Nat’s phone vibrated then. It would be her mom; no one else cared about her. Maternal instinct had alerted Allana that all was not well in her distant daughter’s life.

Are you okay? Haven’t heard from you in ages. . . .

But Nat had not responded to her mother’s texts. What could she say?

I’m not so good. My sugar daddy broke up with me and I just found out he was married all along. I won’t be able to afford rent in the fall, but instead of finding a job, I spend my days staring at online photos of his pansexual daughter, who has a crush on me. How’s the weather?

But when she retrieved her phone from between the couch cushions, she found a text from Violet.

My parents are having a graduation pool party for me. Want to come?

She couldn’t. She couldn’t walk into the home that Gabe shared with his wife and daughter and hang out by the pool like she was just another one of Violet’s friends. She couldn’t meet Violet’s mother, Gabe’s wife, and act like she hadn’t been having a passionate affair with the woman’s husband for months. She couldn’t pretend to meet Gabe for the first time, watch him blanch with shock, then squirm with guilt and regret and fear. Or could she?

Her phone pinged again.

My friend Mark is coming from the city. He can pick you up.

And then another text:

You can stay for the weekend if you want. My parents’ house has plenty of room.

Sipping her vodka, Nat pictured herself sleeping in the Turnmills’ luxuriant Hamptons home while just down the hall, Gabe lay wide awake next to his wife. He’d be too angry, stressed, and terrified to sleep. Would he come to her? Slip into the guest bedroom and make love to her under his own roof? Or would he sneak down the hallway and press a pillow to her face as she slept? To her surprise, Nat realized she didn’t care. Either way, she would be close to him.

Violet texted again.

If you don’t want to, I get it. It probably sounds really juvenile to you.

But my mom is letting us have some drinks. And our pool is beautiful.

I’d really like it if you came, but only if you want to.

Draining her glass and placing it heavily on the coffee table, Nat put the poor girl out of her misery.

Hi Violet. I’d love to come to your party

37

The Encounter

Gabe’s wife had insisted on having thirty of Violet’s friends over to celebrate her graduation. Their daughter had refused to participate in a traditional prom, labeling it heteronormative, classist, and a Hollywood-constructed experience. Celeste had reasonably felt that the milestone should be marked by some sort of occasion, so she had suggested the pool party. Surprisingly, Violet had agreed.

They had hired a caterer, allowing Gabe and his wife to relax in the family room with a drink, popping out on occasion to ensure the kids were playing nicely. Well, Celeste popped out on occasion. Gabe stayed on the sectional sofa, sipping his Scotch and reading a biography of John Adams. He didn’t know his daughter’s friends, and he didn’t want to. These schlubby kids with their colorful hair, prominent tattoos, and hideous piercings were a phase that she would soon outgrow.