“It was baseball season, Lela. Hello, drug testing? He would have lost his scholarship.”

Damn. “Well, I know that some mental illnesses can kind of come out of nowhere.”

She sagged back in her seat. “He was acting really weird on Saturday. And he smelled so bad. I actually did wonder if he’d been smoking something.”

My stomach turned when I considered how close the Mazikin had gotten to her. And how they could try again at anytime. “Maybe he was self-medicating.” I’d become familiar with the term a few years after I entered the child welfare system, when I was about six years old. Long before I was ready to understand it, I heard some social worker talking about my mom to one of my foster parents, explaining why she hadn’t shown up for a scheduled visit with me. I’d stood barefoot in the dark hallway in my pajamas, listening as the lady said that my mom was mentally ill. That she’d drugged herself into oblivion, trying to silence the voices in her head. I’d spent a long time wondering where oblivion was and if I could find my mom there.

Tegan sniffled. “Like Nadia was, right?”

I’d never even thought of it that way. “Yeah.” I pulled to a stop in front of Tegan’s gated drive. She told me the code, and I punched it in; then we drove up her long driveway and parked.

Tegan folded her arms over her chest, shivering like she was cold even in the warm air of the car. “Do you ever wonder where she is now? Do you believe in any of that afterlife crap?”

I let my forehead rest on the steering wheel, not wanting her to see the look on my face: bitterness and awe and rage and wistfulness all rolled up in one. Too painful to share. “I do believe Nadia is in a better place.” I gave myself a moment to smooth my expression and turned to her. “I know that for sure, in fact.”

Tegan rolled her eyes and wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m so tired of people saying that.”

I tucked some stray curls behind my ear. “I was too. But I know this, Tegan. No bullshit, right?”

She stared at me, her shell-pink lips trembling. “No bullshit. I hope you’re right.”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t miss her. I will always miss her. And I will always regret that I didn’t do more for her when she was alive.”

Tegan’s face crumpled. “Me too,” she choked out as she began to sob. “And now Aden. Oh, God, is it me?” Her whole body shook, twisted up with guilt and sorrow I understood so well.

I knew I was supposed to hug her, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to.