“And even more people think you’re a hero for it! When people look at that picture, who do they see themselves in, the man with the gun or the girl in front of it? Yes, there are people out there who see themselves in the man with the gun, but the vast, vast majority of people see themselves in you. They look at themselves and say, ‘We are compassionate, we are brave, we are selfless. We are not monsters. I’m not the man with the gun, I’m the girl who threw herself in front of the gun.’ And if we can believe that about ourselves, then maybe whatever is out there can see us that way, too.”

“Do you believe that?” she asked. “Do you believe that about humanity, after what happened last night?”

“I have to have hope!” His voice shook at the thought of his family. Ava with her botany; Nasser the meathead, doting father and fan of Troy dubs. His mercurial mother and clueless, generous-to-a-fault father. He gestured toward the house. “I cannot give up on this!”

“And you think I’m the one to turn this ship around, to steer us away from bombing mosques and toward selfless acts of heroism.”

“No, I am not saying you are the one to do anything, any more than I am. That’s not how this works. There is no One Great Man that’s going to change the world here. There is only you and me, two people who have some influence, who might be able to influence other yous and mes out there.”

Cora hugged herself and looked at the ground. “It feels like we’re rats on a ship. Rats on the Titanic trying to move the rudder. Even if we did have real power and influence, I don’t think there’s any force on Earth that’s going to change the direction of this ship.”

“That might be true. But if this ship is going down, I’d rather go down with it than abandon it.”

He reached out for her, cupping her face and kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead, then pulling her into an embrace.

“Where will I live?” she whispered.

“With me, at first. Though once school starts, it might not be a bad idea to try the dorms. Start reestablishing a sense of independence.”

“You’re kicking me out?” Her tone was just joking enough that it didn’t raise any alarms.

“Well, your new Ivy League friends might get a little jealous if you spend too much time around the nursing home.”

She smiled, her eyes shining. Frightened. Nervous. Hopeful.

“It’ll be fun. You can be my plus-ones at all these boring events I have to go to. There’s a bunch of new Broadway shows I’ve been dying to see. There’s this new one about Washington Heights that everyone’s raving about.”

“Washington Heights the . . . neighborhood?”

“It’s all the rage.”