The best thing to say, really the only appropriate thing for the situation, was what I said next: “This is totally shitty.”

And it was, totally and completely shitty. There was no reason for anyone to be judging Holli’s health based on her physical appearance alone. They had no idea if she was anorexic or not. They weren’t her freaking doctors.

“Look at the industry as a whole, that’s fine.” Holli had to raise her voice to be heard over the sound of the water running into the empty metal tea kettle. “But don’t single me out. Because you know what that says to my future employers? ‘Don’t hire this model, or everyone will have a shit fit.’ If they think I’m too skinny now, wait until I have to choose between food and rent.”

I scanned the article. “At least they don’t mention you by name.”

“Which would be a relief if my face wasn’t on the title page.” She rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I’m just frustrated.”

I dropped the iPad on the sofa and went to stand beside her. I put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Do you feel bad?”

“Yes, I do,” Holli sniffed in pitiable exaggeration.

“Do you wanna get high and watch Norbit?” I asked, pulling her into a hug and patting her back like I was burping a baby.

“Yes, I do,” she mock-sobbed into my shoulder.

The ability to make light of our problems while simultaneously soothing our hurt feelings was one of the aspects of our friendship I treasured most.

We settled on the couch with tea and popcorn— you’d be surprised how well those two go together— and I put in the DVD. My news about Neil could wait.

We made it almost twenty minutes into the movie before Holli’s eyes grew wide and she exclaimed, “Oh my god! I never asked how it went with the guy!”

I shrugged. “Nothing to tell. That’s why I didn’t bring it up.”

“Soph. Do you really think you’re doing me a service by not telling me all the details? I’m in pain here; it’s your duty as my friend to cheer me up through Schadenfreude.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” I couldn’t believe how easy it was to admit it, but it was true. “I thought we might... I don’t know. ‘Get back together’ isn’t right, because we were never together. But we did talk about possibly hooking up casually.”

“Go you!” Holli lightly slapped my shoulder.

“I think we decided not to.” I tried to break the news gently, but I could tell she was disappointed. “Turns out, he has a daughter my age.”

“So he was married?” Her face scrunched up in disgust.

I shook my head. “No, he said she was his daughter from a previous relationship. He’s only been married for two years, and get this, they’re getting a divorce.”

“Then you should have been in there!” She sighed. “Is that the reason you’re not going to...” Holli slid her index finger through a circle formed by the fingers of her opposite hand.

I pulled a throw pillow from behind my back and walloped her.

“Do you think you would be comfortable with that? Having sex with someone literally young enough to be your kid?” I scolded.

Holli laughed and intercepted the pillow, fluffing it and tucking it behind her. “Younger. Once I’m north of fifty, I’m never dating anyone over twenty-one. And everything will be coming up Holli.”

After our movie was finished, and I had gone to my room to turn in, Holli’s response started getting to me. Maybe she was right. What was so wrong about dating someone younger than you? My dad had been younger than my mom. Well, by like two years. And I was looking for positive examples, not couples who had gone down in spectacular flames. Still, I couldn’t see any reason why I should be grossed out by the age difference between Neil and myself.

None of that really mattered, though. Neil wasn’t looking for anything serious, and neither was I. In fact, I’d actively avoided romantic entanglements since my last year of college. There was no orgasm so amazing, no surprise bouquet so sweet that it was worth risking my own dreams and identity. Besides, I hardly had time for Holli anymore, how would I work a boyfriend into that schedule?

I hadn’t even been home to visit my mom in a year. My heart absolutely dropped at the thought of what she would think about all this. She had once told me she would prefer to think of me as a virgin, even if I ended up with three husbands and fourteen kids. Of all the people that could have helped me navigate this situation with grace and common sense, it would have been her. But there was no way she would want to hear about the time I flew across the country, planned to fly around the world, without her knowing about it. And oh, by the way, I had sex with a stranger. In her mind, I had gone straight to NYU, after some minor trouble with a missed connection.

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