“And she can still use words. She just can’t talk, Ma. It’s really not as big a deal as you’re both making it out to be. Sure, it’s sad, we can all admit that. But it’s not the end of the world for her or for anybody. She’s still here and she’s got the majority of her intelligence still intact. I’d say that’s pretty good, given how bad the stroke actually was,” Charlie replied. “Hey, I know it won’t be easy. But they can do amazing things in therapy these days. We’ll all get used to it.”

“And it’s better than her not being around at all,” Shane added. “Think about it. When you were first in her, you were expecting her to die.”

“I know! I know it doesn’t make any sense for me to be upset about this. But it doesn’t change the fact that I am!”

They just nodded, because there wasn’t anything more they could really do. Charlie went in to check on her, and came out to tell us she was awake. Shane and Charlie said goodbye and then left, both telling me to call them if I needed anything at all. I promised that I would, truly appreciating the sentiment.

When they’d gone, I went to sit with her again. It was tough, because her eyes were still very sad. But there was a glimmer of something else in them too. I like to think it might have been hope.

“We’re gonna work this out, baby. I promise,” I told her in a whisper. With a great deal of effort, she nodded ever so slightly and gave me her attempt at a smile.

“Shane says she remembers that party,” I told her, and the laughter in her eyes was obvious. It was a good memory, that entire party and its aftermath. Hell, even the conversation with Alice before it began was a good memory to me, but that’s probably just because she was in it. “Do you remember?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.

She started to nod, and then stopped. Her hand was still in mine as she started to move it toward her face. I let her, since she seemed really intent on it. When her hand was by her mouth she tried to tug it away from mine, so I let her do that, too. She opened her hand as much as possible and turned her wrist slightly so that the palm was to the side, facing me. She moved her fingers, not enough to really do the sign for “talk,” but as close as she could come at this point.

“Talk, huh?” I asked, and she smiled. In her way, anyway. “Yes, ma’am.” I took her hand again and started to describe the party. Before too long, her eyes had closed, but somehow it felt like she was still listening to me. So I kept talking.