Instead of voicing any of those complicated, conflicting thoughts, Becca blurted out harshly, “Shit Jo!  Wedding ring?  Are you wearing one?”  She took another breath before finding the will to look at Jo squarely in the eye.

Those deep blue eyes changed from worried to questioning to confusion.  “Wedding?  Wedding ring?”  That perfect, million dollar face, now more chiseled than ever, wrapped itself around the perplexing question.  As Jo raised her hand up reflexively and to stare at it, as if seeing her own hand for the first time in a long while, Becca picked up on other changes in Jo’s face.  Eyebrows were still bushy, but now perfectly trimmed, and any semblance of residual pallor from Jo’s illness was well-gone – that face was now all angles and planes, filled with a vibrant, youthful glow, just like the one that stared out insouciantly at the world in adverts in glossy magazines and sponsored social media feeds, and lately, beaming out from hi-def electronic billboards in city squares and gleaming airports, touting an expensive men’s watch here, or a bespoke suit there.

Since they’d separated in that train station three years ago, and Jo had gone on to become one of the handful of women who modeled men’s wear and accessories, Becca couldn’t help but follow some of the news about Jo.  Becca knew that even a year after Jo had started to appear in menswear ads and billboards, most people hadn’t realized that the ethereally good-looking creature in the slick pictures that stared coolly back at them was not a man, but a woman.    You’ve parlayed those good looks and lady-killer swagger into quite the modelling career, haven’t you?  I read somewhere that you were expanding your reach, like planning a collab with a British fashion house to come out with limited edition street-wear and sneaker lines, and even unisex cologne and face care products.

Since launching that career, Jo had deleted all her social media accounts, so it made her even more mysterious to the public.

Ironically, her first exposure to this new, sexier Jo happened when she’d been browsing through a collection of men’s stores in Heathrow International Airport, as she and a crew of the millennial set of cousins of their extended family lines were returning from a long weekend in their family compound in the Lake District of England.  As they’d debated about getting colognes for friends and family while they waited for their flight back to New York, Becca caught sight of Jo’s face beaming from a hi-def screen hanging from the imposing wall of a high-fashion store.  She almost dropped the cologne bottle she was about to get for an older cousin whose birthday was coming up, and froze in place.