When the tiny plastic tube, ironically resembling a tampon, shows a pink plus sign, I know that I have gotten the job. Urine talks and mine says, “CONGRAT-U-HADSEXWITHSOMEONERECENTLY-LATIONS.”

Now begins a journey. Now begins the transition into motherhood.

It was their monthly Ulysses meeting at Kildare’s in Bee Branch, Arkansas. Lisa, Wade and Joe sat behind frosty mugs of Bud with their stained, unabridged copies of the tome in front of them. No one else was going to show up.

Out by Feargal Lawlor’s!

Down by the pump near Mixie’s Well!

Round by the broken crannóg at Loughool!

There it goes—the Ballybothar Road!