I fall across my bed when she goes in the bathroom, exhausted. I am almost dozing off when she comes out again. On her way out, she bumps into a chair with an oof and promptly falls to the side, bending an ankle awkwardly in the process. She erupts into giggles.

It’s a slow fall. The kind only drunks can manage, curving like noodles. And no harm is done. But it’s a clear indicator of her condition. “Why don’t you just sit down for a bit?” I say against my better judgement. “Sober up.”

She rises and flops into the chair facing me. I prop myself up in the bed, determined to keep one eye on her until I can safely send her out into the night.

Aimee pulls her knees up to her chest, and she suddenly seems small and far too young, like a little girl at a sleepover. “So you live here with your mom?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Just the two of you?”

“Yep.”

She nods. “My mom died when I was three.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

“Don’t be,” she says, but her eyes have gone soft at the corners. “I barely remember her.” As if to change the subject, she reaches for my tarot deck lying on the corner of my bed. “What are these?”

“Family heirloom,” I mutter.

She pulls them out of the box and begins flipping through them. “Yeah, I’ve seen these. Tarot cards, right?” She pronounces tarot like carrot.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Fun.” Her face lights up. “This one looks creepy.” She laughs, holding up the Devil card. She makes a monster face. “Very serious.”

I realize he doesn’t frighten her at all.

She flips some more and holds up the Death card next. “Ooooh,” she says. “I bet people don’t like it when they get that one!”

In spite of myself, I smile. “No, I bet they don’t.” She keeps flipping, and I ask her, “They don’t scare you? Some people, you know, get freaked out by them.”

She shrugs. “What’s to be scared of? They’re just paper. Besides, isn’t the whole point that they’re supposed to help you?”

“Yeah, but what about the meanings? Like the Death card. You wouldn’t be scared by that?”

Aimee grins. “Everybody dies, Cat.”

It’s almost creepy, the way she says it. But there’s something about her apple cheeks and big, batting eyes that puts me at ease. Maybe too much. My eyelids are starting to feel about twenty pounds heavier.

“I guess. But no one wants to.” I think of Moony and feel my chest tighten. Another yawn escapes.

“That’s because people have lost sight of the only real thing left in this world.” She scrunches up her nose, staring at a card she’s picked from the rest.

A drunk philosopher. Just my luck. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Hope. Duh.”