For a minute Samantha thought of swallowing all the Percocet like another bag of M&M’s. But even that was pointless. She had already been featured in Manhattan magazine. She didn’t need to be next week’s disastrous life story of the rich and famous. Judy and Clarice would just chuckle about it. And Barry would make it into a movie with Nicole Kidman as her and Nicolas Cage playing the sensitive and sexy him. Samantha began to feel the room swaying as if she were nine years old and with her parents sailing on the Queen Elizabeth to Europe. Samantha loved that trip because every night she’d leave her parents dancing and sneak up to the deck to look at the stars. Samantha learned all the constellations that crossing. She began to recite them slowly: Andromeda, Aquila, Canis Major and Minor, Cassiopeia, Corona Borealis, Orion, Pegasus, Perseus, Ursa Major and Minor.

A chill ran up Samantha’s body. She pulled the extra mohair afghan at the foot of the bed over her just as she had done on those deck chairs under the stars. She tucked her legs up and breathed the fresh winter air. If she took too many Percocet, it would seem almost spoiled. And Samantha knew she was privileged, but she wasn’t spoiled. She had gotten past realizing she’d never be known for being a singer, a curator, a mother, or frankly anything else but a well-educated ornament. And to survive all that plus Barry Santorini meant she wasn’t spoiled. She was, in fact, deceptively strong.

Cozy and warm now, Samantha clicked the remote back on. She sat up and grinned when she saw that I Love Lucy was on. There was something very restorative about Lucy and Ethel singing “Babalu” at Ricky’s nightclub. Samantha began giggling. She wished she could work at the Tropicana club with Ethel and Lucy. She’d be happy to be a hatcheck girl if they’d let her sing “Misty” in a black slip dress on Monday nights.

Samantha laughed heartily out loud until she felt her eyes beginning to water. She went to the window to draw the curtains and see the stars. Instead she saw a heavy snowstorm, a blizzard covering the town with maybe a foot of fresh powder. She decided that if it kept snowing tomorrow she would go skiing. Set new tracks. She was old enough to know that men like Barry don’t get punished. Barry would win more Oscars, take over more studios, find another younger, more accomplished woman, or perfect Clarice would take him back. But she was independent. She had backbone from her mother, and just like Lucy and Ethel, she had joie de vivre.