“No. I don’t want you to remember me dead in our bed, or on the kitchen floor, or . . . I don’t know. On the toilet.”

He half laughed, half sobbed. “Okay. No toilet death. If you do die there, I’ll move you so you look dignified, and lie to everyone.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” She smiled, but her mouth was wobbling. “I want a big-ass funeral, too, where everyone is sobbing, but laughing, too. And really good food and music. None of that church stuff. I want Beyoncé and Bruno. In person, if possible.”

He laughed, and his laugh was a sign of his love, because he knew she couldn’t take it if he broke. “Anything else?”

“Yes. Eulogy by Jen, toasts at the after-party from anyone who wants. And then I want to be cremated and mixed in with soil and have a tree grow out of me. They have these urns for that.”

He kissed her hands, then looked at her, eyes wet, trying to smile. “What if the tree dies? How shitty will I feel then?”

“Water me twice a week and stick me in the sun. It’s not hard, Joshua. Don’t be a loser.”

“Did you know you can make your loved one’s ashes into jewelry?”

“Okay, that’s morbid. And who would wear that? I want to be a tree. Just don’t let Pebbles pee on me.”

He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. She adjusted the cannula and then squeezed him back, holding him with all her strength. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m the luckiest man in the world because I married you.”

And the thing was, she knew he meant it.

“Tell me you’ll be okay without me.”

“I won’t be.”

She said nothing, and Josh was quiet a long moment, the only sound the rhythm of the ocean waves against the shore. “I will be,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ll be grateful for every day that I got to be your husband.”

She turned and wrapped herself around him, and though they tried so hard so many times not to cry, sometimes you just had to. Even when it felt like your heart was being pulled out of your chest, still beating. Even when you had to cough and gasp and would need to up the airflow on your oxygen. Their tears soaked into each other’s hair, skin, clothes. But it was okay. Everyone died. Her death was just a little less theoretical than most.

Besides, she had a new project now, unrelated to public space design, and one of which she thought her father heartily approved.

A person had to plan for the future, after all. Even if she wouldn’t be there for it.

10

Joshua

Still month two

April, 12:51 a.m.