Page 18 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

For a moment she says nothing. Then she nods. “All right. I’ll make you a batch. But don’t smudge the glass pressing your nose against it. I don’t need a demonstration.”

“I won’t smudge the glass. Thank you, Mom.”

“You’re welcome,” she says in a soft voice. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m making a plan for what to do with my free week.”

She turns on the oven and starts assembling the ingredients and utensils. “What have you got in mind?”

“I want to make the most of my time. Do all the experiences and events and whatever that I should have done by now.” I pull out my cell and bring up the note app. “The things I hoped to achieve before thirty but delayed due to time or money or laziness.”

“It’s not like you don’t still have plenty of time. But that could be fun. What have you got so far?”

“Not much. Care to brainstorm with me?”

Mom smiles. We have the same smile too. “I would love that.”

“Well, well, well,” says Rebecca, dramatically sweeping into my apartment. “If it isn’t the mystery woman herself.”

“What are you talking about, and do you want a glass of wine?”

“Of course I want a glass of wine. What kind of question is that?”

The makings of my bucket list are spread across the small dining table. Mom and I came up with a long list, and there are lots of ideas on the internet. Now I need to eliminate and prioritize. Visiting my parents helped calm me down. But this situation, the whole “Will I or won’t I die?” thing, makes me anxious as heck. I am taking deep breaths and thinking calm thoughts on the regular. It’s almost working. The list could well come in handy for distracting me from my possible imminent death in the days ahead.

“Do you really not know what I’m talking about?” asks Rebecca, dumping her purse on the kitchen island. “Ooh. Cookies.”

“Mom made them. Help yourself. Do I really not know what you’re talking about with regard to what?” I retake my seat at the table. “How did things go with Priya?”

“Really good!” says Rebecca. “We have plans for tonight. I’m cautiously optimistic. She really seems open to the idea of seeing where this thing between us could go this time.”

“That’s great news. What changed?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m just glad it did.”

My best friend works in accounting at one of the big film studios. She makes up for spending her days crunching numbers by wearing the brightest clothes she can find. This evening, she’s sporting a fuchsia pantsuit with gold jewelry. Her dark hair is styled in its usual chin-length bob. The woman is fire.

With a glass of wine in hand and a whole cookie in her mouth, Rebecca thrusts her cell at me and points at the screen.

And there on-screen is a shot of Alistair ushering me into his Aston Martin.Shit.I completely forgot about the paparazzo. My face is in profile but still definitely me. “I was in a bar and, um, he was just being kind and gave me a lift home.”

She just blinks. “Wait a minute. You actually met Alistair Lennox, and he drove you home in his ridiculously sexy sports car?”

“Yes.”

“I thought it was a doppelgänger and we’d laugh about it. But you’re telling me that’s really you in the picture?”

“It is indeed me.”

“Whoa,” she says, the whites of her eyes shining bright. “How the hell did this happen?”

“Yeah. Some things occurred after I left your party...”

I’ve thought about it at great length and the same reasons I have for not telling my family about the predictions and my possible dire fate also apply to friends. Even my best friend. I mean, they may not agree with my assessment of the situation. Which would be fine. But whatever they believe, I don’t want to be watched or worried over for the next week. My goal is to enjoy whatever time I have left.

Prevarication ahoy!

“It’s kind of a long story. First, Josh and I broke up. There was a naked woman hiding in the bathroom when I got home Friday night.”

---