“Fine, hit me, but be fast about it,” said Violet. “I have one will and two divorce agreements to finish today.”
“I think Sabine’s involved with a French boy.”
“That was fast.”
“It is, isn’t it? So fast! She’s eighteen and completely inexperienced.”
“Good for her.”
“Hush. I don’t need you to be her promiscuity cheerleading squad.”
“First of all, promiscuity is a very strong word. I hope you haven’t used that with her.”
“No, it’s just my inner terror leaking out.”
“Second of all, let her live a little. She’s not going to go from being involved with one boy to dating two of them back-to-back, without telling either, in the same bar.”
“Oh my god, right,” said Marlow. “How did that go?”
“Not well. Date One and Date Two met in the bathroom, struck up a conversation, realized they were both there to see me, and bailed. I finished my drink and went home to order takeout.”
“Ah.”
“But back to my question,” said Violet. “Do you really think Sabine is in trouble?”
“No,” said Marlow. “I’m just worried. I have a lot going on and I feel like I’m not picking up all the cues.”
“My recommendation is, say nothing. Stay in your lane. Do not pull the parental lecture trigger. She’ll hate you for it, and you’ll hate yourself for not taking my advice, which for you, by the way, is pro bono.”
“OK,” said Marlow. “I have to go but thank you.”
“I want to hear way more about the cute French house the next time you call,” said Violet. “But Marlow, you’re not hanging up from me to march down the hall, knock on Sabine’s door, and talk about it, are you?”
“Of course not.”
Three minutes later, Marlow was down the hall, knocking on Sabine’s door, to talk about it. Sabine was sprawled on the bed on a WhatsApp video call with Willa, talking in whispers that stopped the moment Marlow entered the room. She leaned into view, and waved.
“Willa! How was prom?”
“Awesome, thanks,” said Willa. “How’s France?”
“We’re slaughtering the language and gorging on croissants,” said Marlow.
“Sign me up.”
“Sabine told me you chose Dalhousie for math. Congrats. Any chance you can twist her arm into making a decision too? There’re a few dozen French pastries in it for you.”
“Yes to the pastries, and I’m working on Sabine.”
“All I ask. Any chance I can steal her for a sec?”
Willa nodded and signed off.
“I just need forty-five seconds for a parental lecture, and then I’ll be done,” said Marlow. This ritual prelecture buy-in, with anticipated time usage, usually worked for both of them.
“Seriously? I don’t need it today, I swear,” said Sabine.
“Hey. I get my full forty-five seconds. That’s the deal.”
