After a few minutes of dancing, Heidi mouthed the words “find you later” and vanished. (Years later, Heidi told me she’d taken Molly that ended up making her nauseous. She also told me that in her memory of the night, she’d been the uncertain one—apparently I’d seemed in control, as if I’d done this kind of thing before. Consider this your reminder: Memoir consists of recounted experiences, but by its nature, memory is unreliable. That means maybe—in someone else’s story—you actually know what you’re doing.)
