Page 71 of The Dead Romantics

Your Dad always sounded rad, Rose texted. Then there were dots; she was writing. Then nothing. Then dots again. Finally—Are you doing okay? You know with... everything.

Everything. I wished I could tell her about Ben. I wanted to. About the strange, muddled feelings in my chest. I was mourning, but I was blushing. I was sofuckingsad, and yet there weremoments when the tide would go back out and I wasn’t drowning anymore in it—and they were all moments, I realized, with Ben.

Because of Ben.

He took my mind away from my sadness, when all I wanted to do was burrow myself in that sadness, make a nest of it, live there clinging to what was left of my dad.

Even though Dad would’ve rather me fall in love than fall into a depression.

I’m fine, I texted back, and thanked my driver for the ride as I got out of his Honda.

The cashier at Unlimited Party looked bored as he played a game of solitaire on his phone. I came up to him and handed him the receipt, and gave him a tight smile. “Um, I’d like to pick this up, please.”

My phone vibrated. Rose again? I ignored it.

He asked, dumbfounded, looking at what he had pulled up on his screen. “Uh, are you—are you sure?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, because it says here—”

My phone vibrated again. That usually wasn’t Rose’s MO. “Excuse me for a moment?” I asked, and turned around to read the text.

It was from my sister.

COME TO THE FREEZERBOX NOW!!!!

Then, a minute later:PLEASE!!!

When Alice usedplease, it was an emergency.

“Okay, new plan. Yes to whatever you were going to ask”—I mean, Dad had already bought the stuff, so whatever he hadbought I couldn’t exactly say no to—“and deliver it to the Days Gone Funeral Home?”

“Uh... we can deliver the items on Thursday?” the poor cashier suggested.

“Perfect! Thank you!” I waved as I left the store and hailed another Uber. The same guy in the same Honda pulled up to the curb, and I got in. “Oh, this is a great episode,” I said, and he nodded in agreement. The drive back to town was another fifteen minutes, and by then it had started to rain.

The front path was slippery, and I almost bit it hard as I hurried up to the front porch. Carver cracked the front door open as I righted myself again. “That step’s slippery,” he warned.

I stuck out my tongue. “A bit late, bro.”

“You’re in a better mood.”

Was I?

Carver opened the door wider to let me in. “Alice is in the freezer freaking out.”

“About what?” I asked, taking off my shoes in the foyer so I didn’t track mud through the halls. He gave me a long-suffering look. Freezer, Alice being down there—“Ah. Dad.”

“Yeah.”

“And you couldn’t do anything?”

“You know I hate the basement.”

“You weren’t locked in there overnight,” I muttered, but I supposed that was the responsibility of being a big sister.

I shrugged out of my coat as I came in, and realized that Seaburn’s and Karen’s coats were hanging on the rack too—and Mom’s white faux mink jacket. I frowned. “Is there a meeting or something?”

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