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them over with a lighter。
“I knew you wouldn’t care；” she said； taking a leisurely drag
off her cigarette。 “I’m procrastinating and it helps me
concentrate。”
“What do you have due？” I asked； lighting my own cigarette and
tossing back the lighter。 She was taking seventeen credits
this semester in an effort to pull up her GPA after last
spring’s mediocre showing。 I watched as she took another drag
and washed it down with a healthy gulp of her nonwater
beverage。 It didn’t appear that she was on the right track。
She sighed heavily； meaningfully； and let the cigarette hang
suspended from the corner of her mouth as she spoke。 It
flapped up and down； threatening to fall at any moment and；
bined with her wild； unwashed hair and smeared eye makeup；
made her look—just for a moment—like a defendant onJudge Judy
（or maybe a plaintiff； since they always looked the same—lack
of teeth； greasy hair； dull eyes； and propensity for using the
double negative）。 “An article for some totally random；
esoteric academic journal that no one will ever read but I
still have to write； just so I can say I’m published。”
“That’s annoying。 When’s it due？”
“Tomorrow。” Total nonchalance。 She looked pletely unfazed。
“Tomorrow？ For real？”
She shot me a warning look； a quick reminder that I was
supposed to be on her team。 “Yes。 Tomorrow。 It really blows；
considering that Freudian Boy is the one who’s assigned to
edit it。 No one seems to care that he’s a candidate in psych；
not Russian lit—they’re just short copy editors； so he’s mine。
There’s noway I’m getting that to him on time。 Screw him。”
Once again； she poured some of the liquid down her throat；
making an obvious effort not to taste it； and grimaced。
“Lil； what happened？ Granted； it’s been a few months； but last
I heard； you were taking things slow and he was perfect。 Of
course； that was before that； thatthing you dragged Home； but
。 。 。”
Another warning look； this time followed by a glare。 I’d tried
to talk to her about the whole Freak Boy incident a few dozen
times； but it seemed like we were never really alone and
neither of us had much time lately for heart…to…hearts。 She
immediately changed the subject whenever I brought it up。 I
could tell that more than anything she was embarrassed； she
had acknowledged that he was vile； but she wouldn’t
participate in any discussion whatsoever about the excessive
drinking that was responsible for the whole episode。
“Yes； well； apparently at some point that night I called him
from Au Bar and begged him to e meet me；” she said；
avoiding eye contact； instead concentrating intently on using
the remote control to switch tracks on the mournful Jeff
Buckley CD that seemed to be on permanent replay in the
apartment。
“So？ Did he e and see you talking to； uh； to someone else？”
I was trying not to push her away even more by being critical
of her。 There was obviously a lot going on inside her head；
what with the problems at school and the drinking and the
seemingly limitless supply of guys； and I wanted her to open
up to someone。 She’d never kept anything from me before； if
for no other reason than I was all she had； but she hadn’t
been telling me much of anything lately。 It occurred to me how
strange it was that we hadn’t bothered to discuss this until
four months after the fact。
“No； not quite；” she said bitterly。 “He came all the way there
from Morningside Heights only to find me not there。 Apparently
he called my Cell Phone and Kenny answered and wasn’t all that
nice。”
“Kenny？”
“Thatthing I dragged Home at the beginning of the summer；
remember？” She said it sarcastically； but this time she
smiled。
“Ah…hah。 I’m guessing Freudian Boy didn’t take that well？”
“Not so much。 Whatever。 Easy e； easy go； right？” She
scampered off to the kitchen with her empty glass and I saw
her pour from a half…full bottle of Ketel One。 A very small
splash of soda； and she was back on the couch。
I was just about to inquire as gently as possible why she was
inhaling vodka when she had an article due the next day； but
the buzzer rang from downstairs。
“Who’s there？” I called to John by holding down the button。
“Mr。 Fineman is here to see Ms。 Sachs；” he announced formally；
all Business now that other people were around。
“Really？ Um； great。 Send him up。”
Lily looked at me and raised her eyebrows； and I realized that
once again we weren’t going to have this conversation。 “You
look psyched；” she said with obvious sarcasm。 “Not exactly
thrilled that your boyfriend is surprising you； are you？”
“Of course I am；” I said defensively； and we both knew I was
lying。 Things with Alex had been strained the past few weeks。
Really strained。 We went through all the motions of being
together and we did it well： after almost four years； we
certainly knew what the other wanted to hear or needed to do。
But he’d pensated for all the time I spent at work by being
even more angelic at school—volunteering to coach； tutor；
mentor； and chair just about every activity someone could
think up—and the time we did actually see each other was about
as exciting as if we’d been married for thirty years。 We had
an unspoken understanding that we’d just wait things out until
my year of servitude was over； but I wouldn’t let myself think
about where the relationship might be headed then。
But still。 That made two close people in my life—first Jill
（who’d called me out on the miserable state of affairs on the
phone the other night）； and now Lily—who’d pointed out that
Alex and I were less than adorable together lately； and I had
to admit tha