And I suppose she understands, better than anyone, how my coldness cost our friend his life. Because if I had simply found a way to manage my feelings, there wouldn’t have been tension to begin with. If I’d explained to the two of them that I felt abandoned, perhaps they would’ve found a way to draw me back in. If I had even assured Oscar in that moment that he didn’t need to attend a party he had no interest in to win my affection, he might have stayed home with Molly.

But I didn’t want him and Molly to stay home and talk about how glad they were they could enjoy themselves without drugs and alcohol, unlike me. I dearly wanted Molly to come out with us that night, and if Oscar came, Molly would come. And so—

“We all split off when we got to the party,” Molly says. “I think you, Eleanor, and Alfie went off first. I was with the others in the backyard for an hour or two, and Oscar was drinking like he wanted a hangover. Then at some point he went to the bathroom and he didn’t come back.”

My memories become blurrier around this point. I think, by then, it was just Eleanor and me. We’d taken something—I still don’t know what, exactly, because it never mattered to me what I experienced back then, as long as it wasn’t reality. Euphoria, hallucinations, relaxation, oblivion—it was all equally appealing.

I can see Oscar making his way through the crowd, and his eyes lighting up when he spied Eleanor and me on the couch. He sat between us and showed us several pills “some guy” had given to him. We pressed further until we established who he meant—Etienne.

“We’ve bought from him more than once,” I told him. “His stuff is trustworthy.”

He took a pill in front of us, and I remember hoping he would enjoy it, and want to come out with us more often. And that Molly would follow, and we might all become equally close, like Eleanor, Molly, and me were. Perhaps, I thought, nobody would be left behind after all.

“I think he found Eleanor and me after that,” I tell Molly now. “He had some pills with him. I told him I’d taken pills from Etienne before.”

Molly looks at me, unblinking. “Did you lie?”

“No.”

She shrugs, resigned and slow. A “what can you do?” sort of shrug. As though it were all unavoidable. As though I didn’t have opportunity after opportunity to stop things, and save him. As though I didn’t waste each one.