“We are going to talk about all of it, tonight, together,” Dalton said. He stayed beside Nora, and somehow that was harder for her than if he had walked away. My father cleared his throat twice without finding words. My mother lowered her napkin, and for the first time I could remember, she looked directly at me.

Nora eventually crossed the hall alone. She passed the head table and every carefully arranged seat before lowering herself onto a tiny chair at table 19. “I should have said it years ago,” she whispered. “Not on a balcony. Not to a camera.” I told her I hadn’t shown the recording to punish her. I had done it because I was tired of being the only person who remembered.