Page 10 of Aftertaste

His eyes lit up. “Oh.Oh.Really? That wasthis?”

“Down to the garnish.”

“That was a good night.”

“The best.”

Something passed in the air between them, both breathlessly happy and devastatingly sad.

“But, okay? So we’ll make more.” (Backstage, Kostya was nodding. Yup. Game the system.) “That guy’s just hiding in the kitchen; I can see him spyi—”

But she shook her head. “I think it’s a one-shot deal.”

“What? Why?”

“Just a feeling. Like this is kind of a swan song. A final bow.”

“I don’t understand.”

She glanced at his glass. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t have much time.”

“For what?”

“To make peace.”

He went pale. “Peace? Oh God, Anna—have you been haunted? All this time? I fucking knew we shouldn’t have scattered your ashes on the Belt Parkway!”

She shook her head.

“Oh, honey.” She was gentle as she said it. “I made peace with my death a long time ago. I came back foryou. Because you would have taken those pills in your pocket if I hadn’t. Because you’re still holding on to us, and it’s ruining your life.”

He went pink. “I wasn’t actually going to do it.”

“Yeah, you were. And when you did—oh, Charlie. You’d miss so much more that’s waiting for you. Good stuff. Great stuff. Worth sticking around for.”

He blinked rapidly, fighting tears. “What kind of stuff?”

She gave him a smile. “You’ll have to wait here to find out.”

“I hate waiting.”

“I know. You couldn’t be patient to save your life. It’s why I came back.” She gave a little laugh, but when she blinked, a streak of molten emeralds cascaded down her face, beautiful tears. “To tell you to live. To let go. Because when you do, you’ll get to move on. And so will I.”

Her light dimmed again, a bulb dying, and Charlie lifted the glass and took a tiny sip. Konstantin could see its perfect synchrony, the way her skin lit up in time with the dip of the drink. She glanced, nervous, at his near-empty lowball, and spoke very quickly.

“Please. I have to get this out. What I said at the end, about never loving anyone else, about expecting the same from you—it was selfish. It was cruel. I was in a bad place, and I thought you’d figure that out once I was gone; I hoped you’d know me well enough to know that I didn’t mean it. That I wanted you to be happy.” She reached for his hand, but her fingers went right through. “But it’s been years and you haven’t even tried to meet anybody. And I know it’s because of me. I can feel the way you hold on, like we’re chained together. And you’re still young now, but if you don’t let me go you’re going to die young and alone. Or worse. You’ll die old and aloneand you’ll have lived a miserable, empty life.”

He looked at her for a long moment, fine as crystal, something shattering in him.

“I really fucking miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

He stared into the bottom of his glass. “I don’t want to let you go.”

“I know.” Anna sighed, in a way that really did feel like she knew it. “But letting go doesn’t mean that you forget me. Just that you don’t let the memories hurt you anymore.”

“That sounds healthy. I hate it.”

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