Debbie actually shows up, and my heart sorta jumps in my throat a little. She looks amazing -- faded, too-tight jeans, brand new Pavement t-shirt. She always is one step ahead of us. Hair casually tucked behind her ears. Glamorous in a just-woke-up way.

She walks up to the stage, says hi to Eric. They seem to have a pretty good friendship, and friendships are so important these days. Then she comes back to the bar, sits down by herself and orders a drink.

Okay Fran. It's now or never. I walk up casually, like I'm going to order another drink, glance away from her then towards her, look foward again a moment, turn back. "Oh, Debbie," I say. "Hi. When did you get here?"

"Just got here," she says. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. I'm really good, actually, things are going really well." Shut up, Fran, you're talking too much, trying too hard, just slow down and be cool. The bartender comes up and I order another white wine.

Debbie takes her coat off the stool next to hers. "You wanna sit down?" she asks.

Ulp. "Um, sure," I say as calmly as I can, and slide into the stool.