Page 60 of Kitten

“You’ll take care of yourself, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

She smiled. “You’re a good girl. I can tell.” She opened her arms, and I understood what she was offering me, but by then I could no longer bear to take it.

The door shut. She said something to James that I could not discern. The sound of his quiet laughter broke through, slightly wet and almost real. I squeezed my eyes tight, pinched the skin of my wrist, counted and counted.

Had anyone ever been so wrong? I couldn’t believe I once saw James as unflappable, infallible, singularly adult. All along, he was just somebody’s lamb.

—

I worried I was runninglate to meet Lou, but when I got to the bar, she wasn’t there yet. The street was crowded with people. Sunday evening on the Lower East Side, perfume of matured garbage and peach vape. The hostess sighed. “I can only hold your reservation for five more minutes.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said. “I’m just calling her now.”

Lou picked up. “Katie. I lost my necklace. I’m sorry. I’ll be ten minutes, max.”

“They’re going to give the reservation away,” I said. “Like, right now.”

“Tell them to hold it.”

“They’ve already held it for twenty-five.”

“Oh my God, put them on the phone with me.”

I looked at the hostess, who glared back. “Where are you?” I asked. “Have you even left?”

“No, but I’m about to, I’m literally opening the door.”

“You haven’t chosen your outfit yet.”

“You know what?” Lou’s voice drifted in and out. “Just come over. I’m four blocks away. I have wine at home.”

“Are you sure? Won’t you get charged?”

“It’s fine, I don’t care,” she said. “You have my location.”

I never thought to check Lou’s location. She would’ve been upset to hear that, because she gave it to me when she first started going on online dates as a safeguard against ending up in the Hudson.

At the corner store next to her building, I bought a bag of pizza-flavored chips and a bottle of red wine. I rang her buzzer three times before her voice crackled through the intercom. The elevator looked ancient, so I climbed the four flights of stairs.

Lou swung open the door. “I thought you died,” she said. Her dark curly hair was still wet from her shower, dripping onto her white T-shirt. A bright yellow pimple patch sat on the center of her forehead. I felt enormously happy to see her. “What took you so long?”

“I took the stairs.”

“You’re so weird.”

She led me to the velvet couch. I took in thesurrounding décor, eclectic and unfamiliar. On the coffee table, a plastic bottle filled with flowers leaked onto a stack of glossy fashion magazines. Candles in the shape of headless and busty women flickered dangerously close to the sheer yellow curtains. Few of the items seemed to belong to Lou, or maybe they were just new.

“Is anyone else home?”

“Nope, Becca and Nicolo just left.”

“I brought you something.”

“Delightful.” Lou unbagged the chips. “Pizza, my favorite. Thanks.”

“Did you find your necklace?”