Page 138 of Mourner for Hire

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Me

Do you remember me yet?

Vada is typing. The three dots stop, then she starts again. Within moments, the text arrives.

Vada

No, but based on photographic evidence, it would seem you’ve always been a little shit. You put sand in my sandwich. You stomped on my sand castles. You were the worst.

I can’t explain it, but the memory surfaces. A girl—Vada—crying about sand in her PB & J. Mom scolding me. Mom’s friend—Vada’s mom—telling Mom to relax, we’re at the beach, it happens. Then she narrowed her gaze on me and shook her head once. I knew in an instant to never do it again.

Me

You loved me.

There’s a pause in her response, until finally, it comes through and she says:

Vada

I do.

I smile a little and stop.

Me

I’m coming over.

A pause and then…

Vada

No

Me

Please…

Vada

I want you to see it finished in the daylight.

Me

So it’s done?

Vada

I’m not above begging. Not when it comes to Vada. But she’s even more stubborn than me.

I wait five, ten… twenty minutes, and she still doesn’t answer, I take it as a sign to distract myself with other matters of importance. I reluctantly grab the envelopes from the table. I open the one from the Good Samaritan Hospital.

Dear Dominic Dunne,

On behalf of the selectioncommittee, it is with great pleasure that I inform you of your early acceptance into the Residency Program, specializing in Family Medicine…

I don’t keep reading. I don’t need to.

I did it. It’s happening. This time I get to finish what I set out to do.

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