An Off Year by Claire Zulkey Page A

been keeping off lately) and gave Kate a call. I had always assumed that we’d be best friends until we were withered and old and throwing things at young people from our wheelchairs. I worried that the friendship was weakening.
    â€œA-wooga, a-wooga,” she said when she picked up the phone. “Where have you been?”
    â€œLiterally?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œAt the shrink’s.”
    â€œWhoa. What was that like?”
    â€œNot as fun as you would think.”
    â€œAnybody want a peanut?” Kate said, a line from The Princess Bride that we always used when one of us accidentally rhymed. “Anyway, what did he say? Did he send you to an institution? Is he giving you a lobotomy? Are you taking pills? Did you meet a giant Indian who threw a sink out the window?”
    â€œShe said I’m taking this year off because I have some issues and maybe I can work them out.”
    â€œIssues of what? Magazines? That doesn’t seem very fair.” I heard a guy yelling in the background and then a muffling sound like she was covering up the phone with her hand. “You better put that away, dickhead, before I call the cops on you! Get out!” Some giggling. Then the muffling sound again. “Sorry,” she said. “Neighbor issues. Seriously, are you okay?”
    â€œYeah, I’m fine,” I said, patting Superhero, who had just trotted up. “I guess my biggest problem is that I just don’t know why exactly all this went down. If I needed to explore the world, then I could go do that. If I needed to start off at a community college, I could do that. But I don’t know what I need yet.”
    â€œWell,” she said, and her voice changed awkwardly, as it did when she was being serious. “I’m here for you.”
    â€œI know,” I said. “So what’s going on with you?”
    â€œActually,” she said, “I have to get to class. But I’m coming home in a few days and I want to see you. I’ll give you a call when I’m in. See you in hell.” She hung up, and I smiled at the phone.
    I felt so much better that I put on my coat and went out to the movies by myself, something I’d never done before. I was disappointed that Dad was at work, because I was excited to show him how carefree and independent I was, how I was enjoying my time off and not just lying around the house. When I got to the theater, though, I realized I had been so focused on the task at hand that I had forgotten to see what was playing. I ended up seeing some romantic comedy about a woman who loves a man, but he has to go to the moon on a mission. It was pretty awful.
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    I wasn’t sure when, but sometime over the last few years the coffeehouses in town had turned into impromptu day cares. The moms had pushed out even the college kids who came with their white laptops to pretend to study even though they were all looking at porn. When I got to the café where I was going to meet Kate, I had to pick my way around toys scattered on the floor and ignore a three-year-old who accidentally tugged on my peacoat and called me “Mommy” as I ordered, before he realized his error and ran off. It was a miracle that I found an open couch that wasn’t being used for story time or changing diapers.
    I plopped down and started to read an Us Weekly magazine I had splurged on. I loved being told how celebrities were just like me. Apparently they leaned on fences, drank coffee, even obeyed the laws of gravity, just like little old me!
    â€œExcuse me, but do you mind if I breast-feed here?” I looked up.
    There was Kate. She looked the same, yet different. It took me a second to figure out what it was. She was wearing some makeup, and her clothes were hugging her body a little bit more than they used to. She was wearing a short white puffy parka instead of her old olive wool military topcoat.
    â€œOnly if I can watch.” I stood