Let’s do this: meet me here at noon.
He sent me a pin. I opened it and read the address. New Canaan, Connecticut. About an hour and a half from Mystic and an hour and a half from me. I had never been there before, but I knew it was close to New York. A quick internet search didn’t pull up anything interesting, so I wrote back:
I’ll see you then.
Someone knocked on my door and then pushed it open slowly. Mom. She looked tired, and she’d changed into scrubs. An overnight shift at the hospital.
“There’s an open seat for Monopoly, if you want to play,” she said, sitting down on my bed and putting her hand on my leg.
“I think I’ll just go to bed soon.”
“I’m jealous. I wish I could go to bed.”
“You look exhausted.”
“A lot of overnights lately. They’re short staffed, and I’m too nice.”
“When is your next day off?”
“Monday sweet Monday. Nobody’s ever said that before,” she laughed.
I almost told her.
I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t think of the right words to use.
Mom, I think about death a lot.
Mom, I know Aunt Helen is the one who died, but now it kind of feels like I’m next.
Mom, I can’t stop thinking about what happens afterward.
“Something on your mind, Lottie-da?” she said, brushing a piece of hair away from my face.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically. Like breathing, like blinking. Something you don’t even have to think about.
“Where were you all day?”
I hadn’t told her about the class. I’d totally forgotten. Would she have wanted to come?
“Another errand for Aunt Helen,” I said.
“Hmm,” Mom said.
“What?”
“It’s just... I’m a little worried you’re focusing too much on what your aunt wanted and not enough on what you want. It’s the last few days of high school; shouldn’t you be out with Em? Getting into trouble?Breaking some minor laws?”
“But I think I can do both,” I said. “I mean, just yesterday Em and I robbed a bank at gunpoint.”
“Oh, well, in that case,” she said, smiling. “How many letters are left?”
“A few.”
The stack was still on my nightstand. It was running out, but I hadn’t counted yet. I didn’t want to know. When it was gone, she was gone.
“She was something, huh?” Mom said.
“Yeah, Mom. She was something.” I remembered what my dad had said, and I wondered if she knew anything about it. “Did Dad ever say anything to you? About her?”
