"All right, everybody," she announced. "The host has had too much sun, and I am an old woman who needs her bed. Grab a plate for the road. Dana, get the foil."
People moved. It was remarkable how quickly they moved; a party has its own animal intelligence and knows when it has been wounded. Neighbors wrapped burgers in paper towels and said what a lovely evening it had been and gave Eric careful, sideways looks. Mark herded the children out of the pool with towels. Lily came dripping up the steps in her shark goggles and wanted to know why everyone was leaving, it wasn't even dark, she hadn't done her best handstand yet, and Eric knelt and wrapped her in a towel and held on a moment longer than he meant to, breathing in the chlorine smell of her wet hair.
"Is Tyler in trouble?" she whispered. She had seen him come through the gate. Lily saw everything.
"No, bug," Eric said. "Tyler's not in trouble."
"Are you?"
He did not know how to answer that, so he kissed the top of her head and asked Dana if Lily could sleep over at their house with the twins, just for tonight, and Dana, who did not ask any questions at all, said of course, of course she could, and went to find Lily's flip-flops.
When the yard was empty, Eric stood alone on the patio. The string lights glowed over the pool, reflected in the still water, two sets of them, one above and one below. Paper plates and plastic cups lay scattered on the tables. The grill ticked as it cooled. Through the blinds of the kitchen door, he could see the shapes of his wife and his son, not touching, standing on opposite sides of the room.