There’s a beat of silence. I know the ball is in my court to take him up on the offer, which will no doubt color in some of these more fuzzy details. As a data person, that should be what I want. Right now, in fact. But, honestly, I’m not ready for all that. I’m still just...processing.

“No, you can’t,” I say. “I...I’ve got somewhere I need to go tonight.”

I hang up the call. Lucy said after grief group that sometimes you just know who you can trust. Right now, that’s not Brian. It’s Casey. Five years of unwavering friendship and I owe five minutes back to her. So I take a photo of the poster that’s pinned to the bulletin board by the elevators—the one that says “CURIOSITY EXPO—TONIGHT!”—return Leno to the apartment, and refer back to the image as I punch the address into my Uber app.

I pay the five-dollar cash entry fee at the door and enter a dingy, yellow-wallpapered boardroom at a run-down hotel not far from our place. In exchange they offer me a wristband that I’m told is redeemable for as much as I can drink. I decline. I’ve had enough experience with wristbands lately.

There are about twenty attendees moving slowly across the room like ghosts from table to table. The event is set up like a flea market: each vendor has a card table and on it whatever they decided to bring in from their rusty conversion van that I’m sure doubles as an illegal dwelling space.

Casey’s pale legs stick out against the ornate gold-and-maroon hotel carpet. I spot her with a Pabst Blue Ribbon in one hand and a rabbit’s foot in the other, talking to a mini crowd. To see her in her element, holding the foot of an animal, makes me proud.

She spots me and I wave like a stage mom. Casey rolls her eyes, admittedly not the reaction I was going for. “And that’s the story of how a rabbit’s foot became a symbol of luck,” she says as the people disperse.

“Wow, would you look at this turnout.” I gesture to my right and left. “Pretty good for a Tuesday, yeah?”

“What are you doing here, Charlotte?”

“I saw your flyer in the lobby of our building when I went down to walk Leno and I wanted to come check out your expo.”

“Okay. Let me ask it another way: Why are you here?”

“I wanted to make sure my roommate was alive. You haven’t been home at all. Sue me, I was worried.”

“I left you a note. I said I was mad. Why would I want to be in the apartment and deal with your diva ass?” Casey turns her back to me and puts the rabbit’s foot on the table. She busies herself positioning it, changing its direction three different times in five seconds.

“I know I’ve been an asshole,” I announce. “Sure, a lot of shit hit the fan for me over the last week or so, but that doesn’t excuse anything. I’m a grown woman. I need to be able to handle my business and still be a good friend, roommate, wing-woman, you name it. I shouldn’t have tried to get you to leave the cruise early. I should have run the script on James.”