That’s what my sister—your aunt—is like. She always wants to help and is one of the few people who is smart enough to know when she can’t, and instead finds you someone who can.

The person Ari found me was Dr. West. And I truly do think Dr. West saved my life. Or at least helped me build it into something new, something meaningful, something I could be proud of.

She helped me become a person I could be proud of.

26

That night, before Emily went to bed, she decided she was going to go back to work tomorrow, Friday. So she made herself a list. It was something Dr. West had taught her. Something she did with her own patients now. It made things less overwhelming to break them down into small chunks, to be able to cross things off a list. And she wanted to be okay tomorrow. She wanted to go to work, like Ezra had suggested, to help someone. And then she’d see him afterward, for dinner, when his day was over, and they’d talk. They’d fix things, the way they always did for other people, only now it would be for each other. It would be hard, but they’d do it. And then when she reached over at night, she’d find him next to her in bed and be comforted. They’d be Emily and Ezra, for better or for worse, for now and forever.

1. Shower
2. Get dressed
3. Eat breakfast
4. Go to work
5. Eat lunch
6. Go home
7. Make dinner for Ezra
8. Talk to Ezra over dinner
9. Go to bed

Nine things. All she’d have to do tomorrow was nine things. She could handle that.

27

When Emily got to work the next day, Priya was waiting in her office with a yogurt and granola parfait and a cinnamon latte, Emily’s breakfast of choice when she was being indulgent.

“How are you doing?” Priya asked as she handed them over.

Emily took a shaky breath, surprised by the gesture. “I’m doing better,” she said, her voice wobbling, and then added: “Even if it doesn’t sound that way.”

Priya put her hand around Emily’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It sucks.”

Emily started to laugh, which stopped the tears that were threatening to fall. “Says the psychologist.”

“Says the psychologist,” Priya agreed. “You know, I used to try to reason things away. I’d tell myself, well, it’s not as bad as being tortured as a prisoner of war, or starving to death, or dying painfully of a completely preventable disease in a remote village without modern medicine. And that’s true. But also, it doesn’t take away from the fact that some things just suck. What was it you said a couple of weeks ago in our consultation group? ‘Sometimes shit is just shit’?”

Emily smiled at her. “This is one of those times.”