M. Gessen

I invited my aunt, cousin, and nephew over for dinner.

Alan was away on business, so Lena arrived with O, who got conscripted into a human pyramid by the young people of my household.

As I slid turkey steaks into the oven, I asked Lena the question all New York City parents ask all other New York City parents, where will O go to school?

He was about to turn six.

Lena said that she had no idea how schools even functioned in the city.

Do let me explain this to you, I said, and took out my phone.

What is your address?

Let's see what district that is.

Bingo.

I had their address.

I sent it to Priscilla.

Some weeks later, apparently on a lark, they moved to Massachusetts.

I figured out that address, too.

I was a double agent now.

I tracked Lana, Alan, and O through their Facebook posts, messages to the family chat, and occasional weekends at my father's house on Cape Cod.

When they moved to a new house, I left Priscilla now.

If I had news about O, I texted Priscilla.

Sometimes she'd just ask for reassurance that he was all right.

From all the men in my family, my father, my three brothers, and my son, I hid the fact that I was in touch with Priscilla.

I thought they'd see what I was doing as disloyal and might rat me out to Alan.