“Evann,” she said compassionately. “I’m just your stepmother. I don’t give life advice to anyone, most of all you, but you really need to do something to get back on your feet.”

“I know, okay?” I said. “But what am I supposed to do? New York is destroyed, Allentown is over. Should I move to some foreign country where they don’t even have water reserves? Where do I even go?”

“You don’t watch the news, do you, Evann?” she asked.

“You do?” I said. The surprises were never-ending.

“Turn on your wristscreen. I’ll send you a video.”

“Fine,” I said.

The next thing I knew, I was watching a newscast. Newscasts are the worst, with all these shaky amateur videos and boring newscasters. The only really good part is that they constantly break for cat videos. But this one seemed different. It was a straight video, done old-style. Which they never do if not to make a point about how real and poignant something is. So I knew I was in for some big schmaltzy news story. Boring. Leave it to Tina to not really surprise me.

There was a blasé newscaster in her Business Wearhouse skirt suit talking about something. I turned the volume up, not that I really cared.

“Now, we take you live to the site where we are talking to Mayor of New York City, Richard Bradley.”

Oh, Christ. Mayor Bradley. This was getting even better.

But then I saw it. It was tiny, because I was watching on my wristscreen, but I could tell it was remarquable. Truly the most remarquable thing I had ever seen since I saw my first Basquiat. It was a battle scene on the side of a building, so perfect that I couldn’t look away. I could barely hear what Mayor Bradley was saying in the foreground. I could barely hear Tina talking next to me. It was jagged and bold and frightening. It made me feel that thing, that feeling that I feel deep inside me and can never explain. It was like Guernica, but a million times more modern, emotional, and terrifying. It was fabuleux, it was breathtaking. None of the words I had could match it.

“This is what our city has always been about,” Mayor Bradley was saying as if from somewhere far away. “This painting, this amazing artist who is moving from borough to borough doing these beautiful works, just proves that the city is not gone for good. This painting is the spirit of resilience in this undestroyable mecca. This storm has set us back, but it has not extinguished us. Neither will the next one. We will rebuild—bigger, better. We will be, as always, a place where beauty like that behind me flourishes. We will come back stronger than before, having faced many great hardships together. Like the phoenix, New York City will rise above the ashes.”