Marianne sits back, a little stunned, but does not let go of Janine’s hand. On her computer, the folder of poems—slowly but steadily growing—is still named “The Ugly Bear List,” but she thinks of that title as temporary, a placeholder until she finds something better. It may be a while before she finishes this book, but she’s not in a hurry.

“Thank you,” Marianne says. She doesn’t know what else to say, so she starts naming the good things in her life. “I’m so glad to see you. I had a good teaching day today. And my sister called last week—I missed the gender reveal party, but she’s having a girl.”

“A girl!” Janine squeals. People at nearby tables turn to look at them, and Marianne realizes that they probably think it’s her news, this baby girl. But that’s okay—it is her news, isn’t it?

“And good teaching days,” Janine says. “You have to hang on to those. It’s such a dream to be here—can you believe this is my first time in New York? And it snows? Think you’ll get out of school tomorrow?”

Marianne looks outside, where fine white flakes dance and swirl, illuminated by the streetlights and the headlights of slow-moving traffic. It’s close to her own childhood image of the city, the one she learned about in the books she read with her mother. But school here is never closed, and she knows which kids will be there tomorrow, sleepy-eyed and warming themselves by the radiator. She’ll read The Snowy Day with them, do cutpaper collage, heat paper cups of chocolate milk in the microwave.

“Probably not,” she says. “But that’s okay.”

“Every day is a gift,” Janine says. “A gift from God.”

Marianne doesn’t believe that, but she is glad to be alive. For months now, at random times of day, gratitude has washed over her in waves—for Janine’s friendship, for her father and Ruth and the baby. For the warmth of sun on her face in December, a child leaning against her knees at story time. The lift of finishing a poem or starting a new one. She hopes it lasts.

Riding the subway home, she allows herself to remember the feeling, as she went underwater, of desperately wanting to live. She remembers letting go, then being knocked into a post and grabbing hold before climbing onto the flimsy shed roof. She doesn’t know how Davonte or Janine had the courage to wait for her in the rising waters, or how she had the courage to jump.