But it isn’t.

At first, it’s small talk about what I’ve been up to. She told me she’s watched the show and thinks I’m just marvelous on it.

When Jenny finishes making the tacos, we eat and chat about how good they are, and then—after the third margarita hits—I bring up the elephant in the room, even though I’m the only who can see it.

“So I had a crazy time in Ireland.”

That is what I lead with. A bewilderingly blasé start to a story that neither of them are going to believe.

For the next half hour, I tell the moms what happened in Avalon. They exchange a few looks here and there, and I push through.

“I know it sounds crazy,” I say. “It was crazy. And I don’t know what the hell it was, or how, but I’m telling you, it happened.”

I’m very clear about the fact that the internet results changed, that my face changed, that nothing was as it is in reality. I don’t want to raise hopes that maybe there was a mistake and Aimee is actually living in Ireland somewhere after pulling off the crime of a lifetime, faking her own death.

When I finish, I’m not sure what they’re going to say. I’m not sure if my mom is going to apologize for what I’ve said, if Jenny is going to change character completely and slap me across the face and accuse me of terrible lies.

“You know, this is going to sound crazy,” says Jenny, stirring her drink with her straw. “But I believe every word you said.”

My mom looks patient and kind as she nods at Jenny and says nothing.

“You do?” I ask.

“Yes. I do. There’s a ton of research on quantum science lately. I was listening to an episode of Radiolab that went into this kind of thing the other day.”

“Oh my God, Aimee said the exact same thing when I told her. Almost verbatim! And that’s proof in itself, because God knows I don’t listen to Radiolab.”

She gives me a polite smile and says, a little cryptically, “I wonder.”

Then something occurs to me. “Jenny, did Aimee get into Avalon?”

Her eyes are wide now, fractured with pink. “Yes, she got in. It was awful, her lying to you like that. We tried to tell her to trust you with the truth, but she wouldn’t do it. We couldn’t make her, and it didn’t feel like our place.”

I’m relieved she knows, and it feels like the last puzzle piece truly put in its place for me to see the big picture. “So she got in. She really did.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I never wanted to tell you after she was gone.”