“There’s something . . . something I’m not quite remembering,” he said. “I keep trying, but when I get close, I get this sick feeling right here.” He touched his chest. “It has to do with you,” he said, making dead-on eye contact, searching for an answer in my face. “Does that make any sense to you?”

I nodded. “It does.”

He took a deep breath. I’m not sure what it meant. That he was relieved to know it wasn’t just in his head? That he was shocked to know it wasn’t? But then he breathed out long and slow.

“Whatever this thing is, I’m gonna let it go,” he said.

“I think that’s best,” I told him. It was my burden to remember, not his.

Then he smiled and it chased away the shadow that had been hanging over the moment. “I’m just being goofy. It’s probably just this place. Hospitals creep me out ever since that time Angela got sick.”

For a moment the shadow came back again, but it passed like the smallest of clouds on the brightest of days.

My parents brought Hunter to see me. He was a little standoffish. A little awkward. It was how he was in this world. How we were.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“Sometimes more than others,” I told him. “It’s okay right now.”

“So . . . I’m glad you didn’t die,” he said.

That actually made me laugh, but not in a bitter way. “Is that the best you can do?” I teased.

He got a bit prickly. “Well, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say for something like this. I’m telling the truth—I really am glad you didn’t die. If you did, I’d be pissed.”

I took a long look at him.

“What?” he said, like the look was an accusation. But it was the opposite. It was an invitation. He didn’t know it yet. That was okay. I’d get him to open the invitation eventually.

“Nothing,” I told him. “I’m just glad you came. I’m happy to see you.”

After hanging for a while, he went down to the cafeteria. Once he left, I told my parents that since our birthdays were coming up, I knew exactly what I wanted for mine.

“For my birthday, I want you to get Hunter an electric guitar,” I told them. Because then they could put money that they usually had to divide in two into a single gift.

My dad looked at me funny. “He’s never asked for one.”

“That’s just because he doesn’t know he wants it,” I told him.