“Who were you talking to?” he asks, trying hard to hide his concern.
“Finn,” I tell him honestly. “But don’t worry. I know he’s not real. It’s just… you don’t understand what it’s like. He’s part of me, Dare. And he’s just gone. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with that.”
My voice breaks and I cry and I feel weak. But I can’t help it. The tears just come and come and come.
Dare pulls me to him, against his chest and cradles me there, protecting me from the world, from my own sadness.
“Let’s go back to the house,” he suggests. “You don’t need to be here.”
Here where my brother died.
I nod, agreeing, complying, because the truth of it is that I don’t know where I should be. Not anymore.
I let Dare lead me to the house, and I let him prepare lunch for me, and sit with me on the porch until it’s time to eat again for dinner. And this is how my life is for the next several days.
I go through the motions and I feel like wood, and Dare and my father wait for me to rejoin the living.
43
QUADRAGINTA TRES
I’m dreaming again on the fourth day.
I dream that Finn and I are walking on the trails, doing yoga on the cliffs, swimming in the ocean, crab fishing. It’s always Finn and me, because he’s not in my reality anymore. He’s gone. But in my dreams, he lives.
In my dreams, he’s everywhere, surrounding me.
And then when I wake up, when I look at all of those places he should be, he’s not there.
He’s gone.
Today, when I wake, Dare’s waiting for me in Finn’s desk chair. It’s morning and he looks impossibly casual and elegant in his slim, fitted clothing as he sprawls out in the sun.
“I don’t think I can stay here,” I tell him, my voice husky with sleep and harsh with memories. “Everywhere I go… reminds me.”
Dare nods. “I know.”
“What should I do?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I can’t decide for you.”
“I don’t want to leave Finn,” I say shakily. But Dare shakes his head again.
“Finn’s not here, Calla-Lily.”
I gulp, because he’s not.
“It’s so strange,” I muse woodenly. “I kept thinking that Finn was trying to convince me to go to the cemetery to say goodbye to my mom. But it was really my own mind, trying to make me see reality, wasn’t it?”
Dare stares at me, sympathy in his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe so.”
“I need to say goodbye to them both,” I tell him. “But I can’t today. I just need a minute to wrap my mind around it.”
“Take as much time as you need,” Dare says wisely. “You can’t rush it. We’ll go as slow as you want.”
He pulls me to him and I stand there, my forehead against his chest, his hands rubbing my back.
My hands burn and I pull away, examining them.