“I’m so angry, you know?” Debra said, and I put my arms around her and told her that I forgave her, of course I forgave her. Because even though Debra was impossible and difficult and messy and careless—not to mention certain about things she knew nothing about—she was also my friend and even then I knew she always would be, even when I didn’t like her very much. Later, I’d drop people for far less, but Debra had imprinted on me. It’s like that with the people who know us when we’re young, when we’re still figuring out the world and how we might fit into it.
