I follow her everywhere. Now that I know for sure Safiya can hear me. I can tell she sometimes tries to ignore me—wants to. But she knows. Now that I know that the truth is so close, so dangerous, I try to use the words I have, the ones that still come to me.
Help me, I whisper when she wakes up.
Jackson Park, I say as she brushes her teeth.
Find me, please, I cry as she walks to school. My voice makes her shiver, shrink into her coat. It makes her stuff her hands into her pockets even though she has mittens on. She pretends it isn’t real. She pretends that it’s maybe the wind and not my voice ringing in her ears. She looks around. Sees no one. Shakes her head. I don’t blame her. I’m not sure if I’m real, either.
I keep whispering. My voice like dry leaves. Like a chill in the air. I try to make my voice not so scary. Even though I’m scared. Even though scared was the last thing I felt. I don’t want to scare her.
I’m so close.
I’m right here.
Please.
She knows more than she thinks. Trust your gut, I want to say. Isn’t that what they tell you? I should’ve trusted my gut. But I was so cold. My feet were so cold. And I wanted to be warm.
Be careful.
Be careful. I should’ve been more careful.