I told my mom a few days later.

Well, I didn’t tell her, exactly. I wrote her a note.

Dad was working late and we were eating dinner in front of the TV again.

Re: Our earlier conversation, the note read. I think I need to see our family doctor and go on the pill.

Mom read it. Her eyes filled with tears. A couple of them plopped onto her spaghetti.

After a moment she picked up the pen and wrote. She passed the paper back to me. Thank you for telling me. Would you like me to come with you?

I wrote, Yes.

She booked me an appointment with our family doctor. Jacob offered to come, but I wanted to go with my mom.

We caught a bus to Dr. Bahri’s office in Kitsilano. She was very kind, yet it didn’t make having the insertion of a cold metal object into my lady parts any more pleasant. But this was the cost of doing business, and I wanted to do business.

After the appointment Mom and I walked down Broadway together. I was sure I was walking funny.

“How do you feel?”

“Like aliens just beamed me into their spaceship and probed my orifices.”

“She only probed one orifice.”

“Actually, three. She also checked my ears for wax buildup.”

We stopped at Kidsbooks, which was Mom’s favorite bookstore and the one she hoped to work at one day if a full-time position opened up. Then we walked to Dairy Queen. “Backwards dinner?” asked Mom. We used to do backwards dinner a couple of times a year when Maxine was still alive, eating dessert first, the main course second.

“Most definitely yes.”

Mom took my hand and we went inside. She ordered us each a Peanut Buster Parfait. As we both shoveled deliciousness into our mouths, she said, “Just remember, Petula. It’s all about mutual respect. You must always be kind and thoughtful and honest with each other.”

Kind, thoughtful, honest.

I was sure Jacob and I had all three covered.