Mama Etta is just leaving when I reach Evan’s hospital room. Her hair is a fiery orange today. “Oh dearie, two visits in one week, Evan will be pleased. I was just stepping out to get a bite to eat.” She crushes me in a hug. “You need me to bring you anything dear?” I shake my head no and she gives me a pat on the head. “Now do remember to stop in for tea soon.” She says with a wave as she hobbles off.

I’m greeted by the familiar site of Evan and the steady beeping of machines.

“I’ve decided how to help you.” I say, wasting no time on formalities, not that I ever do anyway. I automatically reach for his curls again and begin braiding, wanting the comfort. I tell him all about looking up ghosts and Carren’s book.

“She’s the hippy therapist I told you about before. From what I read, I think maybe you have unfinished business. If you would just talk to me I could help you, but maybe you’re scared? I just… I want to know what happened, you know. And it’s weird… like I don’t really know you,” at least not anymore, “but I don’t know how to put it… I feel,” I look down at my hands curled through his hair.

“Comfortable, I feel really comfortable with you for some reason.” As I say the words out loud it becomes so obvious I can’t believe I hadn’t realized it sooner. I’d already felt things were easy being with him.

My family told me about Evan pretty much as soon as I woke up. I’ve been visiting him since that first week and just never stopped. I don’t know whether it’s the fact that he’s the only one that was there with me the night of the accident or whether there’s something more to it, but I feel like I can breathe best when I’m with him.

“I wonder why... maybe, maybe because you can’t talk back? You can’t tell me about me. You have no expectations of me. You’re the only one I really feel like I can be myself around, at least the me I am now.”

But it’s more than just easy, more than just a level of comfort, I like being around Evan. There’s this sense of rightness, of familiarity that I dare not tell anyone. No, I don’t know him anymore, maybe I never will again but…

“You… I want to help you. Even-even if I can’t help myself, if anything, I want to help you move on… I will help you move on. I promise you.” I lay a hand over his beating heart as I make the promise.

I don’t know how I’ll feel when I can’t visit him anymore. I think I’ll most likely be sad, but it’d be selfish to not do anything. It’ll be for the best for him to move on.

“And Mama Etta, I’ll go visit her as often as I can, so she’s not lonely.” I add.

Having said all that, I feel lighter, freer. I remember the other reason I’m here to talk with him and reach forward and pull a couple strands of his hair out, apologizing as I do so.

I need them for the séance. It said in the book to use something that would mean something to the spirit, or something that the spirit owned. And what better thing than some strands of his hair.

And then I sit for a while talking about random things: the weather, my dinner last night, Risa and the books she recommended. I talk with him until Mama Etta is back and then I say a quick goodbye, making promises to stop by soon, and head out.

Since it’s a weekday I know Clef is somewhere around here. I decide to surprise him with a visit. I don’t remember what floor he’s usually on but since I’m well known as Clefs little amnesiac sister, and from my frequent visits to see Evan, it shouldn’t be too hard to find him.

At the nearest nurse’s station sits a redheaded woman who I’ve become decently acquainted with. She’s about the same age as the twins and her name tag declares her a Bridget.

She’s leaned forward in her chair, doodling on a pad of sticky notes as I approach. Everything about Bridget is round, from her roundish bob to round eyes framed by round glasses and even a rounded neckline. She’s got a bubbly personality that suits her petite and round appearance. Her eyes light up and she smiles one of those full smiles with dimples when she sees me.

“Lyric! How are you doing?” Oh yes, the well-meaning double-edged question that everyone always asks. Sometimes it’s a greeting but in my case, given my accident, what she’s really asking is if I’m better. If I remember.

It would be perfectly acceptable if I told her how I really feel, but I don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. Bridget likes to talk, so I keep my answer succinct.

“Fine. Just fine. Do you know where Clef might be?” I keep my voice light and respectful, even throw in a smile for good measure, but I still catch a pitying look in her eyes. I hate those.

“Oh, I believe he’s on his lunch break about now, try the cafeteria dear.” She gives me a smile that thankfully erases the pity. Every smile she gives is always the same full smile, as if she really means it.

It’s hard not to give a genuine smile in return. I tell her thanks and head for the cafeteria before she can sweep me into a conversation.

I’m not really that surprised that Bridget knows Clef’s schedule. I’ve been coming here long enough to see the way she looks at him. Though it’s obvious Clef barely knows of her. I’d attribute it to the fact that he recently broke up with someone he thought he’d marry, but really, I think he’s just genuinely clueless.

Cadence told me it was Analise confessing that started their relationship, that prior to her confession Clef didn’t pay any attention to her. A girl that looks like a model going unnoticed to the point that she blurted out her feelings, I imagine it was hilarious.

That’s part of why it was such a shock when he announced their engagement after only two months of dating, sure they’d been interning together but they barely knew one another.

I make a mental note to find a way to get Bridget and Clef to talk. Compared to Analise, she’s a girl next door in looks, but she definitely is a whole lot nicer. And even though Clef has sworn off women, maybe getting him to befriend someone as bubbly as her could help him, even if they don’t date.

“No, I’ve said it enough. I don’t want to talk things out, I’m done listening to your ridiculous excuses. You’ve burned that bridge.” I stop at the corner near the cafeteria entrance. That’s Clef’s voice.

“Please, just a few minutes. Do you not miss us? Do you not want to make things right?” I recognize the other voice as Analise.

“I’m done. I don’t have to make anything right. I did nothing wrong. I shouldn’t have given you a second chance the first time. You’re so full of yourself. Go talk to the guy you cheated on me with.” His voice sounds raw as if he’s had to repeat himself too many times.

“Please, just go.” His voice is lower now, these words almost a whisper.

It occurs to me that I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that there’s still time to walk away or reveal myself but I stand transfixed. I wonder what sort of excuses she keeps making. What possible excuse could she think justifies her actions?

“Please, love? Just a few minutes, that is all I ask. Just talk to me. I miss talking to you.” I can imagine this is accompanied by one of those arm pats, but I don’t want to give myself away by peeking. “Come on, my love,” the ‘my love’ bit is grating on my nerves.

They didn’t even date for that long and she was cheating on him, but fancied herself in love?

“Please,” Clef’s voice sounds so small and pitiful, so empty. It’s so different from at home. I think maybe a part of him did love her, or at least the idea of her, “just go.”

There’s so much defeat in that plea, as if he’s given up, as if he knows she won’t listen and it plucks at my heart. Before she can respond, I stumble forward.