I laugh. “I know. I love you, too.”
“We’re not crazy?”
“No.”
Nine
It’s Thursday night when Calla doesn’t come to my room.
For a few minutes, I’m not worried. I think she fell asleep, or she forgot. But that’s not right. She’d never forget. I know that.
I pace for a bit, and then poke my head out my door. The nurses at the nurse’s station are chatting amongst themselves and not paying attention, so it’s easy for me to slip down the hall and into the next wing.
Calla is in her bed, so my fears are allayed, but not for long.
She’s tossing and turning, a sheen of sweat on her brow.
I sit in the chair next to her, and take her hand, but she doesn’t calm. I’m not sure whether to wake her. So for awhile, I just sit with her, watching. Waiting.
Calla moans a little, and her brows are furrowed, and her fingers clench mine, tight, then tighter.
She writhes and squirms, and finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“Calla, wake up,” I whisper. “You’re ok. Wake up. You’re safe.”
Her eyes open and they are filled with fear and confusion, and she sits, still holding tightly to my hand.
“Dare?”
I nod. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
“Why do I feel like I’m not, though?”
I don’t answer.
“I’m here. You are.”
She curls up on her side and reaches for me, and I slide in next to her. She clings to me, like I’m a raft and she’s drowning.
“I keep having nightmares,” she tells me, her breath against my cheek. “I dream of dark things. I dream of babies, and my father, and someone keeps whispering, you must pay for the sins of your fathers. My father has never done anything wrong in his life. I’m insane, Dare.”
“You’re not,” I assure her. “I swear to you.”
“You’re in my dreams, too,” she tells me, uncertainly. “You’re wearing a dark jacket and a ring, and your eyes are so black. Let me see your eyes, Dare.”
I pull my head back so she can get a closer look, and she peers into them.
“Dark brown,” she decides. “Almost black, but not quite.”
“Nope, not black,” I agree.
“Do you know Latin?” she asks me, abruptly changing the subject.
I shake my head. “Only a little.”
“My brother used to study it. He used to say Serva me, serva bo te.”
“Save me, and I’ll save you,” I interpret.