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But impossible to ignore.
Thursday evening, I added it to the hot tub water.
The following Friday, we once again made an obvious show of leaving.
This time, however, we parked several streets away and quietly returned home.
We sat in the kitchen watching the camera feed.
At 8:30 p.m., the gate opened.
Jim entered first.
Lisa followed.
Then Emma and Jake.
Same insulated bag.
Same portable speaker.
Same confident routine.
Jim pulled the cover off the hot tub as though he owned it.
They climbed inside.
For more than an hour, Tom and I watched.
Then Emma suddenly looked at her arm.
She said something to Jake.
He examined his own skin.
Lisa looked down.
Then Jim did the same.
Even through the camera feed, I could see the mood change instantly.
They were turning green.
They quickly climbed out and headed toward the gate.
Jim tried to open it.
Nothing happened.
He pulled harder.
Still locked.
He tried pushing, pulling, lifting.
The automatic lock held.
Tom stood.
“All right.”
We walked into the backyard.
Jim turned when he heard us.
His expression was almost impossible to describe.
He was standing in our yard, tinted green, unable to leave through the gate, trying to decide whether he should be angry or embarrassed.
“Charlotte,” he said. “What is going on?”