lie

oice. The world came back into focus slowly, like a photograph developing in a darkroom. W

ke a house after a storm has passed, le

e was from weeks ago, right before the first treatment. It was a link to a ludicrously expensive han

ng her happy, even if it was a happiness I had to purchase. I remember

It was just a fact, lik

string of frantic, unanswered te

e are you? Ple

e doctors won' t t

. This is all a m

elt a distant, academic curiosity about the person who had received them, the person w

tory I' d read but not lived. I remembered being pushed. I remembered Bailey' s accus

l." A week of people-friends I had known for years-c

ust a kid,

he would never hurt

so much stress. May

were a fragile, unstable thing. As if my quiet nature,

ce college. She sat by my bed, holding my han

dripping with condescending sympathy. "But you can

ion when our father' s estate ran dry. I gave up a fellowship in Copenhagen so she wo

ou' re so cold, Amelie," she' d whisper, her breath smelling of stale wine. "Just like him." I learned to be self-sufficient, to build my own walls

nd a social worker showed up at my door with a fifteen-year-old Kalie in tow. My father' s second wi

was also a single parent to a teenager who was practically a stranger. A teenager who

Kalie?" friends would ask, la

niece, buying her gifts, taking her to concerts I was too busy t

ad coiling in my stomach. Watched as the person I

t distant, third-person. The ECT had worked. It had scooped

le gentle. "Good mornin

"A litt

l notepad and a pen. "Your last session was a

e the final treatment, stared back at me. It was a list, a s

documents are in the safe. L

ll the

s cabin. Find Dean Serra

' t loo

e was underl

to talk about it like a lost paradise. Dean Serrano... the name was vaguely familiar. T

act of self-preservation from a woman I no

t the notepad in my purse and walked out of the c

owering buildings I had helped design-they no longer

to the hous

with people. Music spilled from the open doors. Colorful balloons were tied to th

od ran

world ended. They were celebrating. Here. In my home. While I wa

I walked up the path, the laughter and music faltered. People turned,

ampagne, a party hat perched comically on his head.

ss. "Amelie! What are you doing here? I though

map of my world. Now, he was just a stranger. A hands

I said, my voic

s eyes darting back toward the party, toward Kalie, who w

recognized from the notepad' s description. He does this when he' s flustered or

ghosts from a life I didn' t remember loving. I just wanted my thin

s. She was holding a brightly wrapped gift. "Amelie! You'

the same garish wrapping paper I had chose

ds hang limp

g on the manicured l

ling with tears. "Oh, Amelie, I' m so sorry! I know you' re stil

rty looks. The wronged sister. The unstable fiancée. Th

ise, the weight of their judgment was too muc

ce barely a whisper, "I' d

n' t start. Kalie is just a kid. Whatever happened, we ne

y, felt like a slap. He was still

audience she had so masterfully cultivated. I looked at Bailey, my s

as

I said, my voice gaining