the methadone months
1. kozara I took Nicole out for her birthday Friday night. We spent the first few minutes staring at the menu, trying to figure out what “kozara” was (Japanese tapas, it turned out). “Sorry,” she said. “How are you?” It was the voice she used when she was tired, but trying to hold onto her manners. “I’m good.” “Sorry, I’m just shaking off the week. Work , you know?” “No worries,” I said. “I’m shaking off the week too. My week was fine, but just, you know, Friday.” If you go to Bar Hayama, order the spicy tuna and crispy rice. DO IT. That week I’d gotten my teeth cleaned and slogged through the building of an online grant management system at work and gone to the hard yoga class and fought with AK about arriving places late. Earlier Friday afternoon, I’d realized I only thought I’d paid my credit card bill last month, and I could no longer say to myself, Yes, but I ’m going through cancer treatment. “Seriously,” Nicole said, and we went back to studyin...