“Yes, you will get sick playing in the trash,” Lisa was saying. “When things rot, they decompose, and they grow mold. And if you touch them, and you touch your face, even if you don’t mean to, you get very, very sick.”

“I’m not playing,” Amanda said.

“Honey, I told you to stop with this,” I said.

Lisa pivoted, shifting her anger toward me like a heavy suitcase.

“She was going through the garbage in the kitchen earlier,” I said.

“It would have been awesome if you had told me that, dude,” she said.

“Amanda, go inside,” I said. “Wash your hands and go watch the movie with Patrick.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but then thought better of it and went.

“I am not trying to be a hard-ass,” Lisa said. “But seriously.”

“I’ve been babysitting Mike and the kids all afternoon,” I said. “It’s been, you know, raining and about to rain.”

I didn’t even get a raised eyebrow.

“I came home to Amanda going through used tampons.”

“I don’t know how it happened!” I yelled. “I said I was sorry, right?”

She exhaled slowly.

“I really hope this doesn’t become more of a thing,” she said in a smaller voice. “It’s so hard to figure out where your head’s at, and if she’s a mess…”

“We’ll do what we have to do,” I said. “We’ll sort it out.”

“Is Michael drunk?”

“I mean, he’s drinking.”

“Victoria is going to kill him,” Lisa said. “I really can’t go through the Long Day’s Journey routine right now.”

At least our points of reference were still aligned. We bent down and started putting the trash in the big kitchen bag. As a gesture of solidarity, you couldn’t ask for much better.

“What should we do tonight?” I said.

“I was thinking four-way,” Lisa said.

“That tank top on Vic?” I said.

“Yeah?” Lisa said. “You like that?”

“In a pinch, sure.”

“A pinch,” Lisa said. “Christ.”

I took the bulging garbage bag out to the curb and went to get another one. Victoria had taken my seat on the couch with Mike and Patrick. She looked at me with a warning: Don’t destroy this peace, ephemeral as it may be. Believe me, I tried to convey back telepathically, it’s the furthest thing from my mind.

After a while, I got up and made spaghetti. Patrick dropped all of his silverware on the floor. Mike ostentatiously drank water at dinner, but he was glazed over, and I figured he was sneaking vodka. The rain let up and we decided, why the hell not, to walk for ice cream. Mike and Lisa walked ahead with the kids while Victoria and I hung back.