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“That’s how it started?” I ask.
She nods, chewing on her lower lip. “I didn’t get it,” she says. “I used to sleep through the night every night. If I woke up because I was anxious or whatever, I’d pace around, stretch, have a cup of tea or something. I didn’t understand why anyone would wake up screaming. I tried really hard to put myself in her shoes for years and I couldn’t.”
“Right.”
Her gaze darts away from me. “And now I’m just…I’m just wondering how long it’s going to take,” she says. “Because it’s going to happen. I’m going to wake up shrieking soon, and then I’m going to blink and have my mom’s life. And I don’t think anything scares me as much as that does.”
I trace my thumb over the top of her hand, watching her as she breathes out again. I want to tell her everything will be okay, but I don’t know if it’s true. I don’t even know if we can help her.
She leans her head on my shoulder, and I’m glad she’s close, at least.
“We’re here now,” I tell her, but even as I say the words, I don’t know if it matters.
