Emily thought how nice it was that Priya offered. The two of them had met only a few years ago, when Priya came to work at NYU, and they didn’t really socialize outside of the office, but maybe because they were in that consultation group with Reuben, their relationship felt deeper than it would appear from the outside.

“I don’t know,” Emily said. “It’s more complicated than I’m making it sound.”

“I’m intrigued,” Priya said. “And would love to hear more about what that means. But if you want to do it, I can handle complicated. Up to you, of course.”

Emily thought about it. If Priya were there with her, it wouldn’t be quite as complicated. She could sing “Fast Car,” say hi to Rob and Tony, take a step back into music before she convinced herself not to. It would distract her from obsessing over Ezra and his text messages. And she’d get to spend time with Priya, which she always wanted to do more of outside the office anyway.

“Oh hell,” Emily said. “Let’s do it. It’s in Hoboken at eight.”

“Let’s meet at seven, then,” Priya said. “We can take the PATH train together and have time for a drink before things get started. You can fill me in on why you think this is more complicated than you’re making it sound.”

Part of Emily couldn’t believe she was doing this, but another part felt like it was inevitable. Like it was meant to happen.

“That works for me,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” Priya said. “See you later.”

Emily clicked to the text messages on her phone. What’s the address for tonight? she texted Rob. My friend Priya and I are coming.

That was it. There was no backing down.

xxvi

It’s been years since I’ve written in here, but I was thinking about you today. I started a new job. My very first as a psychologist. After getting my PsyD, after a year of internship, after getting my license, I’ll be working at NYU, helping the students there the way that Dr. West helped me. I’m looking forward to it, but I’m—I can’t quite figure out the right word. Nervous? Scared? Concerned? Worried? Afraid, maybe. I’m afraid I won’t be good enough, I won’t help enough, I won’t be able to find the right words, ask the right questions to make a real difference. All of a sudden it feels like a lot of pressure, a lot of responsibility.

And I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle listening to some of it. Some of the stories that are the most painful, that expose the basest parts of humanity.