They were both dressed in understated casual dresses that I knew cost more than most prom dresses. “Of course so do you,” I said.

We walk into Annie’s parents’ brick home. The foyer shimmered with the up lighting Mother had also insisted on in every room, offering a soft glow to her chemically peeled and perfectly maintained skin. Caterers made clanging noises in the kitchen; rosemary aroma mixed into the atmosphere of the Broomes’ home.

Mrs. Broome called my name as she entered the foyer. I held my arms open for a hug. She smiled in genuine relief: I was sane and on time. I knew Annie’s mother well enough to know that she was worried that since I’d lost Mother and Lil had left for college, I’d be a new and different crazy person who forgot to do things like bathe and show up at dinner parties.

I hugged Mrs. Broome. “Happy Anniversary.”

“Well, dear, you know I just like to find an excuse to have a party.”

We all moved toward the kitchen when Dad came up behind me, gave me a bear hug. “Hey, Dad.” I turned and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The aroma of sweet-sour whiskey surrounded his face.

“You look great, Ladybug. Really great.” He said this with a raise of his eyebrows.

“As if you thought I wouldn’t?”

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Look great,” I said.

“Well, these have been hard days for you, haven’t they?” He smoothed the front of his Cherokee Town and Country Club polo shirt, which did not need smoothing.

“I’m good, Dad.” I motioned to the bartender, Roger, whom I’ve known for twenty years and who knew exactly what my motion meant: martini, straight up, a little dirty, three olives. Now. He smiled at me and gave a single nod while Dad continued to talk. “Well, when I was playing golf with Rusty today, he said you were in a bad way when he saw you this morning. I told him—”

“In a bad way? Me?”

“He said you never went to bed, that you stayed up all night reading.”

Roger handed me my martini; I took a very long swallow. “I’m fine, Dad.”

There is a world that exists in this part of Buckhead, a world I’ve lived in but is separate, an empire, and a kingdom of men. It’s not that Dad loves Rusty more than he loves me, it’s that they’ve been playing golf with the same group of men for over twenty years. This is what the club men do—the same thing they’ve always done with the same people they’ve always done it with on the same day they’ve always done it on. They play golf on the manicured greens and then go to the men’s bar upstairs—a place where the women are forbidden to enter. Seriously.