Chapter Thirty
I woke up to the sound of Emilie throwing up in the bathroom. I folded the blanket and put the pillow back on her bed and braced myself.
Her eyes were barely open when she walked back in.
“Morning,” I said cautiously.
She stopped short, holding her stomach. “Hi . . . When did you come over? And how did you get in?”
“Stephen had a key.”
She looked confused. Her eye landed on my bandaged wrist.
“What’s on your wrist?”
“It’s a long story. But it’s just a bad sprain.”
“Aren’t you a leftie?”
“Yeah, not ideal.”
She sighed and held a pillow over her face.
“You should go see Jane,” she muffled.
“Who?”
“My acupuncturist.”
“I didn’t know you did acupuncture.”
“You didn’t know about Stephen either.”
“No, but I get why you didn’t tell me.”
“Do you?”
I still couldn’t see her face.
“I mean, I think I do . . . You didn’t want anyone to know. I get that.”
“Connor knew.”
“How come Connor and not me?”
She sighed. “Look, Sam. I love you, but you haven’t really been top notch in the friend department.
And like, I know that we met at a really tough time in your life.
And I accepted that we were in law school, and you were getting divorced and all that .
. . but I sort of hoped that would change when we got to New York. ”
“Are you saying I’m a bad friend?” My back hurt from sleeping on the floor all night.
“I guess it sometimes feels like we have a one-sided friendship. There have been so many times when I wanted to tell you what was going on in my life, but somehow we were always dealing with your crises, not mine.”
“Why haven’t you said anything until now?”
“Fuck, my head hurts.” She propped herself up on her elbow. “As much as I think of myself as a straight shooter, it’s hard to tell someone you care about that they’re self-absorbed.”
I flinched. “Ouch.”
“See? This isn’t a fun conversation. But I’m glad I’m still drunk for it.”
I stared down at the bandage and pulled at a loose thread.
“How can I change if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong?”
“Sam. I know you’re a good person, just trying to find your way . . . but so are the rest of us. It’s not like your being divorced in your twenties is worse than someone else’s problems; it’s just different. But sometimes it feels like you don’t really get that.”
I swallowed hard, processing Emilie’s honesty. My face burned.
“Well, this is really embarrassing. It’s not the way anyone wants to see themselves. You’ve gotten me through some pretty dark times. I wish you could say the same about me.”
She smiled sadly. “Now’s your time to shine, babe.”
I went to sit next to her on the bed, wrapping my arm around her bony shoulder. “I’m here now. I’ve been here since last night.”
She planted a kiss on my cheek. “I think a bagel would be a great place to start. And the biggest iced coffee they have.”
I shot up. “On it.”
I threw on my clothes from last night, then grabbed the key Stephen left by the door and ran to the corner deli on Fifth. I tucked the bag of bagels under my arm and balanced the coffee tray in my right hand, setting everything down on the floor to open Emilie’s door.
She stared at my wrist. “Oh, Jesus. You really need to spill how that happened,” she said dryly.
“Nope. Today’s about you.”
“Honestly, right now I’m just so sick of myself. I regret telling you to stop being so self-absorbed. Wait until tomorrow to fix yourself.”
“I can work from here this morning. Keep you company.”
“Have you been typing with one hand?”
“Yes. It sucks balls.”
She grabbed her phone and texted me the contact for Jane Acupuncture Gramercy.
“See if she can fit you in today. She’s an actual miracle worker. You’ll feel better after one session. I go to her for everything. Like, even if I’m just super sore after Pilates.”
“I always saw you more as a pill person. I figured you’d be pushing an old Vicodin stash on me.”
She looked confused. “Shit—did I take a Valium last night?”
“You told Stephen you did.”
“Ugh. I do not want to know.”
I gave her a sympathetic pat. “This too shall pass.”
She huffed. “If I’m not sacked first.”
I dialed Jane Acupuncture Gramercy. Her first opening wasn’t until Saturday morning.
“Bummer,” Emilie said when I hung up.
“I’ve been living with it since early Saturday. I can hang on a few more days.”
“What the fuck were you doing? I demand to know.”
I caved and told her the whole story.
“Oh my god. Are you freakishly strong? I never would have guessed,” she said between fits of laughter.
“Just a drunk idiot.”
“A brutishly strong drunk idiot. Do you think you’ll see him again?”
I shook my head. “I really don’t. It was like, a time and a place. A Friday night in the city. If he called me up and wanted to do something off the wall, I might say yes. Nothing beyond that.”
She looked at me quizzically. “Well, there you are. Our girl is growing up.”
I felt another twinge of guilt for having let her down.
“I swear I’m going to get my shit together.”
She squeezed my right hand. “I know you will. No one thinks you’re intentionally a narcissist.”
“Keep piling it on. It’s good penance.”
“Next favor.”
“Anything.”
“Will you come to my firm holiday party with me? I really can’t bear the thought of being there dateless in front of Stephen . . . and it would be way more fun if we could sit and judge everyone.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll be your proud plus-one.”
She sniffled quietly into a tissue. “Do you think it will hurt less by then?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
“He’s such a prat.”
I nodded. “For what it’s worth, he made sure you got home safely and then asked me to stay with you.”
She bit her lower lip. “I guess that makes him a little less bad.”
“Maybe just a little bit.”