Luke eyes her suspiciously as she uses his book as a fan. He sits at the kitchen island, attempting to avoid his homework.

"Mom, what are you doing?" He questions.

"It's just so hot in here," she continues to fan herself with his text book.

He shakes his head, "No it's not."

She puts down his book, and looks at him. "You're not hot?"

"It's like twelve degrees in here," he comments.

She looks at him, and realizes that he is wearing sweat pants, and a hoodie. She breaks eye contact, and surveys her own attire. She wears a tank top, and gym shorts. She furrows her brow, and re-engages her son.

"Luke are you trying to make me think that I'm crazy?"

"Of course not, you have already proven that."

"About the temperature," she clarifies.

"No."

Phil comes down the stairs into the kitchen. He kisses his wife on the cheek.

"Honey, I love you, but could you leave the thermostat alone, please?"

She scratches her head, "You're cold too?"

He nods, "I'm wearing thermal underwear under all of this."

She notes that he is wearing jeans, and his favorite college hoodie.

"Maybe you're just having a hot flash," Luke suggests, staring at his phone.

"Excuse me?!"

"Honey, I think what he was saying, is that..."

Claire cuts him off, "I know what he was saying, and I don't appreciate it," she storms off.

"Honey," he stands at the bottom of the stairs as she races up them, "he didn't mean it."

"I did, but I didn't know it would offend her," Luke mutters under her breath.

"You need to go up there and apologize to her," Phil insists.

"I need to finish my homework," he deflects.

Ten minutes later Phil's leisurely reading is interrupted by someone knocking on the door. He vacates the couch after the third knock, realizing that no one else is going to answer the door. He pulls the door open, and finds Gloria.

"What are you doing here?"

"Claire called, she said it was an emergency."

"I wouldn't call it an emergency."

"Where is she?"

"Upstairs."

"Why do you have it so cold in here?"

"Maybe don't mention that to Claire," he suggests.

She heads up the stairs to Claire's room. She knocks on the door, "Claire," she vocalizes in the thick accent.

"It's open."

She opens the door, and enters the room. She finds Claire lying on the floor in front of the bed.

"What are you doing down there?"

"I laid down here in defeat, but then I was too tired to get up."

"I got here as quickly as I could. What is the emergency?"

"I need you to be honest with me. I know that I can always count on you to be honest."

"About your hair?" Gloria questions.

"My hair? No is something wrong with my hair?"

"No," she shakes her head, "Not at all. What were you saying?" She changes the subject.

"Do you think that I am old enough to…" she trails off.

"What is going on? Are you old enough to what? Drink? Yes, we should be drinking," Gloria suggests.

"Wine doesn't even sound good."

Gloria takes a seat on the floor next to Claire.

"What's wrong?"

"I think that I am going through the change."

"The change? Claire life is always changing."

"No, Gloria, the change."

"What are you talking about?"

"In case you haven't noticed it is fifty five degrees in here, I checked."

"And?"

"I feel like it is a hundred and five degrees in here."

"Are you having a hot flash?"

"That is what Luke said, I nearly took his head off. I have just been so tired lately. I guess I have been more moody, too. Don't you think?"

"No," she lies, "I hadn't noticed."

"I think that I am going through menopause," she groans.

"That is why you are so upset?"

"Yes."

"Your children are all nearly grown," Gloria points out.

"I know."

"I don't see how it is a bad thing."

"I'm just not ready."

"Ready for what?"

"Tapioca pudding, dentures, nursing homes…"

"Just because you are going through menopause does not mean that you are geriatric."

"I feel that way. I guess I have just been so busy that I hadn't noticed all of the obvious signs."

"Like the hot flashes?"

"And the night sweats," Claire adds, "and the fact that I can't remember the last time I had a period. It has been months."

"You should make a doctor's appointment. Isn't there a test for that?"

"Yes, you're right. Thank you for being honest."

"Who else would you call about something like this?"

"Will you go with me?"

"Sure," she agrees.

"Then you'll know what to expect."

"I am not as old as you are, and I don't think that I am going to have to worry about that for a while."

"You never know."

"I am young…"

Claire looks up at her, and cuts her off, "That is what I thought to."

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt to go with you. That way I will know what to look for in the future... the distant future."

"Or not so distant," Claire corrects.

"Maybe it isn't menopause," Gloria suggests.

"What else could it be?"

"I have heard you coughing lately."

"It's my allergies," Claire insists.

"Is it? Maybe it is tuberculosis."

"Tuberculosis?"

"Yes, in my country, I saw it many times. Night sweats, coughing, and then bam someone dies from the TB."

"Yes, Gloria, clearly that is a better thing to have. I am so glad that you came to cheer me up. Maybe, I am not in menopause after all, maybe it is just tuberculosis. Tuberculosis would be better anyway, it is contagious, and potentially deadly."