Toxic (Ruin 2)

I didn’t know what to say. I mean, what do you say to that? I hope your daughter doesn’t make it? I hope she dies in surgery because I really can’t live in world where I’m reminded of her every day but I never actually get to be with her again?

“Pink it is.” The funeral director put a large check through the box on her sheet and gave me the same smile she’d been giving me for the past hour.

I wasn’t sure whether I was too numb to react or just too pissed. A freaking check box? Was that all her life had been worth? A recycled piece of paper with tiny boxes to fill in?

The tears burned at the back of my throat.

“…of course she may make it through surgery. We always have hope. After all, the doctors are confident they can stop the hemorrhaging in her brain, though they’re certain she won’t ever be our little princess again.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. The dam broke and tears flooded my eyes and spilled over as I stared at the pink casket. What the hell kind of torture was this? Pick out your girlfriend’s casket? The same way I go and pick out a tie for a movie premiere?

The entire business made me sick.

From the dim lighting in the funeral home—

—To the idea that they made thousands of dollars off of something that wasn’t going to make me or anyone else feel better. She was going to die. And if she lived… Damn. If she lived, I’d wish she hadn’t.

And that made me the worst type of human being.

Because anyone should want to live when faced with death. Any sane person would choose life. But me? If I was in her shoes? I would choose death. As far as I was concerned, the love of my life had already died, all I was waiting for was her physical body to follow suit. Her mind — everything that had made her who she was — was gone.

Mrs. Unifelt reached for my arm again, this time gripping it like a lifeline.

“And have you decided who will be doing the eulogy?”

All eyes turned to me. A weight descended on my shoulders as I hung my head and gave a slight nod. “I am.”

“If it comes to that,” Mrs. Unifelt added.

“Of course,” the funeral director said quickly. “If it comes to that.”

“Where’d you go, Gabe?” Kiersten snapped her fingers in front of me.

Everyone was seated at the table staring at me like I’d just grown a third eye and had demanded they call me Kanye.

“Uh…” I scratched the back of my head and let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, long night last night.”

“Must have been,” Wes muttered as his eyes flickered from Saylor back to me. “All things considering.”

Choosing to ignore his slight to my inability to sleep with any female since his operation, I glared and started piling my plate high with tacos.

“So…” Kiersten stole the taco shell from my plate and began making her own.

Irritated, I shot her a narrow-eyed glare and pretended not to be interested in her girly talk.

“Tell me about this project you guys have to do?” She finished.

“Yes, tell us. We wait with bated breath,” I said dryly, annoyed that I had to sit through dinner with a hot stranger who would rather see me choke to death than make it through the next ten minutes.

Someone kicked me under the table. I winced but otherwise said nothing.

“Well…” Saylor reached for a taco shell.

I swiped it away from her before she could grab it, pretending not to see her. So now I had like three naked taco shells on my plate all because I had the manners of a fifth grader and wanted to stick my tongue out at her — or maybe it was down her throat? I didn’t say I wasn’t confused about her.

“We have to do this Third Semester Seminar project about something that’s important to us. Since Lisa didn’t really know what to focus on—”

“—and since the most important thing to Lisa is the number of shoes she has in her closet,” I sang.