Page 72 of What You Left Me

“I’ve had so many dreams of him. I know he’s really there watching over me. All of us.”

She’s not the first person to have told me this. In fact, almost all of my friends, new and old, have talked to me about seeing Martin in their dreams this past week.

“I like that,” I say. Because I do. It’s been a rough seven days. The victories are worth celebrating, even if I can’t share in them.

Where are you, Martin?

“Do you guys want any food?” Brooke asks. “My abuela made these amazing empanadas. Come on. I’ll show you.”

We form a line behind her, grabbing one another by the fabric of our clothing to stay together. That’s how packed it is. But the crowd tapers out as we go down into the basement. This is where a lot of the food is being kept, spread out on a pool table.

I know this pool table, I realize.

And I know this basement.

Here I am, a place I’ve never been, and yet it lived in my mind before I ever saw it with my eyes.You were right, Martin. I got the couch wrong.It’s a little yellower and patchier. But this pool table is just right. So right my eyes water at the sight of it, and I have to look down at my nails. I start picking off the polish.

“They’re all stuffed with different fillings,” Brooke tells us. “I made little labels that say what’s in them in case you have allergies or whatever. Or you hate cilantro,” she says, poking Daniel.

The others grab plates and make their choices. I’m not hungry yet. Cameron places a hand on my back to guide me toward the sectional.

Are you seeing this, Martin? Are you watching us right now?

“Is Turrey coming?” Brooke asks Daniel.

“He’s on his way. Martin’s mom asked him to pick up some more ice.”

Brooke busts out into a huge grin.

“What?” Daniel asks.

Brooke keeps grinning.

“Ugh, yes, we’re officially dating now, if youmustknow,” he tells her.

“I didn’t say anything!” she protests.

“Your face said everything.”

“I’m happy for you.” She sets her plate on her lap. “And it’s nice to feel happy for people right now.”

Everyone starts eating. “You were right. Your abuela is an amazing cook,” Daniel admits to Brooke.

My mouth waters at the sight of the empanadas. They look flaky and melty and perfect. I excuse myself to get up and get one after all. I walk around the back of the couch, stopping in the place where we last spoke.

You and I stood right here. There was some cake on the tip of your nose. I never told you that. It made you seem young and happy. I liked it that way.

Everyone else has updated me on you since then. Turrey texted yesterday to tell me you and him went to a diner and ate ham steaks together. Katie said you guys threw out the first pitch at a Cubs game together. Even Cameron has seen you. She said she was five again, and you were there watching her piano recital. When she finished, you convinced everyone to give her a standing ovation for her rendition of “Hot Cross Buns.”

I’m trying not to take it personally, but it does seem strange. For three days, I couldn’t close my eyes without running into you, and at that time, I had the luxury of being able to open them and see you in real life too. Now I don’t have either. And if I’m being honest, it sucks. A lot. But I have to rally. Your mom said no tears were to be shed today. I gave her your letter at the funeral. She turned around and planned this party. It’s supposed to be a celebration of your life, like you wanted. So if you’re looking at me right now, look away for a second. I’m going to wipe my eyes, then I’ll sit back down and enjoy this moment. Make a good reason and all that. I know that’s what you’d want. I literally know, since you said it to me.

When I walked in today, I overheard your friend Chris telling a group of people that Katie waxed your eyebrows in seventh grade. That made everyone laugh.

We’re all doing it for you. We’re trying to smile and be happy and remember the good.

For a long time, I thought of myself as falling, but because of you, I realized I’ve been climbing. White-knuckle clinging to the edge of myself, working my way up to the light, inch by inch, finding joy where it seems there is none. Trying to stay focused on that instead of staring at the dark of my past. It’s hard, but it’s worth it. I’ve even learned to do it in my dreams. Ryan doesn’t show up anymore.

Then again, neither do you.