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“I’m sure you can google it,” Shira said, sticking her earbuds in and staring down at her tablet, though the sketch blurred before her.

The woman kept talking, oblivious, and since Shira didn’t actually have anything playing in her headphones, she could hear her words as clearly as the flight attendant’s safety announcement. “Wasn’t she, like, the youngest artist in history to get her own solo show at the Whitney? I think the show I saw was her first one.”

That was enough. Shira had to make it stop. “Sounds like you’re already an expert,” she snapped. “You don’t need me.” And now she hit play and tried to lose herself in the music.

She wished she could say the rest of the flight flew by, but she might as well have crawled from LA to Philadelphia: Mothball Lady kept dozing off on her shoulder, and the teenager played his game without headphones the entire trip, despite the seven times the flight attendant stopped by to offer him a pair. By the time her dad met her in the arrivals parking lot—rental cars were for people with salaries and health insurance—she felt like she’d traveled to a whole different year.

She hadn’t even finished the stupid cover.

“Thanks for picking me up,” she said after she’d thrown her luggage in the trunk, leaning over the central console to give her dad a kiss on the cheek.

He nodded. “You’re welcome.” Someone beeped at them from behind. He rolled his eyes as he shifted into gear. “So impatient.”

She kind of felt like reaching over and laying on the horn in response to the beeper, just to let out some aggression. “How was the drive?”

Their house in central Jersey was actually closer to the airport in Newark, but her parents had asked her to fly into Philly instead if they were going to be picking her up. “Nice and easy,” said her dad. They pulled out of the airport and into the dark night. All Shira had seen today was the dark: Between the flight, the time difference, and having to leave early to beat LA traffic, she’d missed any trace of the sun. “You could stay, you know.”

Shira’s teeth ground together. She’d thought she’d get at least one good night’s sleep in before her parents tried to convince her to move back. She should’ve known they’d pounce on her while she was tired and weak. “I still have eight months left on my lease.”

“You could break it.” Cars whizzed by them on the highway while Shira’s dad stayed comfortable in the right lane. “If you want to get another art-world job, you could come back to the East Coast. Start over in New York. If you’re worried about the gap on your résumé, that would explain it.”

“I think I’m going to close my eyes.” Shira rested her head against the window, the cool glass soothing against her skin (the juddering from the road, less so).

Her dad didn’t fully take the hint that she wanted to stop talking, but he at least got that she wanted to stop talking about moving back, which was a win. “Leo seems to be doing a good job planning the Hanukkah party,” he said. “He’s borrowing all our menorahs. Apparently he only has one.”

“Great,” Shira said. Leo had been peppering her with questions through the planning process, half of which she thought he only posed to get a rise out of her: Can I just go get a bunch of french fries instead of latkes? What about a little Hanukkah tree with ornaments on it? “I can’t wait to see what he comes up with.”

She hadn’t totally told Leo the truth about why she wasn’t throwing the party this year. It was true that her life was madness; somehow freelancing took even more time and hustle than her job at the art gallery had, which was the exact opposite of what she’d wanted when she quit. And it was more stressful. Any hint of a fallow period left her panicking that she wouldn’t be able to cover her rent, which led to overworking herself to make sure she was saving enough for the inevitable downtime.

It was more that she’d realized she was a fraud. She hadn’t meaningfully done anything Jewish in years besides throw the Hanukkah party, which was a performance showing other people how Jewish she was. And she was sick of performing. Life was too short to spend it performing for other people, right? That’s what she’d decided.

It felt like she’d been born onstage and had spent her entire life wearing theater makeup and reciting the lines of a script, and now she didn’t know how to improv. How to just…be.

If there was anyone she could learn from, though, it was Leo. He seemed to have it all figured out.

She discovered quickly that Leo’s dad agreed. Pretty much as soon as Shira got home, she kissed her mom and sister hello, lugged in her baggage, rebuffing her dad’s offers to carry it all, and told them she had to go take a walk or she was going to go insane. Talia didn’t tell her she was already insane, which meant Shira must have looked really bad. That was fair, she consoled herself, because she’d spent the entire day in transit. All she needed was to stretch her legs and enjoy the…howling wind and bitter cold. Nice.

The only other person crazy enough to go out in this weather was, of course, the guy who didn’t want his dog pooping in his house. With the way Shira held her head ducked against the wind, she didn’t notice him until she’d almost bumped into his chest. “Oh, hi,” she said, leaning down to give Neptune a scratch with her gloved hand. “Not a very nice night.”

“Not at all,” said Leo’s dad. “I wish I could trust this dog to go do his business on his own and then come back inside instead of tear off after a squirrel.” He shook his head at his furry son in disappointment. His furry son was busy trying to eat frozen grass. “How are you, Shira?”

A few years ago, Shira would have mumbled something indecipherable and moved on. But if Leo could forgive his dad and talk to him, she could, too. “I’m okay,” she said gamely. “It’s nice to be home for the holidays.” She paused for a moment. It wasn’t like she was going to stand here and spill her guts to this near stranger. “I hear Leo’s doing amazing. You know, the kid I sat next to on the plane was playing his game.”

Leo’s dad’s eyes lit up. The pride he clearly felt on behalf of his son radiated through him, brighter than the streetlamp shining ghostily above them. “He’s incredible. He’s come so far in only a few years. I can’t wait to see where he’ll be in a few more.”

Shira let herself picture it. Leo, another blockbuster game under his belt. Maybe heading up a studio or division at a studio—she had no idea what the hierarchy in video-game land looked like. Successful. Happy.

Where would she be in a few years? Treading water, like she was now? She didn’t want to think about it. “And you’re not too lonely living on your own?” she joked. Leo had texted her with pride when he’d moved out to his own place—an apartment closer to New York City, on the train line, where a bunch of game studios were located. Not too far away, though. He’d told her he still came back frequently to see his dad and probably make sure he hadn’t had a heart attack and died.

Leo’s dad laughed. “Far from it,” he said. “Having a grown son living at home really cramps your dating life, as it turns out.”

Shira did not want to hear details about Leo’s dad’s dating life. “Good for you,” she said, then hoped he could tell she wasn’t being sarcastic. “I mean it. I’ll see you at the Hanukkah party, right?”

“It’s at my house, so yes,” he said. “And Leo, too, obviously.” He hesitated, and somehow Shira knew to tense up before he spoke again. “I’m glad you two reconnected over the last few years. I think it’s been good for him.”

Shira didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t like thinking of friendship as something transactional. “I’m glad we reconnected, too.” She left it at that.

The other night she’d dreamed about Danica, Ellery, and Nora. In her dream they’d been at a conference together, and she’d been stuck in the audience while Danica got up to give a speech, and it turned out Danica’s speech was about the huge mistake she’d made in dumping Shira as a friend, and Shira had sat there crying in the audience until Danica came down and pulled her up out of her seat and hugged her, to everybody’s applause.