“That’s because we live in a basement, Mother. And just because it’s cold enough to snow doesn’t mean it’s snowing now.”

“Yes it does. It’s basic physics. Water changes states of matter at a certain temperature. Maybe if you didn’t think you were too good for school you’d know about thermodynamics.”

“Maybe if my parents cared about my education, I would too.”

“Sorry, your highness, if we don’t turn into a coach and horses and deliver you to the schoolyard. Or maybe you’re looking for us to put you in cuffs and walk you to your classes like death-row screws. You’re too old to fuck up and blame it on us.”

I was fourteen and didn’t argue that last point. I certainly felt old. But not in a good way.

I changed tack, struck back at her. “Where’s Dad?”

“Stop.”

“It’s been a couple of days. Business trip? Or maybe he’s caught out in this raging blizzard.”

She squared up and looked me in the eyes, her face drawn in grayscale, with blank holes for eyes and nostrils. I could see with certainty that I would die someday. But it wasn’t the thought of my corpse, rather my mother’s hot palm against my face that shocked me out of my reverie. I heard myself gasp.

She sucked her teeth at me as though I’d just asked her for spare change. I felt skinned by contempt; I needed to cry like a corpse needs to leak but I could only make it if I held my shit together. I took my coat—I couldn’t stop to dig for my scarf and gloves among the piles and boxes of what passed for our lives—and staggered into the dark and falling sky. That smoggy night oozed like cheap chocolate ice cream on dirty blacktop, swirling with pale ribbons of cloud close to the moon. I walked the length of Manhattan, all the way down to Battery Park, breathing in the scent of cold piss and puddles and rough sleepers. I worried about her being home alone, turning on the gas and forgetting what she was doing as the fumes mixed with the sweet stench of cooking smack. But I knew she wouldn’t be alone too long. My dad would come back to her and so would I.

I think about that and my mother now. The corpse that was both and neither of us.