Not Quite Dead Yet

by Holly Jackson

‘That’s the difference between me and you,’ Luke said. ‘When I have goals, I actually see them through.’

because that wasn’t the only thing that had happened that day.

She’d be in Boston again, maybe back in law school, or maybe running her new company. There was time for that. She had time.

‘No, probably about his only daughter killing herself last year.’

How many times had she had to tell someone they were going to die? Could you get used to a thing like that?

‘My choice is I can die now, or I can die in seven days?’

the fall sun beaming through the window because it didn’t care about her and her little problems.

What kind of choice was that? Jet couldn’t even decide what to have for breakfast most days. Die now, or die in a week? Toast or cereal? Both?

Jet Mason’s got a time bomb in her head.

Mourning her before she even had the good grace to really be gone. Pre-dead. Un-dead. Fuck sake, a zombie, that’s what she was. Talk about foreshadowing.

That’s why they had to be sure. Because they were talking to a dead woman.

That her mom was right; that Jet was born useless and would die that way too? Now she had no time to prove anything at all. This wasn’t fair, it couldn’t be happening.

Jet had played the waiting game too long, and now she was out of time.

‘I’m finally going to do something, Mom. Something important. And I’m going to see it through to the end.

This time will be different. It has to be different, because it’s my last chance.’ ‘Do something?’ Mom cried. ‘What do you mean? Do what?’ Something great. Something no one had ever done before. ‘I’m going to solve my own murder.’

another daughter had died here too.

all the laters she could ever want.

‘Well, you’ve probably ruled some things out. I’m no detective, but it probably wasn’t aliens or Taylor Swift. She’s very busy.’

A dead woman walking. And dead women had no use for fear.

Billy’s eyes lit up, a different blue somehow, trading ice for a summer sky.

Turns out dying feels a lot like living.’

Emily drowned, yeah.

All that fear she thought she’d lost, because the dying didn’t need fear but the living did, it all came rushing back, wearing her skin, roaring in her ears.

‘Love you,’ Jet said, opening the door. ‘S-sorry?’ Billy stuttered. ‘Talking to the dog. Bye, Reg. See you later.’

‘Jet.’ Billy turned to her, the storm settling in his eyes, reaching out to take her hand, holding it in her lap. ‘It was never your fault.’

Billy, this past week, I haven’t really been dying. I think, maybe, it’s the opposite. I’ve finally been living. And that’s all because of you. You showed me. It’s the best thing anyone’s ever done for me, and I’ll never forget it. And I wanted you to know, that it was all you, before it’s too late.’

‘That’s fine,’ Billy said, dropping his eyes. ‘You can love something without needing it to love you back.’

He’d had to do that twice. Hold the woman he loved in his arms as she lay dying.