March She can be cold.
SUB- Z E RO In high school, there was a baller who was really into March, but she wasn’t into him. One time he strutted over to her as she was heading to the change room and said something lame like “Girl, lemme give you a hand unzipping them jeans.” She rolled her eyes. After that, every time she walked past his bros, they roasted her. “March so cold, you need a blanket just to talk to her. March so icy, you need skates to get close to her. Knock knock. Who’s there? March. March who? Machoo! I think I’m catching a cold.” SPR ING In university, March rebranded herself from the cold one to the cool one. On spring break, she went to Daytona first year, New Orleans second year, Miami Beach third year, Cancun
fourth year. She didn’t flash anybody, she didn’t hook up with tanned gym rats, but she had a good time. She got a henna tattoo like Rihanna. That was cool. After three fruity drinks with complicated straws, she could be persuaded to put her hands on her knees and twerk. 3 1 DAYS She grew up with a hoop over the garage and a dad who liked to play one-on-one with her. Because her family observed March Madness more seriously than they observed Easter, she thought the NCAA and NAACP were related until Black History Month in Grade 10.
Her whole family was tall. She dated men tall enough to sire rebounders or at least accessorize with her when she wore heels.
L I KE S IST E RS
March bought a Canada Goose coat with fur around the hood. She took a selfie and sent it to her bestie, February, who replied by sending a photo of her new Sorel boots with fur at the cuff. It’s a weird, competitive friendship.
THE FISCAL YEAR
On their first date, she and her husband-to-be got into a conversation about the net worth of Jay-Z and Beyoncé. So she asked him directly: “How much money do you have? Net.” It was a better question than “How much money do you make?” He answered without flinching. And he paid.
MUSICAL TASTE S
She likes Kanye’s “Gold Digger” for the chorus the way her ex-husband liked Playboy for the fiction.
L EAN IN
Don’t get her wrong. She has her own money. She started off as a software developer and then made a killing coding predictive algorithms for onlineshopping behaviour. If she wanted to, she could cash out and #followherpassion of working the perfume counter at the Bay. If she wanted to, she could roll around the boardroom in a white tutu like Madonna.
I NSECUR I TY
March smiles with her lips closed because of her gap teeth. She impulse-bought a magazine because Georgia May Jagger was on the cover. March thought, “Well, if she could be a model then”—not accounting for the fact that the model was 15 years younger and a Jagger.
S ECU R I TY
Her second husband ends up being a corporate type. Capricorn. He’s always making resolutions, consulting a list in the supermarket, scheduling lump-sum payments on the cottage, tucking receipts into his wallet, sorting through a tote bag of tax records and setting seasonal bedtimes for them. That kind of man. He has no friends to speak of, though he gets along with September, the insufferable academic that her friend February married.
Sometimes when she hears a low groan in the distance, March peeks through her bedroom blinds to see if it might be August mowing the lawn with his shirt off. He’s so hot.