I stared at him.
"What?"
"It's our little secret."
"Noah." I lowered my voice. "I know this is hard to accept. But Mom's not able to talk right now. She can hear you. I really think she can hear you. But she can't answer. That's what the coma means."
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said, "So why are you scared to stay in the room with me?"
Publicidad
I didn't have an answer.
"Stay tonight," he said. "Stay and we'll see."
Maybe I should have questioned him more.
Instead, I stayed.
At first, nothing happened.
Noah went back to his usual Saturday routine. He told Emma about school. He told her he'd gotten every spelling word right except "separate," which he insisted was a stupid word because it had too many vowels.
