I also meant it when I said I loved you both. You made the last few months of my life beautiful, and maybe a part of me wants to die with the thought I was able to do something amazing like bringing two people together. I wish I had cornered you guys and found out for sure if I'd succeeded in that. If I did, well, there's my legacy. Pretty fucking awesome.

Vinny, take a look at the blog I forwarded you. Thought you might find it interesting.

Keep fighting.

You have the rest of your lives to fix what's broken.

And the "rest of your life" is only as short as you make it.

Goodbye.

All my love,

C.

CHAPTER 29

The world is dimmer.

Adam is restless.

I am numb.

I wish he would cry. Or get angry. Or something. But he just paces the apartment. Showers twice a day. Sometimes he gets on his bike and goes for a ride. Which is okay because he doesn't go with me on my morning jogs.

We need our alone time, I think.

At night Adam curls around me and we hold each other, and I really want to kiss him and promise everything will be okay. It would be an empty promise, though, and I won't make a promise I can't keep. We're like this unspoken couple who is too crippled and heartbroken to begin to know how to function or provide comfort.

The posting Casper forwarded me is a blog entry from a local woman whose sister went missing. It's from last January. They had an argument, it says. Two weeks later they found the girl's body in the river.

Her name was Jessica Mallory.

My jumper.

Jessica died thinking no one would miss her. Not a week goes by on this blog without an entry talking about Jessica. She is missed. Her family still mourns, still regrets.

A mystery is solved.

I buy a newspaper to cut out Casper's obituary. I have no idea what to do with it. It's just a flimsy piece of gray paper with ink that is getting on my fingers. Casper's face is a smiling one. An old photo from her chubbier days where she looked so bright and happy and healthy. Better days.

#

Roger and Amanda give us all the information for Casper's funeral, but we debate the entire night before on whether or not we should go. We won't know anyone. No one will know us. I could medicate myself before hand, make it so I don't care what anyone else might think or say, yet doing it—numbing myself for her funeral—seems so disrespectful and cruel.

In the end, we do go. We dress nicely (wouldn't Maggie be proud?) and show up to the chapel where a ton of people have already assembled. Old people, people from her family, people from her school. Adam must sense my discomfort when we walk in and a few heads turn, because he takes my hand and doesn't let go.