“He didn’t?”
“No.”
“Eventually it started raining,” she continued. “Then Eli came out.”
“Why?”
“He said he saw me.”
“What happened to your dress?”
“I had a drink with me. Eli was driving me home, and I asked him to pull over because I thought I was going to throw up. When I got out, I dropped the cup all over myself. The dress was already soaked from the rain, and then it had red punch all over it.”
“So you changed?”
“In the back seat. Eli gave me his hoodie. He stood outside.”
The explanations lined up.
Wet hair.
Bare feet because she’d taken off her heels.
The ruined dress left in the car.
The enormous hoodie.
The shower.
But something bothered me.
“How did Eli know where you were?”
She frowned.
“I told you. He saw me.”
“Outside where?”
“Near the side entrance.”
“Was he leaving?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why would he happen to come through that particular door?”
“Maybe because he’s a decent person?”
“I’m not accusing Eli of anything.”
“It sounds like you are.”
“No. I’m asking why he was there.”
“I don’t know, Mom.”
She reached for her phone, irritated.
Then she stopped.
Her expression changed as she read.
