Karina arrived back in Santa Barbara the evening of December 30, which gave her the following day to clear out her apartment and move. She was circumspect in choosing what to bring. She stared for a long time at the bag in her bathroom vanity, where she still took pains to hide her supplies, though she lived alone. As she removed and considered each item—the razor blades, the cotton squares, the bandaging tape she’d graduated to due to the length of her cuts—she thought of the relief these things brought her. At first, she tucked the bag away in one of her cartons, then she removed it and walked it down to the incinerator chute before she could change her mind. Tomorrow was a new day, a new chapter. A new life.

29 | Prem

The most beautiful place I ever saw was Hawaii, when we went there on vacation. Even though it touches the same ocean as California, it felt like another planet. The sand was soft like velvet under my feet but became as hard as clay when I mixed it with water. Kiki brought me pailfuls, because they were heavy and she was twice as old as me, as she always liked to tell people. It was the only time in our lives that would be true, when I was five, as I reminded everyone. Every day on the beach, I built an enormous sandcastle, and every night after we left, it was washed away. I didn’t mind; I built the castle bigger and better every day, with fortress walls, lookout towers, moats and drawbridges.

While I built my castles on land, Kiki loved being in the ocean. She stayed in the water for hours and hours, floating on her back and looking up at the sky. When the water was the same temperature as the warm air, she said she felt amphibious (a word she’d just learned), moving comfortably between land and sea. On the long plane ride home, I drew a picture of Kiki as a mermaid with green scales and long flowing hair. Then, because it wasn’t quite right yet, I added a superhero cape. And that’s how I sometimes think of her even now, with a touch of magical powers.

Grown-ups believe there’s a big difference between magic and the real world, but I’m not so sure. In the comics, the villain and the superhero are always clear, but in real life, it’s harder to tell. If you see yourself as the hero of your own story all the time, like Dad, sometimes you’re not even sure what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. It may seem impossible for the hero to act like a villain, but I’ve seen it happen more than you’d think.

Sometimes, like Kiki, you’re not even sure what’s true anymore, and if you think about it long enough, you can convince yourself that something did or didn’t happen. Even if you believe in magic, like Mom, you might think that it’s possessed only by certain special people and that you need them to share it with you. But no one can really give you magic. Everyone knows you have to find it in yourself.