“I guess you could say that,” I said, taking a shaky sip of my tea. Around us, fall was overtaking the city, people dressed in their chicest jackets, little dogs wrapped in miniature coats, and pumpkins lined up outside bodegas. Kelly had chosen to sit outside despite the chill, but it hadn’t been the cold making me shake.

The last few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind, emotions and events and conversations so piled up and overlapping that I could barely keep track of who I’d seen. It almost felt like the days after my father’s death all over again. Though this time, instead of the crushing ache of what had just occurred, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I was still mourning, but this time I knew I was mourning for something ultimately toxic, and I had the certainty that came from knowing that I’d extracted myself from a hellish entanglement, instead of the inability to comprehend what would come next.

Most of my friends had welcomed me back to life with open arms, ready to let me make amends and accept my avoidance as a symptom of grief. My time away only made them want my company more. And I was happy for the attention, keen on everyone’s enthusiasm at my return; if I couldn’t be the center of Anneliese’s universe, I could be the center of my friends’.

I hadn’t told everyone about Anneliese. I wasn’t even sure I was ready to talk about that ordeal outside of my therapist’s office. At least not yet. Kelly, however, was too skeptical to accept my apology without explanation, and had coaxed the truth out of me by stating that yes, she had been angry when I hadn’t returned her texts, and she wanted to know the reason. Having lived with me for two years after college, Kelly knew this tactic would work.

I placed my shaking hand in my lap so Kelly couldn’t see she’d struck a nerve. She’d said what I’d refused to believe about myself, that I had swallowed the Kool-Aid, fell for the scam, was brainwashed like all those suckers you hear about in cults, in pyramid schemes.

My therapist took a different approach, of course. She had said that Anneliese was what I’d needed, that I was desperate for someone to depend on, to be vulnerable with after a second parent’s death. That it was perfectly natural to fall prey to someone like that at such a low point in my life.

Then, there had been the conversation with my old boss, who had said that no, she couldn’t give me my job back, but that I could use her as a reference for a new employer if needed. So I was spending my days applying for jobs, forcing myself to leave the apartment and going to local coffee shops to do my research.