When I Knew You Read Online Free PDF Page A

She..." She shook her head. "Kati, it's over. She's back to the way she was."
    My stomach twisted. "No."
    "It happened, well, it had been happening since yesterday morning. By today, it was as if she'd never been back."
    I felt the burning in my eyes, then the blur of tears. I'd missed it. Missed her completely. "But I didn't get to..." I whispered, taking her hands in mine, gripping them with all my might.  
    "I know, I know. I'm so sorry, Mija. I'm so sorry."
    As Abuela leaned over to hold me, the door to the room swung open and there she was, my mother, her silhouette cutting into the wedge of light. In her arms, she gingerly held a bright pink shoe box. She smiled at me, that sweet, tender smile, and I could see the fire in her eyes had faded like the last rays of a desert sunset. The fire had been smothered by the return of the velvet blanket of her naïve and broken mind.
    I could see Margie over her shoulder, holding the door. Her eyes met mine and she looked away. She placed her hand on my mother's shoulder. "Look, Antonia. Your daughter, Kati. She's awake."
    "Hello, Kati," she said, her voice uncertain, tainted with a Southern accent. "I believe I made these for you."
    I brushed the tears away and tried to sit up on the bed. She held the box out to me, and Margie encouraged her forward the last few steps.  
    "Thanks, Antonia," I said, taking the box and setting it on my lap. I lifted the lid and found cassette tapes in their shiny plastic cases lined up inside. Simple labels were on each one, numbered one through five, with dates next to each.
    "I... I think I made them, Kati," Antonia repeated, a slightly dazed look crossing over her face. She reached in the box, running her fingers over the cases. "I don't remember, really."
    I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "It's okay. I know."
    I looked over at Abuela, caught her exchanging a terse glare with Margie.  
    What was that about?  
    Margie broke off the exchange and looked at me, smiling as if nothing had happened. "I found them in the hotel room with a note. So, Antonia and I put them in the box to bring to you." She came over and sat on the edge of the bed, examining my face with a clinician's review. I could almost hear it in her head. Eyes, tracking. No visible twitching. She patted my leg under the blanket. "I came as soon as I heard, niña. How are you feeling?"
    "Like my brain's been covered in cotton." I replaced the lid on the box and tried to set it down on the table beside the bed, biting on my lip from the pain of my bruised rib as I leaned over. Abuela took the box from me and put it on the dresser on the other side of the room. Antonia patted my hand, then joined Abuela at the dresser.
    "We should unpack her the clothes we picked up, shouldn't we?" she asked Abuela.  
    "Good idea, Antonia," Abuela said. They began looking through drawers, getting things out of a plastic bag on the dresser.
    I heard the rustling of Mylar balloons. Margie was still in the room, fussing with the get well balloon bouquet in the corner of the room. A wildly distorted cat on a balloon encouraged me to Get well soon , twisting on its pink curling ribbon. She glanced over at Antonia and Abuela, then came over to my bed.
    "Kati, I know this is none of my business," she said quietly.
    "That's hardly stopped you before," I said, forcing a smile.
    "True." She turned to face me. "I know you're worried about your friend. And you should be. But that box of tapes, Kati. Make sure you keep track of those."
      I pushed the blanket off my legs and started to work toward sitting up. Flames laced around my lungs, my bruised rib reminding me to move slowly. "Right. I know Mom wanted me to hear them."
    Margie shook her head. "Actually, I think you need to know that someone might not want you to hear them." She squared her shoulders and went to the dresser, reaching between Abuela and Antonia, returning with the box. She put it back on the bed. "Your mother left a note. She