Find Layla

by Meg Elison

She sighs. “Just the two of you against the world.” So far the world is winning.

At dinner, Andy sits next to me and eats carefully, with a knife and fork. Someone must have taught that to him, because I’ve never been able to stop him from eating with his fingers. He excuses himself when he burps. Even his lisp seems better. Who is this kid? After a little ice cream, his foster parents come and get him. He runs and hugs them exactly like he did to me. I’m so glad that he’s okay and that they’re taking care of him, but I also hate this so much I could burn down this house and dance in its tasteful ashes.

It’s all playing out the way I said it would. He’ll forget the before-time and become somebody’s kid. I’ll always remember, and turn eighteen in some group home for gorillas who know sign language.

“I’m fine.” I’m dying.

What does it cost to lose something you never had?