bottom of the stack. It flutters to my feet. I bend to scoop it up and...it’s addressed to me?
I blink down at my dorm room address, and something starts to buzz inside my head.
I set the post card down. The post card with the campus scene. I turn around to face the throughway between living room and kitchen, leaning my back against the countertop. I touch my throat, which stings, as if I swallowed a sharp chicken bone.
I turn back around, compelled, and as my hands grab for the post card—
Thwack!
I whirl toward the breakfast table. My phone has fallen to the floor. Vibrating. I step over to it. Face-down, so I can’t see who’s calling…
Dr. Marlowe’s voice echoes. “A relapse after three years… hasn’t sought treatment… team waiting for him in New York…”
I scoop the phone up, see the number, answer. “It’s Cleo.”
Desperate. Desperate. Desperately, I clutch the phone. I sink into a wicker chair. My mind cranks like an airplane: spinning slowly, faster faster…
Cindy. Be The Match.
My fingers tremble on my iPhone as she lets me know my blood arrived. I am a match. She starts to tell me things I know from last time. I stand up. Circle the kitchen. I step over to the counter, frame the post card with my fingers.
I blink and stroke the glossy cover of my post card as she talks.
My brain…I must be tired. I feel wound up. Like things are connected when they aren’t connected. Like I’m about to cry, or barf. I look over my shoulder. Where is Lora? Is it chapter night? What day is it?
I’m going to pass out.
Just turn the fucking post card over.
I feel strong resistance to the idea. Cindy’s voice is driving me insane. She prattles on. My heart swells like a balloon behind my ribs. It takes up all the space. With a flick of my wrist, I turn the post card over. Read the time stamp: September 19, 2014. So…today.
I blink several times, and scan the text. It blurs as pressure builds behind my eyes.
“Cindy?”
She takes my interruption as a sign that she should wind things down. “So to proceed, we’ll need a commitment. Verbal and—”
“Cindy?” A tear falls onto the card.
“Miss Whatley? Are you okay?”
I swallow, but my voice is still a rasp. “I have a question.”
“Sure,” she says indulgently.
My heart hammers. I swallow, but it doesn’t help me breathe. Again, the chicken bone. “Can you tell me…when did R. die? What day?”
My chest is on fire. My head on fire. I lean against the table as my hand mangles the card.
“If you really want to know, I guess it couldn’t hurt. Just one moment, Autumn, okay?” I can hear her fingers clicking on a keyboard.
“Cleo.”
“Cleo? Okay, Cleo. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
My chest rises… My head spins.
“Sloth,” he says. “Is that a nickname?”
“Chicken pizza? Are you kidding me?”
“What can I say?” He smiles. “Chicken? Pizza? It works. You agree?”
“I think we might be soul mates.”
“What makes you think so?”
“You just played a song I really like, one I usually play when I’m coming here. But other things too,” I add.
“What things?”
“Like you how … you made me drink the Snow Queen. My friend used to always say to drink before I come here.”
“Anything else?”
“I just…feel weird about you. Good weird. Like I know you, even though I know I really don’t.”
I hear a click. “Okay, Cleo.” Cindy’s voice is clear and crisp.
I close my eyes. I mouth the date. I mouth the words, because I know before she tells me. All this time I didn’t know and I know now. I know.
“It was in September. September 18, 2011. That’s the date, according to the charts.”
I hold my breath as Lora’s kitchen slowly tilts.
“I’m sorry, Cleo.”
I jump up. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I look down at the crumpled post-card. Then I dash into the living room, where I hung my purse on the front door handle.
Cindy’s voice pipes up: solemn, concerned. “I hope this doesn’t make you feel…”
Her voice is static in my ear. I pull the check out of an inside pocket, fingers shaking.
No surprise. It’s no surprise now. Now I know.
It’s R.’s handwriting. Kellan’s check. R. and Kellan. Kellan, R.
Lyon. Robert. Robert Lyon?
Lyon is the real R., and Kellan was his stand-in. Thanking me for giving bone marrow to his brother after Lyon was dead.
I murmur a goodbye to Cindy. Then I lunge for Lora’s sink and vomit while the cat looks on.
I WALK THE