He doesn’t say anything, just walks back over slowly to join me. He pours me a glass of white wine, and I dig right into the food. We’re quiet for a little while, eating and drinking. Sitting there in the middle of the dance floor, I appreciate the novelty of the situation. Ezra was always creative in life, and I’m happy it stayed with him into adulthood.

“Just so you know.” I pause to swallow down a bite of bread. “I think this might be the best date I’ve ever been on. You get an A plus for originality.” Leaning over, I clink his beer with my wineglass.

He tilts his head and gives me a scrutinizing look. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.”

“Okay. Just seems like you’re a bit off, that’s all.”

“Off?”

“Well, maybe not off.” He rubs the side of his face while trying to find the wording. “Less enthusiastic.”

I take a long sip of my wine before answering. “It’s not you, Ezra.” He stares back at me, and I can tell he won’t be happy with my simple declaration. “It’s all of it. Being back here. Finding out about the affair. Being reminded of my father leaving, my childhood summers, which now seem like a lie.”

“I can understand that,” he says, but there’s still some skepticism in his voice.

“It’s like my mother has been split into two people.” I make a cutting motion with my hand, and he nods to show he understands. “The version I had in my head before I found out she’d had a decades-long affair, before I found out she lied about Avril Island, about so many things, and the version I have now.” I drink some more wine. “She was always difficult,” I continue. “Emotional, selfish, and sometimes even downright mean.” I shrug. “But I could reconcile those things, because she could also be loving and generous and fun, and she was beautiful and elegant. It was just my mother and the way she was. Now she feels like …” I trail off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

Ezra slides down onto the blanket to lie on his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “People can be lots of things, June, both good and bad. You don’t have to write them off just because of the bad. You shouldn’t think of your mother as a stranger just because she had an affair.” He takes a long sip of his beer, and I watch as his Adam’s apple moves up and down his throat.

“The thing is, my mother doesn’t feel like a stranger to me. In fact, I feel like I’ve never known her better.”

He looks up at me with confusion. “How is that the problem, then?”

“Because I think that I became her.”