“I accept the charges. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he says in that British lilt that I miss as soon as I hear. “Really? What are you going to do, where are you going to go?” Silence. Then, “Well, I really don’t have anywhere to go, except home to London, but I’m not ready for that yet. So I was wondering . . .” He drifts off. “Well, I was wondering if maybe I could stay with you, just for a little while, just until—” I cut him off, unable to contain my excitement. “Yes, I would love ...it.” “Really?” he asks. “Come immediately. It’ll be like a minirehab.” It’s decided that he will arrive tomorrow night, at eight. After we hang up, I walk around my studio apartment, grinning like a crazy person. It’s a tiny apartment, but no smaller than the rooms at rehab, and three of us fit into those at a time.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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