“You know it’s only been a week since . . .” Jessica trails off as she shuffles off her coat and hangs it on her chair at the bar.

“God, I know. It feels so much longer than that,” Carmen commiserates, setting down their beers on the table. As Jessica picks one up she says—“Should we be drinking again? I feel weird.”

Kierk raises his glass. After a moment so do Carmen, Jessica, and Alex, and all four put them together to clinks.

“To Atif. May we honor his memory with deed,” Kierk says. Carmen and he make eye contact as they sip.

Carmen asks—“So, Jessica, I haven’t gotten to really talk to you about that night.”

“Oh, God. No, Mike and I didn’t hook up. Sorry. Too much information.”

“Well, how much do you actually remember about that night?”

Jessica makes a face, shakes her head. She looks reluctant. “I . . . I actually don’t remember much. The hookah place. And I remember the cab I got with Mike, kind of. Like a blur, or like, the sensation of walking. I must have been really, really drunk. And then the next thing I know I’m in my bed and it’s morning and I have the worst, I mean, the worst hangover I’ve had. Ever. And it’s weird because I never get hangovers. My dad is like that too. I didn’t learn about Atif till Sunday and the email. God, his poor mother.”

“So you don’t remember how you got home?” Alex asks.

“No,” she says, hesitantly.

“What about being with Mike afterward?” Carmen asks. “Does that fire any neurons?”

Jessica pauses. “Well, I don’t really remember, but I asked Mike. Apparently he and I took a cab back to my place, where I, just like, collapsed. But he, like, helped me to my bed and there was a pot beside me when I woke up. Which was really nice of him.”

“So he was there for a while?”

“Yeah, I guess. I haven’t like, talked to him too much about it.”

“And you were still in your dress?” Carmen asks.

Jessica set down her beer. “Why? What are you asking?” she says defensively.

“No, listen, okay, nobody remembers anything about that night.”

“None of you remember either?”

Alex and Kierk shake their heads and Carmen raises her eyebrows as if to say—see!

Jessica puzzles her mouth. “Weird. Because it’s like, if he was drunk, and that’s why he . . . fell. But when we were leaving people were drunk but not like, drunk drunk. Were we? How did we all go blackout?”

“Perfect blackouts,” Carmen says, “for at least five people. What are the chances of that?”

“Wait. So all four of us, plus Leon?”

Carmen is nodding. “That’s right. But apparently not Mike.”

“But we all drank the same drink. Like most of it was shared,” Jessica says.