I blanch slightly at those last words. Even though I know what he means. He adds some spices to the onions. “If it’s too strange, you never have to see her again.” But he’s wrong about that. She has my entire reputation in her hands. If she wanted to, she could start up a new bit of online trolling, tell everyone I’m as callous as they all think I am. Not that that would really be a huge part of the news cycle these days, but it could instigate some online hate on Twitter. Which wouldn’t be great if I’m trying to get a job.

It’s that trepidation that compels me to text her back.

In my old life, Page would have been someone I ignored, if not disdained. I would have easily discarded her, her name, and any defining attributes soon after meeting her. She’s almost tacky, but not in a camp, fun way. It’s more like she is trying so hard, doing too much, with her hair, her makeup, all of it flashy and unbecoming, gel stuck to strands of hair and foundation a shade too dark, sponged on top of an orange-y spray tan.

But I don’t have a lot of choices for company right now. She asks me to come over the following evening, as if she knows that I won’t have any plans. And she’s right, I don’t, but I wonder if I should feel a little bit slighted. I push that aside, though, and try to dress in the least intimidating, most welcoming, way possible. I can’t look like I want to upstage her, like I want to throw her Midwestern-ness in her face. Baggy blue jeans, a baby blue T-shirt, Adidas sneakers. I apply minimal makeup, put my hair up in a little ponytail. I don’t want to be noticed, or perhaps noticed for what I used to be.

Page is staying in the house of one of Odilie’s friends, Louisa Bennington, the blonde with the turquoise caftan who spoke at the ceremony. The house was actually bought for Louisa’s adult daughter, who now lives in LA, Page had told me over drinks, so she has the entire place to herself, a Cobble Hill brownstone. “I’m a huge real estate junkie. I mean, my dad’s in the business. The place could be in Architectural Digest if that daughter had finished decorating it and hadn’t moved.” I decide to walk there, even though it’s over an hour away, hoping that the air might make me feel less insane, less buzzy with anxiety.