She and Ben went to bars with flip-cup tables and jukeboxes that played Neil Diamond. They danced on floors covered with sawdust and drank shots with clever names like Baby Guinnesses and Buttery Nipples. On the weekdays, they’d drag themselves out of bed, get bagels at the corner, and head off to work on different subways. On the weekends, they’d stay in bed for most of the day, getting up in the late afternoon to get brunch.

They mostly stayed at Isabel a’s apartment, because Ben’s place smel ed like ramen and feet and had a sign over the door that said “Beware Pickpockets and Loose Women.” He had two roommates, large looming boys who sat on the couch in their boxers and were always eating huge bowls of cereal and watching ESPN. They didn’t seem to mind Isabel a’s presence, but they didn’t real y notice her either. Any conversation she tried to start with them usual y ended in a grunt, and so she was happy that Ben preferred her apartment.

Ben slept easily in her bed, his mouth open, covers kicked off. Sometimes Isabel a woke up with a headache and hated him for being able to sleep. Sometimes she crept into Mary’s room and got into bed with her. “He’s snoring,” she’d whisper. And Mary would grunt and rol over.

The more Ben stayed there, though, the more time Mary spent at the library. Their apartment, which was cramped with two of them, could barely hold three. Isabel a got the sense that Mary was getting more and more annoyed at her, pointing out that the garbage was ful , saying things like “I guess I’l go get more toilet paper, again,” and shutting her door extra hard when she came home. Once, in the middle of the night, Ben left the toilet seat up and Mary fel in as she sat down. Isabel a tried to make it up to her, cleaning the bathroom and buying candy. She could tel that Mary appreciated her efforts, but the apartment remained crowded, and stil sometimes caused Mary to sigh loudly or snap about the dishes, depending on the day.

Isabel a was surprised to find that she could do her job in a constantly hungover state. She wasn’t sure if this was a wonderful discovery or a sign that she should run. Either way, her performance reviews were superb.

“Stick with me for one year and you’l go places,” Bil always said to her. He had a big stomach and ate Greek salad for lunch every day, which made him smel like onions, always. Isabel a knew that he thought the Greek salad was super healthy, and for that she pitied him. She also wished he didn’t smel like he did.

Sharon was less direct. “I got a run in my panty hose,” she would announce. Then she would stand and stare at Isabel a, making a face that said, What should we do about the pickle we’re in? until Isabel a offered to go get her new ones.

Standing in Duane Reade, picking out someone else’s panty hose, Isabel a thought, “This is real y happening.” She chose a control-top package and went to the counter to pay.

In late October, Isabel a’s sister, Mol y, brought her two girls to the city for the day. They came on the train from Philadelphia, wearing matching plaid jumpers and clutching American Girl dol s. Mol y insisted that they come to Isabel a’s apartment so that she could see where she was living. They al stood in the TV room and looked around. Missy and Caroline used the bathroom and sat on Isabel a’s bed.

“It’s very efficient,” Mol y said, and gathered up her things to go.

As they walked down the street, Missy, the older one, told Isabel a about their trip in. “There was a man sleeping outside the train station,” she said. “He made some bad choices in life.”

“Real y?” Isabel a asked. She looked at Mol y out of the corners of her eyes.

“Yeah,” Missy said. She grabbed Caroline’s arm and started offering advice. “Watch out for dog poop on the sidewalk,” she said. “Don’t look at anyone, or they’l take you.”

“Missy, no one is going to take you guys,” Isabel a said. Missy, who was nine, shook her head like Isabel a was stupid. “They told us about it in class, Auntie Iz. There are kidnappers everywhere, but especial y in New York.”

Al of Isabel a’s nieces and nephews cal ed her Auntie Iz, a ridiculous nickname given to her by her oldest brother when he had his first baby. It made her sound like some wicked aunt in a fairy tale, like a forgotten character from The Wizard of Oz.

Missy stood there with pursed lips and wide eyes, as though she wanted to warn Isabel a of the dangers of New York. Missy was a clone of Mol y, and sometimes, even though she was only nine, it was hard to like her. Isabel a bent down to Caroline. “No one’s going to take you,” she whispered in her ear. Caroline smiled.

They trekked around American Girl Place, watched a movie, bought some new outfits, and had tea with the dol s. Caroline’s dol had a Mohawk

in the front, where she had tried to cut the bangs. “I wanted her bangs to be gone,” Caroline explained. She touched her forehead. “Like mine.”