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“He’s great at parties. Hey, you think he’ll want to come to William’s birthday party next week?” This conversation might have seemed strange to some, but I was used to Anthony speaking as if the dead were still here. He was haunted by lives long gone. I learned months ago that it was easier to go along with it. “We can send him an invite. Does this grave have a mailing address?” I replied. He shrugged. “I think I have it in my address book.”
“You don’t remember?” he asked. “Bitchy Bertha was at the luncheon yesterday and had the audacity to complain about your egg salad sandwiches. We don’t need that negativity in our lives, babe.”
“Nothing about my life now is what I envisioned. I’m dating three dangerous men. Grams is working with some of the best doctors in the world. I’m going to school for forensic science while working nights at a sex club. All the while, I’m spending my off time burying bodies with the man I love. I’m a killer.” The last declaration made my throat close up. I cleared my throat and continued. “My best friend isn’t my best friend after all. I think Nick is paying people to download my podcast, because I now have ten thousand subscribers. And Bitchy Bertha is telling me my egg salad sandwiches aren’t
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“You aren’t supposed to be enough, baby,” she said softly before reaching out to pat the top of my hand. “The measure of a person isn’t what they can give in a relationship. It’s how they love. Not how much.”
“They all love me.” “But they have to love you in a way that’s good for you, okay?”
When your madness grew legs, you had to let it run. Escaping was like a tourniquet around the neck. To save the heart, you had to cut off the head.
She saved him. Can he save her?
“The Miami Mutilator called himself a hero.” “Fuck heroes, baby. You like the villains, don’t you?”
Gentle, gentle, gentle. In and out. In and out. I was going to do better. I was going to be better. I was going to be worthy of this beautiful woman I didn’t deserve.
That was a chilling statement. This guy needed a psychiatrist.
“The doctors couldn’t quite figure out what you were stabbed with,” Anthony replied in a playful voice. “All the voices in my head are taking bets over what it was. Stiletto? An ice pick?”
I'm just relayin' what the voice in my head's sayin'
“I was thinking about seeing if he wanted to be interviewed for Juliet’s podcast, thank you very much. I’ve never met a real cannibal before. I’ll do a lot of things with dead bodies—but I draw the line at eating them.”
“They wipe your ass here?” Anthony asked excitedly. “Do you have to make an appointment for that service, or should I get stabbed?”
“If you leave here without any medical supervision, your stitches could bust. You could have internal bleeding, and by the time you realize that you’re dying, it’ll be too late. Now, my colleagues worked very hard to bring you back from the literal dead, and I’m not going to sit here and let you ruin all of our hard work because you are a stubborn little child.”
“I think I’m going to be busy for the next few hours. I’ll get to it as soon as I’m able, Mr. Civella,” she said before straightening her spine, spinning on her heels, and marching out of our room. “I want to be her when I grow up,” Anthony said the moment she was gone.
“Even though you’re a pain in my ass, I need you here. You’re my right hand man, and it’s going to take all of us to do this.”
Also since it’s my plan, I would really like the opportunity to ask him what brains taste like. I went through a whole zombie phase, and I’ve always been curious.”
“That’s the thing, Nick, I never asked you to prove yourself. I just wanted you. I don’t need the walls you’re willing to build around me. I don’t need your financial security. I don’t need your protection or your gifts. I need your time and love and acceptance. I need room to breathe, and trust. More than anything, I need trust.”
It was an eerie afternoon for a fake funeral. It was a dramatic production set in a run-down cemetery. Cora’s final resting place was nothing more than a dilapidated plot and a plaque with the words: Here lies a bitch who died. The caption was Nick’s idea.
