I hold her gaze. It looks like it costs her terribly to do it, but she doesn’t look away, either.
“Okay,” I say eventually. “Okay. I believe you.”
She exhales like she’s been holding her breath for days.
I really do believe her. I actually do, even if it’s dumb. It feels like she’s caught out here with me, both trapped in the vicious Lazarev undertow, and neither one of us can figure out how to swim to shore.
I look down at the diary pages. Maybe this is our life raft.
I open up the journal and start to read.
DIAGNOSIS: Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML), refractory
It’s quieter in here than it once was. It used to be that Elena was in the kitchen all the time, and whenever Elena was in the kitchen, that meant music was playing—and if music was playing, that meant Elena was dancing.
It’s
