This was how Cate found herself, against al better judgment, agreeing to have lunch with her. For weeks, Bridget had been leaving messages on her voice mail. “Caitlin, it’s me,” the messages said. “I’m coming to New York and we are meeting up if it’s the last thing we do. It’s been too long.”

The messages almost sounded like threats. They could, at the very least, be perceived as mild harassment. Cate’s cel phone had a message almost every day, and then somehow Bridget found Cate’s work number and started cal ing her there too.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Isabel a asked her. Cate was peering at the cal er ID, letting it ring and ring.

“It’s this girl from col ege,” Cate said. “She won’t leave me alone.”

“Is she a friend?” Isabel a asked.

“Not real y,” Cate said. “Sort of, I guess. But no, not real y. I just need to wait until her trip is over and then I’l cal her back.”

And then one day, the cal er ID said “Unavailable” and Cate picked up. “Gotcha,” Bridget said on the other end. “Caitlin Johnson, you are one hard person to get a hold of. You have got to meet me for lunch!” Cate was so surprised that she just said, “Okay.”

“I have to meet someone for lunch,” Cate told Isabel a.

“Snowy is going to kil you,” Isabel a said.

Cate considered this. Snowy had spent the better part of the morning screaming at Cate. “Three years!” she had yel ed. “Three years you’ve worked here and you don’t know how to do anything!” Yes, Snowy would probably kil her.

“I have to,” Cate said. “I already promised.”

“Is this the stalker?” Isabel a asked. She squinted as if trying to understand.

“Yeah, but I just need to get it over with.”

“It’s your funeral,” Isabel a said. “We have a meeting at three, don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” Cate said. She grabbed her bag and headed toward the door. “I’l be back in an hour,” she cal ed over her shoulder.

Cate met Bridget the first day of col ege, when Bridget knocked on her door during orientation. “Hel o,” she cal ed. “Caitlin or Maya, are you in there?” Cate was alone in her room, unpacking underwear into her dresser. Before she could answer the door, the knob turned and Bridget walked right in. “Hi,” she said. “I’m just going up and down the hal introducing myself to people. Al the names are on the doors, so it’s total y easy. Are you Caitlin or Maya?”

“Caitlin,” she said. “But everyone cal s me Cate.”

Bridget jumped on Cate’s bed and sprawled out, leaning against her pil ows and putting her arms above her head. “I love the name Caitlin,” she said. “I’m total y going to cal you Caitlin.”

Bridget was short, with a big chest and a raspy voice that made it sound like she’d been at a great party the night before. She was bossy and happy. From the start, she was kind of annoying, but Cate was so lonely those first few days that she would have sold her soul for someone to walk to the dining hal with. They were inseparable for the first week of col ege, but as the year went on, they both met other friends, and their paths slowly went separate ways. Bridget was always there, of course. They’d get together every once in a while, and invite each other to parties they were having. Cate always said yes when Bridget invited her somewhere. She felt like she owed her something for her friendship during those first solitary days of col ege.

And Bridget wasn’t an awful person. Not exactly. She was just, in her own way, exhausting. She never relaxed, never sat back calmly. She was always on the edge of her seat, laughing and cutting in on other people’s stories to tel her own. When you asked Bridget how she was, things were always amazing, wonderful, perfect! When she lost her job, she was thrilled to have the free time to explore other opportunities. When she was in a relationship, she was crazy in love, and when she was dumped she was excited to live the single-girl life and really get to know herself.

It was infuriating to listen to her spout her happiness, her absolute joy at being herself. At first, you might think that she was putting on an act. But what was even more annoying was when you realized that she believed everything she was saying. In col ege, Bridget always assumed that she was invited everywhere. Overhearing talk of a party meant that she was, of course, going to go. It never occurred to her that people might not want her around. The thought just never crossed her mind.

When Bridget got back from her semester abroad in London, she developed a strange English affect in her voice. “This lift,” she would say, waiting for the elevator, “is taking forever.” It made you want to punch her.

But if Cate was being honest, there was a reason she kept in touch with Bridget, and it was this: Her lack of reality was fascinating. Listening to her tel stories was hilarious and horrifying at the same time. When her boyfriend cheated on her, Cate offered sympathy and Bridget just shook her head. “Can you believe,” she said, “that he’s so scared of being in love with me that he cheated?”

Cate logged these stories in her brain, saving them up to tel friends later. She had a whole catalog of Bridget stories to pul out at parties. They were unbelievable. The girl was a complete loon. It was comforting to Cate that no matter how messed up she was or how many mistakes she made, she wasn’t nearly as crazy as Bridget.

It was early October when Cate went to meet Bridget. It was one of those warm fal days in New York when everyone walks around without jackets and soaks up the last of the sun. There were no clouds in the sky and everyone seemed happy. As Cate walked among al of these smiling people, she felt anxious. She knew she should have stayed at work, but she told herself that Bridget would just have hounded her until she met her. Better to get it over with, she told herself.

From down the block, Cate could see Bridget sitting at an outside table at the restaurant, wearing sunglasses and a shawl. Cate could tel that she thought she looked like a movie star. Her face was tilted back toward the sun and she had the happy little smile of someone who is perfectly content. As Cate got closer, she saw that there were two glasses of white wine on the table and immediately she felt relieved. This lunch would be much easier to handle with alcohol.

Bridget shrieked as soon as she saw her, causing everyone to turn and stare, which embarrassed Cate to no end. “Caiiitliiin! Oh, how are you?”

Bridget opened her arms wide for a hug, and then kissed both of Cate’s cheeks. This would have been a little pretentious for anyone, but Bridget was from Pittsburgh, which just made the whole thing absurd.

Bridget pushed her sunglasses up on her head in a theatrical way and leaned back to laugh. “It is just so damn good to see you! I can’t believe it.

You look wel ! I ordered some wine for us. Now, I know it’s a school day for you, but I thought we needed to celebrate. A little day drinking never hurt anyone, no?”

As always with Bridget, Cate barely said a word. Bridget rattled on about her job, and revealed that she was working on a memoir in her spare time. “I’ve always been a great writer,” she said. “There’s a lot of people interested to see it when I’m done. So we’l see! Maybe I’l have a fabulous book deal by the end of the year,” she said and then laughed. “So, how are you?” she asked. But before Cate could answer, Bridget started describing how she’d redecorated her apartment, how she seemed to have a gift for choosing color palettes and antique pieces that just seemed to fit.

They ordered a second glass of wine and Cate drank while Bridget fil ed her in on the cooking class she was taking. Then she told her about the trip to Italy she was planning. “I just feel so lucky,” she said. “To have a job I love that pays me enough that I can do other things that I love. Do you know how rare that is?” she asked.

“I do,” Cate said.

Bridget sighed, and took a sip of her wine. “Caitlin,” she said. “There was something else I wanted to tel you.”

“Real y?” Cate asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I wanted to tel you that I’m dating Jim.”

“Jim?”

“You know, Jim from col ege. Turns out he works near my building in Boston and we ran into each other at a happy hour. And you know, trouble!”