The telling takes a while, but luckily the bowl of ice cream is big. I finish summarizing what happened to Jackson – what it felt like to fall out of this world, how I landed flat on my back in the other, what it looked like – that desolate space with the three looming moons – and the woman I saw by the trees. How the darkness in me rejoiced to be there.
When there’s a single bite of ice cream left, I sigh and hold out the bowl to Jackson, who takes it and scoops the last sweet spoonful into his mouth, clearly thinking over everything I said. I wait patiently, folded up in my towel, sitting primly on the closed toilet.
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