Page 5 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
I never should have told her about Alexis.
“I’m giving you another assignment,” Dr. Mason said suddenly, sitting back in her chair with a smile.
“Great,” I muttered dryly. “Because the last one worked so well.”
Her lips twitched, but she wasn’t amused enough to be derailed. “This week, I want you to look up heart transplant patients who have lived long and healthy lives. I want you to come back to me with the numbers and their stories.”
I frowned at her.
“I also want you to do something that has nothing to do with death,” she added, holding my gaze. “Aside from that research, I want you to immerse yourself in something new. Have an experience. Think very deeply about what you want to do with your life. Frame it as if death isn’t an option. What would you do? Would you try to make your videos bigger? Start a podcast? Anything. Just think, okay?”
"Okay…" I muttered nervously, unsure of what I was actually supposed to do.
"Oh, and Ellis, one more task," Dr. Mason said. "I want you to go on a date. Get coffee or dinner. Whatever you count to be a date."
I sputtered in disbelief. "What?"
"I'm not saying marry them," she clarified. "I’m just saying, get out there and meet someone for a couple of hours. Socialize outside of your family. Okay?"
The clock hand hit the hour, and Dr. Mason smiled warmly as she rose to her feet.
"It was good to see you this week, Ellis," she said. "Our next session is in about two weeks. I really want you to spend this time doing some serious thinking about your life and where you want it to go. Okay?"
"Sure," I muttered stiffly. "Thanks."
I gathered my bag and stood, tapping my back pocket for my phone before heading toward the door. My head was spinning from all the homework she had given me, and I’d be lying if I said I was even remotely thrilled about this whole "date" business.
“Oh, Ellis?”
Dr. Mason’s voice stopped me, and I turned to look at her.
“Happy birthday.”
The house felt toowarm as I packed up my tripod and set down my phone, the content filming over. I had filmed a short update for my TikTok account, marking one year post-transplant and the celebrations. My face ached from the forced smile stretched across it, and I opened and closed my mouth a few times to ease the tension.
I surveyed the sheer number of bodies crammed into every available space for my birthday. It wasn’t as if our home was huge. It wasn’t some mansion parked on a luxury estate, but it was big enough.
I had lived here my entire life. It had always been my safe place, a source of stability and comfort in my otherwise chaotic existence. White brick and dark shutters framed the house, with a wide front porch that held a swinging bench—one that creaked dangerously if you pushed off too hard. The front door, once bright red, was now a faded color. It was drab and sad comparedwith its former vibrancy. Mom had wanted to repaint it with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Inside, polished wooden floors glowed under warm yellow lighting, while an abundance of pictures lined the walls in a carefully arranged timeline of memories. The dining table, usually folded up small in the kitchen, had been moved into the main living room tonight, extended to accommodate the sheer amount of food spilling across it.
The scent of spiced meats, baked bread, and something sweet lingered in the air, mouthwatering and familiar. I licked my lips. It smelled nostalgic, even if I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what dish it belonged to. But the amount of food? A little concerning.
Surely, it wouldn’tallget eaten.
Glazed ham, a platter of roast beef, and buttery mashed potatoes sat beside grilled vegetables. Trays were stacked with finger foods—mini quiches, homemade sausage rolls, tiny pies. A massive fruit platter took up one end of the table, the edges decorated with perfectly curled orange peels. I was floored that someone had spent time making it all look so perfect.
Every available chair was occupied. Every inch of space swallowed up and filled with people. Cousins, aunts, uncles, family friends. Some I hadn’t seen since I was a kid. Others I only ever saw at Christmas or funerals.
All of them here for one person.
Me.
For Ellis the Miracle.
For the girl who wasn’t supposed to make it, but did.
Twenty-one today, I mused.
