“Since when?” I ask it before I can stop myself and she looks at me curiously.
“Since always,’ she answers.
But that’s not true.
This is different. Why?
Of course, I can’t ask. I can’t say anything.
So instead, I settle myself into the bed, leaning on one elbow.
“You don’t seem like you belong here, either.”
She thinks on that.
“Well, if I didn’t, how would I know? I doubt crazy people know if they’re crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.” My words are firm.
“That’s not what they say.”
Her eyes are so luminous, like two blue moons. I lean toward her.
“I know you aren’t.”
“You don’t know me,” she points out.
“I know everything about you.”
She stares me down and doesn’t flinch. “Oh, really? Do tell.”
“Your name is Calla Elizabeth Price. You are beautiful. You are strong. You chew your nails. You don’t sleep well. You trust strangers, even though you shouldn’t. You hate the door being closed. You don’t like socks.”
I announce all of these things triumphantly, but she rolls her eyes.
“You’ve learned all of that by sitting here with me.”
I arch an eyebrow. “So? I still know it all to be true.”
She shakes her head now, and the gesture is sorrowful. “Things aren’t always what they seem, Dare.”
“Oh, I know that to be true,” I agree. “Far more than you know.”
“Why do you speak in riddles?” she demands. “You make sense without making sense. Is that your diagnosis here? Reality Disorientation?”
I burst out laughing.
“Reality is fluid,” I tell her. “You know that.”
She sighs. “I knew you were too good to be true. Reality Disorientation. You’re delusional.”
“Am I?” I ask softly, and her lips are so plump, and she runs her tongue along them. “Too good to be true?”
She hesitates.
“I’m good,” I assure her. “And I’m here.”
I decide to be forward, to take her hand, and my thumb strokes hers, as I balance our hands on my thigh.