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My reflection and I watched one another, splashed with stars beyond the port hole where the glowing curve of Jupiter hung above. “I need to be a different person,” I said. “A do-over.” These were lines I’d carefully chosen, and I delivered them with, I think, an unremarkable sincerity. The intended effect was achieved when Naïma, behind me on the bed, raised her head and studied me. I observed this in the mirrored window—the thoughtful tilt to her chin, the moment of hesitation when she opened her mouth, paused, and then spoke. “I might be able to help with that,