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in legal fees. That way I’m technically broke and she can’t touch the cash. But I only pay you five million, and you ignore the rest of the debt.”
    “That’s illegal in about thirty-seven different ways.”
    “I don’t care! I want my money, and I want a clean break from that woman. Give her the town house if you need a negotiating tool. Between the dog hair and that glass sofa she bought, she’s made the place all but unlivable anyway. And I want it done by fall. I have a two-week vacation in Majorca with our former nanny, and I don’t want to cancel it. Get it done or I’ll find a real law yer.”
    And with that, the big swinging dick stormed right back out. Two hours later, his wife walked into the exact same lawyer’s office, demanding the town house, the Hamptons estate, and “alimony for the rest of his miserable existence, regardless of length.”
     
     
    I’m definitely attending that seminar.
     
    DATE MODIFIED:
6/26/2019, 10:10 P.M.

“I never thought I had the luxury of time—now it’s all I’m gonna have”
    Katy demanded I go with her to her cure consultation. I explained to her that there was no waiting room in Dr. X’s apartment, and that I thought he probably preferred that everyone come alone. I made a compromise of walking her to the building, waiting outside, and grabbing some drinks with her after she got her blood drawn. “You’ll get drunk even faster, since you’ll have less blood in your system,” I explained. She liked the idea.
    When we got off the subway and walked east, we could hear the protesters outside the UN. Their numbers have continued to swell. I’m not sure they even take bathroom breaks anymore. The avenue has been barricaded much farther uptown than when I was last caught in the middle of it, as if there’s a permanent weekend street fair. I was tempted to see if any vendors had set up shop among the throng, selling paper platefuls of greasy pad thai for two bucks. I resisted.
    We stopped at a bagel shop and grabbed a quick lunch before her appointment. Again Katy brought up every cure-related scenario that came to her mind, both the good and the horrific. Mostly the horrific. She let her guard down a bit as we ate. My best friend is not the world’s most introspective person. But she took a moment to stop being so damn bubbly.
    “I don’t know what I’m going to do after this,” she said. “Suddenly, I’m all worried about the future.”
    “That’s what Dr. X said. No one he sees thinks about it until they get it done.”
    “Am I doing the right thing? My grandma’s got pancreatic cancer. Is it fair that she has to go through that and I get to sidestep it?”
    “You could still get cancer. You think your grandma would wish it on you?”
    “No, I guess not. I don’t know. I never really thought about my life before. I knew it was short, and that I should have a good time before it’s over. That’s about it. I never thought I had the luxury of time—now it’s all I’m gonna have. I feel like I should probably do something more substantial with it.”
    “You’ve always had the luxury of time. You’re twenty-seven. Cure or no cure, that’s still plenty of time up ahead. It’s yours to do with as you please. You’re not obligated to be Mother Teresa now. This just means you have more time to do what you enjoy, or find what you enjoy, I guess.”
    “Well, you know what I enjoy.”
    “I do indeed.”
    She grew alarmed. “What if we run out of booze three hundred years from now?
    “Oh, I think measures will be taken to prevent that sort of thing. We don’t need glaciers. But vodka? They won’t let the vodka dry up.”
    “Thank God.”
    We got up to leave and approached the doctor’s building. We got to the southwest corner of the intersection on First. The building was across the avenue, on the southeast corner. The light turned for us to cross. Out of my peripheral vision I saw, on the northwest corner, a tall figure outside a candy