“Not that they’ve been much help with him though,” I said. “They just treat it like he was a normal human with Alzheimer’s. Like there’s nothing they can do.”

“And you don’t think that’s true?” she asked. I peered at her through the darkness, her soft brown skin a beautiful beacon of warmth in the otherwise cold kitchen. She was looking at me like she used to—like she cared.

“I don’t know what to think,” I whispered. She reached across the kitchen table to grab my hand and I felt more tethered to the world than I had since last summer.

I didn’t sleep at all the whole night. I was too scared to. Even though I’ve barely dived in the past few weeks, I was terrified that having Mark in the house would send me careening into his head or him into mine. So I’m now running on thirty-six hours of no sleep. Emily stayed up with me for a long time, before going back to her dorm, and I think we ended up in a good place. I actually feel … hopeful.

But the real reason I don’t feel like sleeping is because of the conversation I just had with Mark while I made him eggs and bacon. There was plenty of awkwardness when he rolled off the couch and into the kitchen, very hungover and confused about where he was, but I poured him a cup of coffee in the biggest mug we owned and eventually we pushed through the uncomfortable small talk and apologies and I got to the bottom of why, exactly, Mark thought it had been a good idea to crash my date, get wasted, and sleep it off on my parents’ couch instead of going back to Sam’s or Dr. Bright’s, both of which were ideas that were shot down immediately last night when Emily and I offered to bring him home.

“Ughhhhh,” he groaned, putting his face flat on the kitchen counter. “I didn’t think it was a good idea. I didn’t think at all.”

“Yeah, that was pretty obvious,” I said, feeling a little smug. This whole catastrophe made me feel like Mark and I are probably on even footing now. Taking care of him and letting him stay the night feels like as good of an apology for going into his dreams as any. Thankfully, he agreed.

“You really didn’t need to help me,” he said after he’d had some eggs in him. “Especially after the way I treated you…”

“I get it,” I said, shoveling eggs into my own mouth. “I would have reacted the exact same way, I think.”