“She’s fine. She’s fine,” I tell her parents. “We just… um…” And then I start giggling. I can’t stop. It all seems so absurd—seeing Parisa, high as a kite, crying in a bathtub. I have to sit on the ground and pull my knees against my chest so that I won’t pee myself in front of Fereshteh and Reza.

“I did drugs and I think I took too much and I’m going to die!” she says.

“What did you guys take?” Reza asks me.

We got the edibles from her parents’ closet and the vodka from their living room, but I decide to keep those details to myself.

“Just some pot gummies and vodka,” I manage to say.

Her parents simultaneously breathe a sigh of relief. They tell Parisa she’s not going to die. I can tell they’re a little mad, but mostly they’re just trying not to laugh. Fereshteh takes Parisa’s hand and gently leads her to bed. She tucks her in and says she’ll get her some milk and cookies to help sober her up. Reza is tasked with driving me home. As a punishment for both of us, I am no longer invited to spend the night. Parisa yells at her mom and says that she’s being unfair for making me leave, but I wish she would stop defending me. There’s nothing more uncomfortable than witnessing a fight between a friend and their parents. There’s nothing more uncomfortable than witnessing a fight between a friend and her parents—when they’re all being the versions of themselves I never want to see.

I quickly grab my bag and wish someone would give me freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and organic milk as punishment for getting too high. Before I leave, Parisa takes a break from arguing with her mom and mouths, I’m sorry. I smile back reassuringly. Sometimes I wish her neurotic personality didn’t get in the way of our fun, but then I remind myself that this is not just a quirk or character flaw. She has an anxiety disorder, and that’s probably harder on her than it is on anyone else. I give her a quick hug, and she whispers, “Thanks for saving my life,” in my ear.

“Anytime,” I tell her. And I mean it. She doesn’t know it, but she’s saved mine too many times to count.

Reza doesn’t talk much on the drive to my house. I’m still feeling the effects of the edible, and I try to take quiet breaths to keep the buzz at bay. I need to be in my right mind when I face my parents. We don’t have a lot of rules in our home, but the most important one is that I’m not allowed to drink or do drugs.