Sipping warmed, thick Spanish wine under the tent, I presumed the party would end early. The afternoon felt gentle, melodic. There was a light rustling in the drab trees lining the estate. I felt lazy and had reluctantly resigned to the fact that Tad had run off to satisfy what I recognized in him as a constant need for control. When he and I were alone, he was in charge. This weekend disrupted our balance. Maybe he wanted to frighten me, to make me think he’d left.
Resting in a lounge chair, avoiding the group’s conversation, hovering inside myself, I heard the sound of cars, of stray laughter, but ignored it as inconsequential. I glimpsed four blond men striding arm in arm in the distance. My mind felt loose, and I realized I was a bit exhausted. As evening completely settled, and dusk
