If it’s not that? If she’s losing her appetite and having trouble sleeping because of The Pit? Well, that just doesn’t seem fair. Maybe that’s petty, but it’s true. Aren’t we on an epic trip to pirate ships? Wasn’t talking with Ruth in the middle of the night the best time with her in a long time?

Her phone buzzes with what looks like a Twitter notification. When she opens her eyes and moves, a hint of color comes back into her cheeks and she doesn’t look quite as nauseated. That is a relief, but then my own stomach starts churning with not knowing what to do.

“Hey, Ruth,” I say, before she closes back up again. She looks at me, taking out her earbuds. “Are you excited or sad to leave New Orleans?”

Maybe there’s a spark in there I can ignite.

Her eyes narrow. There’s no spark.

“Want an orange or a yogurt or something?” I say. Honestly, she looks like she needs to eat. I try to remember if this is how she looked when one of the failed medicines stopped working. Sometimes the wrong dose would make her sleepy or sleepless, or make her lose her appetite. One type even made her throw up, and I remember eating bananas and white-bread toast with her after she started feeling better. Is something like that happening here?

“I ate,” Ruth says.

“You sure? I’ll split an orange with you.”

“I can’t do perky this morning, okay, Olivia?” She leans back, puts her earbuds in, and closes her eyes.

Everybody gets tired, even Healthy Ruth. In fact, tired Healthy Ruth will sometimes come watch the National Geographic channel with me, bringing along a cup of her favorite pomegranate herbal tea. For Sick Ruth, though, even the tiniest interaction can be utterly exhausting. Sometimes, at first, it’s hard to tell the difference.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Eddie calls from the front. “Please keep your hands, arms, feet, and legs inside the vehicle at all times. If your destination is not Houston, Texas, you are on the wrong bus, but it’s too late now!”

Eddie gives a whoop and shifts the RV out of park.

“You are so weird,” Ellie says, grinning.

We back out of the lot and head for the freeway. For a while there is quiet driving. Ruth listens to her music, and I lie in my loft, clicking through my camera and listening to the thrum of Ellie and Eddie’s conversation.

I take what feels like a million pictures of everything around us as we drive. I’m getting pretty good at maneuvering settings for motion shots. I even try to get some good pictures of my loft. I read a few articles from my National Geographic magazines.