me carefully, valuing my opinions. Occasionally, when I was waffling, he’d give me a little nudge to help me clarify my thinking.
The best example of that was when I told him I was having a weird fullness in my belly, a little like being constipated, but there wasn’t any evidence for that problem. He nudged me to the doctor, and I was eventually diagnosed with ovarian cancer.
The pressure was from a tumor; the surgeon said it was about the size of a banana. She removed all of my organs, leaving my vagina as a “dead end.” Hormone replacement made up for the missing ovaries, but I still felt their absence until this morning’s miracle.
Frank came back to the kitchen after fetching our phones, indicating his approval. I scrolled through my contacts.
“Meghan? Hi, it’s Peggy Sue Capello; do you have a few minutes? Good. It’s ... hard to explain over the phone. Frank and I have a really delicate situation and need your help. No, nothing criminal, I promise. I know this is a huge imposition on a Sunday, but the only way we can handle this is for you to come to our house and see for yourself. We can talk about retaining you then. Can you come see us? That’s great! It’s 2904 Cedar Lane, the yellow house, and we’ll feed you lunch. Thank you so much, bye!”
I’d last seen Meghan Wilcox a few weeks ago at a party for a local candidate we both supported. I rushed around making sure the house was tidy, and the two of us waited anxiously for Meghan to arrive. Thinking ahead, I left the front door slightly ajar.
“Peg? It’s Meghan.”
“Please come in and sit in the living room,” I told her. “We’ll be right with you.” I wanted her off her feet for the big reveal. Frank and I walked out of the kitchen holding hands.
“I didn’t know you had children ... Wait. Peg, is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Frank and I woke up this morning looking like this. We don’t understand why or how it happened. Meghan, we ... hang on!”
My friend was gray in the face and wobbling. Frank and I quickly sat on either side of her for support. Our sofa was big enough so the three of us fit. Our guest took several deep breaths while trying to regain her composure.
“No way. You both look—what, twenty? That’s impossible!”
“Frank and I have been trying to understand, but we come up empty. It’s not just looks. His arthritis is gone, and his belly is flat. Somehow, my hysterectomy has been reversed, and I think he could make me pregnant.”
“This is insane. Some kind of practical joke. You have to be relatives of some kind, cousins perhaps.”
“I promise you, it’s really me. At the party three weeks ago, you wore a silver top over a black skirt, and I wore a forest green dress. Your date was that guy, Alex. Are you still seeing him?”
“No, he’s gone now. Alright, for the moment I’m going to accept this incredible situation as factual. Why am I here?”
“Frank and I agree that if we show up at work tomorrow, nobody will accept us as who we say we are. Your reaction just shows what would happen.”
“Both of you need to quit immediately, without giving notice.” Meghan was beginning to understand. Still, she was obviously struggling. Her head swiveled back and forth, looking for some cause for our transformation.
Finally, Meghan hung her head, on the brink of tears.
“I must be losing my mind.”
“I know the feeling,” agreed Frank. I realized Meghan was struggling with the situation, and I decided to give her a respite.
“Honey, could you let Meghan and I have some girl talk, please?”
“Sure. I’ll be in the backyard when you need me.”
“Talk to me, Meghan. How can I help?”
“This is all so unfair. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am. Seven years of college and law school. Then, the bar exam, and three years as a apprentice and junior associate. And THEN, starting my own practice and getting it going. After all that, I have had zero social life, my body is worn, and I’m exhausted.”
“Meghan, I’m...”
“No. Um, thanks, but ... Listen, I’m not suffering, I’m making money. It’s just, when I look in the mirror I don’t see the supple young body you seem to have now. My boobs have ... Sorry. I just worry that I’ve missed my chance to attract a partner. It’s stupid, isn’t it?”