Chapter 13
The box was finally in his hands:
He carried it to his room as if it were a sacred relic. He placed it on his nightstand, but when he saw the grime from the trash bins on his fingers, he snatched his hand back. He carefully wiped a smudge off the box with a tissue, then went and took the longest shower of his life.
I watched all this, bored. When you’re dead, you realize how much time the living waste on pointless rituals.
When he finally opened the box, his expression slowly froze.
Inside was the invitation to his and Ava’s engagement party. On the back, in my handwriting, were four words,
[The cake was bitter. GO TO HELL
Well. The last person to die was me. I suppose that was karma.
The other item in the box was the set of matching rings we’d had made. He had lost his ages ago–carelessly or intentionally, never knew. I found it in the grass outside my old apartment building. Now, I’d returned them both to him. He’d paid for them, after all.
He stared at them for a long time before slowly removing the diamond engagement ring Ava had given him. He replaced it with the simple band from the box.
He fell into a deep depression after that. News of their broken engagement leaked, and soon after, stories about Ava’s diva–like behavior on set began to surface. Her career took a nosedive.
This time, Julian didn’t lift a finger to help. In fact, I heard him on the phone with his PR team. “Add more fuel to the fire,” he’d said.
Men are terrifying creatures.
Days turned into a week, and he still hadn’t made any arrangements for me. The bureaucrat from the afterlife was getting impati-
ΕΠΙ
[Look, this is irregular, but I can pull some strings,] the voice said in my head. [Get you a few seconds to talk to him.]
That night, Julian, deliribus from lack of sleep, crashed his car.
The day he was due to wake up, the sun was streaming into his private hospital room. I stood by the window.
“Julian,” I said, my voice a whisper in the silent room.
His eyelashes fluttered. He seemed to be fighting to open his eyes, but couldn’t.
“I have no family, no friends,” I continued. “For the sake of what we once were, give me a funeral. A proper one. Make it a nice party. Then we’ll be even. We’ll never have to see each other again.”
The room was quiet for a long time.
Then, a low, raspy voice, barely audible, answered.
“Alright.”
