The news settled oddly in Gretchen’s chest. She started laughing and let go of Amanda’s hand to hold her aching side. She couldn’t stop, and tamping down the cackles only served to heighten her giggles. She put her hands up and started to control herself.

“Sorry,” she said. Her inability to say full sentences without pain or confusion frustrated her, but she was able to put together a few words and understand them. “How?”

“Heart attack. I found her,” Amanda said firmly. “So this little stunt you pulled was totally uncool.”

Gretchen felt like an asshole. She grabbed Amanda’s hand again and rested it on her lap. She lay back and closed her eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure how to process her mother’s death for the second time two years later. How did it affect her the first time? She dug deeply into her mind, trying desperately to remember something, anything that would point to grief or relief. As terrible as it seemed, she felt more relief than anything.

“You didn’t come to the funeral.”

Gretchen raised her eyebrows. She supposed that answered her question. Not going to your parent’s funeral was pretty telling. “Sorry.”

“I know you are.” Amanda looked her over before turning away to her purse. “Let’s talk about happier things.” Amanda pulled out a tube of lipstick and started applying a coat to Gretchen’s dry lips. “That’s better.”

Gretchen didn’t mind. Actually, she enjoyed Amanda’s caregiving side. There had always been an odd rift between them. Gretchen hated how unsure she was of their relationship now, how the death of their mother changed them, and whether Amanda had found happiness. “Wish…could talk.”

Amanda sighed and sat back. “I’m sorry, sis.” Amanda’s eyes lit up, and she reached back into her purse. She pulled out a pen and a small notepad. “Maybe you can write?”

She stared at the objects in fear. She was already struggling with her impaired speech. What if she couldn’t write, either? She knew those skills could be regained through therapy, but months with a therapist wouldn’t help her understand what was happening with Jax right now. She took the pen and pad in her trembling hands.

She took a deep breath in and out, and then she pressed the tip of the pen to the paper and willed her muscle memory and brain to take over. After only a few seconds, Gretchen had a sentence written, and she was certain it made sense. She showed the paper to Amanda, who scowled. Gretchen started to panic.

“I don’t understand the question, that’s all,” Amanda said. “What do you mean, What about us?”

Gretchen fought back tears of relief. She could communicate. She wrote again. You and me.

Amanda watched Gretchen this time and started nodding. “After Mom died, we did start talking more. I watch Caleb a lot for you when you work late. We’re not perfect, but we’re getting there.”

Gretchen worked Amanda’s answer over in her head a few times before coming up with her next question. She wanted to ask about Jax, but going straight to the source was better. She’d have to be patient. Gretchen tapped the pen twice before writing. Your personal life?