The words hit me unexpectedly hard. Because I understand exactly what she means. For a moment, I just stare at the screen. I want to make her happy again.
Me:
What was your favorite thing about growing up with him?
The answer comes faster. Like she doesn't have to think about it.
Maeve:
He always made me feel safe.
I swallow. Hard. The irony isn't lost on me. She continues before I can respond.
Maeve:
Not because he was powerful.
Because he always showed up.
The apartment suddenly feels very quiet. My gaze drifts toward the camera feed. Toward the woman sitting alone on a balcony. Waiting. Probably not even realizing she's doing it. My thumbs move before I can stop them.
Me:
What's your favorite memory?
I don't know why I ask. Maybe because I want to hear her talk about something that isn't Ronan. Maybe because I want to know who she was before all this. Maybe because I just want to know.
The response takes almost a full minute.
Maeve:
My dad taught me how to ride a motorcycle when I was twelve.
I blink. That wasn't the answer I expected. At all.
Maeve:
My mother was furious.
Despite myself, I laugh.
Me:
That seems reasonable.
Maeve:
I drove through a rose bush.
Now I'm grinning.
Me:
Also reasonable.
For several seconds, neither of us says anything. Then her next message appears.
Maeve: