with the rest of the band.
“Do you want to get dressed before I do one final blast of hairspray?”
“My gown feels like a sausage casing. I want to wait until the very last minute.”
“All right. Just be careful. The makeup will rub off. And your lips are so perfect right now. Try not to mess with them, but if you need a touch-up, I’m leaving you both the liner and the gloss. And use this brush for the gloss, not the applicator that comes with the tube.”
“Message received, Michelangelo. I won’t destroy the artwork.”
“You sure you don’t need help with a zipper or anything? I can wait if you want.”
I declined the offer, saying that Adam would be back in time if I needed a hand, even though I hadn’t heard anything from him since the previous night. He’d left early in the morning, before I woke up.
Valerie was shellacking my carefully positioned waves with spray when I heard the creak of the apartment door. We’d had a Post-it note on the refrigerator to remind one of us either to call the handyman or pick up some WD-40 for at least three weeks. I longed for the days when a to-do sticker never lingered for more than forty-eight hours in our home. We had both gotten so busy.
“See?” I said, feeling my own smile. “That’s probably him now.”
We followed the sounds into the kitchen. Instead of Adam, Ethan stood in front of the open refrigerator, his eyes searching for something that obviously wasn’t there.
“Oh. Hey, Valerie.” His voice had probably dropped an octave since he’d seen Valerie last winter during the holiday party season. He immediately straightened up, pushing the refrigerator door shut behind him.
I watched with profound discomfort as Valerie offered him a generous hug and a kiss on the cheek, seemingly oblivious to the effect she had on my teenage son. Ethan had never expressed an interest in dating, but I had seen the change in him over the last year and had spoken to a couple of the better teachers at his school. The good news (in my view) was that he had been late to shift his interests from video games and don’t-try-this-nonsense-at-home YouTube videos to actual human girls. The bad news was that he hadn’t quite figured out how to be comfortable around members of the opposite sex.
“Okay, Valerie,” I said, tapping her shoulder to pull her attention from Ethan. “Thanks again for dolling me up. You really are an artist.”
As I walked Valerie to the door, I could feel Ethan’s eyes following her. It would be weeks before I asked myself whether that was yet another sign that something was deeply wrong with my son.
3
Despite its populist-sounding name, the Press for the People gala was a veritable who’s who of what most of the country would call the “media elite.” But as was typical with the New York City social scene, not all levels of elite were equal. Even with a starting ticket price of $500, the reminders of the night’s hierarchy began at check-in. As the recipient of the night’s major award, I learned that my family and I were seated at Table 2. I took small (and admittedly petty) satisfaction when I overheard a former employee of mine who had left for a minor promotion at a competitor magazine being informed that he’d be enjoying the program from Table 132 on the balcony above the stage.
“And am I checking in all three in your party, Ms. Taylor?” the young woman asked with a smile. She was not much older than Ethan, probably the daughter of a board member who had volunteered in exchange for another entry on her college applications.
“My dad’s not coming,” Ethan said. “So we’ll have an extra seat. You know, just in case you need to rest or something.”
The volunteer’s stylus paused over her electronic tablet, and her eyes shifted from Ethan to me. Her smile grew nervous.
“My husband’s just running late,” I assured her. “Adam Macintosh.”
“Certainly. I’ll leave him unchecked then.”
As we walked away from the table, Ethan groaned in embarrassment. “Oh my god, what was that? I sounded like a total chode.” It was his new favorite word for someone who was a jerk. I had to look it up in the Urban Dictionary.
Adam had been the one to suggest that I ask if we could bring our son to the banquet. I had done so reluctantly, foreseeing the battle of wills that would erupt when it