Palm Springs, 1960. We had come out for Frank’s birthday, but the boys were still high off the release of Ocean’s 11 and the stories had gotten old.

We decided to head over to The Desert Star where my ex-husband kept a bungalow for the season. Amanda made Mai Tai’s and then watched me drink them all as she floated in the pool, her fingers trailing lazy circles in the water. Sometimes I felt like she was nostalgic for a time that hadn’t happened yet.

Marilyn was laying low in #6 but we couldn’t coax her out. “Too sunny,” she cooed.