“Pen, all that Catalpa shit is meaningless. It’s like expensive perfume that makes you want to buy things. It’s a complex blend of chemicals that approximates something pleasurable. I can’t. And they must be at least halfway through the season by now.”

I flushed.

“Well, I want to buy the desert and the jewels and the guns and the smoke.”

I went into the backyard, and there was Aiden and Egret sitting side by side, furiously coloring.

Egret wore a crop top and baggy purple cargo pants. I wanted to congratulate her on picking a name that so perfectly suited her tall and graceful form.

They both looked up.

“We’re trying out these new pheromone crayons,” Aiden said.

“And also trying to stop from boning each other right here,” Egret added.

That Sunday evening, with the ice cream truck song looping in the background, I called Margot, a duty like injecting myself with a needle and sending hormones into my bloodstream.

“Hi, Pen, how’s your friend?”

“He’s okay. I’m taking pretty good care of him.”

“That’s good.”

“You know, the Unfuneral is coming up.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Could you visit their grave for me?” I didn’t know this was something I wanted until the words left my mouth.

A long pause.

“All right.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Pen, really.”

“Great—and bring marigolds. Mom loved them.”

“I know. She had our dad plant a whole patch at the house on Morris.”

“And bring a Mexican bottle of Coke, you know, the kind Dad would only drink once a year.”

“Yes, on Father’s Day. All right, Pen.”

I was afraid to use up her goodwill all at once. “Okay, tell me about surgery this week.”

“Well, I had a hard one.”

“Did he die?” Her patients were invariably older men, and often hated to see female cardiologists.

“No, he didn’t die, but it really took something out of me.”

“I’m sorry, Margot.”

I was sorry and relieved at a break in her invulnerability. She usually gave a brisk summary of her surgical procedures, omitting any mention of deaths or strain.

“Me too. I think Nat is going to fly in and we’ll do something wild like go down to Nashville.”

“Nat—I met her. Did she tell you? She was not what I expected.”

“I felt the same way when she first entered my life.”

After we hung up, I stared down at the phone, trying to figure out what had changed between us.

The night of the Unfuneral arrived. At sunset, I traveled to the big park above Manhattan. On the train, I passed revelers who were heading to the pride parties. Aside from an upswing in Aiden’s sponsorships, and his presence at certain required events, we were not observing Pride. We were living it in another form.