7 days later.

Irene knocked out a few short raps on the back door before letting herself in, carrying a fully-stocked paper bag in one arm and swinging the door open with the other. She glanced back at the porch for a minute before stepping over the threshold, leaving the door just slightly ajar. Molly glanced up from the apple she was slicing and offered a small smile as Irene set the bag down on the table and pulled up a chair.

"I can't thank you enough. I know you've got so much on your hands with Ned and the boys," said Molly.

Irene leaned over and pulled an apple from the bowl in front of Molly and began idly peeling it with her fingernails. "I'm glad for the break, frankly," she said.

"How's Ned doing?"

"He's fine, physically, but you know him. He obsesses. He'll get over it. You feeling better?"

"Yeah, I am," Molly admitted, as if it surprised even her.

"How are the kids?"

"Well, I think Fi's glad to have an excuse to sit in her room and type for hours without interruption. And Jack's had constant medical attention since we've all been home."

"Chelsea and Rhonda? I wonder if one of them ever goes anywhere without the other one. Is there a Chelsea without a Rhonda?"

"I don't know, but this is the fifth morning in a row they've come over at exactly 9. They stay all day, up there in his room. I don't know what they're doing. I don't want to know."

Irene looked up from her apple and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"I'm sure they're just having fun playing nurse," Molly said, barely able to suppress a laugh. Irene let out a quick derisive snort.

"Yeah, porn nurse."

Molly put on a breathy voice: "It's my turn to take your temperature now!"

"And then you can take mine, with your thermometer!"

Molly wrinkled her nose and exclaimed, "Gross!" They dissolved into schoolgirl giggles until Molly's still-tender sides complained, and she stopped first, gasping, "That is so bad."

"I know!" Irene agreed in an exaggeratedly deadpan tone. "I'm sure they're very nice girls." She couldn't seem to keep her eyes from rolling, though, which only sent them both into another fit of laughter. This time Irene stopped first, and asked, "Seriously, though, aren't you a little concerned about what's going on up there?"

"You know, I'm really not. Jack's a smart kid, and he's responsible. I trust him to do the right thing, and to know what the right thing is. And if he decides that polyamory is his thing, well, why the hell not? How long can it last, anyway?"

"That's a very enlightened point of view you're taking there," Irene pointed out, returning to her apple-peeling.

"Yeah, well, I'm trying to learn to take things the way they are. Live in the now. I'm trying not to freak out over the small things anymore, you know?"

Irene didn't respond, instead glancing contemplatively at Molly for a long time before saying in a tone that was barely audible, "Yeah, I guess mine's pretty smart, too."

It was Molly's turn to raise an eyebrow as she looked up from her apple-slicing and tried not to let the unmitigated dread that was stabbing its talons into her stomach bleed through to her facial expression.

Irene finally met her gaze. "Well, why the hell not? How long can it last, anyway?" She shrugged and after a moment of silence, laughed awkwardly to fill the gap. But it died quickly and she bit back a thousand different possible things to say in the space of thirty seconds, until Molly mercifully spoke up again.

"Life is so strange, you know?" She pushed the blade of the knife through the diminishing remains of the original apple, shoving it toward the cutting board, underscoring her words with a nervous chopping beat. "Nothing just happens the way it's supposed to happen. I think you and Ned are the only people I know who are happy and in love and normal."

Irene didn't look up, but considered that rather uncharacteristically imperceptive assertion while she pulled the remaining skin from the apple with her nails, digging deeper each time. Finally: "You know, I think the problem is that none of us can just come out and say, 'This is what I want, and you all can learn to live with it.' Not even me." She smiled ruefully and slid off the chair. Before Molly could consider the meaning of that peculiar declaration, Irene placed the peeled apple in front of her and brushed a hand across her shoulder before heading toward the door again.

"I've got to go fill up the refrigerator in preparation for the inevitable return of my sons to the nest. See you later." She paused. "It's good that you're doing better." And then she was gone, again leaving the door slightly open. After a moment, Molly could hear the car door slam and the engine growl, and then nothing. She was a little troubled by their conversation, but her thoughts to that end slipped away when Carey entered tentatively through the door his mother had left open.

She looked down at the table, unsure of what to say now. So he spoke first.

"I heard what you said, about letting things happen. I'm impressed."

"So am I," she admitted. He sat down in the opposite chair. She stopped slicing and pushed the rather thin apple slices away. "Of course, I can't promise that I'll actually do that."

"I know," he said simply, and reached out to cover her free hand with his. She wasn't sure just what she was getting herself into, but she figured that maybe for now it might be okay to go with it and let something good just happen while it was still around to offer itself to her. After all, why not? How long could it last? She smiled and set down the knife.