Jake makes an odd noise; I think it’s a grunt, a snort, maybe a moan. I don’t know, but it’s not a good noise; it’s a reaction to what I have said, and I talk fast to cover it.

“I mean, I don’t remember the physical pain; you should forget it too,” I say matter-of-factly, yet softly, trying to fix my point. In reality, it makes me sick, and tears sting my eyes despite my shrugging it off.

“How can I forget it?” He looks at me as though I have two heads, pushing ...