I look at them both. “I just want to find myself again without feeling like I have to bulldoze over the woman I was. The life I had. I want to move forward, but I don’t want to lose her. Or him. Or us.”
Viv’s smile is full of sparkle, her blue eyes passionate.“Maybe you don’t have to step over her. Maybe you have to bring her with you.”
Something in my chest crumples and rearranges itself.
I blink fast, my voice hoarse. “Okay. That’s enough emotional beef stew for one night. Someone please say something wildly inappropriate.”
Viv grins. “Do you want me to ask Noah if he’s open to a holiday-themed shirtless mailman calendar? For research purposes only.”
I laugh. “God, no. But also, maybe.”
Marin smiles. “I’ll design the cover. I’m a wizard with Canva.”
“So we all got vulnerable today.” Marin looks at Viv, and the message is clear.
Viv clears her throat, stares past the camera, picks at her cuticle, and then, seeing we aren’t letting this go, throws her hands up in the air. “Fine. I know I make jokes about the chakra guy, but the truth is I miss my husband. I miss having someone to talk to at night. I miss being picked. And when I’m alone, the silence is so loud it feels like it’s echoing off the walls. So Ikeep trying to fill it. With people. With videos. With noise. With turmeric lattes and imitation Jason Momoas.”
Marin gives her a look that’s more love than judgment.
Viv shrugs. “Grief is lonely.”
“It is,” Marin agrees. “Even when it’s shared.”
We sit with that for a second.
Then I take a breath. “Okay. So. What if we each build on what we started this week? But make it specific.”
Viv raises an eyebrow. “You mean more homework.”
“Dares,” I correct.
“Dares do make it sound more dangerous. Can we add the word ‘danger’?”
“Fine. Grief danger dares,” I concede. “I’ll go on an actual date. Not a failed flirtation in front of my house, but me showing up as a woman who still exists outside of what she's lost.”
Viv starts slow clapping. “That is one impressive dare.”
Marin nods. “I’ll keep writing letters. The ugly ones. The ones that say all the things I didn’t get to. Maybe it’ll help me start to forgive myself for not being more honest while he was alive.”
We both look at Viv.
She groans. “Ugh. Fine. I’ll take myself to dinner. Alone. No co-op cuties, no alignments. Just me, some quiet, and maybe a journal. But if I get emotional, I’m allowed to order dessert.”
“New rule.” I grab my flamingo pen and start to write. “We are all allowed and encouraged to add chocolate to each grief dare.”
“Deal,” Marin echoes.
Viv lifts her tea like a glass of wine. “To grief dares.”
We all raise invisible glasses in solidarity.
“To grief dares,” Marin and I chant.
And in the background, Frank lets out an approving snore.
Chapter Nine
Me: There’s some major plot holes in this grief dare.
