The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried(59)
Whatever. I roll up the window since they’re clearly done talking and pull out the message Dino sent me before he took off to spill his feelings for Rafi on the sidewalk, then I click the link.
“What the?”
It’s for a service called the Past. People write e-mails or letters that are kept in the Past and then, if they die, their preselected “executor” notifies the Past, and the letters or e-mails are sent to the intended recipients. I may be not-dead, but I’m dead-dead as far as my folks and Jo are concerned, which means I can’t talk to them and tell them the things I wish I’d said when I was alive. But with this, I can. I can tell Momma how I know we fought constantly, but that she was the one who taught me to fight, and I’m glad she did. I can tell Daddy that I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time with him after the divorce but that I was angry with him when I shouldn’t have been. And I can tell Jo . . . well, I can tell her everything she’ll need to know to be a badass. Or rather, how to be a better badass than me.
Dino gets into the car and watches Rafi practically dance into his house.
“You’re glowing,” I say. “Stop it.”
“We’re back together.”
“I figured by the disgusting make-up make out I witnessed.”
Dino has the decency to blush. “Sorry.”
I turn to him fiercely. “Don’t ever apologize for being happy, Dino. Not to me. Not to anyone.” I settle down and then turn my phone toward him. “So what the hell’s the deal with this?”
Dino clears his throat. “Oh. That. I thought you could send letters to Jo or your mom or whoever.”
“Yeah, I can read the promotional copy on the website,” I say. “But do you think it’s fair?”
“To whom?”
“To my mom or Jo or whoever?” I stare at the website, which features a happy family leering at a tablet, reading a letter that’s probably from dear old dead Grandpa Lester who stayed with them during the holidays, clogged every toilet in the house, and horrified them with stories that frequently began with “I’m not racist, but . . .”
“I don’t know,” I say. “This feels like I’d be opening the wound again.”
“Or,” Dino says, “letters from you might be the salve that allows them to heal, or helps them heal a little faster.”
He has a point, though I’m not going to admit it to him. Still, I need some time to think it through.
“Home?” Dino asks. “Or rather, the funeral home, since my grandparents have invaded my bedroom and my life and I doubt I’ll get a single hot shower until they’re gone?”
“Actually,” I say, “can we go to Truman?”
“The high school?”
“I kind of want to peek in on rehearsals.”
Dino looks at the time on the stereo clock. It’s a little after eight. “You think they’ll still be there?”
“Opening night is next week, and they recently replaced their lead. They’ll be there.”
He hesitates but finally nods. “Fine.” Dino winds through Rafi’s neighborhood, heading toward Truman High.
“Did you mean what you said to Rafi?” I ask while we drive.
“Which part?”
“About hating me for not giving you the space to explore who you were?” I bite my lip and glance at him side-eye. “Is that the real reason you stayed so pissed at me?”
Dino lets out a long sigh. “Kind of. There were a lot of reasons. I wanted you to meet Rafi and his friends, but I also didn’t. I was mad at you for having plans anytime I invited you to hang out, but I was also happy, because I got to keep my worlds separate. I didn’t want Rafi to judge me for who I was when I was with you, or for you to judge me for who I was when I was with Rafi. I hated that you made jokes about Rafi and my friends, but I also wanted to be making those jokes with you.”
“Were you embarrassed by me?” I ask. “Were you afraid they’d like me better?”
Dino shakes his head. “I’m used to people liking you better. It’s just, you were mine and I wanted to keep you to myself.”
I’m trying to wrap my brain around it. “So you wanted me to want to spend time with you and Rafi, but you didn’t want me to actually want to spend time with y’all?”
“Pretty much.”
“You are so damned confusing.”
“I learned from the best.” Dino flashes me a smile. It’s genuine and real, and I hope he smiles like that for the rest of his life and never stops.
“You and Rafi are cute together,” I say. “Don’t screw it up.”
“I’ll try.” His smile softens slightly. “I wish I felt about him the way he feels about me, you know? If I could wake up tomorrow and be in love with him, I’d do it.”
I roll my eyes at Dino. “That’s not how love works.”
“Oh yeah? How does it work, then?”
“Love isn’t obvious until you’re in it,” I say. “It’s not a punch in the face that leaves you reeling. Love is gradual and sneaky. It grows like weeds between the cracks of a hundred average moments.”
Dino’s quiet for a minute. We drive in silence and I think I’ve said something to upset him, but when I rewind the conversation in my mind, I can’t see where I might’ve gone wrong. But then he turns to me when we stop at a red light and he grabs me and wraps his arms around me and hugs me until the light turns green.