“I give up, Mae.” Nah looks up at me with tearstained eyes. “I give up.”

I don’t know what this means. Giving up.

“It’s not even December yet,” I say. “We can get you tutors, get your grades up. You know, Scott Kelly was like you—not really into school. And now he’s the American record holder for most days in space. I’m sure—”

She sits up. Wipes at her eyes. “I wasn’t … Never mind.”

I don’t know what she wants. How to talk to her. To this person who craves nothing but pills and silence.

“What do you want, Nah? Right now. In your life. What do you want? Because I know that if we can figure that out, we can fix this. We can.”

She pulls the backs of her hands across her eyes, smearing eye liner and mascara. “I think that’s the problem. Part of it. I don’t want anything. I don’t feel anything. Everything I planned for—working with Mom at the studio, just being in LA and with Micah … it’s all gone.”

“Well, you could work at a studio here. Or go to yoga school. Are there yoga schools? You could—”

“It’s not … Without her … I can’t. I don’t even care, Mae. You don’t get it. I don’t care about anything.”

I remember that Mom told me something they would say at Al-Anon meetings she and Dad went to, the meetings for people who love someone with an addiction. They would say Just for today. And this sounds like what River was talking about at Dharma Bums, about being in the present, riding the ride.

“Then don’t think about the future,” I say. “Just think about now. This … moment. We can go moment by moment. I took a meditation class with Ben, and the teacher, River, she said all you need to worry about is the breath you’re taking right now. So just … take a breath. Then another. And once you’re off the pills for good, then maybe you’ll want things again. Other things.”

“You sound like Mom,” she says.

“I do?” This makes me warm, fills me up. I smile. “Then things are much worse than I thought.”

She laughs a little. “Yeah, who would have thought you’d turn into some guru?”

That laugh is a good sound.

“Mom and Dad are gone, but we’re still here, Nah.” I rest my hand on her knee. “We’re still here. And no matter what happens, no matter how bad it gets, we can’t give up. We have to do right by the miracle.”

She stares at me, a little spark of light finally coming into her eyes. “Do right by the miracle.”

As much as I hate my dad right now, I owe him one for that bit of light.

I nod. “Something Dad said in one of his talks.”

“Dad said that?”