My mother called at 2:07 a.m. and said, “You can c…

I went still.

The room, which had been full of the ordinary nighttime sounds of pipes, traffic, and the hum of my refrigerator, suddenly felt too quiet. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t start,” she said. “Lauren’s father is a federal judge.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed.

Cold floorboards. Tight throat. “And?”

“And we can’t afford for you to embarrass us again.”

I actually laughed, but it came out thin and sharp.

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“Again? When exactly did I embarrass you?”

“You know what I mean, Amelia.”

No, I thought. I knew exactly what she meant, and it was more insulting than if she’d just said it plainly.