For a second I thought about forgetting the whole thing, telling Michael I couldn’t find it, anything. But honestly, why should it make any difference whether I was braving a crowd of strangers in a casual or an upscale setting?

Opening that box, thinking about Aimee, had just brought it all closer to the surface. The entire story of my crappy past year filled me to the brim. It was all I could think about, all the time. And if I wasn’t careful, if I relaxed for even a second, I would vomit it all out. A group setting seemed safe.

I just wanted my existence to be less effort. A conversation that I didn’t have to edit, an evening where I wasn’t trying to prove anything. When Michael and I met, I’d just said whatever I wanted, and he did the same. Now he was so worried about me, and I was so desperate to appear okay, that we were performing our relationship instead of participating in it. I couldn’t keep pretending to be okay; my poker face sucked. I had to get better for real.

Fortunately, there was time before the meeting to scroll through the list of mental health care providers covered by our new insurance. Screw trying to get a recommendation. I was going to make the very first appointment I could get.

I am friendly. I am brave. As I stood in front of the country club, my affirmations didn’t change the truth. I would rather have faced death by firing squad a thousand times than attend even one women’s club meeting.

I started at the welcome table, draped in bright blue and adorned with brochures, forms, pens, and several vases of faux bluebonnets. Two women sat behind it, one dressed in turquoise, the other in fuchsia, colors that would have made them stand out like tropical birds against the black-and-white palette of New York. I hesitated, wondering if I’d made another mistake, but then one saw me and smiled. “Come on over! If you’re looking for the Bluebonnets, you’re in the right place.”

Haltingly, I approached, and the bright smiles and brighter colors seemed to intensify. The woman in fuchsia had dark hair pulled back into a fat ponytail, tied with a silken scarf. “You’re new?” she asked.

When I nodded, she lit up like I’d made her day. “We are so glad you found us! If you’ll go ahead and fill out a membership form and a name tag, Christy’ll take your dues and give you a welcome bag.” She pushed a little package across the table, and then her gaze shifted past me and she shrieked, “Ginny? Oh my God, it’s been ages!”