Free Free Food for Millionaires by Min Jin Lee

two girls.”
    “What?” Ella said.
    The shock value alone of saying such a thing made the humiliation almost worthwhile.
    “They were great-looking girls,” Casey admitted. They really were. She couldn’t let go of just how pretty they were. “Never mind.” Somehow, it wasn’t funny anymore.
    Ella refrained from asking anything but kept nodding. She was still aghast that such a thing could happen.
    “You’re looking at my bruises,” Casey said.
    “It must hurt.”
    “I had a fight with my father.” Casey laughed. “You should see how he looks.”
    Ella smiled painfully. It was impossible to think of her father ever striking her. “Are you really staying at the Carlyle?”
    “Does that surprise you? Because my parents manage a dry cleaner?”
    Ella shook her head. “No. No. That isn’t what I meant. Casey, that’s not fair.”
    “You’re right. My inner bitch is just having a field day with you.” The brown liquid around the sirloin congealed—streaks of white fat marbled the plate.
    “You have found me at the wrong time, Ella. And to be honest, you’re like the last person I want to look this pathetic in front of.”
    “Why?” Ella was surprised by this.
    “Because. Forget it.” Casey picked up her fork and knife and cut into the meat. She wanted Tabasco.
    “I’m sure you have lots of money and. . . ,” Ella said, feeling exasperated by Casey’s persistent hostility.
    “No, I don’t, actually. I just maxed out my credit card because I was so pissed at you.”
    “Me?”
    “No. Not you.” Casey checked herself. “Me.”
    Ella looked confused.
    “I’m a failure. And you’re like a goddamn success parade. God. I hate myself.” Casey started to cry. “I’m sorry. As you can see, I’m not very good company. I better get going.” She looked at her watch and picked up her things. “Thanks for lunch.”
    “Where? Where are you going? You can’t go back home. I mean. . .” Ella didn’t know how to say that right. She didn’t actually know if Casey could go home or not.
    Casey sighed and looked up at the tin ceiling painted a verdigris color. How did this happen to her? Then she knew: She made it happen. It was her own fault.
    “And you have no money. Can I give you money? Do you have another place to stay? I mean. . . may I call someone for you? Can you—”
    “Stop with the questions. I’ll figure something out. This isn’t your problem. I don’t want your help.”
    “What did I ever do to you?” Ella raised her voice.
    “Nothing. You’ve done nothing. I’m just a very small person.” Casey smiled. “Trapped in a very big frame.”
    “You could stay with me. I have an extra bedroom. Until you sort things out.”
    “You have an extra bedroom?”
    “Yes, you can hate me for that, too,” Ella said, laughing. “All right?”
    Ella was making a joke, Casey thought. Ella Shim could be sarcastic. Who knew? She smiled, then color rushed to her face and her eyes stung. “Please don’t be nice to me. It’s really. . .” She took a deep breath.
    “I don’t want anything from you, Casey. I want to help.” Ella tried to think of a new way to explain this to Casey, who obviously didn’t trust anyone at all. Ted was like this. He always thought everyone had an ulterior motive—that there could never be pure altruism.
    “Maybe if I were in your situation, I could ask you for the same,” Ella said. She reasoned that if Casey were like Ted—an argument based on exchange principles might be persuasive.
    “You’d never be in this situation, Ella.”
    Ella narrowed her eyes, confounded by Casey’s reply. “You are so arrogant, Casey. Anyone could be in your situation.” She said this calmly. “Anyone at all.”
    Casey examined Ella’s fine and rare features. There was a strength there she hadn’t noticed before. It was the way she held her head erect, as if she had eyes in the back of her head as well and those eyes looked straight out to the other side of the