The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried(34)



I shake my head at the same time as Dino says, “Funeral tomorrow.”

Rafi nods solemnly. He holds Dino’s hand. “It was nice meeting you, Roxy. Sorry we didn’t get to spend more time together.”

“Yeah. It was good to finally meet you.”

Dino coughs and says, “Do you mind waiting in the car? I want to talk to Rafi.”

I catch the look he’s giving me and smile. “Take however long you need.” Then I turn to Rafi before I leave. “Hey, Rafi, I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Some dumb thing I said that I shouldn’t have. Just, I’m sorry.” I leave them standing there, both looking a little confused.

I wish I could eavesdrop on Dino and Rafi’s conversation, but I can barely even make out their expressions in the shadows. I’m surprised there’s not more kissing. Or any kissing, actually. It looks like Dino’s doing most of the talking, which is unusual. Eventually I get bored and turn my focus to my own problem. I know I died, but not much else. Everything from my last dinner until I woke up at DeLuca and Son’s is blank. There’s nothing there. Which is a terrifying thought in itself that I have to gloss over so I don’t spiral off into an existential crisis. I don’t know what’s animating me or how long I can expect this to last. I do know that my body is continuing to decompose. According to Dino, other people who should be dead aren’t, and that seems like a place to begin.

I think I’ve come up with a half-baked, not-great-but-good-enough plan by the time Dino gets into the car. His mouth is turned down and he doesn’t look as happy as I expected he’d be. Before I can ask how it went with Rafi, he says, “What was that about?”

“I’m gonna need a little more than that.”

“The apology?”

“Oh, that,” I say. “Jokes aren’t funny if everyone’s not in on them.”

“That’s it?”

I don’t understand why Dino sounds upset. “I said something I shouldn’t have, and I needed to say I was sorry. Better late than never. Are you pissed?”

“No.” Dino starts the car and takes off, though I don’t know to where. I can tell by the set of his jaw and the way he won’t look at me that, despite what he said, he’s definitely upset.

“What?”

“You never say you’re sorry to me, but you meet Rafi for five whole seconds and you’re throwing out apologies like confetti!”

“You’re mad that I apologized to your boyfriend but not to you?”

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“Stop the car!”

Dino slams on the brakes, and thank God we’re in a residential neighborhood or someone might have rear ended us.

“Metaphorically, asshole!” I shout.

“Don’t yell at me while I’m driving! Are you trying to kill us?” Dino pounds his fist on the steering wheel.

There are so many things I want to say, most of them involve telling him where he can stick sharp, spiky objects, but I calm myself before speaking. “Why isn’t Rafi your boyfriend? Did he break up with you?”

“No.”

“You broke up with him?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do something so stupid?”

Dino rounds on me. “You told me to be honest!”

“I didn’t mean for you to dump him.”

“I’m done talking about this.”

My brain is trying to figure out how Dino got from “be honest” to “dump your perfect boyfriend.” I’d meant for him to explain to Rafi that he didn’t know if he loved him and needed time to figure it out, which I’m pretty certain Rafi would have happily given him, but if Dino won’t talk about it, I can’t force him.

“Are you seriously pissed off that I apologized to him and not to you?”

“Can we not talk about anything remotely connected to Rafi? Great. Thanks.”

Dino’s shut down. It’s virtually impossible to get through to him when he’s like this. If we were still best friends and I wasn’t a rotting corpse, I’d suggest we drown our feelings in chocolate and violent video games, but I know that can’t happen.

“I doubt you’re up for it,” I say, “but how would you feel about a trip to the hospital?”

Dino lets out an exhausted sigh. “Why?”

“Because I have an idea. It’s just probably not a good one.”





DINO

“HELP?” I DRAG JULY THROUGH the automatic sliding doors, regretting agreeing to this plan. July is dead weight, and I don’t lift much that’s heavier than a sandwich, but also this idea is ludicrous and bound to fail. At the same time, my ex–best friend returned from the dead and I broke up with a guy who’s basically perfect, so lots of things that shouldn’t be happening are.

The emergency room chairs are filled with people, most of whom look exhausted and worried. Straight across from the doors is a glass window. A nurse behind the desk pops up and disappears, and ten seconds later rushes out to meet us.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s dead.”

“Dead?” the nurse asks. “Are you sure?”

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