The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried(40)

I didn’t cry for July when my dad told me she was dead, and I didn’t cry when I left her in the prep room. I’m not heartless, but I don’t know what losing July means to me yet. We were friends. Then we were enemies. She was dead, then she was not-dead. I don’t know why she returned last night. Maybe some divine power hoped we’d mend the rift between us. At best we cobbled together a rickety bridge that enabled us to meet in the middle for a few hours and fight there instead of yelling at each other across a chasm.

I suspect it’s going to take some time for me to figure out what July’s life and death honestly mean to me, but the one thing I know for sure is that when and if I do cry for her, I’ll do so quietly and alone.

“Headache?”

Delilah’s sitting at the kitchen table in a bathrobe when I wander downstairs in the morning.

“Like a dog’s humping my eyeballs from the back side.” I stumble toward the table and stop at the chair to regain my balance.

“That’s a horrifying mental image.” Dee grabs me a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen.

“Thanks.”

“You should get Mom to take you to the doctor.”

I shake my head and grenades detonate in my skull. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been getting headaches a lot lately.”

“Stop worrying,” I say. “Besides, it’s not like seeing a doctor helped July.”

Delilah purses her lips but lets it go. “You ready for the funeral?”

“No.” I toss the pills into my mouth and chug the water.

“When are you scheduled to work at the diner?”

That stupid summer job I took, mostly to spite my parents, seems like something that happened to someone else a long time ago. “Not until after your wedding.”

“Good,” she says. “You deserve to enjoy at least a little of your summer.”

“I guess.” I wouldn’t call any of this fun, though. “Where are Mom and Dad?”

“They already left to take the body to the church.”

“Did you see her?”

I hold my breath and wait for her answer. I think I’ve been holding my breath since I walked away from July last night. Her plan to simply decide to be dead again seemed too simple to actually work, and I spent what was left of the night expecting her to climb through my window or sneak into my room. Dee hesitates and then nods. “You did a great job on her makeup.”

I should have known better than to underestimate July. She’s more stubborn than death. The strange thing is that when I finally let go of that breath, I realize I was hoping for a different answer. That there’s a small part of me that wanted her to still be not-dead and for us to have more time together. I’d take an eternity fighting with her over nothing.

Delilah gives me her practiced consolatory smile. It’s the same one she wears with clients that’s intended to convey that she’s here for you in your time of need, but isn’t personally invested in your pain. “Don’t worry, brother. It’ll be over soon.”





DINO

I STAND AT THE REAR of the crowd while Pastor Johannes speaks over July’s grave. The sun beams down on us from a cloudless blue sky, and the air is hot and thick. July chose a terrible time of year to die. In the confusion caused by my morning headache, I forgot to put on an undershirt, and I can feel the sweat spreading across my back and under my arms. I won’t be able to take my jacket off even once I’m at July’s house for the reception.

Everything’s been happening in a blur. I couldn’t approach July during the wake, but I saw her from afar. She looked . . . No. I’m not going to say she looked peaceful or any of that crap. She looked like a body. That’s it. At some point I know I gave my condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Cooper and to Jo?lle, who smiled stoically. Some of July’s other friends from school were there. Benji and Neko and Sara and Kamilah. Benji tried to talk to me, but his words sounded like he was speaking an alien language, and all I could do was stare at him. They kept their distance after that. Zora Hood showed up, stayed long enough to see the body, and then ran out again. Maybe one day I’ll find her and tell her the truth so she doesn’t spend the rest of her life wondering if she was delusional.

The church service was long and boring, and then I helped carry the closed coffin to the hearse with a bunch of July’s cousins, most of whom were polite though appropriately sedate. When we arrived at Trinity Cemetery and I took my place to unload the casket and walk it to the gravesite, I stumbled and nearly dropped July.

Mrs. Cooper, who didn’t mention me stopping by last night, invited me to stand near the front with the family, but I don’t deserve it. The front is a place of honor for people who loved July and for people she loved in return, and I’m not clear where either of us stand on that issue.

Sweat runs into my eyes, and I use a napkin I stuffed in my pocket on the way to the cemetery to mop my brow.

Finally. They turn the crank to lower the coffin into the ground.

My phone buzzes against my chest. I’d put it on silent but forgot to turn off vibrate too. A couple of people I don’t know standing nearby glance at me and frown. I ignore it. It buzzes again. More annoyed glares. I should at least stop whoever it is from bothering me.

I pull out my phone and thumb in my lock code covertly before looking at the screen. Two messages. I have no idea who they’re from. Mom and Dad and Delilah know better than to bother me, I don’t expect to hear from Rafi, and, yeah, those are the only people who’ve texted me in the last year.