Page 44 of Where the Darkness Goes

Blink.

My heart stutters. “I’ll tell them no more visitors except us. Me and Will and Garrett. We’re going to figure this out. I promise you.”

Blink.

I cross the room, searching for something, anything, that might help. Could she hold a pencil? Probably not. I need to keep asking her questions, keep trying to get answers while she’s able to give them to me. I grab my phone, scrolling through my contacts to come up with a list of suspects.

When the door opens, I look up, expecting Garrett, but find the nurse from yesterday instead.

“Oh. Well, hey there. I was just coming to check on her.” She pauses at the door, turning to look at Mom.

“She’s awake,” I tell her. “Responsive. She was talking to me.”

“Talking?” She balks. “Are you serious?” She hurries across the room to Mom’s bed.

“Blinking,” I amend. “She was blinking and answering my questions, and she moved her hand.”

The nurse looks back at me as I move around to get a better view of Mom just to find her eyes closed.

No!

Approaching her bed, I touch her shoulder. “Mom?”

The nurse checks her pulse and pulls out a thermometer, swiping it across her forehead. “Ms. Frannie, are you there, honey?”

Something about the nurse who is closer to my age than my mom’s calling her ‘honey’ doesn’t sit well with me, but I ignore it. “Mom, open your eyes again. Show her.”Is she doing this on purpose?I can’t help the suspicion that has begun to creep in.

The nurse gives me a pitying look. “It takes a lot of her energy when she’s lucid. We usually only get a minute or two out of her, so it sounds like you were pretty lucky. I’ll call the doctor to do a full exam, but just try to remember that any progress is progress.”

I feel like everything has been swiped from me, like none of it was even real. “Mom, please,” I whisper, knowing I look and sound like a child. I can’t bring myself to care what the nurse must think of me.

“Here, let me show you something.” Nurse Emma crosses into the kitchen and opens a drawer next to the sink, pulling out a laminated piece of paper. “I keep this in the drawer. You’re welcome to try it next time she’s awake.” She holds up the sheet, revealing a printed alphabet. “I ask her to blink when I point to each letter to help her spell things and answer questions that aren’t yes or no.”

“Has she been able to do that?”

Her brows draw together. “Not completely, no, but that’s expected. She loses her train of thought a lot, but to be able to do anything at all is an improvement. I’ve talked to patients who came out of things like this who tell me they were doing math problems in their head most of the time to keep their brains active. Or spelling words, recalling trivia, that sort of thing. It’s all about rebuilding those muscles. It just takes time.”

The door opens, and this time it’s Garrett. Emma puts the paper back in the drawer.

“What’s going on?” Garrett crosses the room, running a hand over his pockets like he’s searching for his keys or phone, both of which are there.

I look back at Mom, feeling equally hopeful and completely let down. “She was awake and aware for a minute or two. She knew who I was.”

His jaw drops. “What?Seriously?That’s amazing, Tessa.”

“We should probably let her get some rest for a while,” Emma whispers, flipping out the light above the bed.

“Sure.” With a final look at Mom, who seems to be sleeping peacefully, I slip out of the room with Garrett just behind me, so filled with questions I’m bursting.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

GARRETT — PRESENT DAY

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

We’re at the small kitchen table when she says it, sitting miles apart, which feels fitting. Ever since we left the nursing home, she hasn’t been here with me, not really.

Seeing her mom awake, I’m sure it messed with her, but I don’t quite understand the sadness I see in her eyes. Getting her back and then losing her again, maybe?I can relate.But progress is progress.

---