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so good to me during that time. She and Pia really looked after me. It amazes me, when I look back, how understanding and supportive and nonjudgmental they were. I would never have expected them to be so nice to me. I don’t think Julia and Madeleine would be like that. I guess that’s why I haven’t told them about it.
    â€œDo you want to talk about it?” Angie asks.
    I think for a moment. “No. Not really.”
    Sometimes there’s nothing to say. I feel sad and sick and tiny inside when I think about that day. I don’t regret it—I totally do not regret it—but I still wish it hadn’t happened. I think that’s how everyone who has to have an abortion probably feels. All of us millions of women, feeling sad and sick and tiny inside when we think about the memory that will never go away.
    â€œWho’d be a chick, huh?” I murmur.
    Angie cracks up. “It’s better than being a dude. Can you imagine? Having a dick jangling around all the time? Ew.”
    â€œDo you think I’ll ever want to sleep with someone again?” I ask Angie. “I will, right? Ethan just wasn’t right, you know? He’s a really bad kisser, and his mouth tastes wrong, somehow. I don’t know how, just wrong.”
    â€œWell, sugarnuts, if his mouth tastes wrong, you can sure as shit bet his dick wouldn’t taste right.” Angie swallows another gulp of martini. “Of course you’ll sleep with someone again. And it’ll be fucking great. Now. Tell me all of Ethan’s dirty little secrets.”
    An hour later, we have a plan.
    â€œText Ethan now! Now!” says Angie. “Invite him to Maddy’s gig tonight. We’ll nail his balls to the fucking wall.”
    â€œHe’s not in New York. He’s on a train back from Philly. He was there all week for work.”
    â€œEw. Trains.” Angie wrinkles her nose. “Send the text.”
    I tap out the pre-agreed text. Then there’s a beeping on the street, and Pia rolls up in Toto, her original Skinny Wheels food truck. She has a small fleet of food trucks now, but Toto is still special to her.
    â€œYou’re not supposed to park that on the street,” calls Angie. We’ve had some complaints from the neighbors.
    Pia shrugs, walking toward the stoop. “Fuck it. I’ve had a merde day. Is that vodka?”
    Pia bounds up the stoop, takes a huge slug of Angie’s drink, and then plucks the cigarette out of her mouth and takes a drag.
    â€œAre we having a party?” a voice calls.
    Julia and Madeleine are walking up Union Street toward home, still in their work clothes. Julia is wearing her huge gym backpack that would, I swear to God, take out an old lady if she turned too quickly on a crowded subway.
    â€œCoco quit her job and is going to dump Ethan!” calls Angie.
    I feel embarrassed to have all the attention on me. “Angie, stop it…”
    â€œCoco. You need to own your drama,” she says sternly.
    She’s right. Being the opposite of the old me means being loud(er), without caring about the consequences or worrying that I don’t deserve people’s attention.
    I take a deep breath. “I totally quit. And Ethan cheated on me and we’re taking revenge tonight!”
    â€œThat little shitweasel,” says Julia. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?”
    â€œThere was nothing to tell … until now.” I used to tell Julia everything, but she works so hard these days that she’s never around. Besides, it’s not like I have to tell her everything. I’m a grown-up. Adult. Whatever. “I think it’s time for me to be wild. Whatever that means.”
    â€œGetting drunk,” says Pia. “At work.”
    â€œHaving casual sex,” says Angie. “Also at work.”
    â€œSpeaking your mind,” says Madeleine. “No matter what.”
    â€œTelling your boss to fuck