But a small part of me feels guilty. Okay, a big part of me feels guilty. My need to please everyone is not something that I can fix overnight. It’s going to take time to learn how to put my feelings first. And even though I’m angry with Asher, I still miss him. My heart and my head have been battling over this for days. Both are far too stubborn to surrender.

So I find my ugliest sweater and pair it with a skirt and my favorite booties and I finally open Asher’s three text messages when I’m on the train to the Demerci.

I know I’m the last person you want to hear from, but there’s a party tonight at a gallery on the Lower East Side. I don’t know why I told Francesca we’d be there, but you don’t have to show up. I’ll understand if you don’t.

It starts at 8:00 at the Demerci.

It’s ugly sweater casual.

A cloud of smoke greets me in front of the gallery. I smile tightly at the cluster of cigarette smokers and try not to breathe as I walk inside.

I’ve never been afraid of a room full of people. Usually, I can strike up a conversation with anyone. I love talking. Aside from ordering take-out, it’s my biggest talent. But tonight I find no comfort in the crowd of strangers. I don’t feel like talking, which probably means I should seek medical attention immediately.

I don’t want to be here.

And that’s a shame because I look really cute in my ugly sweater.

Asher isn’t here. Neither is Francesca. I check the text again. I’m at the right place at the right time. I sigh and walk over to the open bar. I order a ginger ale with lime. Tomorrow’s the Afternoon of Giving at the children’s hospital. It’s not appropriate to be hungover around a bunch of sick children.

I sip my drink and make my rounds, admiring the photos taken by Nawaar Qadir. The exhibit, A Night of Celebration, chronicles holiday traditions from around the world. Quiet glimpses into the lives of people from Pakistan and Peru and Tanzania and all the places in between. They’re all unique in their own way yet encompass the same message: family. Not every photo is one with a smile. There are tears and heartbreak and pain. A woman from Laos is draped over a hospital bed and clutches her chest in pain. The title is simply New Year’s Day. Behind her, a man stands with a newborn in his arms. The end of one life and the beginning of a new one. Hope and future. It’s beautiful in a tragic way.