The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried(50)

Mom laughs at that. “Trust me, if we could afford it . . .”

“No way,” I say. “Dad would go behind them and reclean whatever they did.”

“You’re not wrong.” Mom finishes the cigarette, stubs it out against the side of the office, and slips the butt in her pocket. “Not to pry,” she says. “But I saw Rafi yesterday when he came by to wait for you. Is everything okay?”

I don’t want to talk to my mom or anyone about my breakup, but if I don’t tell her something, she’ll turn it around in her brain until she makes a bigger deal out of it than it is. “We broke up.”

“Any particular reason?” She may be acting cool, but she’s dying to ask a million questions.

“He told me he loved me, and I couldn’t say it back.”

Mom bites the inside of her lip, which is usually a sign that she’s on the verge of lecturing me on how badly I’ve screwed up my life. Somehow she manages to resist the impulse. “I worry about you, Dino.”

“Me? Why?”

“I don’t want you to get so caught up trying to protect yourself from getting hurt that you miss out on life.”

“Trust me,” I say. “Breaking up with Rafi was for the best. He deserves to be happy.”

“So do you.”

“I know.”

“Are you? Happy, I mean?”

“Not yet. But I’m working on it.”

Mom nods. “Good enough.” She rubs my cheek and smiles. “I think I saw the fan in the shed. But don’t take too long looking. If your grandmother is doting on you, she’s not picking on me.”

“I’ll hurry,” I say. “Promise.”





JULY

“I COULD BE YOUR DATE to the wedding,” I say. After Dino left me to go have breakfast, I made myself at home as best I could in one of the top-of-the-line coffins until he returned a couple of hours later. The lining is satin and padded. The only luxury missing is a mini bar. I should design my own line of coffins for people who are buried not-dead.

Dino’s sitting on a folding chair. His body is tense, but I can’t tell what’s on his mind. He’s been preoccupied since this morning. “There aren’t enough prosthetics in the office for that.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“With the layers of makeup you keep slathering on, you’re starting to look like drag Dolly Parton.”

“See!” I say. “How is it okay for you to make a drag queen joke, but when I made a gay joke at Rafi’s house, his friends went batshit on me?”

Dino stops jiggling his leg. “What did you say?”

“Not important. Answer the question.”

“You didn’t earn it,” Dino says.

I stare down my nose at him. From up here, I feel like I’m on a raised dais atop my throne. “And you did with all the drag shows you’ve performed in?”

“Okay,” he says. “No. But I also wasn’t making fun of drag culture. I was making fun of Dolly Parton, which, come to think of it, isn’t cool either.” He shakes his head. “Look at it this way: How would you feel if I made a joke about women being crappy drivers?”

“Considering the way you drive, I’d definitely punch you.”

“As a woman, you could make that joke if you wanted to,” he goes on. “Since I’m a part of gay culture, I can joke about it if I want. You can’t because you’re not gay.”

“Just gay adjacent.”

Dino laughs quietly. “Rafi hates those kinds of jokes. He says jokes that rely on demeaning a marginalized group, even if they’re made by a person from within that group, show a lack of respect. He believes jokes can be painful but that they shouldn’t hurt.”

“How does that make sense?” I ask.

“Humor can shine a light on truths that make us uncomfortable, and we all know how painful facing the truth is, but that humor doesn’t have to come from another person or group’s pain.” Dino shrugs. “Anyway, Rafi thinks I make jokes to cover how deeply uncomfortable I am with myself.”

“He’s got a point,” I say.

Instead of answering, Dino stands and starts pacing a line in front of the coffin displays. “I have a theory about why you’re not-dead,” he says. “It came to me in the shower, but then I didn’t get the chance to tell you because—”

“Invasion of Grandma.”

“Exactly.”

I sit up a little more and give Dino my full attention. “So what is it? Alien meteor from space? Secret government serum? Dark magic?”

“Me.”

My mouth is open and I’m laughing before I realize I’m doing it. It’s involuntary, and once I start, I can’t stop. “Oh good,” I say. “I’m so glad you’ve finally recovered your sense of humor.”

Dino stops pacing and turns his somber face in my direction. “I’m not joking.”

“Come on,” I say. “You think you’re the reason I’m not-dead?”

“Us, really.”

“Us?”

Dino nods and then returns to his pacing. “Think about it. What’s the one part of your life you left unfinished by dying suddenly?”