I groan. “No, you’ve got to stick with it. You haven’t even gotten to the mother of dragons. You haven’t even seen Cersei in all of her awful glory!”

Bernadette rolls her eyes. “Peter and I were a brief flickering flame, but we left each other scorched. Forever changed, really.”

“I really didn’t need to know that,” I tell her, but it feels good to come here and find these three women being their regular selves. My life might be upside down, but things are still normal somewhere.

“Well,” says Cleo as she dives back into the bushes. “I found the show quite riveting, so I’ll be watching and I don’t want any spoilings.”

“Spoilers,” I tell her.

We spend the rest of the morning outside, talking shit about their neighbors and hearing about their next great big adventure, a trip to Palm Springs this summer. I try not to think too much about how nearly all my favorite people are three to four times my age.

“I’m so close to figuring it out,” I say. On the floor, surrounding me in a semicircle, are the pieces of Grammy’s old doorbell and her new doorbell. “I don’t get how it didn’t work.”

“Does it have something to do with the password I set up on my iPad?” asks Grammy. “Or maybe if I restart my phone?”

I shake my head, not bothering to explain that the problem is the video doorbell and not her many devices it should link to.

The front door creaks open and Clem tiptoes through the doorway.

“Grammy called me,” she immediately says in defense.

I look over to Grammy as she walks past me with a basket of laundry. “Traitor.”

“I need a doorbell,” she calls over her shoulder. “And you two need to come to a truce.”

I turn to Clem as she sits down beside me. “I’ve installed and uninstalled it twice. Your problem now.”

“Here. Let me see.” She slides her glasses up her nose and takes a look at the instructions.

“Give me those,” I say, motioning to her glasses.

She does and I clean them off with the hem of my shirt. “I don’t know how you can see out of these things. They’re so gross.”

“Does this mean you’re not mad at me?” she asks.

“Oh, I’m still plenty mad. Your glasses were just making it worse.”

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it,” she says quietly, “but not everyone at school had the same reaction as Patrick Thomas. In fact, a lot of people even thought it was pretty cool.”

“I can’t believe you shared that video to begin with. It was private!”

“I’m sorrrrrrry,” she says. “I was really proud of you, and it’s really nice to see you do something for yourself.”