Free Trouble by Kate Christensen

room by her boyfriend after her second overdose. She had survived, and in the aftermath of this brush with death, she had contacted Indrani and me, her two oldest, closest friends, and told us she was going to get clean, for real. Meanwhile, I was having problems for the first time with Anthony and freaking out about being a new mother, and Indrani had just been cheated on and dumped by another hot, seductive asshole. Raquel flew to New York, and the three of us camped out in Indrani’s living room for a three-day powwow, during which Indrani had turned into some kind of hands-on tough-love life coach and told Raquel and me she was horribly disappointed in all three of us, and what were we all thinking? Raquel and I had uncharacteristically lost our usual stoic, self-reliant tough-mindedness and agreed with her; at one very raw low point, we’d all cried together. In the end, after relapsing again, and more than one stint in rehab, Raquel had finally gotten clean and made a new album, I’d mothered Wendy as well as I could and stayed in my marriage, but Indrani had remained alone and preyed upon.
    “Frankly, I don’t feel pathetic at all, Indrani,” I said. “I can’t speak for Raquel, but I bet she doesn’t, either.”
    “I know I do,” said Indrani.
    “And you think I am, too.”
    “Well,” she said, then stopped, looking down at the little clementine, which she turned in her hands. “Maybe not pathetic. But I’m disappointed. I can’t lie to you.”
    I looked into the fire. “Are you actually mad that I’m leaving Anthony?” I asked her cautiously. The caution was my effort to keep my anger at bay, to keep myself from telling her to stop projecting her own regrets and self-castigations onto her best friends.
    “I’m not mad,” she said. “I’m concerned. There’s a difference.”
    “The thing is,” I said, “I don’t need concern at all right now. I am fine. I feel like I’m coming back to life. Like this is long overdue. I wish you could trust me. I wish you had more confidence in my ability to make a sane and rational decision, no matter how sudden it feels to you.”
    “I can’t believe you want me to sit here and tell you it’s all going to be fine,” she said. “I can’t do that; it wouldn’t be honest.”
    “It’s what I told you when Vince left,” I said. “And I was right, wasn’t I?”
    “But he was a loser,” she said. “And he didn’t matter. This is a fifteen-year marriage we’re talking about here. How could I not at least try to help you save it?”
    “It’s beyond saving,” I said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
    “But how can you know that when you haven’t even told Anthony yet?”
    “I know that because I’ve been married to him for so long. I know what’s possible and what isn’t.” I stopped, too weary to repeat myself anymore. “Please stop lecturing me, Indrani.”
    We looked blankly at each other. I was so angry at her I was shaking.
    “We’re going in circles,” she said.
    “I know we are.”
    “I don’t think I can talk about this anymore,” she said.
    “Me, neither.”
    I got up and went out to the foyer and took my coat and scarf off the coat tree, took my bag off the bench. Without another word between us, I left Indrani sitting there alone on her couch. Down on the street, I walked fast, glad for the cold air on my face. I passed the bar where I’d met Peter. In daylight, the neon was muted, the facade sordidly inviting. It would be warm and cozy in there right now, and another hot coffee with rum would go down so nicely, I thought, but I passed by, the entire memory of the previous night resurging in my brain, whole, unmitigated. Still, I felt no guilt, only exhilarated disbelief that I had finally cracked open the carapace that had contained me for so long. Life was so much bigger, so much more interesting, than I had allowed myself to know.
    I rode the subway downtown, slumped in my seat, rocking with the