Page 28 of Philippa Flynn’s Year of Panic and Piracy

I don’t need to pee, but I escape to an upstairs bathroom, hiding away like I did at Louisa’s, and like I probably will at Eleanor’s holiday party, because the only biological clock I’ve ever known is the one that alerts me when I’ve spent two full hours as a giraffe surrounded by zebras who demand to know why my neck is so long and what I did with my stripes.

I try to de-stress by washing my face with the handmade lemongrass soap Haley buys from a sustainable shop on Etsy, drying with a sustainable plush hand towel she bought from a chic start-up that recycles and repurposes celebrity-worn couture. I might, at this very moment, be patting my cheeks with fibers that used to hug Beyoncé’s backside. I’m still stressed when I finish, but at least my face smells nice, and I haven’t increased my carbon footprint.

Needing a few more minutes away from the mom brigade, I drop the lid on the toilet, take a seat, and find my phone in the gray velveteen jacket I’m wearing over my gray rayon dress and gray cotton tights. At least they’re different tones of gray. One is almost blue.

Philippa: How are things in Chicago?

Amelia: Oh, the drama!

Philippa: What now?

Amelia: Remember Jake Reynolds, the admin head in my department?

Philippa: The guy you thought might be fooling around with his student assistants?

Amelia: He Was fooling around with his student assistants. Got caught making out with one on the sofa in his office. Multiple witnesses. He didn’t even try to defend his actions

Philippa: Yikes. So was he finally fired?

Amelia: You do remember working here, right?

Philippa: Promoted to Assistant Dean?

Amelia: Transferred to another department, with a raise and a better job title

Philippa: Of course he was

Amelia: Then we all got a memo to immediately remove any sofas we might have in our offices because “students might misconstrue our intentions” and “the optics are bad”

Philippa: You know it’s Peak Academia when they haul out the word “optics”

Amelia: Right? Address the sexual predator. Not the sofa

Philippa: But boys will be boys and sofas will be . . . optically questionable?

Amelia: I hate that I can’t nap in my office anymore. Thanks to some dude

Philippa: Funny who often ends up getting punished when men misbehave

Amelia: This place never changes. You were wise to get out

Philippa: My bank account says otherwise

Amelia: Your bank account will recover. As long as you don’t buy it a sofa

I have to laugh at that. Even while I’m cringing.

Amelia: Enough about me. How are things with the pirate king?

Philippa: Good. Also not good. I think I have a crush

Amelia: Do we still call it crushing in our 30s?

Philippa: Isn’t it still crushing when it’s one-sided?

Amelia: Fair point. Does he know?

Philippa: God, I hope not. We’re finally acting like housemates. Not two people with minimal social skills who ended up living together by pure chance and have no clue how