A short story by Jack

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Tuesday morning, nothing happening so I decided to visit with Sam.

“Top of the morning?” I said, rolling myself toward him.. “What’d you do, win a free pudding cup?”You ever have grandkids, Jack?” Sam asked.

I took a sip of my coffee— somehow both weak and burnt. A true masterpiece of cafeteria alchemy.

“No,” I said. “I skipped straight to cranky old man without the legacy part.”

He chuckled, then turned back toward the entrance.

“My grandaughter’s coming today for a visit.She’s a good kid. Jenna. That’s her name—Jenna.”

I nodded, but in my head, I was already making a mental sticky note: Lock it in, Sam. Jenna. Don’t lose it before she walks through that doo r.It was mid-afternoon when Jack first saw Jenna enter the facility. The front lobby door buzzed open, and in walked this young person — short hair, oversized flannel shirt, baggy jeans, and sneakers. For a split second, Jack didn’t recognize her.

Then it hit him — That’s Jenna.

Sam’s face lit up as soon as he saw her.

“There’s my girl!” Sam said, his voice cracking slightly.Jenna smiled warmly and sat down next to him.

Jack stayed off to the side, but he couldn’t help observing. He hadn’t seen Jenna in months, not since she started talking about the transition.

As they talked, Oscar, naturally wandering by at just the wrong moment, whispered to Jack:

“Is that his granddaughter?””Yes, Oscar.”
“Looks… different,” Oscar whispered loudly, not really whispering at all.
Jack nodded, trying to shut him up before it got worse.
But Oscar kept going,
“Is that the one… you know… the operation one?”
Jack sighed, “Oscar — she’s transitioning. Leave it there.”

Oscar squinted again, as if the word needed physical effort to understand.

“But… she’s becoming a boy?””Yes.”
“So… not his granddaughter no more?”
“Oscar. Stop.”Jenna looked over and smiled politely, fully aware they were talking about her but too kind to say anything. She turned back to Sam, who gently patted her hand.

“You know I love you no matter what,” Sam said softly.

laterScene: Dining Room, Late Afternoon

The dining room had already begun its familiar shuffle — trays sliding, forks clinking, and conversations looping like broken records. Jack sat at his usual table, mid-sip of something that once aspired to be coffee. Sam sat at the next table over, staring quietly out the window, lips moving slightly, as if he were reciting a memory only he could hear.

“Hey Sam,” Jack said gently. “You okay?”

Sam turned his head slowly. “Did I miss the bus?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. His eyes were watery.