Inside, all the lights were off and Nadine was sitting on the armchair hunched over her laptop, which glowed an angry white, lighting up all the angles of her face.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“With Violet at a bar,” I said.

She smiled with her mouth but not her eyes, then sort of wrinkled her face and looked back down at her laptop.

“Our neighbor came by,” Nadine said. “Camila, I think her name is. She wanted to know what was going on.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I said we had some conflict. I don’t know. I’m so fucked up. She was so nice. She thought it was someone’s bad boyfriend. I guess I’m the bad boyfriend.”

I realized she was very drunk. I sat next to her.

“Leo, you’re good,” Nadine slurred. “You deserve good things happening to you.” She was crying. I leaned over her chair to hug her, and before long, I was crying too.

Her body was so much smaller than mine, so much more fragile, but she clung to me with the force of a cat digging in its claws. She rested her head against my breast and sniffled and mumbled. “I’m sorry I haven’t been good to you,” she said. “I feel so fucking stupid.”

The shoulder of my dress was saturated with tears and snot. She buried her face as deep as it would go in the hollow space of my chest and let out a long, sustained wail.

♒

I woke up to a long text from Violet. It began: so I feel sorta weird about how I acted last night. I totally understand if you don’t want to . . .

I turned my phone off and pulled the covers over my head.

Adelaide was sitting on the couch, taking long pulls on her vape, filling the air with strawberry-flavored smoke. Nadine came in, made herself coffee, and left. She had dark circles under her eyes.

It was already afternoon outside, the light was turning soft and forgiving. I realized that I was staring at the big stack of dishes in the sink, untouched since yesterday.

I did the dishes. It took fifteen minutes.

While I did them I thought about how my life had maybe finally begun, after a few delays. I was still young. I could buy a bicycle and never take the subway again. I could take out student loans that I’d never repay. I could mail a picture of myself with long hair and smooth skin to my mother. I could forgive Violet and then methodically have sex with all of her friends, never let her touch me again.

At the end of the dishes, there was an empty sink. I watched the water run down the drain for a moment.

“Thank you,” Adelaide said quietly from behind me. When I turned to look at her I noticed for the first time a weary expression on her face.