“Em?”
“Pancakes coming up,” I call. I swipe my hand over my face.
“He’s good today,” Jared breathes. “This is a good day? He’s not always like this?”
I should wait for Nicole. She can explain this far better than me.
But he might not last. Not like this.
“There’s something called the surge.” I reach behind me, hold onto the counter as Jared steps closer to listen. “It’s also called terminal lucidity. When someone is close to – close to the end, they can have this surge of energy.”
Jared stares at me, unblinking.
“They’re talkative,” I whisper. “Increased energy, alertness. Sometimes… They ask for their favorite foods. It doesn’t last long. A few hours, maybe. Or less.”
I’m crying again. I can feel the tears on my face as Jared stumbles back, shaking his head. “That… this isn’t that.”
“Maybe not.” I wipe at my face again. “But you need to go back in, Jared. Stay with him.”
“What about you?”
I force a smile. “He wants pancakes.”
He’s going to get the best pancakes he’s ever had.
28
Jared
We eat pancakes together, Emilia sitting cross-legged at the end of Ben’s bed. We barely touch ours, Ben managing a few bites more than either of us.
Every time she glances my way, I look in the other direction.
This isn’t that. She’s wrong.
But he talks, and we listen. He talks about stupid things from our childhood, glossing over the crappy bits and focusing on the good times.
“We had a lot of good times,” he muses. “Right, Jar?”
“Right.” I smirk at him. “Like the time you were potty training and curled one out on Mom’s favorite rug. You were so proud, you took her by the hand and walked her over to see it. She had a group of friends over.”
Even she smiles. Ben’s laughter is silent, his shoulders shaking as he wheezes for breath. “I don’t think you ever told me that one.”
“Oh, yeah.” I think back. “Before that, you’d only poop behind a doorway. If anyone tried to pull the door away, you’d shout at them and wave your hands until they closed it. It was like one extreme to the other.”
Emilia sips at her coffee, grinning.
Ben groans, sinking his face into his hands. “You’re making me look bad in front of my girl, Jar.”
“And then there were the pineapples.”
Ben shudders. “Emmy already knows my deep-rooted fear of those things. Little heads. Not that you helped.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life as the day I chased you around with it.” I frown. “Until I couldn’t get it off. You started crying because you thought it was permanent.”
A snort draws our attention. Emilia has her hand over her mouth.
“He tortured me,” Ben announces. His smirk softens. “You always had the best stories though.”
