This isn't weird.

Earth to Millie

"No, I haven't seen her yet. She's in surgery right now."

Millie spoke quietly into her phone, trying hard to keep her voice steady. She sat alone in the corner of the waiting room, the fingers of her free hand twitching incessantly, each digit tapping against her thumb in rapid succession. Tess had left her for the moment to find food for the both of them. Panic had begun to set in the second Millie was alone, but Arthur, as always, was quick to answer her call.

"I... couldn't understand half of what the doctors told me. The main thing, I guess, is a fractured pelvis, which caused a lot of internal bleeding. They said something about 'vertical shearing'—I have no idea what that means and I'm too scared to look it up. But... they got the bleeding under control with the first couple surgeries, so now they're setting the fractures."

"Do they expect her to make a full recovery?" Arthur asked. Even just asking simple questions, his measured, soothing voice felt like a salve on her frayed nerves. But the comfort felt wrong somehow, like a shallow shortcut, the easy way out. It was always like that with Arthur. Talking to him made her feel like a mollified child wrapped up in a soft, cozy blanket that kept the monsters away.

"I think so, more or less... Apparently the driver managed to brake pretty early, so she didn't get hit at full speed, at least. I think she also broke a leg and a couple ribs—maybe a wrist? But she managed to avoid any serious spinal or brain damage. So she should be able to walk again, eventually, after a lot of physical therapy."

"That must be a huge relief for you."

"It will be a relief when this is finally over. I wish I could just fast-forward six months and be done with it."

"You haven't even seen her yet, Millie. There must be some small part of you that's happy to reconnect with your sister." His optimism was profoundly earnest. Millie tried and failed to feel reassured by it.

"God, I don't know. Not like this. It's just going to be the two of us alone in that shitty old house for months on end, all day, every day. It's not like I can just take a day off when we get sick of each other."

"Listen, I... probably shouldn't say anything before I have more concrete information, but... I may be able to help make that possible for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it might take a bit of time, but the foundation I work for provides funding for dozens of nonprofits and charity organizations across the country. I've touched base with a few of my connections, and I think I may be able to get your sister a grant to subsidize some professional home care, at least part time."

This latest act of altruism caught her entirely off guard, and Millie found herself suddenly disoriented and speechless. The sensation that swelled in her chest was strange and uncomfortable; it felt somehow closer to guilt than gratitude. "...Arthur," she whispered, her voice little more than a quivering breath.

"And also, Millie..." Arthur began hesitantly, "I was hoping... Would it be alright if—once you've had a chance to settle in—I could maybe come to visit you every once in a while?"

Millie was mortified by the very thought. Her stomach turned at the mental image of him standing in her childhood home; it was a sort of intimacy she never wanted to share with anyone, least of all him. Just the idea of it made her feel violated.

"Of course," she replied quietly. "I'd like that."

"Wonderful," Arthur said. "I can't wait to see you again."

"Oh, Tess is back. I've gotta go."

"Oh. Well, please call me of you need anything at all—"

"Thanks, Arthur. Bye," she said, and hung up quickly. Tess was not back. Millie was alone again. She stared into her phone, checking and double checking for missed messages. There were none. Why? Why hadn't Ben reached out at all?