Another string of laughing emojis pops up.
Evie: Talk to them. You’ll feel better.
I roll my eyes.
Me: I can’t. Josie’s here.
Evie: Ask her to give you a minute.
I scoff at the phone.
Me: Hell no.
She’s quiet for a moment, and I grow antsy that I’ve offended her.
Evie: Then write it here. Just put it out there.
I lean back in the chair and frown at my phone. What would Evie think of me if she knew what I had to say to my brother?
And in her weird, spooky, Evie way, she seems to read my mind.
Evie: You can say anything in front of me. I will always love you.
Damn.
I clear my throat against the sudden tightening.
“I won’t interrupt, Peter,” Grandma says, sounding defensive.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, my guts turning to ice water.
Beside me, Aunt Josie just laughs and shakes her head. “Strange, isn’t it?” She doesn’t seem freaked out at all. In fact, I think she’s enjoying it.
Evie: Go for it.
I scowl at the phone but give in.
Me: Fine.
I inhale. Exhale. Settle deeper into the chair.
Evie: Pretend like I’m not even here.
Me: That’d be easier if you’d be quiet.
She sends me an emoji of a monkey covering its mouth.
I close my eyes and try to get still. Evie meditates all the time. I don’t know how the hell she does it. If I’m not working with my hands, my head is like a three-ring circus.
I push the thoughts of monkeys and trapeze artists from my mind and try to picture my brother standing over Grandma’s hospital bed. The image of him with blood spurting from his neck is the first to appear, and I open my eyes.
Fuck.
Shaking with nerves, my thumb hovers over the screen, and I make myself type his name.
Me: Anthony
I press send, and I see his name join my conversation with Evie. She sees it too, and knowing this knocks down every wall. His name blurs as my eyes fill.