A Five-Minute Life

“It’ll make me better?” she asked.

“Yeah, baby, it will.”

It has to.

She hugged me tight, as happy to hear it as she was every other time. She didn’t need to know the details about the procedure, only that it was coming. Thea was still in there, and she knew, down deep, that “being better” meant freedom.

“When is this procedure?” she asked. “Soon?”

When, soon, and tomorrow morning were all tricky words that had no real meaning for her either, but I told her the truth. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Should I be scared?”

“No,” I said. Leave that to me. “Everything’s going to work out how it should.”

Thea smiled and kissed me again. A peck on the lips was all I let her do. It didn’t feel right to kiss her deeply. If a reset hit in the middle, she’d be terrified. I never wanted our kissing to be tainted by fear.

“I love this,” I said, nodding at her painting. “It’s fucking incredible.”

“Thanks. I’ve never been to New York City, so I’m not sure where this image is coming from. But it’s with me. Always. I’ve probably seen pictures of it.”

I smiled. “Probably.”

“Is Delia coming?”

“Not today,” I said. “But she’ll be here soon. You want to get some fresh air?”

Rita brought Thea her winter coat—a colorful wool coat Thea said was “fuchsia.” A reset hit. She suffered an absence seizure, and then she threw her arms around my neck.

“Jimmy, you’re here. How long has it been?”

We started over from the top. The time, the questions, until we arrived back to where w

e left off.

“Want to go for a walk?” I asked.

“I’d love to.”

She linked her arm in mine and we strolled along the grounds, having our same conversation, over and over, every five minutes. I told her again the doctors were going to help her, and she was radiant under the heavy, gray sky. Her cheeks turned pink with cold and snowflakes drifted into her hair as the first snow of the season began.

“It’s so beautiful,” Thea said, holding her hand out to catch the flakes.

I looked down at her. “So beautiful.”

My heart ached at the déjà vu—Thea looked like this at last year’s first snow. She caught the flakes on her fingers and said how beautiful it was.

She’s still smiling. Despite day after day of that prison, she has hope. She always has.

“I love you,” I said, pulling her to me.

“I love you too. Jimmy with the kind eyes.”

She rested her cheek on my shoulder and watched the snow come down.

“The doctors are going to give you a procedure, Thea,” I said, my cheek against her hair. “They think it’s going to make you better.”

Excitement rippled through her. “Will it?”