That wasn’t terrible. It felt like talking through a problem with a friend who’s really good at giving advice. No exercises and no reading aloud. It’s the first time I’ve successfully made it through an entire therapy session. That’s a victory in itself.

“What’d you think?” Siri asks as we stroll out onto the city sidewalk.

I shrug and bite back a smile. “Donya’s pretty cool.”

“You’re going to write your own letters, right?” she asks earnestly. “You’ll do it with me?”

When Donya suggested this letter thing, my gut reaction was eh.

I don’t know why I’ve had such an aversion to advice over the years. I have a special high-grade disregard for Grams’s and my father’s suggestions. Their advice feels like control. It feels like there’s an ulterior motive. And to be honest, I like the triumph of figuring something out all on my own.

But that’s not working. And part of succeeding is … knowing when to ask for help.

And I mean, I think they’re going to make a difference, because fuck if Siri’s letter yesterday didn’t turn things around in less than an hour.

I nod to her. “Yeah, I’ll do the letters.”

“For real?” She stares sideways at me.

I glance up at the sky. “Yeah, sis, I’m on it.”

“Thank you!” She claps her hands together excitedly. “Okay! Well, I think I’m going to meet you at home. I have something I want to do before I head back.”

I shoot her a dubious look. “Your weirdly happy demeanor is throwing me off my axis. It’s so off brand. What the excrement happened to you?”

She giggles. “It would be what the intercourse.”

“You giggle now?” I burst. “Are you someone else wearing Siri’s skin? Did you get glitter bombed again? Were you like this before the accident? Was Angst Lord Siri a phase?”

Siri rolls her eyes, walking backward away from me. “She wasn’t a phase.”

“Okay, where are you going?” I ask.

“To the ballet studio. I have to run this errand by myself.”

“Okay, well, be careful,” I shout, worry creeping into my gut like I’m dropping my child off at school. “Make good choices!!”

She spins with another grin and runs off down the street.

“Don’t run! You’re going to hurt your back!” I watch her immediately slow down. She sticks an arm up and waves at me, using the other arm to brace her lower back as she power walks. Excited dummy.

“SIRI 2.0, PERK LORD OF YORK,” I shout after her.

I stop and take in my surroundings. There’s a familiar-looking food truck parked down the street. I think I have some things I want to do too.

92. A Girl Wants to Make It Better

JAMIE

September 10, Thursday Afternoon

New York City