“You okay?” whispers Jenny. “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you. That was weird.” “Well, I’m glad you did. Bring me. You wouldn’t have wanted to go alone.” A headache has taken root in the base of my skull. It’s sprouting into something prickly and fast-growing. Something beyond my control. “You’re right,” I say. “I wouldn’t have wanted to go alone.” “So what does that mean? No one seems to know anything about your mother.” I look at her, face shadowed with sheets of rain. “I don’t think—” “You don’t think what?” My voice lowers to a whisper. “I don’t think my mom is who I thought she was.” “Jamie…” “Jenny, listen. Look, I remember a woman with long dark hair. But the woman Darlene described—that wasn’t her.” “So who was it?” “I don’t know.” “And where’s the woman you remember?” “I don’t know that, either!” “Jamie?” “What?” Jenny pauses. “You don’t think your mom could still be alive, do you?”
