There was a long way to go to the gig. We stopped along the way at someone’s parents’ house. Not a band member’s parents. It was Sara’s cousin’s parents, except the father had divorced the mother and now lived with a younger woman who greeted us and invited us in. We’d be spending the night and making ourselves at home, but really tiptoeing around self-consciously, trying not to inconvenience or intrude. It was a beautiful, modern home set in the woods. Jackie was there, but was a younger version of herself, rolling around in the shag carpeting of the living room.