“You look good.” Sofia says as we sit on the porch, I stare at the hibiscus garden that she keeps to, in awe, while she's looking directly at me. “You're going to really like this place. I know we haven't been in contact for a while, but I think you two are a good match.”

She speaks about the island like a person. She even did it during breakfast.

“Thanks.” I reply bluntly, and then begin to worry it was too rough and desolate of a response.

“I know you're probably tired, well, that would be an understatement, exhausted is a better word for how you look, but umm.. I'm really really happy to see you. You don't know how many times I just stared at the ocean, waiting to see that boat with you on it coming towards the island. And I stared at a-lot of boats, most of them were just filled with people who've I've never met before. Then I started to think you were never going to show up, and then the day you finally do, I'm hauled up in the lighthouse, thinking I'm going to be alone here, forever.” She laughs, and then squeezes my shoulder. “Hey. You there?”

“Huh.” I reply. I turn towards her, and she solidifies her position by sitting entirely on the bench, legs crossed, facing me. “Are you real?”

“What?”

“Can I touch your face?”

Sofia shrugs. “If that's what you need to... Is something wrong?”

I slowly raise my hand to her cheek. She inhales as my palm makes contact with her skin, but then pushes into it, knowing that this is what I needed, while not knowing what I needed.

“You're real.” I say, and then pull back again. “Recall a memory.”

“What are you talking about, Dean?”

“Recall something, us, us.” I stammer. “A memory you have of us. Anything.”

“Okay.” She pulls my palm off her cheek, and then squeezes it in between both of her hands. I see her subtly checking my pulse, feeling the chill of my fingers, then looking up at me in worry.

She continues. “There was an entire year in high-school, junior year, where you attended every single one of my volleyball games. And-” She shrugs. “You would pick me up and drop me off at Pascal's house, but on the way there, we would stop at Tea Palace, and you would always tell me to buy whatever I wanted.... Even though you never had enough money to buy me more than one glass of Earl Grey."

We share a smile, and I exhale hard.

“It's you. It's you, Sofia. Okay. We have that settled.”

“Yeah.” She chuckles incredulously. “It's me.”

“Where's Engle?”

She looks at the treeline. “He went out early in the morning, said he'd be back by noon.”

“Okay.” I nod. “Engle is real.”

“Yeah. He's nice.” She says, nonchalantly. I can tell she's holding back.

She continues. “Hey, I should get you some water.”

“No. Let's go for a walk.”

We settle along the hill nearest to the dock, where we both stand and watch, my eyes shoot to the rowboat, she gazes at the tumbling waves.

“When did you return home?”

“Early in the morning? You were already in bed.” She replies. “And snoring, so I closed the door.” Knowing I was going to ask about him, she answers it first. “Engle was also fast asleep.”

She continues. “Did something happen between you two?”

“How long have I known him for?”

“Dean.” She says, as if it was the most obvious question ever asked. “How could I know that?”

“Guess?” We pause. “Please?”

“Dean.” This time it's more assertive. “I don't know. Maybe a couple days. A couple years?”

“Okay. Fine.” I nod. “Where have I been lately?”

“You were in the hospital for a little while, right?”

I begin to pace.

She continues. “I didn't want to ask about it, but what happened over there, anyways?”

“Either I'm hallucinating or the world is fucking with me.”

She walks to me, and squeezes my wrist.

“You can trust me.” She scoffs. “Just tell me what's on your mind.”

“No. Not yet.” I see her face shift. “I trust you. It's just that I need to figure things out for myself. Spend some time away from everyone, everything. I've camped before. I'll be okay.”

“Don't you have a story to write?”

“Yeah.” I smile. I'm not just a mental patient. Unless she's not in on it. “I'll I'll bring a notebook.” I say, noticing my hand is on her shoulder. I quickly whip it back to my side.

“Dean. If there's something going on, you need to let me know what it is. I'm not going to rat on you. Okay you were practically my father for a couple of years, believe me, I'm here for you.”

“Blaire Asylum. Does that ring any bells?”

“Isn't that like... Batman?” She asks, sincerely.

“It's not fucking Batman.. Sorry. It's not Batman.”

“No. It doesn't ring any bells.” She says with a hint of frustration.

I ask myself internally: is it Batman?

“Was I a mental patient for the last two years?”

“No. Okay. I definitely know you weren't. That I can honestly answer.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, Pascal told me you were coming to the island six months ago. And I talked you on the phone for like an hour?"

“Six months?”

“Six months.” She says, sternly.

“What the fuck?”

“That's exactly what I'm thinking right now, Dean.”

“Okay.” I nod, and then feel my head overheating. “Don't let Engle get near me.”

“He's an old man. You'll be fine.”

“Don't let Engle come near me.”

Sofia scoffs. “Fine. I won't. You're off limits. I'll have to tell him that, though. I'm not telepathic."

“We're going back to the house. I'm going to grab the two biggest bags I can find, and I'm going to pack them with as much food and water as I can. And then, I'm going to stay out there for a week. I don't know where, and I don't care, just away from all of this noise. Where I can figure out what the hell is going on."

“I'll help you.” She pauses. “Hey, can I come with?"

“What?”

“It'll be good material. Just something new.. to spruce things up. You know?”

I look away, and then back at her.

“I just told you..." I pause, and take a deep breath.

"Don't treat me like I'm one of them, Dean."