“We’re going to be working together, and before you moved into my house, we’d never said a word to one another. It feels like we should at least attempt to pretend to be cordial.”
Right. “I swim.”
“I don’t.”
“The pool at the Y is pretty good, and it’s not far from your house. I’m allowed a guest if you’d like to—”
“You don’t understand. I can’t swim.”
“Did you have a bad experience?”
“I’ve never learned. I’m assuming that would equate to sinking like a rock. That doesn’t sound like fun so I don’t swim.”
Wow. “How is it possible you’ve never learned?”
“The impossible is always possible. Any-hoo, back to the project. There’re a couple of places I’d like to visit. There’s this covered bridge that is said to have the ghosts of people who died when their car missed the bridge and went into the river. Then there’s this stretch of road where a girl died, and she walks along the road waiting for someone to pick her up. If you do stop, she’ll get in the backseat and then disappear when you pass where she actually died.”
“Are you for real?”
“I’m dead serious.” Her lips twitch. “Did you get the pun?”
When I remain deadpan she giggles, and the sound moves something inside me. The tension in my muscles eases, and I lean forward on the desk. “Dead people on bridges and then on a road. Anything else?”
“That sounds like a messed-up Dr. Seuss book. ‘Could you, would you, on a bridge, see them, see them, on a ridge. Maybe in a park, not in the dark. I do not like ghosts, I’m not a fan, I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.’”
I actually chuckle. Damn, she’s funny.
“Of course, I want to investigate the TB hospital.”
The idea of trespassing gets the juices going in my brain. The same way it does when I jump off a cliff. Not nearly as intense, but it’s a good substitute. “I’m game.”
“We’ll need to research the actual background information of the place then also investigate the legends. I thought about what Max said about understanding the difference between fact and legend. I think that should be part of the angle of our paper.”
It all sounds good to me. “I’ve heard about the TB hospital. All sorts of weird stuff went down in that place. Experiments, torture and satanic rituals. I’ve heard that sometimes the ghosts hurt you when you go into certain areas.”
First time I’ve seen skepticism on Veronica’s face. “You believe?”
“Not at all.”
“That’s what I figured.” Veronica studies me, and I shift as her intense gaze makes me feel as if I’m on display. “Have you read it?”
“Is there a how-to book on how to catch Casper the Friendly Ghost?”
“No. Evelyn’s diary. How far in are you?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Probably not as far in as anyone else would be.”
“What do you think of it?”
I think of the last entry I read—while she had been making a life for herself at the hospital, she was sick and tired of the place and longed to go home. She wanted her life as it was before her diagnosis.
Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if Dad had been more interested in being a father and a husband over his devotion to his job, TV or video games. Would I be as hungry as Evelyn for my life before the divorce? Even though our circumstances are different, I understand her. She wanted to live and to be happy. So do I. Problem is—how do we do that? Especially when she faced TB and I can’t stop jumping off cliffs?
There’s a sick sensation in my gut as I’m not sure I want to read to the end. When you struggle daily to gain a pound, what is the end result? “Did anyone survive TB once they were diagnosed?”
She nods, but isn’t answering what I want to know—if Evelyn survived.
I go for a change in subject. “Listen, I’ll be able to hold my own on this project. I may need more time than you on reading and writing, but I can do this.” English has never been my best subject, and I’ll admit that last year, I gave up. I got tired of everything having to be so damn hard, but I’m not giving up again.
Veronica’s wink unravels the knots gnarled in my chest. “Are you trying to make me feel better because I have a brain tumor? I sat in