from my face.
Oh fuck. Oh no.
Thea laughed tiredly. “Oh my God, Jimmy, I’m kidding. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” She folded her arms on the table and hid her face in them. “Bad joke. I’m so sorry.” She peeked up. “Do you forgive me?”
“No,” I deadpanned, before relief burst out of me on a laugh, and I slumped into the chair opposite her. “It’s not funny. Why am I laughing?”
“Because I make jokes at the worst times. Now you’re going to discover all my worst qualities. Lucky you.” She smiled wanly, and then the dark cloud of her grief thickened the air between us.
“I’m sorry about your parents,” I said quietly.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I am too. Didn’t stop me from wolfing down a huge lunch.”
“You probably needed it.”
“Coming back from the dead is hungry work.” Her eyes spilled over and she covered her face with her hands. “See? I keep making dumb jokes.”
“You deal how you deal,” I said. “It’s a lot to take.”
“How do you deal? Do you have a dark sense of humor?”
“Me? No, I have no sense of humor whatsoever.”
She laughed a little. “Oh good. I get to discover your worst qualities, too.”
I kept my expression blank as my heart filled with possibilities. Thea was free and she wanted to get to know me. We had longer than five minutes. We had time to explore who we were…
Together?
Doris sneered. Aren’t we full of ourselves today?
Thea pushed her tray away with a little shove. “I need some air.”
I got to my feet and offered my arm.
“Thank you, Jimmy.”
We left the dining room and stepped outside into the humid air. She turned her face up to the bright sun the same way she had on every other walk we’d taken. Because she’d always been herself. Even then.
“Everything is so real,” she said. “Like I’ve had blurry vision and now I can see.” She inhaled deeply. “We’ve done this walk a few times, haven’t we?”
“Yeah, we have.”
“Were we friends?” she asked. “I think so. You’re the only one who treated me like I was still here.”
“Because you were.”
Her small hand tightened on my arm and she buried her face in my shoulder for a second, a little nuzzle.
We came to a bench and sat next to each other. Insects buzzed in the tall grasses and the wisps of clouds streaked the perfect blue sky. I could see the delicate curve of her neck, disappearing down into the collar of her shirt. It was perfect, too.
“How did you know that I was there?” she asked. “Even the doctors thought I was a lost cause.”
I shrugged.
“Don’t shrug,” she said. “Your thoughts aren’t inconsequential.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I said that before, didn’t I? Wow, déjà vu on steroids.”
“You said it to me the first time we met,” I said. “We were in the foyer, looking at a painting of a bunch of fruit.”
“A bunch of fruit,” Thea said with a laugh. “I remember. Was that when you knew I was still here?”
“Lots of things added up. You were like a bright light in a dark room,” I said slowly. “It didn’t seem possible you were only as deep as a few minutes. Then I saw your word chains and I knew I was right.”
“My dad used to say I could light up any room.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Did you know they were gone?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t tell me. No one told me. And I kept asking and asking…”
“We were ordered n-n-not to.”
Shit.
She frowned, studying me. “Are you cold?”
“I have a stutter. It comes out when I’m stressed. Or pissed off.”
Recognition lit up the sky blue of her eyes. “That’s right. I remember.”
I stiffened. The Thea of Five Minutes didn’t mind the stutter. But the Thea of Real Life…?
You don’t know her at all, Doris said. Introduce her to your worst quality…
“Are you stressed now?” Thea asked.
“A little. Thinking about everything you’re trying to process. Paranoid I’ll say the wrong thing. Or that I won’t be able to say anything that’s worth hearing.”
Thea pondered this, then nodded. “Holy crap, I’m tired.” She threaded her arm into mine and rested her head on my shoulder. “Anyway, big deal, you have a stutter. I have brain damage.”
“Show off.”
She slid her cheek along my sleeve to peer up at me. “You’re just jealous. My pity parties are way more epic than yours.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “Mine has a DJ that plays nothing but ‘Everybody Hurts’ on repeat.”
“Mine has brownies,”