Eight months ago, Adelaide’s housing situation fell apart, and she had crashed on our couch for what was supposed to be a month. Something to do with having burned through the good graces of most of her other friends from school — I didn’t ask. A month turned into two, and at some point Adelaidestarted sleeping in Minna’s room and paying half of Minna’s rent, a situation Nadine quickly grew to resent.

Then, Adelaide found the cat on the subway tracks near Prospect Park late at night. It proceeded to kill four of Nadine’s plants, break a dozen different pieces of glassware, scratch up the couch, and escape six times in two months. Nadine asked Adelaide for money to cover the cost of the things that had fallen victim to the cat. Adelaide quickly replaced the plants and the glassware but was reluctant to buy a new couch. Then, Nadine insisted that the cat stay in Minna and Adelaide’s bedroom, which Adelaide flat-out refused to do. Both of them used the language of “setting boundaries” and “shared space,” and it became a stalemate. Then, Nadine started taking issue with everything Adelaide did — her messiness, her habits, the way she “monopolized” Minna.

“I feel like she’s taking me hostage,” Nadine said to me once after arguing with Adelaide. Whenever Nadine got into an argument with her, or merely felt disrespected, she’d want to talk to me. I would affirm her feelings and otherwise stay out of it.

I didn’t share Nadine’s dislike of her, but Adelaide knew I was Nadine’s confidante, so it was natural that she was a little cagey around me. I wasn’t sure if Adelaide fully understood the extent of Nadine’s irritation. If she did, it didn’t bother her. The few times I talked with her directly about it, she had a calm, insouciant equanimity about the whole situation.

“I think we just have different ideas about what an apartment should be like,” Adelaide told me once. “That’s basically it, right? Nadine doesn’t want to have to adjust the way she lives.”

“And neither do you,” I said.

“Exactly!” Adelaide said, smiling. “I’m conceding to some of her ridiculous demands and not others. It’s compromise.”

The apartment was empty when I got back. The kitchen was strewn with dishes and empties. I let the cat out on the floor and it immediately sprinted through the open door to Minna and Adelaide’s bedroom. I refilled my water bottle and went out back to light up. I blew a cloud of smoke, watched it slowly dissipate. Across the courtyard someone opened a window, and a slow, swaying accordion tune piped faintly out. Behind me, I heard the sounds of Minna making a late breakfast.