Tom looked into his drink and seemed to stew on something for a moment. I wanted to say—I’m very sorry about you and Paul separating. Emily told me.

I nodded and thanked him.

This has taken an incredible toll on all of us, he said.

I glanced over at the cardboard boxes still stacked in the hallway beside the door to the garage.

You see those boxes over there, down the hall? Those are all his, I said.

When Paul first left, it sometimes felt like he was just away on a business trip, and then I would see those boxes and it would become real again. He had planned to swing by a couple of weeks earlier to grab them, but something came up. Then he was supposed to come by the day before the party, but he never showed. I texted him three, maybe four times, to remind him. I was sure, then, that he was just doing it to annoy me. But they were his things, not mine, that were going to be sitting out in the hallway when forty teenagers descended on the place. If I had felt magnanimous I would have carried the boxes into the garage for safekeeping, but I didn’t.

Tom cleared his throat, and I turned back to look at him. Well, we uh—we don’t want to take up too much of your time, he said.

No, especially not on a night like this, Seema said.

Then, without another word, Tom pulled out a charred hunk of metal from his reusable shopping bag and clunked it down on the dining table.

What on earth is that? I asked.

This, Claire, is my mailbox. Someone set it on fire last night.

What?

They’re trying to intimidate us, Seema said.

Tom leaned back in his chair. We’ve been lobbying the city, the governor, our congressman, he said. And nothing. The city didn’t even write us back. So we went to the media with it.

I know, I said, I watched you on TV.

He gestured to the mailbox emphatically, as if to suggest his television appearance precipitated the vandalism.

Just because of one little interview? I asked.

And the articles in the papers, Seema said.

But who would’ve done it?

Tom started counting off on his fingers—Someone from Grenadier, someone from the city, angry neighbours who think I’m wrecking their property value—

Neighbours?

Oh yeah. I’ve had some nasty arguments.

Seema said there were hundreds of people who had a vested stake in The Hum not being investigated. They know how much it could cost them, she said. So they’re trying to shut us up.

I asked her how they would even know where Tom lived, and she shrugged—Anyone can find out where anyone lives.

You got to be careful, I said.