I NEED TO MAKE CLEAR THAT I NEVER CHOSE THE GROUP over Ashley or Paul. I have found accusations of this nature completely debilitating. I never fail to be amazed by how many opinions strangers or pundits have about the kind of mother I am or was. Literally fuck off. I would have crawled across a desert for Ashley. So why didn’t I come running out of the house when she called? Don’t think I haven’t racked my brain over that same question. The thing is, without the support of the group, I would have quite simply lost my mind. There would have been no one for Ashley to call a mother, or for Paul to call a wife. I also can’t overemphasize how responsible I felt for Kyle, who, despite his air of assuredness, was really so vulnerable. I was also operating on months of sleep deprivation at this point and feeling even more light-headed, and almost dissociative since the tunings. When people ask me if I regret that decision, or any decision I made later that night, I tell them that’s not a productive question. I can’t let myself sink into the mire of that kind of thinking.

By the time night fell, a small clutch of concerned neighbours had gathered, along with at least one local news van. Brenda was still out there with Paul, though I couldn’t see Ashley. The police lights strobed through the blinds, bathing the living room in blue and red. At one point, an officer came to the door. Howard and the officer had a brief exchange, which I didn’t catch all of, but it seemed to be about Kyle. Howard wouldn’t let the officer enter, citing the lack of a warrant, but as Howard said this, the officer tried to force his way inside and Howard had to push the door closed on him. Everyone was shaken, and argued for a while about how to prevent the situation escalating any further.

To calm our nerves, Jo kept the indoor lighting dim and soft and played some ambient world music, the kind you might expect to hear in a yoga class or a spa. She prepared some lentil soup for us, which we slurped from bowls balanced on our laps, while sitting around the living room. Nora sat in an armchair, eyes closed, praying bilingually under her breath. She reminded me of a pigeon perched on a ledge, huddled against the rain. At some point, Damian got up to investigate the backyard, I suppose to assess whether we were being surrounded.