“You’re going to get itchy,” I point out, setting her tray in her lap.
“It doesn’t matter,” she answers. She’s shy now, picking at her toast, and I grab mine and take a hearty bite.
“Tell me about yourself,” I suggest.
She swallows. “What do you want to know?”
I grin. “Everything.”
She rolls her eyes and the blue glints in the sun, a cerulean blue, like she belongs in sea beside Athens.
“I grew up in a funeral home,” she tells me. “What else is there to know?”
“If you think that scares me away, you’re wrong.”
She stares at me. “What’s wrong with you? Truly. What’s your diagnosis?”
I laugh. “Same as yours, probably. Delusional. But, I’m not. I’m innocent, officer!”
Her lips curve up and she chews delicately.
“My brother Finn died. My mother died, too. I have my father, but we’re not close. Not anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because he can’t bear to see me here,” she says, and her face is so pained.
“So change it,” I suggest.
She levels a gaze at me. “If I could figure out how, I would.”
I can’t tell her how, or she would truly think me insane, so I bite my tongue and stay silent.
“Tell me about you,” she says and she’s firm.
“I’m from England,” I tell her. She rolls her eyes.
“That’s obvious. Tell me something I don’t know.”
I think on that. She knows everything about me. She just doesn’t remember. I try to think of something she likes… then it occurs to me.
“I have a tattoo,” I tell her, and she’s surprised by that.
“Of what?”
“Words. It says LIVE FREE. It’s on my back.”
“Show me.”
Without pause, I lower my hospital gown and turn my back to her. I feel her fingers tracing the large letters.
Her skin is warm against mine, her fingers curious. She touches my shoulder blades, my spine, my neck. I feel the electricity in her touch, it’s a current that flows beneath my skin, connecting us, holding us together.
“Live free,” she whispers, her words so soft. “I love it.”
Her fingers stop moving and I turn around, pulling my gown back up.
“Do you?” she asks. “Do you live free?”