a home for all things i love.

"olga knew firsthand how harrowing that could be. how weighty it must have been for jan to don his mother's version of himself every time he rode the subway back to brooklyn for a visit. to make sure he didn't let any of his other self slip, for fear of disappointing her. she reconsidered jan's sister, her previous irritation replaced by empathy. she was only protecting the image jan wanted his mother to have of him. olga knew that for her brother she would do the same."

"i stare out the front windows of the house, waiting for akash to return. i think about texting him, but i don't know what to say. sometimes i think i'm the one who pushed him away, twisted him into something i no longer recognize. children are like wet clay; one wrong move, and they're misshappen for life. did i ruin akash's chance for happiness, simply because i had lost mine?"

"tevy examines the man's reflection. his vision of the world disappoints her—the idea that people are limited always to what their fathers tell them. then tevy notices her sister reeling in discomfort."

"anouk touches my arm and asks if I'm okay. "you seem elsewhere," she says, and i am. i am lost in my mother's possibility, in what could've been, caught between her frustrated potential and a desire to fulfill my own. i lament the disappointments that have come from surrendering her approval to pursue my own desires. i lament what she's given up for me. our mutual sacrifice creates wounds that may never heal. i will carry sadness for her pain, and also for mine. in receiving love from others, it will always be hers i crave most."

"within moments, we pulled into the garage, and every piece of me is plucked away: like pearls on a string: jacob, los angeles, music, jaden. i'm home."