She looked at all the people on the porch and only sort of heard Amanda say, “You’re just a normal person who hates her job, but you’ve got a lot of nice things going for you. You’re in a stable relationship for one thing, which is something I wouldn’t mind having. You know, I have pains in my life, too, but I manage. You manage, too. You’re not a freak, and you don’t turn people off except when you pout all the time, which you’re doing now, but, geez, you’re fine, all right? Stop being so overly self-involved. You have support from family and friends and everything is generally ok. Ok?” Which was a funny backdrop to the exalted feeling she was having of being one with the moment, being one with the porch in its misery, reveling in and revering this capsule of synthesized misery.

“I’m not trying to kiss your ass or anything, I’m trying to get you to snap out of it, because it’s not a great way to relate to people. You’re not a freak. Are you even listening to anything I’m saying? You’re not even looking at me and I’m trying to help you.”

I guess she gets pissed when she’s high, thought Megan.

“The thing I have going for me,” said Megan, “is that I don’t even have to be here if I don’t want to be.” When she said “here” she pointed her finger down at the porch and held her hand in that position for a little too long, and she and Amanda made eye contact, which Amanda thought was aggravating, but which Megan thought was intense and transcendent.

“You’re not even listening at all,” said Amanda.

“Oh, I hear you, but I don’t agree with you that having a boyfriend and having a mom and dad are, like, some kind of prime jewels in life. Because I know what my prime jewels are,” why was she saying that, prime jewels? “And they are the moments in which all of those things—those baser things—melt into the background and I can feel like I know something that other people don’t know and I can go other places if I need to and explore other feelings of meaning and stuff.”