Steve had his first psychotic break at the age of twenty. In and out of institutions for most of his adult life, the only place he ever felt at peace was at home in Ohio with his parents. He was still with them when each one died within a year of each other—Steve was forty-eight and had never lived alone. The novel opens the day of his father’s funeral. Steve’s siblings, Sylvia, the oldest, and Scott, the youngest, are gathered together with their spouses in the family home to decide what to do about Steve, knowing he’s unable to live by himself in the house. They live in Los Angeles. Although Steve takes his medication more regularly and seems stabilized, his daily habits are inconsistent; he needs coaxing to brush his teeth, take a shower, and sometimes to get out of bed. Sylvia’s husband suggests that his older sister, Nancy, who’s in financial straits and needs a place to live, might be willing to move in with Steve. Humorous and poignant, this is the story of Steve and Nancy, who, as virtual strangers, brought together out of necessity, forge a way to live in harmony. Through their courage and good will, each grows stronger from the fragile, heartwarming experience, and so do we.  

 “As winter wore on, the skies were gray for days on end and the temperatures dropped into the teens much of the time. Freezing rain covered the roads off and on or enough snow fell to make it difficult to get out of the driveway.  Nancy found someone to plow it for thirty dollars. Steve showered less, chain smoked, and wore the same clothes a week at a time.  His plaid flannel shirt was torn at the elbows and his hair was growing over his ears.  Nancy figured he was lonely and depressed and that his parent’s deaths were finally catching up with him. After all, he was the one who first found his mother collapsed on the kitchen floor and called 911, then made the same call for his father when he struggled for breath and unable to stand, crawled on his hands and knees to get into bed. Each died in the ambulance on their way to the hospital. Maybe he thought he was responsible somehow. 

Nancy wanted to help him but didn’t know how. Even though Sylvia was calling weekly to check on them, Nancy painted a rosy picture. She didn’t want to alarm Sylvia or lead her to think the living arrangement wasn’t working. Nancy needed it to work. So she called Dr. Rita who simply told her winter was always the hardest for him and down cycles like these were part of the illness. Even though she felt guilty, Nancy began retreating to her room to eat dinner because she couldn’t tolerate Steve’s eating habits. He bent over his paper plate and shoveled it in never looking up. When she tried to make light conversation or cheerfully asked him about his day or Sammy, he grumbled that he didn’t like to talk while he ate and she wondered if he’d feel better without her sitting there. But the real reason she took her plate to bed was his runny nose dripping onto his food—she was gagging and had to leave the room. Besides, she had all her TV shows to catch up on or video games to play, something to pass the dreariness of her days. Soon Steve took his dinner upstairs to his room, so they never ate together.”