drinks she couldn’t afford for everyone around her. So pleased was she that others were happy to indulge her sick generosity that the mania would intensify and soon she would be so drunk she could barely remember her own name. The bartender knew her well, and while he knew it was probably irresponsible for him to allow her to carry on as she was, he also knew her father was extremely wealthy and paid all of Kristen’s bills.
More than once Kristen left the bar, numb with drink, accompanied by men who were faceless to her. More than once Kristen found herself disheveled and lost, wondering whose semen was dripping down the insides of her thighs. That’s when the flip side of her bipolar disorder would introduce itself. Kristen attempted suicide four times.
“Mom, I’m fine, I swear.”
“Kristen, please don’t do this. Please.”
“Mom, seriously. My doctor said that ultimately this is my choice.
“It’s a lifelong illness, Kristen,” her agitated mother said. “Are you even paying attention to me?”
“Yes, Mom.” Kristen was decidedly not paying attention to her mother. Her mind was made up. No more medication.
“Kristen, please keep taking your pills. Honey, please. I’m begging you.”
“Okay, Mom. Whatever you say,” Kristen said, parroting the only words she knew would appease her mother.
Kristen reached for the bottle of medication her mother was holding for her. She pretended to gulp them down but instead let them rest in the twin wells under her tongue, to be spit out the minute her mother looked away.
And so Kristen stopped taking the pills that were working overtime to try to save her from herself.
“What about you?” Kristen is aware she has monopolized the conversation. “You’ve mentioned you’re separated in group. You’re still wearing your ring, though. It’s beautiful, by the way.”
Isabel looks down at her left hand and twists her wedding band around on her ring finger.
“Thanks.”
“What’s he like?”
“You know what you need?” Casey chomped on her hot pretzel.
“Have you not been listening to me? I know what I need, I just don’t know how to get it,” Isabel answered.
“Bells and whistles,” Casey said. “You need fireworks. A little garter-belt sex never killed anyone. Let’s go get you outfitted.”
“What’s next? Light some candles and listen to Yanni? I’m a freaking cliche.”
“Don’t you ever watch Lifetime? Connie Sellecca slips into a negligee and bam! She gets laid.”
“
“You’re missing the point. Let’s focus,” Casey said, squinting into the distance. “There’s a lingerie store up about three blocks. We’ll hit it first. Giddyup.”
“Ugh.” Isabel sighed in frustration as she dragged behind her friend. “I hate this. I just don’t see why I have to parade around in some costume to get his attention. We’re in the honeymoon stage. Why do I feel like we’re a middle-aged couple trying to recapture the magic?”
Casey walked fast and made no comment. Isabel scurried to catch up.
She cleared her throat while they stood at the curb waiting for the light to change. “I’m sorry I haven’t called you back, Case.”
Casey stayed silent.
“It’s just, well, Alex takes up so much time, and then it’s late and I know you’re in bed and I don’t want to wake up Michael and…”
“…and the dog ate your homework?” Casey interrupted. “Jesus, Iz, what’s with all the excuses? I know he doesn’t like me, you don’t have to dance around it. I’m not Forrest Gump, you know. I get it.”
Isabel watched the electronic walking man turn into Don’t Walk as they missed another chance to cross the street.
“Hey, that’s fine. I don’t need to be his best friend. I just miss you, kid. That’s all. I miss
“I miss you, too, Case.” Isabel’s tone was pleading. “Just give me some time. He just
Casey raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“No, it’s just he’s so-o-o into me. He knows everything I do, everything I like, everything I want—”
“Except sex…”
“I’m going to ignore that. He does, though. He’s just so focused on me. I just need extra time so I can focus on him like he wants me to.”
“Focus away. You can have all the time in the world, kid. I want this to work for you.”
“Since when are you supportive of me and Alex? I thought you didn’t like us together.”
Casey turned and faced Isabel. “
Isabel tentatively nodded to Casey. “Yeah?”
“Then that’s enough for me.”
Isabel paused and watched Casey cross the street before running to catch up with the best friend she’d ever known.
“One more thing?” Isabel looked uncomfortable.
“Don’t tell me. You want
Isabel laughed and then turned serious again. “It’s just…well…don’t mention to Alex I was with you today, okay?”
“Oh, my God, Isabel.”
“It’s no big deal! It’s just that I told him I had a meeting downtown—I didn’t tell him I was seeing you—and I don’t want him to think I was lying to him.”
“Perish the thought.”
“So you won’t say anything?”
Casey’s face was filled with pity. “I won’t say anything, Isabel.”
When they reached the boutique with a window display swathed in yards of pink fabric and lace, Casey took her friend by the shoulders.
“Okay, now. You can do this. Think
“This is so pathetic.”
“Come on, sport. Buck up. Let’s go.”
Isabel fiddled with the volume on the stereo but it was hard to adjust since the dial was so sensitive. If someone sneezed near it it would move. Finally she found the right level—somewhere between “Oh, did I leave the stereo on? I must’ve forgotten, I listen to Sade all the time” and “Hey, lover, come on over and make yourself comfortable.” Between obvious and desperate.
She turned to the mirror and pulled at the garter belt.
When she heard him come in she panicked, turned off the music and threw her terry-cloth robe over her half-naked body.
“You’re home early,” she called down from the bedroom. She checked her look in the mirror and headed for the door.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi, yourself,” Alex answered. “You almost ready? Our reservations are for eight.” He eyed her skeptically.
“I was thinking…”
