Page 35 of Death's Obsession

I’ve been back to see Dahlia and my parents almost every day. It’s rather depressing that my closest friend is a corpse that can’t talk back. Still, I like to imagine she’s there sitting next to me, judging me, but loving me all the same.

I even visited Evan’s gravesite. Though I didn’t have many words for him, except the three that mattered: I forgive you.

I used to think that I was sorry, that I should have apologized to him for the situation we ended up in.

If Letum taught me anything, it is that there are two people in almost every relationship. Even if they’re polar opposites, it’ll work if they truly want it to work.

Maybe Evan did want it to work. Maybe I did too. We were so caught up in trying to pick up our own broken pieces that we didn’t realize some of our shards were in the other person’s hands. But everytime we shatter, we’re bound to lose pieces. We forgot that we’d worked faster if we put the pieces back together as a team. Instead, Letum has been the one nudging me whenever a piece has gone astray. He’s the one keeping me afloat on a sinking ship.

This time, I’ll do what’s right and put in the effort.

I pull my phone out of my bag—my new bag from Letum—then close my locker behind me and begin to type.

Me: I had a thought today (surprising, I know). If I had to guess, you’d order a short black coffee. And every few weeks you’ll add sugar just to keep things interesting.

Me: Also, I’m not sure if you saw it this morning. I drove past a border collie that looked exactly like the puppy I had as a teenager. He had two different colored eyes, one black, and one blue. Rafe never listened to any order unless you had a treat.

Our message thread is full of green bubbles and not a single gray response. It seems like all my communications nowadays are one-sided and are related to the dead.

Brit pulls the chair out and slumps down onto it, defeat written all over her. The cafe has been understaffed for the past two weeks with practically everyone out sick. So we’ve both been working extra hours, which is good, because it means I don’t need to rely on Letum leaving me cash in my bag—though it hasn’t stopped him from spoiling me.

“Christ,” she groans. “I’m going to need to see a fucking chiropractor for all the weight I’m pulling here.”

I huff, and my lips pull up in a half smile. “Ask the big boss instead. He seems to be good at walking all over you.”

She gasps. “Lili! Did you just use humor?”

I almost slipped into an easy grin. “It’s payment for having an open bar last night.”

Letum’s rather aggressive shove to get me onto my feet was like getting water poured on my face to wake up in the morning: it feels like shit, but you’re definitely awake now.

I’ve stopped mourning the girl that I once was and everything in my life that came before the accident. I won’t say I’ve healed, but I’m on the path to recovery, and I think that’s what really matters.

Hell, I even left my house to socialize last night for the first time in almost two years. It’s a milestone, even if all I did was sit there and listen to everyone else talk.

Even after everything, I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something. Someone. I happened to text Letum in great detail about last night after I had one too many glasses of wine. Not much of my message was comprehensible, but he must have understood what I was saying because when I got home there was a sandwich on the counter, toothpaste on my toothbrush, a glass of water next to my bed, and an extra lily on my pillow.

I’m trying to remind myself that actions speak louder than words, but it’s hard to think that when I haven’t heard a single word from him.

Even though life is finally shaping up, it doesn’t feel like this is the right life for me. I’m not just meaning life in a cafe or this city. Something deeper and more intrinsic that I don’t have the necessary words to explain.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you’re even upright today,” Brit grumbles.

The truth is, I’ve had a little more energy every day. I’m not sure if I can owe it to the lack of medication or the fact that I’m not crying myself to sleep anymore.

“I stayed away from the tequila,” I point out.

The door to the cafe swings open, and my coworker sticks his head around with a frantic yet unimpressed look. “Brit, there’s a lady that wants to speak to you about the taste of her scone.”

She groans into her hands and looks up at me with her bloodshot eyes. “If you hear screaming, don’t call the police.”

I nod and grin. “Noted.”

Chapter thirteen

Lilith

I grab my phone as I walk to my apartment the next day and see the last two texts that I sent him during my lunch break, still unanswered.

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