Pay medical bills.
Put food in the refrigerator.
Give Emma new shoes.
Give Brandon the inhaler the doctor recommended.
And maybe, just maybe, staying near Christopher would give me answers.
“What time?”
“Four.”
I returned.
Christopher acted as if nothing had happened.
That almost made it worse.
For three days, we barely spoke beyond what was necessary.
I helped him bathe.
Dress.
Eat.
Transfer to bed.
Stretch his arms.
Manage medication.
And every day, the silver locket remained around his neck.
He never removed it.
I began noticing other things.
Christopher hated mirrors.
He refused visitors after dark.
He woke from nightmares shouting names.
Daniel.
Marcus.
Ryan.
The first time I heard my brother’s name, I nearly dropped a glass.
Christopher pretended he hadn’t said it.
By the end of the first week, Brandon’s fever was gone.
