Our classmate Rochelle got married in March in Miami. Casey and Lainey had maintained a civil distance, with Janella and I as a buffer. Our suite at the Fontainebleau overlooked the Atlantic Ocean and I looked out at the water, thinking about all the things that had happened a few miles away from where I stood.

“Hey, baby doll.” Casey handed me a glass of red wine. “Nothing like 11 a.m. liquor in your pajamas, huh?” She still wore the oversized Amherst football t-shirt she wore in college, only with blue-and-white striped pajama pants.

I took a sip without answering. I’d taken an afternoon flight out of Chicago and got in a cab straight to the luxury hotel, and forced myself not think about everything that happened in Miami. The cab got stuck in traffic on 836, and I g...

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