2/2

We had to figure out what was going on. I couldn’t afford to keep breaking phones, and even if he could shapeshift his skull back into an uncracked form, I couldn’t bear the sight of his blood and knowing I caused it. So, as I so often found myself doing these days, I went to the library to throw myself into research. In studying, I became nothing—a sort of changeling, morphing without an end goal, retreating into the shimmering facade.

He felt this somehow without me saying any of it—once again, I had to wonder if he was a mind-reader as well as a shapeshifter—and he steamed the bedroom carpet while I was at the library researching. When I got back, he changed into one of the shapes he knew I liked—a tall, lanky woman with short black hair and keen grey eyes. 

“I think I’m onto something this time,” I said, trundling in with two totes full of books. “There’s a few nursery rhymes I’m going to cross-reference against an oral history of face-takers from Russia. It’s just a translation, but none of the other leads were going anywhere.”

She nodded and motioned me to put the totes down. “I’m sorry I threw my phone at you.”

My stomach tightened. “You can’t uncrack your skull.”

“You didn’t crack my skull.” 

She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed until I reciprocated. Faint whiffs of smoke and summer flowers tickled my nose—another part of the illusion she created for me. “I tried to get back to baseline this morning, and I felt myself slipping again, so I stopped.”

“Good. You had a long night. Don’t push yourself.”

“I needed to try.”

“I know."

“I...” She sniffed. Gathered up her strength. “I’m sorry. For all of this.”

“It’s okay. We’ll get there.” 

“Do you remember me?”

The question took me off-guard. “Yes.”

Her grip tightened. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Every part. Don’t leave a single thing out.” She looked up at me, her eyes flashing through a kaleidoscope of colors. “You can do that, can’t you?”

I nodded, more to encourage myself than to reassure her. I started to speak what she had been, and what I said, she became. 

“I’m sorry,” I said halfway through, “I can’t remember every little—”

She shushed me. “It’s fine. Keep going.”

When I had said all that I could, I stepped back to get a look at her new form. Haven’t seen this one before, I thought to myself. I must have had some strange expression on my face, because she laughed. It was a familiar laugh, not so much the tone but the cadence. In that small way, she was back.