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TORI AND ADRIAN live in a refurbished Craftsman home worth over two million dollars despite its sloping floors and structural inconsistencies. In contrast to the heritage exterior, the inside is distinctly modern. Tori’s job is making houses look beautiful and inviting, and her own is no exception. Despite being overrun with teenagers “hanging out, being comfortable, and just being themselves,” it is magazine-worthy. Theo has never been inside before, and I hear him whistle under his breath. I can’t blame him, but I wish he wasn’t so impressed.

“Hey, Theo.” Adrian shakes his hand.

“Great place,” Theo says, handing him the bottle of wine I’d picked up on the walk over.

Adrian kisses my cheek. “Can I get you both a drink?”

“Please,” I say as we slip out of our shoes, hang our jackets on the hooks above the crisp white wainscoting of the foyer. My nerves are frayed, frazzled by the horrific image I received yesterday, and I’m never comfortable in Tori’s territory. Alcohol might help a little. We follow Adrian into the soothing neutral palette of the front room.

Tori appears from the open-plan kitchen wearing white jeans and a crisp blue-and-white-striped blouse. She’s holding a slim jug full of a deep red liquid. “I’ve made blood orange French 75s!” she crows. “This is a celebration.”

Is it? But of course I stay quiet. I will support my daughter in her choices for the next chapter of her life, trust that her father and I have raised a confident, self-actualized young woman. I will swallow my doubts and concerns, wash them down with the champagne cocktail Tori hands me. It is delicious. And very strong. We nibble figs and cheese and salted nuts and make small talk about the weather and Theo’s latest expedition. By the time I’ve finished the glass, my tensions have eased, and my face feels warm and flushed. When Tori offers to make me another, I don’t decline.

On her command we move to the table, and Adrian summons the kids by bellowing “Dinner!” up and down the stairwells. Tori refuses my offer to help, and shuttles in a fragrant white bean, kale, and thyme casserole (their household is vegetarian, though Adrian insisted on meat with every meal when we were together), followed by a green salad and a loaf of crusty sourdough bread.

As we take our seats at the long teak table, Tori’s daughter, Savannah, enters with her girlfriend, Marley, in tow. I’ve met Savannah several times and Marley once. The pair attends an exclusive leadership program at one of the public schools, and they exude the calm maturity of a head of state or perhaps a commercial pilot. We greet each other pleasantly and I introduce Marley to Theo. And then Liza enters the room, holding hands with Wyatt. His presence, their united front, is not a good sign.

“Hey,” I greet them, and notice how their eyes dart away from mine.

“Cocktails, kids?” Tori offers. I can’t help but look at Adrian. The kids are underage. These drinks are strong.

“This is a big night,” Adrian says. “A big announcement.”

Tori half fills flutes with the gin and blood orange concoction, tops them up with the champagne. As she passes them to the children, I take a sip of my own drink. The bubbles fizz in my head as I turn to my daughter. “What are we celebrating, Liza?”

“I’ve made a decision about the fall,” she says, taking her drink and avoiding my eyes. “I’m going to take a gap year. I’m going to go traveling around Australia.”

Tori holds up her flute. “To an epic adventure! And to discovering your true self!” All the glasses clink together, even mine. But I can’t summon the same exuberance. Despite my vow to be supportive, I can’t help worrying that my daughter was pressured into this decision. And given my heightened anxiety, and the alcohol in my system, I can’t help saying so.

I address Wyatt. “You must be happy about this.”

Wyatt’s head snaps up from his plate of beans. “Pardon?”

“You convinced Liza not to go to university so you could be together. Well done.”

“Mom, he didn’t,” my daughter says.

“You’re kids, Liza. You’ll break up eventually. You’re just delaying the inevitable.”

“Harsh,” Savannah mutters, and Marley shakes her head.

“I’m not even going with Wyatt.” Liza practically spits her words at me. She’s furious, and rightly so. I feel my bravado wilt in the face of her rage.

“Who are you going with?”

“Sage,” she says, referring to a classmate. “And some of her friends that I met, and I really like.”

“So you two are breaking up, then?”

Adrian grumbles, “Christ, Camryn.”

“Maybe you’ve had enough to drink,” Theo suggests, but I silence him with a look.

“We might meet up in Queensland for a bit,” Wyatt says, “if it works with our schedules.” I watch as he takes a bite of bread, chews nonchalantly. I have to ask…

“Were you parked outside our apartment the other night?”

“What?” But he’s lying. I can see it. Apparently, no one else can.

“Mom, I told you he wasn’t,” Liza snaps.

Tori’s voice is calm to the point of condescension. “Camryn, let’s celebrate these young people and their bravery. They’re going on a trip of a lifetime. Exploring a different culture…”

“A different culture?” I scoff. “Australia is like here. But with sun and sharks.”

My daughter’s voice trembles with rage. “You were right, Tori.” But her eyes are on me. “This isn’t even about me. It’s about her.”

I look to Tori, flute held in long tapered fingers, for an explanation. “Sometimes we parent from a place of ego, Camryn. We see our child’s choices as a reflection of ourselves.”

“Oh, give me a fucking break.”

My daughter jumps up then. “This is why I don’t tell you things!” And she storms from the room.

“Liza!” Tori and Adrian call in unison. Then Tori tosses the natural linen napkin off her lap, onto the table. “I’ll go.” She hurries after my daughter.

My head is starting to throb, and I feel close to tears. I look at Theo, who is watching me like I’m a grenade with a shaky pin, which is not unlike how I feel. Did I really just say all that? Did I really just attack and accuse my daughter and her boyfriend?

Theo speaks. “We should probably go.”

“I think that would be best,” Adrian mutters.

Theo and I head for the door with my ex in tow. The appalled whispers of the remaining teens follow in my wake. We hurriedly don our coats and shoes, and Adrian opens the door to usher us out.

“I… I handled that badly,” I stammer as I pass by him. “But tell Liza not to book tickets until we’ve had a chance to discuss this.”

“I won’t tell her that,” Adrian says. “She’s thought this through, and she’s made her decision. You need to respect that.”

“I’m her mother!” I cry, and I feel Theo gently tugging me out the door. “I deserve some input into my daughter’s future.”

“Pull yourself together, Cam,” Adrian growls into my ear. “If you’re not careful, you could lose your daughter completely.”

And with his words, the sob buried in my chest bursts out of me. I hurry off the porch and into a light drizzle.