Page 27 of She Haunts Me Still

“One second she was there, the next she wasn’t,” Ezra continues. “You always hear people say stuff like that about death, but it’s different when you witness it. Here, and then gone. Two sides of the same coin.”

“Yeah,” she breathes.

“My dad stepped out to take a business call. So, it was just me and her. The doctors, nurses, they didn’t get there until after.” Ezra brings a hand to his jaw, slides it behind his neck. “I told everyone later that it was peaceful, that it was like she drifted to sleep. But that was a lie. I only said that so no one would be upset.”

The candles crackle below them. “What was it really like?”

“It was horrible. She made these…sounds. Like a wounded animal. Like something was being ripped from her as she crossed over. It was almost better once she was gone. Because all the pain stopped.”

She doesn’t know if he’s talking about his pain or hers. Maybe both.

“I’m sorry,” Mallory says, and the words sound pathetic next to everything he just said. But he lifts a shoulder in a shrug, before nodding at the candles.

“The paper,” Ezra says, gesturing. “Burn it.”

“Are you kidding? What’s the point of this? What—”

“Just do it.”

She grits her teeth, holding the slip over the flame. The edges curl in the blue-orange glow, and she lets the blaze spread before she brings the remains of the paper to her lips and blows.

She can feel Ezra watching her the whole time.

Mallory rubs the pads of her fingers together and straightens. He starts to unfold the sheet with her mother’s name, and her stomach turns. This isn’t like her other secrets. This one is edged like broken glass. It would slash her throat to ribbons on its way up.

“Wait,” she says, and he pauses. She scrambles for anything to draw out the moment before Ezra learns the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. “Tell me something real first.”

Ezra leans back on the sofa. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Jules.”

“I disagree.” She’s half tempted to snatch the paper back from him. Instead, she asks, “Why did you choose theater?”

He squints. “What, as my major?”

Mallory shakes her head. “No, I mean…why do you love it?”

Ezra seems to consider this. “It’s something that’s mine. At the end of a production, I can look back and sayIdid that. I made that happen. It makes me feel powerful.” He glances at the flame. “Some people think power is about oppression, making yourself strong at the expense of others. But theater isrealpower. It’s community. It’s creating something beautiful out of nothing. Out of air and dead space.” Ezra looks back at her, and something shifts in his eyes as he catches the way she’s staring at him. “Trade?”

But she’s still processing his words, the weight of them.

The understanding that theater is a lifeline for Ezra, too.

“I’ve never had a real home,” Mallory finally says, and for once, the truth doesn’t taste bitter. “Theater is the only place that’s ever come close. It’s like a shelter. A haven. The safest place in the world because I don’t have to be myself.”

Ezra studies her for a long time. He almost looks sad.

“That’s a good reason…but it’s everyone else’s loss.” Registering her confused glance, he adds, “I see the real Jules. And she’s pretty fucking amazing.”

Her heart skips at that, but before she can respond, Ezra holds up the paper.

“I’m going to read this now. Okay?” At her nod, he starts to recite it, but the wordsJasmine Webbdie on his lips as understanding takes hold. “Oh, fuck. Your mom?”

Mallory nods again, and Ezra turns, knees colliding with hers.

“I’m sorry,” he rushes to say. “I didn’t realize—”

“I told you she died,” Mallory says, “but I didn’t tell you how.”

Ezra falls silent. He stares at her in the candlelight.