Stretch his arms.
Manage medication.
And every day, the silver locket remained around his neck.
He never removed it.
I began noticing other things.
Christopher hated mirrors.
He refused visitors after dark.
He woke from nightmares shouting names.
Daniel.
Marcus.
Ryan.
The first time I heard my brother’s name, I nearly dropped a glass.
Christopher pretended he hadn’t said it.
By the end of the first week, Brandon’s fever was gone.
Emma had stopped asking whether we had enough food.
I paid three months of overdue rent.
Then Christopher did something unexpected.
He asked about my children.
“What are their names?”
We were in the library.
I was organizing his medication.
“Brandon and Emma.”
“How old?”
“Eight and five.”
“Father?”
I stiffened.
“Gone.”
“Dead?”
“No.”
Christopher glanced at me.
“He left when Emma was two.”
“Why?”
“Because responsibility bored him.”
Christopher looked almost offended.
“His loss.”
“Yes.”
