{"id":6036,"date":"2026-04-21T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-04-21T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/?p=6036"},"modified":"2026-04-01T00:11:27","modified_gmt":"2026-04-01T05:11:27","slug":"the-bitter-end","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/the-bitter-end\/","title":{"rendered":"The Bitter End"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

\u200b            Alice felt brackish being back in the city. She was seasick from the stinking, lumbering bus from Boston and standing in the throat of Port Authority. That and everything: the three hundred level philosophy and psychology classes; 2 a.m. wake-ups in the library; summiting 25-page papers; the long dirty winter of ramen noodles, and rounds of sweltering and freezing, inside, outside, all the time, took her down to the studs. Spring didn\u2019t feel like release or renewal. It felt like a dated rerun. All she could think about was lying on the twin bed her mother surely put in her new bedroom in the latest apartment\u2014Better views! Higher ceilings! More light!\u2014two blocks from the last one. She drifted toward the usual meeting point, the ghostly sculpture installation of \u201cThe Commuters,\u201d forever frozen while somberly waiting to board a bus. Supposedly a tribute to the commuting masses, Alice saw herself in the dull monotony of their slumped bodies and blank faces. People swerved around her, clicking their tongues. A man smacked into her. \u201cIdiot,\u201d he hissed, \u201cthis whole thing is about keeping moving.\u201d Alice glared at the back of his head. \u201cIdiot yourself,\u201d she muttered, looking for a clock. This could not be the first time in eight years the meet up failed. She came through the heavy doors, flipping her dark, glossy hair back and mirrored Ray Bans up. Alice exhaled. No one felt more like home to her. Elena, solid ground and bright sky.
            Their hug was long and hard. \u201cTo make up for the fact that you\u2019re leaving for the summer again<\/em>,\u201d Elena pulled back and stared into Alice\u2019s eyes, \u201cwe will jump into having fun.\u201d She sighed. \u201cOnce we get you fixed up, of course.\u201d She took a bulging bag from Alice\u2019s shoulders. As they walked out onto the sidewalk, Elena chirped about people and things. It was a frizzy day, warm for early May. The city, too, was winter-worn, gray. As they walked, Elena\u2019s warm, familiar warbling picked Alice up and carried her the rest of the way off the front lines and onto the life raft that was her best friend since kindergarten, driving her crazy, and loving her madly, since circa 1973.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cObviously we\u2019ll go to Joan\u2019s new place first…\u201d Since middle school, they\u2019d been referring to Alice\u2019s mother by her first name. \u201c\u2026then we\u2019ll grab a bite, a nap and a shower, in that order,\u201d Elena said. \u201cGood plan?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice nodded. \u201cThanks for coming to get me,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m fried.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo shit! You\u2019re like one of those hot dogs we used to eat on Coney Island!\u201d Elena laughed. \u201cWhat are they called again?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cConeys, I think,\u201d Alice said, prickling, while Elena shouted, \u201crippers!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Had it been so long that Elena didn\u2019t catch herself anymore, didn\u2019t give Alice an apologetic glance, bringing up Coney Island?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a class she took on spirituality in the modern world, Alice had been secretly working on \u201csaying yes\u201d to life. In her wallet, she kept a Rumi poem, \u201cThe Guest House,\u201d about welcoming thoughts and feelings like visitors entering a guest house. She was a work in progress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            That night, after each of the promised steps and Q & A with Joan, her real estate broker mother, Elena insisted on going out for just a drink. \u201cWe are twenty-one<\/em>,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Waving and smiling at strangers as they walked through the dark bar, Elena pulled Alice up a set of sticky stairs to a balcony with stools lined up at a counter on the banister, facing the stage. Through shafts of spotlight, they had a clear view of the blue-lit stage below.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI see you\u2019ve been here before,\u201d Alice shouted to Elena over the house music, watching a group of fake ID holders with glowing white teeth spool out of one of the back corners, fiddling with each other\u2019s miniskirts and poufy bangs.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elena waved a peace-sign at a guy behind the long bar on the main floor. \u201cThe band is really hot. I mean the music. I wanted it to be a surprise!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWanted what <\/em>to be a surprise?\u201d Alice said, but Elena\u2019s attention pinballed. Her usual buoyant energy had been consistently escalating. By the time they walked into the Greenwich Village bar wedged between a window featuring a giant plastic pepperoni slice and another crammed with grimy bongs, she was babbling about the drummer and the bassist like they were her brothers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two glasses of electric blue liquid appeared on the table in front of them. Elena bent back, twirling the mini paper umbrella at the scruffy man whose bandana showcased a broad, shiny forehead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re always the best, Marty!\u201d Elena cooed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Marty winked. Alice sipped the fruity florescent drink. Elena leaned over the table, scooting Alice\u2019s elbows into her palms. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou love it, right? Marty calls it Sex on the Driveway, an urban twist on the usual Sex on the Beach,\u201d she laughed, raising her cup. \u201cLet\u2019s toast! May we jam the whole summer into the next three weeks!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice tilted her cup to Elena\u2019s. \u201cNo one has a driveway in the city,\u201d she said. Elena rolled her eyes and sipped through the tiny plastic straw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two hours, two drinks, and multiple assurances from Elena later, the house lights went down and a band appeared. Elena shot up, whistling through her fingers. During the first songs, top 40 covers, Alice watched her friend unfurl like a flag in the wind, arms waving, hips swaying. She herself still felt underwater, or maybe just dispassionate and detached, like an anthropologist or a surgeon. But no, something watery rinsed through her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The fake IDs tossed their hips and projected their chests at the bassist, guitarist and singer, who played into their groping by toeing and backing away from the edge of the stage. The music was crisp and accurate, but the scene, including Elena, was teeny bopper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou Shook Me All Night Long\u201d was a favorite. Alice closed her eyes and was suddenly watching herself run Smoots along the Charles River, Walkman cranked. When a crooning ballad rolled in, she opened her eyes to see if it was the same singer. It was. The guys romped around the stage like idiots, but their rawness morphed from dirty to glamorous, loose and easy to strutting and defiant. She felt the live music wanting to hook her, to pull her in, and was not about to be tied up and thrown over a shoulder. Not her, not here, not tonight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She studied the guys with steely distrust. The drummer\u2019s mouth contorted to the beat, his gaze a lightning bolt of concentration. The bassist\u2019s long, sickle-shaped trunk curled over his instrument. The guitarist\u2019s high cheekbones and spiky bleached hair. Were they ridiculous? Or so in thrall to the music that restraint and self-consciousness disappeared?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The front man\u2019s chameleonic voice was Clapton, Jagger, Springsteen, Bono\u2014a mixed tape in a boom box. What was that bit in the spirituality class? Something about \u201cno equilibrium without facing the music.\u201d She parsed his details: thin, blond hair; compact legs in tattered, acid-wash jeans; a long, hairless torso beneath a rumpled, mis-buttoned black shirt. Piece by piece, nothing remarkable. And yet, as he twirled toward the guitarist and lurched back to the microphone to belt out lyrics, her breath caught. When his fist shot up, she almost followed. He marched and leapt and skipped and dipped and shimmied and bent over the microphone like it was a child, or a lover. Loping across the stage, left to right, from the front edge to the back shadows, winking at the bassist, throwing a peace sign to the drummer, squatting and jumping up to taunt the fake IDs. She watched Elena responding effortlessly, gracefully to the band\u2019s amplified, hyperbolic performance. But Alice only felt overheated and exposed, with something like Pop Rocks exploding in her chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally, the stage went dark and the band disappeared into the back. \u201cThat was fun!\u201d Alice shouted in Elena\u2019s ear, more volume than enthusiasm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome meet them!\u201d Elena squealed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice stood up, light-headed, her legs as unsteady as a knock-kneed fawn. \u201cWhat the hell is in that drink?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cAlcohol!\u201d Elena hooted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

According to Joan, this was the last real summer, meaning the only kind of summer Alice knew. After she graduates, there would be no more three month summer vacations or days off for \u201ceverything under the sun.\u201d Her mother called herself a realist. Elena\u2019s phrase was mano dura<\/em>\u2014a firm hand, which she said was in line with, but more respectful than, Type A or battle axe. Alice believed Joan\u2019s screws tightened when she became the only parent. If her mother managed the family\u2019s basic needs, her father was free to show Alice the firehouse where he was captain, the Tenement Museum, the Transit Museum, Ellis Island, Governors Island. He wanted to show her how culture, history, thought all pendulumed through time. Once Alice overheard her mother crap on the head of her father\u2019s mission. \u201cIf you really want to support our daughter\u2019s education, you would teach her a musical instrument, a second language or a practical skill.\u201d Mano dura, <\/em>indeed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe this dissatisfaction was why Joan decided they\u2019d go Coney Island that Memorial Day weekend. Alice was eleven and unenthused. Her dad\u2019s understanding smile persuaded her not to complain. That morning, a real estate deal blew up and her mother stayed home. Once out of the apartment, her father promised fried Oreos for lunch after riding the Cyclone as many times as they wanted. Five, it turned out. Alice would have gone again, but her father had a headache so they ate funnel cakes while he drew a roller coaster in the dust at their feet, explaining the effects of gravity, momentum, centripetal force, and friction. She asked her dad if he was sad that her mother didn\u2019t come, but he laughed and said, \u201cYour mother is a marvel.\u201d Alice remembered little else until she found herself at the Rangeley Lake Camp for Girls the day after fifth grade ended, except that her father\u2019s headache was caused by a fractured vertebrae in his neck, and two days later, he was \u201cgone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice became a ward of her mother\u2019s efficient, methodical planning. Watching the blurry river whirr by from the backseat of a rental car, she feebly tried to imagine herself as a camper. Her mother promised she\u2019d start to feel better after a few days of fresh air. Being outside all day and evenings around the bonfire did help her sleep. But the counselors\u2014younger, cooler, more attentive parents, especially the Director, Ben Waterman\u2014made the real difference.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice had a twice weekly appointment in Mr. Waterman\u2019s office. \u201cIt is very difficult for a girl to lose her father at a young age,\u201d he told her. \u201cIt will take time to feel normal again.\u201d Those first weeks, Alice clung to the soft, muffling shroud that had wrapped itself around her weeks before. When she complained that her mother was too busy to visit, Mr. Waterman said she was also grieving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thankfully, the band was in the mysterious off-limits \u201cback\u201d by the time Elena and Alice got down the stairs and up to the stage. The fake IDs, who had turned into a pack of jackals during the set, had returned to more docile pack activities.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice faked cramps to go home. But Elena heard none of it. The crowd started chanting for the band to return. \u201cFree Bird!\u201d they shouted. \u201cStairway to Heaven!\u201d The band returned to the stage playing the first notes of \u201cLivin\u2019 on a Prayer.\u201d The crowd roared. If it was pleasure that Alice felt, it had a thread of restless agony. She opened and closed her eyes, stood up and sat down, put her attention on the things nailed to the wall\u2014a blue bucket, two fishing poles, a net of dozens of yellow rubber ducks. The house lights came on. Elena was drenched, pink cheeked, and grinning unbearably. Alice could not stand another second of near-rapture. It was time to go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As they picked their way out, Elena gushed at Marty, back-slapped roadies, and nodded to the fake IDs. Finally, Alice pulled her the rest of the way out to the sidewalk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI told you, didn\u2019t I?\u201d Elena\u2019s wide eyes were an inch away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Alice swallowed, unable to pour out her confusing feelings. \u201cI\u2019m starving.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPizza!\u201d Elena shouted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            They plopped down at a greasy table in the buzzing blue fluorescence of the giant pepperoni slice place. A waitress dropped the slices down between them. With pink grease dripping down her forearms, Elena cooed at her slice, praising the gods of cheese and bread and sauce. Alice, too, felt somewhat better. Her twin bed was howling for her. Holding open the door for Elena, Alice clucked, and the band walked in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At Foxleigh, the boarding high school that was the next great idea after summer camp, Alice attended Hot Pot mac & cheese parties with so-called friends, but only on the hall phone with Elena did she share her actual life. She felt bad complaining about boarding school, and later about Northeastern, but Elena always swore she was thrilled to be getting an inexpensive associates degree before matriculating\u2014with a full scholarship, mind you\u2014to Barnard. Even if that was just a dream. \u201cI\u2019m a first generation college student,\u201d she loved to say. \u201cI\u2019m already a colossal success!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Joan shook her head about Elena\u2014such a bright girl, if only her parents prioritized her education\u2014which Alice learned from her college social worker was a subtle way to pat herself on the back. Psychology courses gave her terms to privately name the world she lived in since then: dyadic, merged identity, conflicted, enmeshed, disruptive attachment, trauma-bonded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The singer was twinkly, shinier, up close. Elena joked and giggled with them, then with a yelp, remembered to introduce Alice to Joey, the drummer; Colton, the guitarist; Rex, the bassist; Billy, the singer. Billy with brilliant blues; Billy with blond hair under a backwards Mets hat; Billy with the soaked half-unbuttoned black shirt. He was shorter on the ground than on stage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He said, \u201cbring your friends to Kenny\u2019s on Thursday. You might get to be there the night history is made!\u201d The guys grabbed their slices, nodded and walked out. Elena and Alice followed less than a minute later, but the sidewalk had already swallowed them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On Thursday afternoon, Alice picked out the slate blue sundress with spaghetti straps that left her shoulders and back exposed, put on mascara, tiny gold hoop earrings, and drew dark brown eyeliner into the lash line of her top lids. Her mother raised an eyebrow when she came out of her room, but only mentioned that Ben had called from Maine. Alice said she\u2019d call him back tomorrow. She played it cool.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the West 4th<\/sup> Street Station, Elena smiled in approval. In her jean miniskirt, pink ribbed tank top and shimmery pink lips, she got away with sweetness because she was witty and smart. She didn\u2019t need Alice\u2019s approval. Like gum-snapping agents, they walked south on Sixth Ave., cut in on West 3rd<\/sup>, right on Sullivan and left on Bleecker, passing tables of used books, leather wallets and silver rings. The bouncer nodded them in. In the dim, malodorous bar, a half block from the first, Alice let out a two-day-old breath. They were early, properly timed to get a table and start on their two-drink minimum. Elena gestured to the bartender, and two milky drinks arrived at the tiny wooden table. She had already laid tracks here, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tomorrow, Alice promised herself, she\u2019d focus on Maine. Ben Waterman called to confirm she was coming because at the end of last summer, she told him she wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the band warmed up, Billy pointed at people and palmed his heart, occasionally blowing kisses. The songs unspooled. Though this new universe was light, spongy, more effervescent than Alice enjoyed, she didn\u2019t want to be anywhere else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They started \u201cEvery Breath You Take.\u201d An electrical storm flew into her chest, crackling and sparking. Billy locked eyes with a woman in front of the stage who held her tattooed forearms out, swaying and smiling like an idiot, belting out lyrics. \u201cOh, can\u2019t you seeeee\u2026 you belong to meeeee?\u201d It was like she was feasting on Billy from an arm\u2019s length and five feet below him. Alice laughed. As if he belongs to you! As if!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something clicked. She laughed again, at herself this time, realizing she was acting jealous! She glanced at Elena, who beamed back, oblivious to the exposing neon light of what Alice felt. On stage, the woman was gone, and Billy, singing, locked onto her for a little eternity. The electric light orchestra inside her body swelled to a juddering, breathless, suspended crescendo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The house lights came on. Alice ran to the bathroom. Her pulse was racing. Her heart exploding, her head pounding. She splashed water on her face just like in the movies. This was all absurd. She went to find Elena. It took a second to register that Elena and Billy were talking, leaning close to each other\u2019s ears. Elena arched an eyebrow at her. \u201cAfter party?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In what seemed like a few minutes, they were in a paneled basement studio three avenues east. Some of the fake IDs, Marty the bartender, and two bouncer-types came in. Billy handed out beers, Rex ordered pizza, and Joey went for beer. More people came, but not the tattooed arms woman. Alice settled herself on a sinking couch, next to a giggling Elena, as the parade of pheromones flowed inside her. She did not want to appear to be looking for Billy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey,\u201d a gravelly voice whispered behind her ear. \u201cWanna see something? You\u2019re gonna love this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was so close. Close enough that if she turned her head, her lips would graze his cheek. He aimed a remote at the TV set on the wall. \u201cPizza!\u201d yelled Joey from the hallway, and people got up. Elena pinched Alice\u2019s thigh, hard, before leaving the room. Bouncy orchestral music and concentric red circles appeared on the screen, centered around a bullseye tunnel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBugs Bunny is a genius,\u201d Billy said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They watched Elmer Fudd tiptoe through the woods with his shotgun, and Daffy Duck warn Bugs, only to get out-pranked. \u201cIsn\u2019t he great?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice tried to watch with fresh, new, guest house eyes. After the first episode, when no one changed, no one succeeded, and no one died from the many bullets fired at close range, she turned to Billy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cI loved cartoons when I was a kid.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He laughed. \u201cBugs is just a regular dude trying to stay out of the way. He just does his own thing, then all of a sudden, someone throws an anvil at him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen he\u2019s probably not innocent,\u201d Alice said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe.\u201d Billy chuckled. \u201cBut he always comes out on top.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He slid over the back of the couch, sinking down beside her where Elena had been. They were alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been watching you,\u201d Billy whispered. With the tip of his index finger, he slowly traced her lips, eyebrows, cheekbones. Her skin sparked where he touched. \u201cThis okay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ribbons of color pulsed behind her eyelids. Vague, passing considerations sank into the quicksand of her eagerness. It was more than okay. It was astonishing. Why didn\u2019t Rumi just come out with it straight? Say yes when opening the door because who would ever want to miss this<\/em>? Her whole being subtly shifted, right there under his gentle touch, from aquatic to terrestrial. Her lungs filled with phosphorescence. She was becoming something new. In the complete dark of the basement, she was like a bird or a flower; weightless, oxygenated, bursting with life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice woke in the gray dark and shot her legs over the side of the lumpy pull-out couch. She felt around for her clothes, a thread of panic coiling in her throat. What time was it? She gazed at him, soft, gentle boy. Their legs were entangled when she woke. His cheek on her chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Billy\u2019s arm snaked out from under the afghan. \u201cDon\u2019tch,\u201d he mumbled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She kissed the side of his face. \u201cSee you tonight,\u201d she whispered, the wheel of fortune and misfortune spinning in her chest: the hour, her mother, Elena, her vibrating body, his hands, her legs, his salty tongue, the lyrics of \u201cHeaven,\u201d he crooned after they finished making love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Later that day, having successfully avoided her mother, taken a morning-long nap and a long shower, Alice played with the bowl of fake seashells on the eat-in-kitchen table. Her mother\u2019s summery heels clicked up to the door, opened the locks, and clacked inside. Alice braced herself for her professional mother\u2019s taut, poised, pre-closing energy. She wasn\u2019t wrong. In a trim, taupe linen skirt and fitted white blouse, her mother stood on the other side of the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh ha,\u201d she said, \u201chere\u2019s the mystery party girl. Ben left another message. Haven\u2019t you sent in your forms?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI meant to,\u201d Alice said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother sighed. \u201cIt\u2019s probably your last summer there,\u201d she said, draining the last of the coffee pot into a lidded mug. \u201cIt was right for you back then, and I\u2019m forever grateful to Ben Waterman for taking such good care of you, but you do have an adult life to get on with.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll sort it out,\u201d Alice said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother\u2019s head tipped a little to the side. \u201cYou\u2019re okay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust tired,\u201d Alice said. And baby<\/em>\u2026so gently he sang last night, this morning\u2026 you\u2019re all that I want \/ When you\u2019re lying here in my arms \/ I\u2019m finding it hard to believe \/ We\u2019re in heaven.<\/em> Elena would think it too high school prom, so that bit of ecstasy she would keep to herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe re-do is nice,\u201d Alice added, a little ego petting to steer away from questions about last night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI rushed to get it done for you,\u201d her mother said. \u201cYou like the palette, then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure.\u201d Moving and redecorating, when she was making good money, was a way her mother showed love. Elena thought it sweet. Alice thought it a slightly softer more mano dura.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA little bland.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother smiled. \u201cPale Earth. That\u2019s the scheme. Homier than all white, still good for resale.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan we mix it up for my room? Something like aquamarine?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Joan screwed up her mouth. \u201cPredictable.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother\u2019s gaze stretched out. \u201cLet me see you,\u201dshe used to say, taking her in before they parted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m off to meet with the Maiden Lane buyers,\u201d she said, grabbing a striped purse on the way to the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDumb street name for one of the world\u2019s major metropolises,\u201d Alice called after her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut not a dumb paycheck!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Night after night after night, the music sizzled. Alice, weightless and sure, slid in before dawn and out again after dark, crammed with adrenaline. Every night there was more energy, bigger audiences, more anticipation. Elena remarked on Alice\u2019s enthusiasm, her stamina for the night life, and something about her new attachment. Alice smiled and laughed and clinked her beer against Elena\u2019s. Maybe a touch of jealousy, maybe nothing at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The string of late nights loosened Alice\u2019s grip on time and day. Life felt like a revelation\u2014no structure, no responsibility, only anticipation and the dawning present. She and Elena had dinner with the band before gigs, hours in full and empty bars, and afterhours in the basement studio, his grandparents\u2019 rent-controlled apartment he had for a year while trying to \u201cmake it.\u201d Something was up with Elena, but Alice figure she would find out when it was time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maine was hanging over her. It would be bizarre to be a no-show after so long, even when, last August, she\u2019d said she would not<\/em> be returning. Ben had accepted her statement without question, and in the spring, longing for tiny wild blueberries and the private, salty refuge she found nowhere else, Alice called to change her mind. \u201cWonderful,\u201d Ben said, and laughed his big hearted, welcoming laugh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Next to the To Do list on the dresser, a note from her mother: IF YOU DO NOT CALL BEN WATERMAN TODAY, I WILL. <\/em>Alice dialed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI did tell you I was coming up,\u201d she said a tiny bit curtly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI had finals,\u201d she said, remembering the messages he left on her machine at school. \u201cAnd I\u2019ve been busy since I got home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHere too,\u201d he said. \u201cWe just finished rebuilding the big dock.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He had a way of changing her mood. \u201cWith a diving board, finally?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll have to see for yourself. We look forward to seeing you, Alice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d she sighed, and hung up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sprawled on her bed with the top half of the pineapple phone to her ear, Elena twirled a lock of light brown hair around a pencil. Alice gazed at the photo triptych museum of their growing up: in oversized mortar boards for kindergarten graduation, as a pair of dice for 5th<\/sup> grade Halloween, knobby kneed in white lace for 8th<\/sup> grade dance, as dates in matching chartreuse georgette for junior prom. With a gift certificate that Elena won at the science fair in 7th<\/sup> grade, they re-decorated her room in island paradise. Curling around a coconut pillow on the palm tree comforter, Alice whispered, \u201cI\u2019m considering not going to Maine this year.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elena\u2019s eyes widened. She whispered into the pineapple and clapped down the phone. \u201cSeriously?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDebating,\u201d Alice spluttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elena stared at her longer than necessary. \u201cTell!\u201d she finally squealed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI just realized I\u2019ve been stuffing myself into the kiddie swing for way too long.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWould it have anything to do with a guy who\u2019s addicted to Bugs Bunny cartoons?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat, too.\u201d Alice blushed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know,\u201d Elena said, \u201cThere\u2019s something I wish I told you already.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay\u2026\u201d Alice tensed, hoping to hear why she left that first night at Billy\u2019s with a big pinch and without a good bye, or what has been bothering her in general.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe scene, the guys, the band, the music, the whole thing\u2014it\u2019s not exactly a gentle <\/em>environment.\u201d She took a deep breath and blew it out. \u201cMaybe it\u2019s too late, because you\u2019re already in with Billy. I should have warned you. The scene can be kind of brutal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh,\u201d Alice said. \u201cWell, I\u2019m not that sad little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay then,\u201d Elena said, smiling falsely. \u201cI just worry. But if you\u2019re good, then I\u2019m good. So, what are we wearing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The cocktails tasted metallic. The music blasted through Alice, not filling her with bright color, but clawing and scratching. She sat in the back where Billy couldn\u2019t see her and was not looking. In fact, he seemed drunk before the first song. They hadn\u2019t done dinner before the gig, something about Billy seeing his grandmother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An hour later, tiny knives pricked her throat. Alice told Elena she didn\u2019t feel well and had to go home. Elena didn\u2019t try to get her to stay, or insist she go too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Twisted in the sheets, she dreamed: lying on the bottom bunk in the cool, humid cabin, Mr. Waterman\u2019s face bent under the top bunk, turning a damp washcloth over on her forehead. He lifted her head to give her sips of water from a metal cup. He touched his cheek to her forehead. He smelled briny, like seaweed. Mr. Waterman stayed a long while. She might have been twelve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice slept and woke, slept and woke. She was in swimming Maine and eating pizza in New York and having sex on a beach and on a driveway and in Billy\u2019s basement, through tides of heaviness and lightness, until Elena jumped onto her bed, startling her awake.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJoey said an agent is coming tonight! Can you imagine? They could get signed<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice tried to swallow around the pebbly jumble in her throat, to make sense of the details. \u201cCover bands get signed?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure there\u2019s a progression, but ultimately, they\u2019d get paid, quit their day jobs and work on their own stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey have day jobs?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know what I mean,\u201d Elena said. She held up a bottle of Tylenol Flu. \u201cTake this and get better immediately!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice sighed, dropping back on the pillows. \u201cI\u2019m stuck at the bottom of the deep end. Pressure,\u201d she waved her arms, \u201ceverywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPromise me you\u2019ll try,\u201d Elena sighed. \u201cJoey said we need <\/em>you there. Billy said you\u2019re the Courtney to his Kurt.\u201d Her face darkened. \u201cBut in a good way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll try. If not, tell him break a leg.\u201d She tried to imagine the scene, but he was only a faraway spec in her mind. \u201cIn a good way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When she woke again, she\u2019d dreamed of sitting on a barstool on stage in front of thousands, smiling at Billy as he crooned a soft, sweet ballad. Johnny and June. John and Yoko. She got up. Her body was weak, but her head was clear and vigorous, like the shaft of sun bolting through the window and splashing on the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The kitchen phone rang. In between blasts of the blow dryer, Elena shouted about how the agent loved the band, promised them an opening gig for a big act at a big venue, and told Joey he saw a real future for them if their originals were half as authentic. \u201cHe\u2019s coming again tonight,\u201d she said excitedly. \u201cBut listen\u2014Billy was MIA after last night. Joey just found him and said he\u2019d be okay as long as you come and bring his stuff tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMIA? What day is it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, not missing, but you know, out of the loop. And, it\u2019s tomorrow. I saw you yesterday and now it\u2019s the next day. Joey said they\u2019ll be at the bar in a couple of hours. And the agent is coming. And you\u2019ll get his stuff, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m getting in the shower,\u201d Alice said. She felt fresh and new and triumphant. Billy needed her. The refrigerator hummed. On it there was a magnet she gave her mother years ago, a watercolor Maine shoreline of pines and craggy rocks with tiny rope words: I ❤ MY MOM<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She picked the beige phone receiver off the wall, steeled herself, and dialed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMr. Waterman,\u201d she said. \u201cI am not coming. I know it\u2019s late notice, and I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAlice? Are you okay?\u201d his voice flowed softly over her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She took a deep breath, then pushed words out around the spiky remnants in her throat. \u201cYes. I can\u2019t \u2026 I\u2019m not\u2026 I just \u2026\u201d Her throat closed around the rest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d he crooned. His inexhaustible calm irritated her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not <\/em>okay, Ben. I don\u2019t know exactly why, but I do know it\u2019s not.\u201d Words sloshed around her head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGoodbye,\u201d she said, conflicted, upset, and relieved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the bar, Elena jumped up to bear hug her, then pulled her down to sit at the table, where she and Joey filled her in on the agent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAs long as Billy\u2019s in decent shape,\u201d Joey said. \u201cWe\u2019re golden.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In two bounding strides, Billy dropped into a chair next to Alice and planted a lippy kiss on her open mouth. He was showered. Shaved. Smiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCretin,\u201d Elena whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Joey looked at Alice: \u201cHe\u2019ll be ready in fifteen?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice nodded, confused by the tone, and by Elena and Joey slipping off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Billy\u2019s wide black pupils bored into her. \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was sick. What about you? They said you were MIA?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEverything got screwed up,\u201d he said. \u201cI missed you like crazy.\u201d He nuzzled in her neck. \u201cYou\u2019re all better now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll better,\u201d Alice said, pulling back to look at him. He looked bright and clean, but there was something else. Leaning in to smell him, she imagined the worst\u2014girly shampoo, flowered soap, fake ID stuff\u2014but just smelled cigarettes. \u201cYou don\u2019t look like you\u2019ve been face-down in a ditch.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m good now,\u201d Billy said. She hadn\u2019t told him about Maine. \u201cDid you stop by my place?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She held out a cotton bag. \u201cI brought you clothes, and,\u201d she held up a paper sack, \u201ccoffee and a sandwich.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAlice my Palace,\u201d Billy said. \u201cLook at me.\u201d She looked at him, his shining eyes. He smiled, held her gaze, stayed with her. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the night went on, the crowd grew and pressed in on the stage. Heat hung in the air. Elena kept a fretful eye on the young, smack-cheeked agent in tight black jeans and a rumpled black t-shirt. The songs were tight, the set list was tight, and for the first forty minutes, everything was seamless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Between sets, the agent fed Billy shots. In the second set, he moonwalked across the stage. In trying to swivel the mic stand while jumping over it, he caught a foot, lurched, tucked, and rolled off the stage. The fake IDs pawed at him, stupidly excited by his sprawl, trying to help him gain control of his limbs and whereabouts. He was graceful in his fumbling, got back on stage, and carried on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elena looked at Alice, slightly accusatory. The band kept the music circling while Billy dropped back to all fours, crawled to the edge of the stage, stuck out his hand, and grabbed one of the fake IDs. While shouting garbled lyrics without a mic, Billy bent the girl backward, slipped, and dropped her on her mini-skirted ass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice dropped her head into her hands. Elena shouted in her ear: \u201cBilly\u2019s fucking everybody over.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A thin silence accompanied the two of them back to his basement. Billy was smashed. Alice pulled his arm to keep him from knocking people, but he kept tugging away. She was pissed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was snoring before Elmer Fudd tip toed across screen with a rifle. Alice wiggled out of the couch bed and went home. The note on the counter, held down by the Maine magnet, in caps: MUST SPEAK TO YOU BEFORE MY 9 A.M.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It felt like two minutes later that her mother knocked, entered and stood by her bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI spoke to Ben Waterman.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI said I would handle it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother scoffed. \u201cOh, sure. You waited until the last minute and then you flaked.\u201d
            \u201cI did not flake<\/em>,\u201d Alice huffed. \u201cAnd anyway, you yourself said it was time for me to get on with my life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s misrepresentation. You were unprofessional, ill-mannered, inappropriate, and self-centered.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A red rage tore into Alice\u2019s tender throat. \u201cAre you serious? It\u2019s a summer camp<\/em>, not a real-estate-agent-of-the-year contest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIncorrect. It\u2019s Ben Waterman, who has been nothing but good to you. You ditched your commitment at the last minute for an\u2026infatuation?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFirst, I\u2019m not a child anymore. Furthermore, you <\/em>are the ill-mannered, inappropriate and self-centered one who has no idea <\/em>about enjoying life!\u201d Alice had never talked to her mother like that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, is that right? Since you\u2019re such an adult, you should get your own place,\u201d her mother snarled, stopping the door just short of a slam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf only I knew a good realtor!\u201d Alice shouted. Fuming and throwing clothes in a bag, she waited until she heard her the front door close, and left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elena was in an electric mood. She had managed to talk the guys into an Italian dinner near Irving Plaza. Billy, holding the set list on his lap in the window seat while they waited for a table, looked like a little boy. Alice sat down, intending to be soft. Infatuation my ass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen are you going back to school?\u201d Billy mumbled, looking at his hands. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what you\u2019re thinking about right now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His stunning blue eyes flicked to her. \u201cSomething\u2019s not right,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It could be drugs, Alice thought, or alcohol. She looked for something less serious to say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re under a lot of pressure,\u201d she whispered. \u201cBut you have a gift, and it might just be that more people are going to have a chance to appreciate it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou should be a therapist.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just common sense.\u201d Ben Waterman was why she had anything to say. Alice took the set list, and pulled his face toward her. \u201cYou got this,\u201d she whispered in his ear after. \u201cTrust me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Billy smiled and sighed. She knew so little about his life, family, and childhood. Bugs Bunny, he\u2019d said, was the best thing about it. Their party was called. His face was lighter. \u201cI\u2019m starving,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At twelve-thirty, after six other acts\u2014two great, two horrible, two meh\u2014the spotlights went up again in the massive empty ballroom. Alice and Elena stood on the dance floor, their anticipation long drained. The band came out. Billy shaded his eyes and scanned the scene, found Alice, and pressed his palm to his lips blew her an exaggerated kiss. His vulnerability worried her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In tightly wound unison, they rolled into the first songs of the set. Onlookers migrated to the stage. A groove began to take shape. Whether the audience was 200 or 500, by the third song, they were smashed up close to the stage as Billy paced back and forth, jabbing his fist into the smoky air. He moved seamlessly, jumping the mic-stand, crouching on the floor and bursting up to belt out the falsetto of \u201cSympathy for the Devil.\u201d During a solo, the bassist played the strings with his teeth. The crowd went crazy. Alice followed Elena, letting her hips and torsos loose. The electric current left no one still, no one untouched.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the set was over, they collapsed into each other, sweaty and elated. The band was going somewhere! With crisp clarity, the nights in skuzzy bars became the preamble for a bunch of early twenty-somethings who believed in a dream that was actually coming true.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            House music came on as the ballroom went dark. Elena grabbed Alice\u2019s hand. \u201cI have to tell you something!\u201d she shouted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have to tell you something too!\u201d Alice returned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cMe first!\u201d Elena insisted. Alice leaned into her friend, her solid, physical, present friend whose usual vanilla rose smell was cut with musky sweat and cigarette smoke. She draped her arms around Elena\u2019s neck, feeling woozy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know I love you, right?\u201d Elena chuckled nervously. She spun Alice around and backed her to the side of the stage. \u201cCan you just promise that you\u2019ll forgive me eventually? Please?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The spotlights popped up. The band was back on stage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust tell me!\u201d Alice shouted, her head full of scenarios and apprehensions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe were asked to run a few originals,\u201d Billy rasped into the mic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh my God!\u201d Elena screamed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The crowd erupted. Billy was gleaming, smiling, no sign of the sad little boy she helped to his seat in the restaurant hours ago. Alice needed him to find her, to connect with her in that sweet space that filled and emptied and stabilized her all at once. But he did not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elena led her back to the dance floor. \u201cAfter this,\u201d she said. \u201cI promise.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first was a jaunty, almost poppy song, less flush with texture and complexity, but a catchy chorus the crowd seized. By the second song, a rock\/punk mix with a raw edge, Alice and Elena were dancing at the front of the stage, arms overhead. Alice didn\u2019t care what she looked like. This is me letting go! <\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next thing she saw was Ben Waterman\u2019s face, lowered close to hers. What was this? She turned away but could not shake him, his rough thumb tracing her nose\u2026 no! she thought, no, no, no! Was this Rumi\u2019s crowd of mutilated dark thoughts? She was dizzy, suddenly, the room spinning, like when her father took her upper arms and spun her in circles. Then she was at the campfire eating, shoving funnel cake and cotton candy in her mouth, then fried pickles, blueberries, and Cracker Jacks, everything falling back out of her mouth. She ate a carrot, shrieked on a roller coaster, jumped off a cliff into a freezing river. She gulped, coughed, choked, spat, vomited, shat her pants, squeezed the hand in hers, screamed and fell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Though she seemed like a cartoon version, it was her mother at the eat-in-kitchen table, drinking a very full glass of red wine. \u201cThe Maiden Lane buyers pulled out,\u201d she said. Elena mumbled condolences. Joan looked long at Alice, who had no fight, no words, and no way to hide the cracks in her universe. \u201cWe\u2019re turning in,\u201d she heard Elena say turning to steer her down the pale earth hall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On her back in the dim yellow spray of nightlight, Alice searched for meaning, motive, understanding; something to make sense of why she had a big black smear where the last hours had been. Elena\u2019s cheek pressed into the watermelon slice pillow as she slept. She\u2019d said Alice had fainted. Alice had no memory of fainting, but also no memory of leaving the ballroom, taking a cab, sitting a long time in the lobby, or riding the elevator up to the 11th<\/sup> floor. She did remember Elena twisting the skin on her forearm in two directions as they stood in front of the apartment door and Alice jerking her arm away. \u201cBe normal,\u201d she whispered. \u201cJoan.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cElena,\u201d she said, nudging her. \u201cWake up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elena sat up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou were going to tell me something,\u201d Alice said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh,\u201d Elena said softly. \u201cOkay. Yeah. Are you ok though?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOk enough,\u201d Alice said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn the winter, when I first met the guys and saw the band play\u2026 there was one night, just one\u2026 when I made a mistake. I knew it immediately, or as soon as the alcohol wore off\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou slept with Billy,\u201d Alice said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elena\u2019s face fell. \u201cYou knew?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, but you\u2019re making such a big deal. What else could it be?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt is <\/em>a big deal! And you\u2019re really mad, aren\u2019t you, I mean, I would probably be, I think, at least for a while\u2014\u201d Elena sucked in a breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs that why you pinched my leg instead of saying good bye and didn\u2019t make sure I had a way home that first night at Billy\u2019s? Is that what\u2019s been bothering you all this time?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Elena said, sighing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAlice, you\u2019re my best friend forever. I love you just the way you are, but then you passed out tonight, and I got really scared\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGet to it,\u201d Alice said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s about us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease be concise. I could have a concussion\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStop it!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice threw her arm around Elena. \u201cJoking. Go on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn a way, you have always been the center of our friendship. Like, my job is to make sure you are alright. Not only after your dad, but before.\u201d She paused. \u201cDo you know what I mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe,\u201d Alice said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAfter I saw the band, all I could think about was bringing you to see them. I was determined to have fun before you left. I didn\u2019t anticipate that you would get so wrapped up in it all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice sighed. \u201cI know what you\u2019re saying. And I agree. So let me tell you this while we\u2019re putting it all on the table. I think Ben Waterman might have been inappropriate with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat? Why do you think that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis whole thing with Billy has given me a new idea of myself as someone who is free to enjoy and feel and be irresponsible and have desires and do things that aren\u2019t about getting somewhere else. I can\u2019t explain it exactly. I don\u2019t know if I\u2019m a breaching whale or a diving dolphin or a soaring bird, but I feel a ton, way more than before, all kinds of things like sadness and anger and even, I know how this sounds, ecstasy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEither Billy slipped you some of his performance-enhancing drugs or you\u2019re finally ready for that cracker jack therapist Joan has been threatening all these years!\u201d Elena shouted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat drugs?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, that was the other thing I needed to tell you. Billy disappeared when you were sick because he was on a bender. Uppers and downers both, Joey thinks. He\u2019s gets manic, and then he sleeps for 12 hours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI see,\u201d Alice said. \u201cThank you, now I\u2019m clear. And now, it\u2019s set.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s set?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cConey Island.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elena raised her eyebrows. \u201cHuh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s time for me to start facing the music. I\u2019ve skipped over a lot. I think I\u2019m ready to start, though. And if you are not tired of me, and I would absolutely respect your decision either way, I\u2019d love for you to make sure I\u2019m alright one more time, starting where my dad ended, and I began again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d Elena said. \u201cOn one condition.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice looked at her bestie in the dim yellow light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor our first, last summer, we find new fun.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOn one condition,\u201d Alice said. \u201cYou also come with me to the doctor. You know I hate doctors.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t want Joan to go with you?\u201d Elena offered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe can come too,\u201d Alice said. \u201cFor Memorial Day.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u200b            Alice felt brackish being back in the city. She was seasick from the stinking, lumbering bus from Boston and standing in the throat of Port Authority. That and everything: the three hundred level philosophy and psychology classes; 2 a.m. wake-ups in the library; summiting 25-page papers; the long dirty winter of ramen noodles, and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":43,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_editorskit_title_hidden":false,"_editorskit_reading_time":0,"_editorskit_is_block_options_detached":false,"_editorskit_block_options_position":"{}","_themeisle_gutenberg_block_has_review":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"art_contributors":[],"literary_contributors":[467],"class_list":["post-6036","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","literary_contributors-rosser-heather"],"acf":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6036","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/43"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6036"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6036\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6037,"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6036\/revisions\/6037"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6036"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6036"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6036"},{"taxonomy":"art_contributors","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/art_contributors?post=6036"},{"taxonomy":"literary_contributors","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/novusliterary.com\/2025-archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/literary_contributors?post=6036"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}