Page 95 of Bears Behaving Badly
“And it’s all pointless.”
“Oh?”
“Because nothing’s going to come of it, so it doesn’t matter that you look like Aphrodite on the half shell in salmon.”
“David, that’s ridiculous. My hair is much, much shorter than Aphrodite’s. Her hair runs past her knees in that painting.”
He ignored her accurate art critique and added, “You could be with anyone. And you should be.”
“Wait,what?” She hated when surprise made her voice squawk like that, but she had bigger problems. “You thinkIcould be with anyone?Youcould be with anyone.”
“That’s idiotic.” He made a vague gesture in her direction. “Look at you.”
“Look atyou.”
He raked his fingers through his hair, and it was hilarious that his hair looked exactly as mussed after the raking as before. “I’m just saying—”
“I heard you. Are you hearingme?”
“Yeah, because you’re shouting.”
“I am not!” She lowered her voice. “I am not,” she murmured.
“All right. So. We each think the other could be with anyone, and we each feel unworthy.”
“Unworthy is a strong—”
“So let’s just admit we both suck.”
“You’re damned right we suck!”
“Yelling.”
“Shut up, David.”
“Ah…pardon me?”
They looked. A short, chubby man in a black suit, crisp white shirt, and subtle gold name tag (Charles) had come outside and was holding the door open for them.
“Are you here for the Lund memorial? It’s right this way.”
Oh. Right. The murder. The missing cubs. Our impending arrests. All problems unrelated to our imaginary relationship and future mythical children.
“Yes, thank you.” To David: “At least it won’t be incredibly awkward now you’ve gotten that out of your system.”
He gave her a look. “You’re joking, right?”
“Also, I think you might be a little bit nuts.”
“Yeah, well, I’d refute that except that it’s true.”
Once inside, they let their eyes adjust to the low lighting; even on the sunniest of days, funeral homes always seemed shrouded in gloom. As she’d surmised after a glance at the parking lot, not many people were there, fewer than twenty.
They stood in the small entryway, getting their bearings, and passed the guest book and a small bowl of tiny foil-wrapped candies.
“Probably inappropriate for us to sign, right?”
“Probably.”
