Evelyn shakes her head. “Heartbreak is loss. Divorce is a piece of paper.” I look down to see that I have been doodling a cube over and over with my blue pen. It is starting to tear through the page. I neither pick up my pen nor push harder. I merely keep running the ink over the lines of the cube. “If you are heartbroken right now, then I feel for you deeply,” Evelyn says. “That I have the utmost respect for. That’s the sort of thing that can split a person in two. But I wasn’t heartbroken when Don left me. I simply felt like my marriage had failed. And those are very different things.” When Evelyn says this, I stop my pen in place. I look up at her. And I wonder why I needed Evelyn to tell me that. I wonder why that sort of distinction has never crossed my mind before. kk * ON MY WALK to the subway this evening, I see that Frankie has called me for the second time today. I wait until I’ve ridden all the way to Brooklyn and I’m heading down the street toward my apartment to respond. It’s almost nine o’clock, so I decide to text her: Just getting out of Evelyn’s now. Sorry it’s so late. Want to talk tomorrow? I have my key in my front door when I get Frankie’s response: Tonight is fine. Call as soon as you can. I roll my eyes. I should never bluff Frankie. I put my bag down. I pace around the apartment. What am I going to tell her? The way I see it, I have two choices. I can lie and tell her everything’s going fine, that we’re on track for the June issue and that I’m getting Evelyn to talk about more concrete things. Or I can tell the truth and potentially get fired. At this point, I’m starting to see that getting fired might not be so bad. Pll have a book to publish in the future, one for which I’d most likely make millions of dollars. That could, in turn, get me other celebrity biography opportunities. And then, eventually, I could start finding my