A memory of standing barefoot on the cement balcony of my mother’s apartment in mid-December pops into my head. She had banished me from her living room for coming home from school for winter break with unpedicured feet. “I’d rather you bring home F’s than feet looking like that!” she called out as I stood hugging myself to keep warm, protesting that at least I’d gotten A’s. “What man’s going to look at you, with such feet?”

Later that same day we were shopping for formal dresses. I tried on a long Dolce & Gabbana gown that she’d chosen and that neither of us could afford. It was silk and beaded and hung from me in a way that made me feel sexy and stupid, like I was playing the role of a girl who could wear a silk and beaded designer dress that delicately draped her body. I stepped awkwardly out of the dressing room to show my mom, feeling completely foreign to myself. She stood up and walked over to me, then put her hand on my back and turned me around.

“Beyakhud el a’el,” she said, stepping back and smiling. Her words reverberated through my mind. In that moment, the morning’s pedicure incident no longer mattered—I’d gotten it right this time. The desire to hear her say that motivated me to get from moment to moment, day to day.

I continued as Molly stared at me. “And in a way, I’m glad she did, and I hate that.” I shrugged. “I guess I want to do the same to you, sometimes. You know,” I said, making air quotes, “for your own good.”

Molly said nothing, she just kept staring at me wide-eyed, until Greg called out from the landing above, “The upstairs rooms are unlocked!”

We ran upstairs to the group room, and I shuffled through the stack of CDs. They were mostly just affirmations and nature sounds, but there were a couple of normal ones in the bunch. We found a Billy Joel album, not exactly dance music, but it would do. I put in the CD and turned the volume all the way up on “A Matter of Trust.” On the platform above the living room, we danced and sang along. Some love is just a lie of the mind, it’s make-believe until it’s only a matter of time.

Greg took me in his arms and dipped me. I know you’re an emotional girl, he mouthed. Soon everyone below was dancing. The women formed a circle around Alex while he did the running man in the middle. At the end of the song the lights in the room flashed; I looked over and saw the security guard. “Time to lock up in here,” he said. “And you know you’re not supposed to play with the stereo.”

“Don’t tell Richard!” I said.