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Not that psychiatric hospitals were a riot all the rest of the year, but the holidays really, truly were the absolute worst . This particular December had decided to make matters worse by bathing the city, or at least the parts of it that were visible to Joey through the windows of the little room, in a shower of constant ice-cold drizzle. Sleet, that was the word; not quite snow, not quite rain, one hundred percent misery. Globs of the stuff hit the sides of the building and the windows with sickening wet thuds, before sliding off with the speed of an iceberg. Some nights you couldn't even make out the houses across the street, whatever they were. As featureless as the slurry downpour, they had people moving in and out of them all day, getting into equally featureless cars, driving down the featureless road. Really, Joey should stop looking at it, if it wasn't for the fact that what was inside the room was even more depressing.
Still. It was the holidays.
With a breathless sigh - they were always breathless, of course - Joey turned around and floated over to the bed. The kid wasn't sleeping, he knew that, really, but it was a lot easier to pretend she was. She could hear him talking to her, the doctors had made that clear. Not to him, of course, but same difference. "Hey, sleepyhead. It's getting close to that time again."
Her breathing was slow and easy. So easy, Joey half expected smoke to seep out of her mouth, like she was just lying down after dinner, cigarette burning out in her hand for him to blow out safely. Or like she had just closed her eyes on the couch, pretending to snooze to stop him bothering her.
"I really hope she's not coming this year. I know her foster parents thought it was important for her to keep in touch with her only living family, but you're not exactly a brilliant conversationalist these days." He sat down on the edge of the bed, or would have, if he'd had legs. The best he could manage was to hover slightly above it, near her feet. "I'm glad they stopped taking her. How many years has it been, now? I struggle to keep count. I'll bet it was her idea; she was old enough to make that call the last time we saw her. Well, I saw her. You slept through the whole thing, letting me do all the work. Like usual." She was so pale. In this light, almost as translucent as he was. "Smart kid. I'd say she takes after you, but look at the mess you got yourself into." Joey shifted closer to her head, careful not to walk through her. He always was. "I miss you," he said, leaning towards her ear. "Isn't that dumb?"
The door cracked open, and Joey started, annoying himself. What; did he think some psychic orderly would catch him in a compromising position? The light in the corridor was warm and inviting, but the young woman who stepped through was neither. The masses of red, wavy hair around her dour face seemed to enter two seconds before her, but what startled Joey was her eyes.
"Rosa?"
"Hey, Red?"
The kid shook her barely held-together ponytail at him as she walked away. Joey couldn't see her face, but he knew she was scowling. "No!"
"What do you mean, no?"
"No, I'm not staying here another minute. It's 4 AM, all of me stinks of pine scented air freshener and horrible soap, and if I have to listen to Wrecking Ball one more time, I'm going to get on a plane to L.A. and force Liam Hemsworth to take Miley back."
"Sweetheart," Joey felt himself drift after her down the corridor - she was already far enough away that she had to shout, which was farther than their bond reached. "I wish I understood a word of what you’re saying."
"Don't give me that." She'd reached the elevator, at the end of the absurdly long hallway, and stabbed the button. "I know you watch TMZ over my shoulder."
"There's a ghost back there, in case you've forgotten. A lost soul? You know, the kind we help pass on? Not just out of the goodness of our hearts anymore either. You've got bills to pay!"
"Joey." She turned around and crossed her arms, glaring like she did when he'd interrupted the wifi signal one time too many. "We've been in there for hours. I'm not going back into that bathroom until I've had a shower and at least six hours of sleep."
"We're on the clock!"
"Yeah, well, one of us is human." The elevator pinged open, and she stepped through. Grudgingly, Joey followed. He'd tried staying behind one time, and the feeling of getting forcefully ripped through several floors of concrete was unnerving, to say the least. "They gave us a room; I'm going to use it."
"Fine." Joey settled into a corner. It was a nice corner, mirrored and everything. This place spared no expense, clearly. "But don't say I didn't warn you when our pay gets cut."
The kid rolled her eyes. Maybe she was tired, but dammit, so was he. Just because he didn't sleep didn't mean he couldn't get exhausted.
"Anyway, she's the one who unfollowed him on Twitter, whatever that means. These things aren't usually a one-way street."
"Hah," she grinned in triumph, "I knew it!"
"Kid, I'm stuck to you. What you do, I do. Believe me, I wish I didn't know these things."
But she kept smiling all the way to the room.
"Who ever heard of a ghost haunting a bathroom?" Red stepped out of their bathroom, or at least their temporary one, hair still damp. Fully dressed, of course; the first time she took a shower after they started working together, Joey had offered to go stand outside in the hallway to give her a little privacy. Like he'd done for... like he used to do. But she'd just shrugged and taken a change of clothes with her, and locked the door. Red was like that; it wasn't that she didn't want people to be courteous, but rather that it never occurred to her that anyone would want to be. "Did you and auntie ever see anything like that?"
"Sweetheart, I've seen it all."
"Come on, I'm serious. It might help figure out this case."
Always so serious . How did she live like that? "One or two. Nothing like this one though."
"You mean, holding their own dance party, complete with eardrum-blasting ghostly music?"
"If you call that music. But yeah. No."
"I guess she thinks it's New Year's Eve. It would explain the hat, at least."
"Really?" Joey snorted. "I thought that was just some new-fangled fashion choice." Really, that was all they had to go on; a pretty face, a questionable taste in music, a party hat, and a name. Ella . At least that spoke to some class, though she’d yelled it at him while throwing him out of there.
Red shook her head, as though she were trying to shake him off. She slumped down on the couch and pulled out her phone. She'd taken that thing with her into the shower? Knowing her, she might have. Those things were probably waterproof, considering how much they cost. "The owner said they started hearing the music in early January.” Thankfully, to most people it was just a vague, haunting whisper. Only ghosts and mediums could hear it at full blast. Lucky them. “They have a party here every New Year's Eve, seems like it’s pretty popular. Look, here's the Facebook event."
Well, now...! Joey floated closer, looking over her shoulder. She pointed to what looked like a series of headlines and fancy pictures. He'd take her word for it. "You think she was here for the party? Maybe overdid things a little? Or a lot?"
"Maybe..." Her fingers tapped those little buttons that weren't buttons, faster than Joey had seen anyone type on a regular machine. "Or maybe there was an accident. She might have gotten run over on the way home, or..." She shrugged, awkwardly. Joey set his jaw. He'd been dead longer than he'd been alive, and people were still acting like this. Made you sick just thinking about it.
"So, that... event thing. Does it have a guest list?" He raised his voice slightly, trying to shift the mood.
"It... does, actually." The kid brightened. "It's long, so there may be more than one Ella, but if we go through the profile pictures, there's at least a chance we might recognize her!"
"See?" Joey smiled. "What would you ever do without me?"
He always stayed out of the bedroom when Red was sleeping, for so many reasons, but that was proving difficult when all they had was a single room. Quite aware of the irony, Joey found himself in the bathroom, lulled by the gentle sound of her snoring, and his own churning thoughts.
Nothing.
That's what that whole Face Book thing had gotten them; not so much as a hint of a lead. They'd gone through every single response; first those who had said they would attend, then those who said they would "maybe attend", an option which frankly puzzled him, and finally, more out of desperation than sense, all the people who'd said they would not attend. Nothing. No Ellas, no Elanors, no Ellens, no Eloises. There had been a handful of Elizabeths, and one Elisabeth, but none that looked anything like their bathroom spook. Though at least they had all had pictures they could work with; for something with face in the name, this whole service had a lot of people who didn't seem to have one. Even when the profile picture was of a person, rather than their dog or cat or pet turtle, Red had told him, it wasn't always of the person themselves. That, at least, made sense to Joey; the world had always been full of people wanting to be other people. It was like the hotel register all over again; an endless list of names, and in the end, no real way of knowing if their mystery Ella had been a guest here at all.
Joey didn't like to admit it, but they were stumped. The very first thing the kid had done was go through the news, starting from January when the spook first appeared, checking for any deaths in the local area. Which, even here in the Village, there had been plenty of. That alone had taken her most of the afternoon, and again, nothing. Plenty of murders and shootings and accidents, but none of the reported deaths had been tall, black twenty-something women named Ella. Whoever the spook had been, she was stunning; all high cheek bones and sharp eyes, even if they couldn't see what was right in front of her. Death could take people like that; make them more themselves than they were in real life. More defined, like the pictures on Red's phone screen compared to a black and white snapshot. You'd think a woman like that would leave a trace somewhere, not least in the memories of the hotel staff, but again... oh, what was the use.
The outer wall of the bathroom shimmered around Joey as he passed through it into the hallway. At nearly 5 AM on a Wednesday, the place was more dead than he was; at least he was moving around. So much for a change of scenery. No people, no idle banter to eavesdrop on; just long, drab walls in neutral colors, inoffensive art, and a couple of unmoving elevators... hang on. Joey floated closer, listening to the approaching dings . A couple more, and the doors pulled open, a couple of dead-drunk girls barely out of their teens spilling out and right through him. "Hey," he yelled, straightening his jacket, "it's rude to do that to a ghost!"
"Shh," one of the girls said, and for a moment, Joey held the breath he didn't have. But she wasn't looking at him; she was giggling and pulling on the arm of her friend. "Don't," she said, keeping her voice down.
"Shelly, who cares? It's Wednesday night; no one's here anyway."
"People are sleeping!"
" I never meant to start a war - I just wanted you to let me iiiiinnnnn! "
Shelly clamped her hand over her friend's mouth, still giggling. "Stop it!"
"I can't get that song out of my head. I don't know where I heard it." She yawned, swaying slightly as she walked.
"Oh, I don't know, about a billion times over at the club? Come on, let's get you to bed..." They shuffled off, arm in arm.
Joey watched them disappear around the corner. Well, wasn't that something? Like it or not, Red was putting on her dancing shoes tomorrow night.
"No."
Joey floated around to her side of the tiny table. He couldn't smell the coffee she was nursing, but the steam and the expression on her face almost made him feel like he could. "What do you mean, no?"
"I'm not going club-hopping on the off chance we find somewhere this ghost used to go. That song is playing all over the place; it's not much of a lead. And I hate clubbing. You know what happened last time."
"We saved a soul?"
"You got lucky."
Joey frowned. That young girl - too young, really - throwing herself at him, and him not having the wherewithal to resist her. Yeah, he remembered, all right. "Hey, that's not fair."
"Isn't it?" She took a long, thoughtful sip. "You seemed to enjoy yourself."
"This isn't about me, it's about us doing our job. And right now, that means you're going dancing."
"I know you respect women enough to take no for an answer, Joey."
"Don't be like that..."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm the problem here. I'm just trying to-"
The kid snatched her cup from the table and leaned back away from him, her chair screeching on the cheap flooring. "I sleep all day and follow ghosts around all night, and that's my life now; I've accepted that, okay? But it doesn't mean I have to be cheerful about it all the time."
" All the time? How about some of the time?"
"Just leave me alone! Let me have five minutes with my coffee and my own thoughts; is that too much to ask?" Her face was flushing the color of her hair, and her green eyes sparkled. There was never more life in her than when she was angry, and wasn't that, when you got right down to it, a crying shame?
"All right," he said, floating calmly away. "I'll be on the balcony." It was raining outside, but it wasn’t like he felt the cold. Just like that night…
The sleet was still coming down hard, but the woman who had stepped into the little hospital room drew every drop of Joey's attention. Tall and green-eyed, she seemed to be looking right at him. Rosa. "Hey, kiddo. You've grown-"
"Hello, auntie Lauren." She stepped right through him, and for once, Joey didn't mind. He turned around, following as she walked to her aunt's bedside. "I'm sorry I haven't visited for a while." She sighed. "Too long. I guess I had some growing up to do."
"And how," Joey muttered to himself. Had he lost count of the years? It wouldn't be the first time.
"I've got my own place now, downtown. It's not much, but I'd like to think you'd be proud of me. And yes, that means I graduated. Now all I need is a steady job."
"We are proud of you." He'd never quite felt like her father. It was hard to parent someone who didn't know you existed, though he'd heard that didn't matter much when they got to be teenagers. And it felt… off, somehow. But was he proud of her? Damn straight, he was. "Always will be."
"Anyway, it's Christmas, so I thought I'd stop by." She put the little potted plant on the bedside table. The nurses would remove it as soon as they got in here, and probably she knew that, but maybe that didn't matter. "I miss you, auntie. I don't remember much of my life with you, but I remember I felt safe."
"Yeah, I'll just... I'll be right outside." Joey slipped through the wall, and out into the wall of grey. The reunion in there wasn't for him.
"Sorry," the kid said, just as they stepped into the elevator. "About earlier."
"Hey, don't mention it. You were right, it wasn't much of a lead." Just the only lead they had. But she looked so despondent Joey couldn't bring himself to bring it up. "We'll keep trying to talk to her; there wasn’t much you were able to get out of her last night."
"Yeah, no wonder. Ghosts won't talk to me."
"This one can't talk to me. Remember that look on her face when I tried?" He couldn't blame her; he didn't exactly belong in the women's bathroom. Then again, neither did a ghost.
"We could try again. Maybe you just startled her?"
"Let's try the song angle, and see if that works. You said you looked up the lyrics."
"Yeah." The elevator opened. "Turns out they're not too bad, when you're not forced to listen to them on repeat for four hours."
"Then we go with that." He gestured at the lobby. "After you."
Even outside, the music was obnoxiously loud. Poor Red. He'd have suggested she get some earplugs, but this wasn't the sort of sound you could shut off. Joey hovered as close to the door as he could without passing through it, catching only fragments of conversation.
"...no idea what you're talking about."
"...help you. Don't you..."
"...dare you! I have just as..."
"....outside? Just for a..."
The music grew louder, and somehow.... angrier. Suddenly, the door slammed open and Red fell out, like she'd been blasted out by the force of it. Joey let her compose herself before asking, "well?"
"I don't think she likes me much."
"There's a surprise. No luck in getting her to come outside?"
"No." She glared at her shoes. "And my sneakers are all wet again. It took them hours to dry!"
"All right." Joey straightened his tie. "Guess it's time for plan B."
"Are you sure? She seems pretty upset as it is."
"Relax." He rubbed his hands together. It wouldn’t be a proper case if they didn’t get their spook angry more than once. "How could it possibly get any worse?"
"... wanted was to break your walls- "
Joey winced. The volume in here was supernaturally louder than it should have been, considering what could be heard outside. No wonder even regular people could pick it up. The spook didn't seem to mind though. She was floating in front of the mirror, selecting a series of unseen cosmetics in turn and applying them to her translucent face. Right now, she seemed to be putting on lipstick, looking at herself critically. There was no image in the mirror, of course, but maybe there was, to her. Joey approached her, slowly.
Her head twisted around, sharply. Everything about her was sharp; her look, her eyes, her cheekbones... "What the hell are you doing in here?" Her voice...
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to intrude..."
She turned towards him, crossing her arms. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do you know where you are?"
"A hotel bathroom?" He tried a winning smile, but it seemed to be losing, this time around.
"A ladies room." She approached him, slowly and Joey resisted the urge to hold on to his hat.
"Listen, I'm trying to help!" The music swelled, and he grit his teeth. It always came down to this; you had to break them down before you could build them back up again. That was him and Red; a god damned wrecking crew.
" I came in like a wrecking ball - I never hit so hard in love.. "
Joey scowled. Too on the nose. "Will you turn that racket down?"
"No!" She stared him down. "Will you get the hell out of here?"
"If you don't want to talk in here, maybe you could-"
"You don't belong it here," she yelled. "I'm calling security."
"Lady," Joey had to shout, the music was still getting louder, "you don't belong here either!" Stupid spooks, too dumb to know they were dead... he frowned. The music had stopped.
"What did you say?" She'd frozen in place, her face half puzzled, half irate.
"I said, you don't belong-" A blast of sound threw him from the room, right out the door and up against Red, who jumped off to the side, startled.
"Joey?" Red seemed to be blushing. What in the world for? "Are you all right?"
"I don't think she likes me," he muttered.
"We don't have to do this, you know." It was eerie to be in a place like this and have the music volume be a relief. Joey hovered by the bar where Red was sitting, halfway through her third glass of some garish orange drink. He couldn't remember the last time she'd been drinking on the job. Well, he could. It had been funny, at the time.
"No, you were right, we should look into every lead we've got. You can check out the back rooms, maybe see if there are any notes behind the bar, that sort of thing-"
"And you can ask around to hear if anyone here knows Ella. Right, you said."
"Right." She finished her drink and tapped the glass, letting the bartender know she wanted another.
"It's just that all you've done since we got here is drink those orange things-"
"It's an Aperol Spritz."
"Sure, that. And sit there, hunched over your phone."
"I'm just going over the articles we found." Her fingers moved on the screen like she was finger painting a delicate portrait.
"Again?"
"It's all we've got to go on!" She grabbed her fresh drink, pulled the straw out and drank straight from the glass. "I mean, look at these." Trying not to roll his eyes, Joey did. "Jerry Hernandez, 34, died of a heart attack in the diner across the street on January 2nd."
"That's not our gal. For one thing, it’s a guy."
"And too old. She couldn't be much more than in her mid-twenties. Then there's this: Carla Rosetti, 27-"
"So far, so good-"
"-died of a drug overdose in that place next door."
"Other than the name..." Joey followed Red's finger, which was pointing at Carla's picture. "Oh. Right." A white redhead with a crew cut. "Not our spook."
She flicked quickly through half a dozen other articles, moving too fast for Joey to see, muttering to herself. "Too old, too young, Japanese-American, Latina..."
"Hey," Joey waved to make her stop. "How about that one? Louise Belmont? Hit and run right in front of the hotel. Right age, just after midnight on New Year's Eve!"
Red looked at him with bleary eyes. "Louis. Not Louise."
"Oh." He moved back against the bar, which was as close as he could get to leaning on it. "Not our spook."
"Nothing." She slammed her phone down on the counter.
"Careful with that thing!" It had cost her most of a month's earnings.
"Joey," she sighed, swaying towards him, "I'm so tired."
With the amount of drinks she'd been downing in just a couple of hours, he wasn't surprised. "Don't worry. We'll get to the bottom of this; we always do."
"I don't mean the case," she waved it away. "I mean, just..." She looked at him, more earnestly than the alcohol in her blood should allow. "Don't you get tired?"
Joey settled closer against her. She didn't look like her aunt. Not one bit. Red was all emotion and action, not calm, considered sarcasm and ennui. But she was so bright, so unique. So bitingly funny when she thought she wasn't being. He could spar with her, like with... yeah. With Danny. A lifetime ago. "Of what, sweetheart?"
"This. What we do.”
“Sure I do. But it’s not all bad.” He settled closer, watching her carefully. Sure, Red could get maudlin, but this was above and beyond. She didn’t look much different than she’d done that day she stepped into her aunt’s hospital room, suddenly all grown up, but she was older. Joey knew that shrink kept nagging her to come in for a check up, and he knew Red tore up those letters as soon as she got them. But you couldn’t throw things out of your mind.
“Don't you get lonely?"
"No, sweetheart." Being huddled together in this crowd was strangely intimate. Like it was just the two of them. And after all, no one could hear his part of the conversation. "I've got you."
She reached for him, abruptly, but her hand kept falling through his chest. It took Joey a moment to realize what she was trying to do.
"It doesn't work like that, darling." He concentrated, and his tie solidified in her hand. It was nearly up by the knot. When she moved, it tugged him a little closer. "What..."
"Oh," she muttered, inches away from him, "what's the use." She let go, ambling vaguely towards the bathroom.
"I'm never drinking on the job again."
"Yep, I heard you the first fifty times." She kept her hand on his tie as they walked, very slowly, down 7th avenue. It didn't feel odd so much as unnerving; he hadn't had anyone touching him for this long since... well, since before he'd died. Long before, if he were honest. Not that his tie was him, technically speaking, but dead men couldn't be choosers.
"Is it very far?"
"The hotel? Nah, just a few blocks North from here." They were just passing Christopher Street station. Joey glanced down the street, noticing the brightly lit facade of the Stonewall Inn. Next to him, Red faltered, yanking his neck gently to and fro.
"Joey?" She seemed to look where he was looking, but much of her hair had escaped from her ponytail and was draped over one eye. She kept blowing it out of the way, and it kept settling back.
"Your aunt and I helped a few ghosts in there, you know."
"Where..." she paused, then shifted her gaze. Her expression changed to something unreadable "Oh. Joey, I..."
"It was just after I met her, back in '69. They say no one died in the riots, but you know spooks; they go where they feel they're supposed to be. To somewhere important to them. We went back a few times to get them all." He stopped. She didn't seem to be listening. "Red?" She was staring at the place, but her eyes were far away.
"Joey," she said, carefully, "I think I know who our ghost is."
"You're sure?" Joey floated alongside her as Red made her way back to the bathroom. She seemed to have sobered up impressively, but that was adrenaline for you.
"Yes. I checked with the front desk; she was definitely staying here under that name. The night manager remembers her. I wonder why I didn't see it sooner."
"Don't beat yourself up, kid." Who would have? That was the tragedy of it, after all. "Well, here we are." The music was still blaring.
"Don't you ever say I just walked away..."
"Ready?" She smiled at him. Not a full smile, not a real one, but he'd take it.
"As ready as I'll ever be." Bracing himself, Joey went through the door, and back in.
"Excuse me, Ms. Belmont?"
For a moment, the song played on, the ghost of Ella moving her lips to the words... and then, abruptly, it stopped. "Pardon me?"
"Ms. Ella Belmont? You called for security. Some creep trying to make his way into the ladies room?"
She turned to face him, fully. "Yes," she said, slowly. "I'm Ella Belmont. And there was a man here; he said I didn't belong."
"Well, that makes no sense, ma'am." Joey smiled, and tipped his hat. "He's the one who didn't belong. Are you all right?"
"Yes," she said again, picking up her invisible lipstick one more time. "One moment." She pressed it to her bottom lip, running it in a practiced swipe across, then put it down again, and only then did she pulse, softly, in and out of existence. "There." She turned her attention back to Joey, fully. "I believe I'm ready to go."
"You remember, now?" Damn, she was stunning, even more so when aware.
She nodded, briskly. "Yes. I was here for the party. I got all dressed up; I don't always do that, you know."
"I don't suppose you do."
"I can't dress like myself at work, not even in my own apartment. I've got a roommate who's not really great with boundaries. You never know when he'll come barging into my bedroom. It's like living with someone tethered to your hip."
"I can’t imagine what a pain that would be," Joey deadpanned.
"So," she shrugged, "I came here. It was supposed to be a break. I was only running across the street to get some water from the Seven-Eleven; they charge you through the nose for the stuff they stock the mini-bar with. I spent enough money on the party ticket and the room. Which,” she snorted, “I had to get, if I wanted to have somewhere to pee. They wouldn’t let me in this place. And then..." she snapped her fingers.
"Just like that."
"Just like that. Should have just gone without; I would have had to pee less often. Save myself some trouble." She straightened her dress. "So. How do we do this?"
"Right over here. After you." He motioned to the door. With a quick smile and a nod, she floated through, and he followed.
"Hi, Ella." Red looked a little apprehensive. Joey didn't blame her, considering how things had ended last time. "Ready to go?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." She glanced towards the bathroom, and paused for a moment. "You know, it's not all it's cracked up to be."
"Take this." Joey undid his tie, holding one end out for Ella, the other for Red. "I've been meaning to say, I love the name."
"Thank you," Ella said, demurely. "My mother loved jazz, that's why she named me what she did. I figured I'd honor that." Red pulled the tie towards her, and in a blinding flash, Ella fell into her, and was gone.
"So." The elevator was eerily quiet, after everything. "How did it go?"
"Perfectly." Red hadn't fallen this time, either. She never did anymore. Just stood there like a statue, while talking to the ghosts in her head.
"Another soul saved?"
"Another soul saved."
"And yet, I notice we're not heading to the subway."
The elevator reached their floor, dinging open. "You noticed right."
"Uhuh. Just what are you planning, here?"
"Joey, how often do we get to stay in fancy hotels?" He couldn’t read her face again, though she seemed to have sobered up. What had to be a full pint of coffee would do that to you, he supposed. She still had it in her hand, waving it about thoughtfully.
"Never. Unless you count this one, which personally, I wouldn't." They reached the door, and Red opened it with that funny-looking key-card you just pressed against the lock.
"Then I think we've earned one more night in one, wouldn't you agree?"
Joey snorted, floating over to the window. "Great. Yeah. You get to sleep in expensive sheets and get free toiletries; I get to spend all night in the bathroom. I don't know about you, but I've had my share of those for the foreseeable future." He turned to glare at her, but she was smiling. Gently. Sitting on the bed, her arms folded.
"You don't..." She hesitated, her face softening. "Joey, you know... you don't have to."
The lights were low. Her skin lit up like moonlight when she slipped her shirt over her head. "Uh, sweetheart.." He couldn’t do this again. Not again.
"It's all right." She held her hand out. He couldn't take it. But yes. He supposed it was. All things considered. We only had one life, even when’d lost it.
" Rosa ."