All the Names She Wore
“I didn’t want to call Jenna again. She’ll do the script voice. She’ll tell me it’s stress. Everything is stress.”
“I’m glad you called me,” I say, and it’s true enough to cut.
In the dimness, I can barely see my own hand gripping the phone. The cot creaks softly when I shift, the sound too intimate, too domestic. Livia lies beside me, still as a held breath, her eyes on the ceiling like she’s trying to leave her body without moving. I force myself to focus on Leah’s voice—on the cadence I know, the slight wobble she gets when she’s trying not to cry.