Beth shook her head in disapproval. “Did you do anything else with Dylan from 5B?”

“Jesus no, Beth—who do ya think I am? He just showed me some rare comic book he bought with the money he made on the corner, and then he pulled a tiny bong from his pocket. I said what the hell, why not, and took a hit, but I didn’t really know what I was doing with the lighter.” I pointed to the half of my eyebrow that was completely singed.

“Oh shit, girl, you need to pencil that in.”

“It could have been worse. He asked me if I wanted to do X and then go roller-skating.” I shrugged. “He’s a nice kid, though.”

Beth walked through my apartment, scanning the disarray. She opened the refrigerator. “You have no food in here. Let’s go get a hot dog.”

“There’s salsa, plus I’m a vegetarian. Actually, I’m a pescetarian, but that’s just semantics.” Then I smiled really wide. “You know what? Fuck it! Let’s go get a hot dog.”

We went to an old hot dog joint called the Dogfather. It looked like something out of an episode of The Sopranos. The room was dark with red leather booths. They served every kind of hot dog imaginable. You ordered at the counter, where they had about a hundred different toppings and thirty different kinds of beer. I chose the foot-long spiced dog called Sal’s Hit. Beth got the kielbasa named the Kill Mob Bossa. We slipped into a booth and ate in silence for a few minutes. After the initial disgust I felt over chomping into meat encased in pig intestines, I decided it was the best goddamned food I’d ever had.

I washed Sal’s Hit down with three twenty-four-ounce Belgian beers, none of which I could name. I was thoroughly drunk. Beth talked me into hitting up a gay bar with her that Friday night, and staying true to my motto of the day, I told her, “What the hell, why not? So you’re outta the closet, I take it?”

“I was never in the closet. I just don’t do relationships. I’ve kept my life simple.”

“I totally get that,” I deadpanned.

“I’m worried about you, Kate.” I had never seen Beth that serious.

“What are you talking about?”

“I just think you spend a lot of time alone.”

“That’s not by choice, Beth. And anyway, you do, too. You just said you don’t do relationships.”

“But I go out and have fun and cut loose. You used to, remember? We used to do karaoke? You laughed more then.”

“Everyone keeps telling me I’m lost and my spark is gone and I’m crazy, but every time I take a chance, every time I go out on a limb, I fall. I slept with a guy I didn’t even know. I mean I really slept with him, Beth.” I opened my eyes wide for emphasis.

“You mean, fell for him?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean. I’m always the one to fall.”

She looked very thoughtful for several moments. “At least you get to enjoy the view, even if it’s brief. I don’t think taking chances is such a bad thing. Maybe you’re stronger now. I just don’t want you to give up.”

“This, coming from the girl who doesn’t do relationships.”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “I might change that and check out the view sometime.”

Beth walked me to the door of my apartment. I took one step in and then my body reminded me that I hadn’t eaten red meat in ten years. My stomach rumbled and turned violently. I honestly didn’t know which end it was going to come out of, and then to my absolute horror I realized it was both. Sitting on the toilet, I managed to puke into the sink. And even though there was about three inches between my mouth and the edge of the porcelain, I was able to projectile vomit perfectly into the basin.

Beth stayed with me for part of the night, bringing me clean washcloths and water. My body thoroughly rid itself of Sal’s Hit. I swore off meat for another ten years and then told Beth she was free to go. She left but came back ten minutes later with Popsicles, Seven Up, and saltines.

“You’re a good friend,” I told her.

“I just want you in tip-top shape so I can take you to Lady Fingers on Friday.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s the name of the place?”

“You won’t be disappointed.” She smirked. I hiccupped and burped and wondered what I was getting myself into.

After she left, I slumped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about Jamie. I thought about him whispering, “I’ll take care of you,” and then I cried myself to sleep.

Tuesday and Wednesday flew by. Dylan from 5B came over on Thursday. I didn’t smoke any pot, but I let him hotbox my apartment so I was even more completely stoned than I was the time before, except this time my eyebrows remained intact. We watched three episodes of Whose Line Is It Anyway? and laughed our asses off. Dylan was actually pretty cute. He was tall and skinny and pale with buzzed hair, but he had these really blue eyes. That night he helped me carry my laundry to the basement.

“Hey Kate, you wanna go to the skate park with me tomorrow night?”

“I can’t, I have a date with a lesbian.”

His eyes shot open. “Oh, cool.”

“It’s not what you think.”

He smiled and shrugged. “It’s your business. Aren’t you still dating that douche wad in 9A?”

“Stephen? No, he dumped me last week. He’s dating someone else already.”

“His loss.” He said it so quickly and nonchalantly that I almost believed him.

We got to the basement door. Dylan pushed it open and walked in but paused in front of me. I leaned around his body and saw Stephen making out with a different girl than he had been with earlier that week. At first I didn’t recognize her, and then I saw her token pink scrunchie bobbing above her head. It was the bimbo from the sixth floor. Every time I saw her she was with a different guy.

Stephen turned and spotted me. “Kate, I thought you did your laundry on Mondays?” I contemplated sharing my thoughts on women in their thirties who still wear colorful hair pretties, but I chose to take the high road. Anyway, one or both of them would undoubtedly have a venereal disease by the end of the week, and that was my silver lining.

“Don’t talk to me, Stephen.” I coughed and mumbled, “Pencil dick” at the same time. Dylan stayed near the door. Everyone in the room watched me as I emptied my laundry bag into a washer. I added soap, stuck some quarters in, closed the lid, and turned to walk out. Just as I reached the opening, Dylan pushed me against the doorjamb and kissed me like he had just come back from war. I let him put on a full show until he moved his hand up and cupped my breast. I very discreetly said, “Uh-uh” through our mouths, and he pulled his hand away and slowed the kiss. When we pulled apart, I turned toward Stephen and the bimbo and shot them an ear-splitting smile.

“Hey, Steve”—I’d never called him Steve—“Will you text me when the washer is done? I’ll be busy in my apartment for a while.”

He nodded, still looking stunned.

I grabbed Dylan’s hand and pulled him into the elevator. Once the doors were closed, we both burst into laughter.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

“I wanted to. That asshole had it coming.”

“Well, thank you. You live with your mom, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Please don’t tell her about this. I can’t imagine what she would think of me.”

“I’m not that much younger than you, Kate.” He jabbed me in the arm playfully and smirked. “You need to lighten up. Anyway, my mom would be cool with it.”

“Well, I hope I didn’t give you the wrong idea.”

“Nah. We’re buddies, I get it. I’m kind of in love with that Ashley chick from the fourth floor. I just have to wait until next month when she turns eighteen, you know?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

I laughed. “You two would make a cute couple.” If only it were that simple.

Throughout that week, I occasionally pulled out a few lottery scratchers to pass the time. By Friday, I had scratched all eighty and there was a healthy amount of the sparkly silver shavings littering my apartment. I didn’t care. I’d won thirteen new tickets and forty-four dollars. It was like I’d hit the jackpot, even though technically I’d lost twenty-three dollars.