“Oh, shit,” Patty said.

“What’s wrong?” Madeline asked. “Are you feeling sick?”

“It’s my ex.”

Madeline looked toward the door, where the men were collecting towels and water bottles. “Do you need to talk to him?”

“I’d rather not. We’re not supposed to see each other until . . .”

“Until what?”

“Until I’m ready to. Would you mind if we left?”

“But we just got here.”

“I know. But if he sees me I might combust.”

Madeline sighed. “All right. Grab your stuff.”

They managed to sneak out while Bryan and his friends were in the locker room. In the car, Patty apologized. “We can come back another time. Maybe during the day, when I know he’ll be at work?” Madeline agreed, but Patty could tell she was disappointed. “I’m really sorry—I know you’ve been wanting to show me the gym.”

“It’s not about me or the gym,” Madeline said. “It’s about getting you out of the house. You sit around all day reading and sucking on ice cubes. It can’t be good for your mind. Or your body.”

Patty wanted to explain everything—how she’d told Bryan she was on vacation, how she didn’t want him to see her until she was thin. But she couldn’t tell Madeline any of this without revealing how pathetic she was. “I know,” Patty said. “It’s just hard.”

“People do hard things every day,” Madeline said.

“Is it possible I’m just not one of them?”

“It is,” Madeline said, her tone serious, “but only if you keep thinking that way.”

Later that week, at dinner, Madeline told Patty about a job. A friend of hers managed the used bookstore downtown and was looking for someone to work a few weekday shifts.

Patty shrugged. “I guess I could do that.” She was drinking her nightly vanilla-flavored protein shake, slowly sipping it through a straw so as to savor it. For dessert, she would eat exactly fourteen purple grapes.

“Don’t sound so excited,” Kurt said.

“I am excited,” Patty said. “Or at least I’m trying to be. It’s just hard.”

“Why does it have to be hard? You love reading. Madeline wants to help you get a job at a bookstore. Why’s it so hard to be excited about that?”

“You don’t understand,” Patty said. “You’ve never been sad. You’re too good looking.”

“Oh, come on,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes. Patty could tell part of him was flattered.

Madeline put her fork down. “I get it, Patty,” she said. “You’re in a rut. But I think this job will be a good thing.”

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, Madeline and Kurt sawing at their chicken, Patty taking careful sips of her shake, her stomach growling as she steadily filled it. For some reason, she liked that Madeline had chosen the word rut. It was a thing with three parts—a beginning, a middle, and an end. For the moment, Patty was inside of the rut, but all she had to do was work hard enough, and she would eventually come out on the other side.