We have only been living in this new hell for ten days. What will she look like by summer? I can’t imagine her beauty unraveling like the hem of a sweater. Then again, I never could have imagined any of this either.

“Hey,” she says, waving her spoon. She doesn’t meet my eyes. She keeps them trained on the container. I assume since she’s denied herself this simple pleasure for so long, the Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream holds extra magic. This is the kind of self-care I can get behind.

I sit down next to her and take the spoon from her hand. Help myself to a hefty bite. She doesn’t ask what I’m doing up this early. She doesn’t have to. No one sleeps in this house anymore.

“Get your own,” she says, and we both smile as I go for more. “No, seriously, there are six cartons in the freezer.”

“Six?” I ask.

“Moment of weakness. I wanted to try lots of flavors. There’s also a stash of M&M’s—did you know they make caramel ones now?—and Mallomars. Also, vodka and a fresh baguette, because apparently I eat bread now. Thank God for Carrie. She even brought me a Costco-sized Nutella. Think they have Ben & Jerry’s in the big house?”

“We need to talk,” I say. She closes her eyes and opens them again, as if her lids are heavy and they need a millisecond’s rest before facing me. I can’t tell if this is because she’s medicated or because she’s upset.

“Isn’t it my job to force you to have the big talks?”

“Mom.”

“I thought we’d already covered this. It’s pretty simple. A man puts his peni—”

“Mom!”

“I’m kidding. Relax.”

“How many Xanax have you had?” I ask.

“This is my second pint. Works better than the Xanax.”

“What’s Raj going to say?” Raj is my mom’s trainer. Thinking of him makes me think of all the hundreds of people we know, maybe even thousands, who have heard the news. When they think of us, they’ll only think about this: that I’m such a dumbass that my parents had to pay someone off to up my SAT score, and then bribe my way into college. Even worse: How many of them are celebrating our fall from grace? I would bet almost all of them.

I wonder if Rita explained to Cesar the real reason why I haven’t been able to see him. I wonder if his mother saw my mother being led away in handcuffs on television, and if she now regrets all those cookies she made for me at Christmas. Maybe she’ll ask Rita to reassign Cesar to a different buddy.