***
I rolled over, staring at the clock. It was almost midnight but I couldn’t sleep. The chill was still cleaving to my insides and I couldn’t stop thinking about the thing I’d seen. Or didn’t see. I still wasn’t sure. All I knew was that something had seen me. Right through me. And it was the same thing I’d felt that night at the lake.
My bedroom door pushed open and I stiffened, peering out from beneath my blankets. I saw my grandmother, another tuft of rosemary in her hands. She sat on the edge of my bed and tucked the rosemary under my pillow before brushing a hand across my forehead.
I rolled, letting her know I was awake.
“Bad dreams?” she asked.
I swallowed. “I don’t know.”
“You’d tell me, Bryn. If you were having bad dreams you’d tell me wouldn’t you?”
“What do you—?”
“Have you?” Her hand slid to my shoulder, her grip on me tightening.
“No.” I shook my head. It wasn’t a dream. That much I knew for sure.
“Good.” She sighed, her eyes narrowed at the wall. “That’s good, Bryn.” Her voice was soft and it sounded strange. Unnatural.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
She pursed her lips, lifted a finger. “You know, maybe you should ask your mom.”
I lowered my voice. “She’s still awake?”
“I guess she can’t sleep either,” my grandmother said.
When she finally left the room I reached for the empty glass on my nightstand and headed for the kitchen, blinking against the lamplight already pouring from the living room. My mom was still sitting on the couch.
I abandoned the glass and made my way over to where she was sitting.
“Oh, Bryn, did I wake you?” she asked.
“The TVs off,” I said.
She glanced over at the blank screen, trying to hide her face.
“Mom—”
She stopped me. “It won’t happen again, Bryn. I’m sorry if it made you…uncomfortable, angry maybe? I just…it won’t happen again.”
“It’s over?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Don’t,” I said.
“What?”
I thought about her fighting with me during an episode—fighting to turn me, to change my clothes, to just keep shit together. And she always did this. Acting like she didn’t even exist. Acting like I was some kind of proverbial sun around which everything in her life should orbit. Even though I was the one who was sick, she was the one who chose to be miserable.
“Don’t do that because of me,” I said.
“Bryn—”
“I’m serious. I’m not angry. I’m not…uncomfortable. I was at first. I was taken off guard, that’s all, but don’t do this because of me.”
“It’s done.”
“Then undo it.”
“What? I can’t. I—”
“Stop being miserable,” I breathed.
“What are you talking about?”
I looked her in the eyes. “Are you happy?”
Her lip trembled, void of words for the first time. She sat there, not looking at me and then she didn’t say yes. She didn’t lie. She didn’t say anything at all.
Chapter 19
Bryn