“Unfortunately, yes, because that’s the kind of stuff my mother was teaching me while yours was teaching you how to put on tasteful brunches for the local ladies’ auxiliary or what the fuck ever rich white people do.”Diego snorted.
“Something like that,” I lied.
“What’s going on next weekend?Or was I not supposed to hear that?”he asked.
“It’s Dad’s birthday,” I said with a sigh.“We usually go to the cemetery after church.”
“Sorry, wait.You go to church?”
“You’re the one who recommended church camp.”
“For the blow jobs!”
I chuckled.“Nah, she’s a Christmas and Easter churchgoer since Dad died.His family was really big into the church, like there are a bunch of Kovacs named on all the stained glass windows in there.But they hardly ever made me go, growing up.”
“Catholic?”
“Orthodox.”
“Oooh, Rebel Catholic.”
“That’s all you Protestants.”
“We wish.”He was quiet for a moment as we pulled out onto the highway.And then he said, “Are you okay?About your dad’s birthday?”
My instinct was to say yes.But the truth was, “I don’t know.I mean, I’m okay with it in general, but I’m conflicted about going to the cemetery when I feel… not great about him.It’s pretty much the only time I really—I don’t know.Talk to him.”
“Why?”
I glanced at him, suddenly self-conscious.“I don’t know,” I repeated.“I guess because I don’t believe in ghosts or heaven or hell or any of that stuff, so it seems pointless.”
“Okay, well, I’ve never lost a family member that close to me, so take this with a grain of salt, but, I’m pretty sure when you talk to dead people, it’s for yourself, not for them.”
I wanted to say that was crazy, except it was so very, very sane, I was annoyed I hadn’t thought of it sooner.Instead, I just sighed.
He held up both hands.“No shade.Like I said, I haven’t been through it, so—”
“No.You’re right.I guess… I just wouldn’t know what to say.”
“Really?Because it seems to me like you’ve got a lot to say to him.”
I considered this, watching the road.And pronounced after a few moments, “Yeah.No, you’re right.I do.”
“Do you, um… want me to come?”
I glanced at him again.He just sat there, biting his bottom lip and looking at me with those big, green eyes of his.
“Would you?”I wondered.It hadn’t even occurred to me to ask.And yet, the thought made me feel a little bit lighter, less full of dread.
“Of course I’d come.”He scoffed, mock-offended.“The fuck kind of boyfriend am I?I even declared my intentions to your mother.What more do you want from me?”
“You’re such a drama queen.”I laughed, though.
He laughed some more, then sobered again.“Seriously, though.If you want, I will.But if you’d rather—”
“No.Come.I want you to come.”
“Okay.”
