She splays her legs out, giving me full view of her crotch. “Except for that one time sophomore year with Holly Gibbons.”

I shake my head at her, finishing off my cup of prosecco. “Let’s go before I’m too drunk.” She gets up at my command, brushing off her denim skirt.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want to keep the oldies waiting.”

I haven’t been outside with Beth in ages, and I’ve forgotten how quickly she walks, her stride aggressive, impatient, even though we’re right on time. At one point she grabs my hand as we sidestep pedestrians because I’m going too slowly for her liking. She yanks me forward and I almost trip, biting my lip, preparing for the fall, but thankfully it never comes.

We get to the restaurant right at eight, a buzzy place with people sitting outside vaping, drinking glasses of sangria steeped with oranges and strawberries. I stop at the front, my stomach clenching at the sheer number of people crammed inside, more people than I’ve come into contact with in the last year. Beth feels my hesitation, my hand still jammed into hers, and turns around.

“It’ll be okay. Just keep hold of me while we go in there, ’kay? We can find Anneliese’s party the second we get in and make a dive for it.” She’s soothing, gentle, and I appreciate it, because it takes a lot for Beth to show that kind of compassion.

I close my eyes as we step in and make our way to the hostess stand. “We’re here for the party,” I hear Beth say.

“What party?” The hostess’s voice oozes with contempt.

“My friend is having a party here. Don’t you all have a back room?”

“Um, no. Do they have a reservation? We have those.”

“Sue, what’s Anneliese’s last name?” I open my eyes.

“I-I don’t remember.” It’s like my anxiety has wiped out my memory. The hostess rolls her eyes.

“Y’all can take a seat at the bar until you figure out who you’re meeting.” She gestures to the packed bar. But Beth isn’t listening to her.

“Sue, how do you not remember the woman’s last name? Are you sure we have the right place? You said she was having a party.” I scavenge around for my phone, double-checking the restaurant’s name.

“This is it,” I say softly, and Beth cranes her neck to look, as if she doesn’t believe me.