In first grade, we traced outlines of our hands on a projector. Inside, we drew bigger, stronger, surer versions of ourselves. The standard What do you want to be when you grow up? question was written across the top in Miss Beckett’s clear block print. The future is in your hands. In my hand was a Crayola drawing of my mom. She had just explained to me what she did for a living, that she gets to make up stories—and I remember thinking that was the closest thing to magic I’d ever heard.

It was magic. Until the words stopped.

That’s the problem with art, with writing, with music. The thing I still can’t shake. It’s magic until it’s not.

I press the space bar on Henry’s laptop, pausing the movie right before the balcony scene.

“Bathroom,” I say, springing to my feet and out of my room. But I pass the bathroom, running downstairs and hooking left to Mom’s office. The door is closed but the light is on. I knock, two quick raps of my knuckles against the white hollow wood, before twisting the bronze doorknob and poking my head inside.

“One sec, Lee,” Mom says, her fingers dancing on the keys.

I almost say never mind because I feel bad interrupting her flow. But I stay. My lips press together in a thin line, keeping the words inside until she’s done. I stand with my back pressed against the doorframe, watching Mom write. It’s still my favorite sight in the world, seeing Mom in the zone, absorbed in her work.

Finally, Mom flexes her fingers and takes a sip of tea from the mug beside her. “What’s up?”

“Are you happy?” I ask.

Mom blinks. “Of course I’m happy, Lee. What kind of question is that?”

“You haven’t published in five years.”

“True.”

“But… you’re happy.”

Mom arches an eyebrow. “I’m writing now, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but… I don’t know. Sometimes I think I want to try to make it in theater, for real. Because I don’t want Melted to end or drama club to not exist. But then I remember what a creative slump looks like. What if I can’t sustain it? Then what?”

Mom moves to the futon and pats for me to sit down next to her.