“She cared. In her own way.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself, too.”

Jax stared at Gretchen’s toes buried deeply beneath layers of scratchy hospital blankets and sheets. “Remember the first family dinner I came to?”

Amanda cackled. “I’ll never forget it.”

“I haven’t been able to eat roast beef since without flashbacks.”

“Good ol’ Rochelle spent hours in the kitchen preparing the perfect meal, her best meal, just because she was hoping it’d be your last.”

“She accused me of having a fetish for black women,” Jax said, recalling the conversation so easily. “And when that didn’t stick, she then wondered if I was after your family money, money I knew nothing about.”

“And she noticed your ears perk up. I almost choked on my peas.”

“I always wanted to be good enough in her eyes. Maybe so much so that I became blind.”

“Blind to what?”

“Being good enough in Gretchen’s eyes.”

“Jax…”

“I’m sorry,” Jax said loudly. She stood and paced. “I really am trying here. I’m not the selfish prick you think I am.”

Amanda reached out and grabbed Jax’s hand. “I know you’re not. I was so unfair to you during that dinner, too. I was jealous of everything Gretchen had and all she had done, like leaving the nest.”

She gave Amanda’s hand a squeeze and felt oddly calm and comforted then. And hungry. “I’m going to run to the vending machine for something chocolate, preferably covered in more chocolate. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.”

Jax walked the familiar halls on autopilot. She had eaten many meals from the same vending machine. She even knew the treasure she was hunting now could be acquired with two dollar bills and pushing D3 on the worn keypad. She dug into her jeans pocket and pulled out a long thread and a five. She let out a deep chuckle. I’ll eat good today.

She had already eaten half of her first candy bar on the way back to Gretchen’s room. A cute nurse winked at her as they passed one another in the hall. Jax could barely contain the extra skip in her step as she entered the room. She burst in and was about to announce that women still winked at her, that she still had some mojo left at her age, but the room was empty save for its constant occupant.

“She’s probably tired of listening to me,” Jax said. She had grown more comfortable talking to an unconscious Gretchen as the days went on and on. She tossed her spare snack on the bed next to Gretchen’s feet. “I bet you wish you could run away from me, too.”

* * *

My head hurts. Where am I? Jax, yes. I hear you. I’m running away—no. I’m running toward you. Keep talking, keep leading me because I can’t see anything in this darkness. One foot in front of the other. Is that you? Are you waiting for me in the light? I’m coming, Jax, I’m running to you. Never away.