Izzy went to Nephy’s social media page. Most of the photos were selfies of Nephy sitting in the driver’s seat of Seth’s truck, looking up with big eyes at the camera, pursing her lips, showing off her acrylic-tipped, ring-garnished fingers. The only difference between the images was really just the T-shirts: “Lady of the House,” “Queen.” “Goddess-in-Training.” That was a new one. “Heteroclite.” It sounded so royal, almost, but it actually referred to abnormality, Izzy knew. She clicked through some more. Nephy as a girl with her tall, handsome Black father Otis and her little white mother Sarah. Nephy and Seth at their wedding at the West Shores Baptist Church. Nephy with a few of her day-care kids. Pictures of her favorite pop stars and rappers. More selfies. The pictures the photographer had taken of Seth and Nephy as kids, perched in the helm of the blue boat outside Seth’s house. Seth, eyes lifted to the horizon, one arm raised, was pretending to sail the ship across the sand. Shirtless as usual. Ripped abs even then. Nephy, hands on hips, wore a white party dress and her hair waterfalled beneath the crown of a little tiara of twisted metal. Where had Izzy seen one like that before? She couldn’t remember. She noticed the photo was tagged: Clay Wade Photography. She clicked on his name and was led to a webpage with a picture of a too-tan man in sunglasses, a camera around his neck. Izzy scrolled through some black and white images of desert people and city hipsters. There, among them, she recognized Amanda Flowers from the retreat center, and Izzy realized that the photographer who had come to take the picture of Nephy and Seth was the same man Izzy had seen at the House of Hearts.

Not sure how to process this, she clicked back on Nephy’s page.

Another picture: Izzy, Cyrus, Nephy, and Seth as teenagers at the Salton Sea. Seth sat off to the side on a rock. Nephy sassed for the camera. Cyrus had his hands in his pockets and his head turned away, scanning the horizon for something. Izzy looked toward him; she was always looking toward him.

And then: a Polaroid from the night that all four of them met at the party at Seth’s. They sat on the chartreuse couch, all in a row. Seth had his arm around Nephy, who smiled prettily. Cyrus looked somber; his gaze hooded. Again, even then, after they had just met, Izzy was looking at Cyrus.

Izzy stared at the phone screen. Then she noticed a date scrawled in pencil at the bottom of the Polaroid. 091305.

The date Cyrus met Izzy.

And got to know Seth.

And Nephy.

Izzy reached for Cyrus’s cell phone. She typed in 091305.

Cyrus’s phone unlocked.