Page 94 of Grave Love
Blaze has been replaced.
I watch my new coworker through the break room window, a coffee mug cold in my hands. The new hire works efficiently, and it’s what I thought I wanted: another female coworker.
I swing open the cupboards until I find Blaze’s artisan coffee beans, and I throw them in the trash. I don’tneedBlaze. He showed me that I have the power to make my own choice. I can throw away his coffee beans, just like I can end this stupid life if I want to. I don’t need his help for anything.
I go through my shift.
After the last bones are granulated and stored, I clock out a few minutes early, mumbling an excuse about a headache. Then I sit at the kitchen table with an empty mug in front of me.
Mrs. Richmond opens the door, a flash of surprise brightening her features.
“You’re home early,” she says with suspicion in her eyes. She tilts her head. “Are you feeling alright?”
It’s an afterthought. She doesn’t care if I’m okay; I’m just throwing her off.
I shrug.
“Happy birthday,” she says, then gives me an uncharacteristic squeeze on the shoulder. She slips an expensive greeting card into my lap. A jeweled cupcake decorates the front. I open it, and my eyes fixate on the only thing written besides her name:I hope this year is better for you.
My heart sinks like dead weight drifting to the bottom of the ocean. I keep my head down. It’s not supposed to be like this. She’s not supposed to notice that I’m off, or that I’ve been having a hard time. I’m already a big enough burden.
It’s just a card. Logically, it’s not a big deal. At the same time, it means something to me. She took the time to get the card for me. To write a note. She sees me, in a way, even when she despises me.
Why is she being kind to me?
“After whathappened,” she says as she eyes the front door, referencing the conversation between me, her, and Blaze. “I realized that you need more support right now. That’s fine; I can help you. You can use your time off to get a better job. You can even go back to school. Become a lawyer, perhaps. Or finish your doctorate at another university. The funeral home is a reliable job, but it’s not enough, Ren.” She purses her lips. “It won’t take you anywhere. This year, you can fix all of that.”
Fix all of that.
I wait for those tears to boil over the edge, at the realization that my grandmother still doesn’t seeme;she sees that I’m not enough. And I know I willneverbe enough.
But those tears don’t come.
Maybe I don’t care anymore.
“Anyway, I ordered you a cake. Want to pick it up with me? It’s over the bridge,” she says.
She hasn’t gotten me a cake since I was still in high school, and it’s like she’s infantilizing me all over again. I’m twenty-six years old today, and for the first time since my mother died, my grandmother actually wants to celebrate my birthday.
Still, I don’t cry.
I’m alive.
I shake my head. “Thanks though,” I mutter.
“I’ll be back in a bit.”
The front door closes, and I’m alone again. The same question lingers in my mind, each answer floating away from me like the cattail seeds in the wind, drifting off toward the sea.
I was supposed to die today. Blaze said that if he didn’t kill me before I turned twenty-six, he’d give me those drugs on my birthday. We agreed on that.
And it still ismychoice.
I’m still here.
After a half-eaten slice of cake, I go to bed. I stare at the ceiling, not really seeing it. It’s the same every night.
Eventually, I find myself in the empty, dark hallways of Last Spring. I’m alone—there’s no sign of anyone else in the building—but Blaze’s ghost is everywhere. In the empty champagne bottle in the break room cupboard. The dirt clumps near the back exit. His icy white eyes reflected in the corpses.
