Page 59 of The Pieces of Us

I’m dreaming, or maybe I’m not. I see my sisters’ faces, their lips moving.

Sandra, Reenie, Aoife. I try to twist my head to hear them better, but it’s too much effort.

Someone is touching my hand. I smell the candle Emily and I love to light; it’s warm and sweet, like my childhood kitchen.

If I keep my head still, I can hear the voices, but they can’t belong to my sisters because their lips have stopped moving.

Is someone singing? Someone is singing. Who is singing?

Not my sisters. It’s Agnetha and Anni-Frid on the stereo. My original dancing queens, my teenage idols. I close my eyes and picture their faces. They blend with those of my sisters until I can’t distinguish between them.

I know these words. Thank you, my darlings.

My sisters have gone without me noticing – did they say goodbye? – but Emily is still here, her fingers moving effortlessly over the keys of her laptop.

What are you doing? She doesn’t hear me, and I can’t say it any louder. I lift my hand, but it doesn’t move. My cheeks feel damp; she must have been at it with that bloody face cloth again.

Tell my baby I loved her . That I know it’s not enough, but I did. That I always loved her. That I always will.

Emily looks up, smiles at me, nods her head. She heard me.

I close my eyes.