We lived in the same building, like we were college students in a dorm. Katie had promised that she could remain friends with both of us, but in the end, she came to L.A. I had countered that Katie was an adult woman who could make her own choices when it came to friendship. That the only reason I knew her was because of him.
Jeremy argued that he should have first dibs because he’d met her in undergrad. Katie was the only thing that Jeremy and I had really fought about during the divorce. “She’s the kind of person who would accidentally join an MLM scheme and somehow manage to either make money or take it over from the inside.” “She’s a kook,” Jeremy had always said with affection. Katie Dahn was someone who loved her mantras, celebrated the start of astrology seasons like people celebrated the start of baseball, and who I’d once seen swish mouthwash with her pinky raised. “Only because you don’t know how to say yes,” she’d countered. “I like saying no,” I’d told her when she offered this advice the first time. She’d read a book recently about saying yes to things. I remind myself that two people can experience the same exact thing in completely different ways. The last time we met, we were young and brash and stupid. I’ve gotten good at lying to myself when it comes to Gabe. I press my hands to the cold porcelain of the sink and tell myself that this is just another interview. I duck into the bathroom before I head to the patio.
Then I remember that Jews don’t believe in penance.
I wonder, sometimes, if this is my penance for leaving L.A. Instead it feels like an old sweater I found in the back of my closet, one that I remember fitting perfectly, only when I put it on, it’s stiff and plasticky, permanently creased from being forgotten. It’s been a year since I’ve moved back to L.A., and I keep waiting for it to feel like home again. The passage of time suddenly feels real and oppressive. It only becomes more surreal when I realize that even if Madison still works here, she’s now the mother of a ten-year-old. It’s ridiculous, I know, but the whole thing already feels surreal. Part of me expects to see her-and for her to still be pregnant. I find myself looking for the waitress-Madison-when I walk through.
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