“Let me go . . . but where?” Natasha’s excitement slips away and she feels a familiar sense of dread. She’ll go back to Suhani and Zack’s apartment with no plan, no job, no open mic spots. Then again, the confinement of the unit has made her realize how much she misses little things about her life. If she leaves soon, at least she can eat what she wants and use her phone. Be outside.

“Most likely to your parents’ house. That’s always their preferred discharge plan. You know, be around family, where you’re always watched, can get help coming to therapy appointments. Blah blah blah.”

“Ugh, I don’t know if being around my mom is the best idea right after I’m out of a place like this.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Alexis says, “the days after I’m out of the hospital are some of the best ones I have with my family. I know it sounds strange, but it’s true. We all sit together for dinner, watch a movie, talk . . . it’s actually really nice.”

Natasha leans back on the thin pillow and is suddenly overcome with a longing for Mom, her scent of sandalwood and vanilla, the reliable sound of her laugh whenever Natasha puts on an old comedy, including movies like The Hangover, which she appreciates more than any other Indian auntie ever would. There’s a lot that’s fun about Mom.

“Since you’re feeling a little better,” Alexis adds, “maybe now is a good time to think more about your YouTube videos?”

Natasha freezes. “You’ve seen my YouTube videos?”

“Yep. Weeks ago.” When Alexis sees the confusion on Natasha’s face, she adds, “I always check to see if my students are creating content. Anyway, your stuff is pretty good. I think the whole family angle is working.”

“Well, it was inspired by you,” Natasha admits. “My favorite parts of your YouTube sketches were always the ones where you talked about your family.”

Before she can hesitate, she asks, “Did it ever cause issues with you and them?”

“Of course it did.” Alexis laughs. “But they got over it eventually. And now it barely fazes them. I realized most things worth doing are always hard at first. It’s about whether you’re willing to push through that hard part that determines if you’ll really make some good art.”

“So you never regretted it? Putting your family into your work, even when it wasn’t, er, flattering?” Natasha asks, wishing she had a Post-it note so she could write down Alexis’s wisdom, return to it later.