“I knew this feeling, the 2 a.m. loneliness that I'd practically invented.”

“I'd known enough people for every minute of the day, and yet still didn't have anyone as my two a.m.”

“He thought about this for a second. "True. But if you never really make friends, you probably don't have anyone to be your 2 a.m. Which would kind of suck. I just looked at him as he stirred his soup, carrots spinning in the liquid. "Your what?" "Two a.m." He swallowed, then said, "You know. The person you can call at two a.m. and, no matter what, you can count on them. Even if they're asleep or it's cold or you need to be bailed out of jail...they'll come for you. It's, like, the highest level of friendship.”

“I realized all thosetimes I'd felt people stareat me, their faces had been pictures, abstracts. None of them were mirrors, ableto reflect back theexpression I thought only I wore, the feelings only I felt. Until now, thismoment, as our eyes met. If therewas a way to recognize something you'd never seen but still knew by heart, I feltit as I looked at hisface. Finally, someone understood.”

“Two a.m.' He swallowed, then said, "You know. The person you can call at two a.m. and, no matter what, you can count on them. Even if they're asleep or it's cold or you need to be bailed out of jail...they'll come for you. It's like, the highest level of friendship.”

“I knew I had to keep him to myself, as I'd slowly begun to keep everything. We had secrets now, truths and half-truths, that kept her always at arm's length, behind a closed door, miles away.”

“My mother has always been the point I calibrated myself against. In knowing where she was, I could always locate myself, as well. These months she'd been gone, I felt like I'd been floating, loose and boundaryless, but now that I knew where she was, I kept waiting for a kind of certainty to kick in. It didn't. Instead, I was more unsure than ever, stuck between this new life and the one I'd left behind.”