“Can you drop me off at the quad?”
Her lips curl skyward. “Gladly.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m waving bye to Emmy as she drives away. Since my therapist’s office is kind of far from campus, she’d been my ride for the past two weeks. I thank her every time, but it’s not enough to express my gratitude.
I walk around the outskirts of the quad, making my way between two specific buildings. The buildings I walked between on my very first day here, and the ones I’ve walked between every day since Phantom died.
My throat burns as I approach the mural, the same way it does every time.
“Hey babe,” I mutter quietly.
As usual, the bird in the mural remains silent.
Since I don’t have a headstone to visit or an urn to turn to, I figured this was the next best thing.
“I have to do something hard today,” I murmur, brushing my fingertips against the faded brick. “I have to ask your grandmother’s permission to let me come to your funeral. I don’t want to, but I think Shannon is right. I’ll regret it later if I don’t advocate for myself now.” I swallow hard. “At least one person who truly loved you should be there.”
I frown at the dull green and blue paint that make up the bird’s eyes. No paint could ever mimic those colors.
“Wish me luck,” I say, turning away. “I’ll be back tomorrow to let you know how it goes.” I take a deep breath. “I hope you’re at peace, painting in the stars.”
It’s the same phrase I say every time I walk away. It feels better than goodbye.
I don’t delay the inevitable. I walk straight to the administration building, past the confused receptionist, and up to Dean Reithart’s office door. My hand shakes as I knock. While I wait for her to answer, I take three calming breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth.
The heavy wooden door swings open.
“Ms. Johnson. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Dean Reithart’s dark, silver-streaked hair is braided in a neat plait down her back and she’s dressed in a smart, fitted suit.
I press my lips together in a futile attempt to stop my chin from quivering before finding the courage to say, “I wanted to ask you a question, Dean Reithart.”
She opens the door wider and gestures for me to enter withan open palm. “Of course. Come on in. Take a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” I bite my lip and hesitate.
A knowing gleam in her misty eyes, she asks, “This is about Phantom, isn’t it?”
I nod and avoid her gaze.
“The detectives told me you two were romantically involved.” A lengthy pause. “In all my sixty years, I’d never been more glad to hear anything.”
My gaze snaps to hers just in time to watch a single tear fall.
“My daughter and son-in-law—myself, even—we didn’t do right by that child, and they suffered miserably for it. I’ll carry that regret with me to my grave.”
My mouth pops open at her confession.
“I’m grateful they found a partner in this wretched world. A kind-hearted soul that loved and accepted them the way they deserved.”
I relax at the obvious sincerity in her tremulous tone. “I did love Phantom. Which is why I’d like to ask your permission to attend their funeral on Saturday.”
Dean Reithart studies my face for a moment. “Well, my daughter and son-in-law won’t like it, but to be quite frank with you, I don’t really give a damn. I’d very much like for you to come. They won’t argue as long as you’re with me. What do you say? Meet here at nine o’clock?”
I’m so stunned I almost can’t conjure the words to reply. “I—uh, I mean, yes ma’am. Nine o’clock.”
“Lovely.” She walks forward and embraces me gently, briefly. “Thank you, my dear.”
My mind is reeling as I walk back to my dorm, but the weight in my chest lightens. Phantom’s grandmother loved them too,even though she’d made mistakes, and hadn’t always been able to show it.
