Chapter 32

Acoat of fresh white snow covers the ground and rests on top of the headstones. I brush it off Ray’s then kick the bottom of the stone. “What’s up, bro?”

No one else is out at the cemetery today, probably because of the weather. I didn’t want to come today, and I certainly don’t want to memorialize the anniversary of my brother’s death. I’d rather celebrate his life, but it’s Valentine’s Day. And I have a special mission.

“The girls made these for you,” I say, presenting the homemade Valentine’s cards to the stone. I have to take off my mitten to open the first one. It’s a giant red construction paper heart folded in half. “This one’s from Lara. She drew a dog, I think. Or maybe a horse. It’s hard to tell.” I spin it around to study it from a different angle. “It says ‘I love you, Daddy. Please tell Jesus to send me a puppy.’” I laugh. “Okay, so it’s definitely a dog she drew.” Lucy’s card is flat with a bunch of rainbows and hearts all over. “‘Dear Daddy, I love you. Happy Valentine’s Day.’”

I place them on top of the headstone under a rock and put my mittens back on before sticking my hands in my pockets. “The girls both got some kind of stomach bug, so they asked me to bring you the cards.” I try to push as much of the snow away as possible. “The weather will probably soak them into mush, but…”

I clear my throat, a puff of white air forming in front of my mouth. “The girls are good. They’re already talking about being in first grade next year. Crazy, right? Shayna’s single for now, and I like her a lot better when she is. She’s got a Rosie the Riveter vibe going on, woman doing for herself. It’s good.” I blow out another puff of white air. “Mom’s all right. I mean, she’s an absolute wreck today. I can’t even talk to her, but I know she had a friend or two with her today. I can’t be around her when she gets all… It sounds bad, like I don’t support her, but I need to deal with my own stuff.”

It’s silly to talk to a stone, and I laugh at myself. “You’re a real jackass for ignoring me, you know.” My skin’s dry from the winter temperature, and when I frown, I fear giant chasms will form. “Last month, I went to confront Dad. It didn’t go well, but it didn’t go…horrible either. We’ve emailed each other a couple times. We’re supposed to be meeting for dinner next week, so…”

My voice dips as my chin trembles. “I don’t know if you’re keeping track of what everybody’s doing, but I think you’d be proud of me. I made a list of life goals a while ago and got to cross everything off on the list. Everything but one, and I thought you’d be proud.” I drop my head, crying. “I wanted to tell you that, and I want you to be proud of me. I hope you are.”

I wipe my face, the tears hot against my cold skin. “I—” I sniffle. “I grew up a lot since last year. Bet you didn’t think it was possible, huh?” I wipe at my eyes again. “One of my professors from Columbia’s been mentoring me on my writing, and I got a literary agent and everything. Hopefully, a publisher will want this book I wrote about you. Well, it’s not about you per se, more inspired by you than anything. Don’t get too excited.” My smile fades and I fidget. My feet can’t stay still. “It’s crazy to think all these good things are happening to me, and it’s all because you died. I had to climb out of the hole I fell into, but I did, and now I’m living on my own, getting regular paychecks. I even have benefits and a retirement plan like a real adult.” I bite my lip. “Sometimes I wonder what I’d be doing if you were still here. I’d probably still be a lost boy wandering Neverland.” I shrug. “I don’t know.”

Bending over, I succumb to a racking cry that’s difficult to breathe through. I still can’t believe I am here, talking to a grave. I haven’t seen my brother or heard his voice in a whole year. I made it through the longest, hardest year of my life, and all I get for it is to stand here, where he’s buried. It’s cruel.

“I m-miss y-you,” I stutter after a minute of concentrating on my breaths. In my nose and out my mouth, I let the sorrow wash over me. “I m-miss you a l-lot.”

Straightening, I take off my mittens. They’re soaked from wiping at my tears. “I had my makeup done,” I say, rubbing my index fingers under my eyes. “I’m gonna ask Vince to forgive me, and now I have to do it with a raccoon face because I’m crying over you.” I sniff a few times, my chest expanding on full, deep breaths as I roll my shoulders back. “I thought about doing it on a different day, but it is Valentine’s Day, and I refuse to have this made-up, Hallmark holiday be completely ruined all because your heart happened to crap out on it.” I lower my attention, watching snowflakes land on my black boots for a moment. “I hope he doesn’t completely hate me. If he does, I may have to take February 14th off my calendar permanently, and then what would I use for an excuse to eat chocolate all day long?”

I knock on the side of the headstone. “All right. I don’t plan on coming here a lot. It’s creepy and weird, but I guess I’ll see you around. Don’t be afraid to flicker my lights or something. I promise not to scream too loud. I love you, you dumb jerk.”

I smile and wave, out of habit, I guess, and then return to my car.

I was right. I am a raccoon. I try to fix myself, but it’s useless. I drive to the drugstore and head straight to the cosmetics aisle. If I’m going to meet Vince, I refuse to do it with smudged makeup. I snag only the essentials: foundation, powder, bronzer, blush, eyeliner, and mascara. And cover-up. And ChapStick. It’s not my usual brands, but it’ll do in a pinch.

By sheer luck, there’s a small display of bagged chocolate-covered pomegranate seeds by the counter, and I purchase it all, then shuffle back to my car. Butterflies multiply by the minute as I apply a new face with trembling hands. I haven’t seen Vince for months, and I’m not sure what he’ll say.

Or if he’s even moved on. I wince. The idea of him with someone else breaks my wretched heart, and it gives me pause, rethinking if I want to go through with this plan. But I can’t give up if I want to cross this final goal off my list: number six, tell the people you love that you love them.

And I love Vince.

With an application of my signature color lipstick, I start my car and begin the heart-pounding ride to Vince’s house. I run up to the front door before I can lose my nerve and ring the doorbell. I wait a few seconds and then ring again. I don’t hear any movement in the house, not even Gracie.

“Stupid,” I whisper to myself, thumping my forehead with my hand. I only know of one other place he might be. With a little less haste, I get back in my car, gather up whatever courage I have left, and head straight to the Underworld.

The parking lot of Mancini Funeral Home is packed, and I take the first spot available. With my nerves bungling my brain, I scuttle to the side door, closest to me, open it, and—goddamn it—interrupt again.

“I’m so sorry,” I say to the people around me. A couple of the rows in the front, by the casket, are full of mourners, while a few other people are scattered throughout the room. I try to back out, but my foot catches on a chair leg, and I stumble. “Oh, sorry.” The man I bump into gives me a bland look as I hurry to get the hell out of here.

“Cass.”

Someone tugs at my elbow, and I already know who it is before I turn around. “I didn’t mean to walk into the middle of this,” I tell Vince in a whisper. “My brain is like…” I wave my hands by my head. He curls his arm around my waist, pressing against my back so I’ll move forward. “I’m sorry. Can we talk?”

When he doesn’t answer, my pulse quickens to light speed, and if I thought my brain wasn’t functioning before, it goes into overdrive now. I pull away from him. “We have to talk.”

“No,” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, his focus on the front of the room. He moves me closer to the door in the corner, by the hall that leads to his office, but I can’t stop staring at him. He looks the exact same, except he’s grown his hair back out. I want to push it away from his temples, smooth it between my fingers. For a while, I’d been able to touch him whenever I wanted to, but I can’t anymore. I lost the opportunity.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” I whisper hurriedly.

“Not now, Cass. We have a viewing going on,” he says with a gentle shove so that I exit the room.

“Please, Vince? It’ll just take a minute.” My voice rises at the end, and he holds a finger up to his lips, his hazel eyes meeting mine for the first time since I crashed into his funeral home for the second time. I glance around the room. No one’s paying attention to me, so I sidle up next to him, making sure to keep my voice down. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, soul-searching, and I came to apologize. I did use you. I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose, but it’s no excuse. I took you for granted, and I feel awful about it. I didn’t?—”

“Shh.” He cuts me off with a severe hush and tugs me outside the door into the hall.

I try again, whispering, “I didn’t realize then what I was doing. I was falling in love with you.”

Vince’s body is always in motion, tapping fingers, head tilts, bouncing legs. His body is always buzzing with energy, not overt but more like an even, constant rain. It’s soothing. But now, he’s still next to me. The only signs of life are his blinking eyes.

“I’m working,” he says and glances at his watch then crosses his arms. He doesn’t tell me to leave, so I don’t. I stand next to him, impatiently waiting, and he occasionally tosses me an annoyed frown. I want to apologize again, but I’m afraid to make the situation worse.

I can do nothing but watch a slow, steady line of mourners speak to the people in the front row before approaching the casket. I’m a morbid voyeur. Even with my angst about Vince, it’s impossible to ignore the life and death in front of us.

Finally, when there is no longer a line, Vince turns to me and says, “Wait here.” I do as I’m told, and he walks back into the room, bending down to a person I cannot see. After a moment, he stands and opens the back doors as if to usher the guests out of the room. “On behalf of the Bryne family, thank you for coming today. The funeral service will be held tomorrow morning at St. Mary’s Episcopal Church at ten a.m.”

He makes his way to me back in the hall and spares no time or minced words. “You left me, Cass,” he says in a harsh, low voice. “You didn’t want to give me time. You didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t want to do anything.” He aims his index finger at me and then himself. “You said I was nothing to you and left, just walked out. But now you expect me to fall at your feet? You want me to pretend you didn’t break my heart and disappear?”

“No!” At his raised eyebrows, I slap my hands to my mouth even though I can’t help that I already yelled. “No. I don’t expect you to do anything.”

He folds his arms and angles his body to block my view of the room behind him, although it appears the guests are filtering out. “Then why are you here?”

“To apologize. I know I have terrible timing, but you knew that about me already.” I smile, hoping he does too. He doesn’t. “I said horrible things to you. I don’t want to make any excuses, but I need you to know where I was coming from.”

He doesn’t stop me, so I continue. “I was really messed up. Even before Ray died, I was messed up. His death made me crash, but the train was already coming off the tracks. But when you showed up at my door, none of that mattered. When I was around you, I was happy, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to be good for you when I couldn’t be good for myself.”

Vince curls his bottom lip into his mouth. It’s what he does when he thinks.

“I hurt you, and I did it on purpose. I said you didn’t mean anything to me, but I lied to you and to myself. You mean a lot to me. You mean everything.” Tears well up, and I let out a maniacal laugh. “I can’t stop crying,” I say, wiping at my eyes. “This was the second time I put on makeup today.”

I tip my head back to meet Vince’s gaze, and his mouth is angled down, his shoulders soft and curled toward me. He nudges my hand away from my face to replace it with his own. His palm smooths down my cheek, and I lean into its warmth.

“I love you, Vince. You’re sweet and patient and funny and kind. God, you’re so kind, and I’m sullen and bitter and sarcastic. I’m perpetually late and?—”

“And I’m always early.” He blesses me with my favorite uneven smile as he bows toward me, like we’re forming a crooked little heart of our own. “We can even each other out.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, and I hold on to his hand with both of mine, afraid if I let go, he’ll change his mind. But then he bends to kiss me, and everything I’ve been missing for months disappears. His lips ease my fears. His arm wrapping around me promises we’ll be okay.

I lift onto my toes, bringing myself as close as I can to him. If I could, I’d saw him open and climb into his chest, live inside his heart for the rest of my life. After all, it is my home.

“Oh!” I push away from him. “I almost forgot.” I retrieve the small plastic bag from my purse and hand it to him.

His brows furrow. “Chocolate-covered pomegranate seeds?”

“Remember I told you about Persephone and Hades?” I open them when he doesn’t and pull out one of the little chocolate balls. “She stayed in the Underworld because she ate the pomegranate seed.” Then I pop it into my mouth, grinning.

Vince releases a big belly laugh and throws his arms around me, lifting me up. I laugh too, my feet off the floor, and he kisses my neck and cheeks, repeating, “I love you.”

My wretched heart grows wings at those words, and I press my lips to his as my heart flies above me.

“Ahem.” A purposeful cough sounds, and I am smacked with reality. I barged into a funeral service to tell a man I love him. Vince’s body tenses as he releases me to the floor. His face is beet red, and he slowly spins around. I peek out from my place in the hallway, behind him.

A group of people are staring at us. They’re gathered at the door like they’ve been eavesdropping. But they haven’t. We’ve been loud.

Curious eyes scrutinize us.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Vince says in his most professional tone, “I apologize profusely for my inappropriate behavior. It is not my?—”

“No,” a distinctly feminine voice says, stepping between two bodies in the small crowd.

I cover my face with my hand, mortified. I don’t know if I should run to Vince’s office, say something, or pretend I’m here to mourn and take a seat. I can’t decide, so I only squeeze Vince’s hand.

“Don’t apologize,” the woman says, moving to stand in the doorway. She’s tall with short gray hair, and her tawny skin has a pallor that I’ve seen in my own face, but she’s smiling. “My father died two years ago, and my mother has missed him every day. They were married for sixty-four years. She said they were soul mates.” She motions for us to come into the room, and the small crowd parts for us as we amble to the aisle in the middle of the chairs. Everyone’s attention is on us as this woman speaks only to Vince and me.

“Mom read romance novels voraciously, even more so after Dad passed, and this…” She settles one hand over her lips as her voice wobbles. “This moment between you two, it was the perfect way to send my mother off to meet my father.”

Vince bows his head, and I think he’s tearing up from the way he skims a knuckle over his eyelid. I peel away from him to meet the woman. We embrace, both of our smiles watery. She’s a complete stranger, but in this moment, we are bound together by love and death. I hold her hands in mine.

“I hope you can find peace in your grief,” I tell her.

She squeezes my fingers, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “You’ve already given it to me, darling.” Her gaze drifts over my shoulder then back to me. “Now, go get your man.”

So, I turn around and go get my man. Applause breaks out all around as I wrap both arms around Vince’s neck and kiss him with every bit of love I have in my heart.

Persephone is staying in the Underworld, but it’s okay.

I’m okay.