Page 36 of Melancholia

The answer waits above the place

where the last thing to cross the threshold

is always the door itself.

And once again I’m back to feeling like I’m positively awful at scavenger hunts. I groan and lean against the wall, eyes sliding closed. I still haven’t taken an ibuprofen, and all I want is for the pounding in my head to knock it the hell off.

Though that is made infinitely more difficult when my phone rings, and Cecil’s ringtone plays from the pocket of my sweatpants. I fish around for it, still holding the paper in my other hand, and lift the phone to my ear while trying not to sigh.

“Hey Cecil. Everything okay?”

“No, well, yes.” He sounds frazzled, which is never a good sign. “Mrs. Addison’s husband died. Car crash.” There’s sadness in his voice, and I remember with a touch of sympathy that Mr. Addison was one of Cecil’s few friends he really stayed in contact with post-high school.

“Oh, Cecil, I’m so sorry.” I gaze down at the paper again, eyes tracing over the words.

“I’ll be there soon, but they might beat me there. And I’m worried about Carla getting there before I do. She’s only coming because she knows me, but I won’t let her see him, if it’s as bad as it could be.” The grim tone of his voice has my heart twisting for the wife who wants to see her husband one last time. It isn’t unheard of, but we tell people it’s never a good idea.

They shouldn’t have to remember their loved one the way they look on the embalming table, before I’ve worked to make them look closer to what they did in life.

“Can you keep an eye out for her? Hang out in the lobby until I get there?”

Shit.

But I can’t say no. And whatever happens—I glance up at the clock, finding that it’s almost two in the afternoon—there’s no way this situation can take more than a couple of hours to deal with.

“Yeah,” I agree, realizing I haven’t replied. “Yeah, absolutely. I’ll go there now. See you soon, Cecil.” I shove the paper into my pocket, and head to the front to wait, even as I try to keep my churning anxiety under control.

14

I’ve got it.

My fingers close around the ring, buried deep in the first body drawer of the cooler. Elation rises in my chest, and I jerk backward, nearly smacking my head on the top of the drawer. Andrew stands silently beside it, but I don’t pay attention to him.

Cecil told me to meet him in the parking lot, which, now that I think about it, is a bit unnerving. He seems to just show up everywhere he’s not wanted. But tonight, I want him here. I want to shove the ring into his hand and tell him to leave me alone once and for all, just like he promised.

Snatching my phone off the desk, I push my way out of the loading bay doors. The motion light flicks on, bathing the semi-dark parking lot outside in white light.

Sure enough, there he is. I have no idea when Amir showed up, but he’s leaning against the door of his very nice Range Rover, hands in his pockets, posed like a model who’s just waiting for the camera.

He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t tilt his head down from where he’s seemingly studying the sky. My steps across the asphalt are quick. Determined. With the ring heavy in my hand, I can feel the ridges of the old class ring against my skin.

Ten more steps, and I can end this.

Five more.

“Amir.” My voice comes out softer than I intend. And a bit less sure. But he tilts his head down to survey me, his gaze finding mine immediately. “Here.” Stopping, I reach out into the space between us, hand curled around the ring, waiting.

He pulls his hand out of his pocket as if he has all day and extends it, palm upward, until it’s poised directly under mine.

Mechanically, I open my hand, letting the ring fall into his palm. “We’re done,” I say, my heart fluttering in my chest. “I found this for you. I did your scavenger hunt, and now we’re done.”

Amir raises the ring to study it, turning it over in the dying light of the parking lot. “Are we?” he murmurs at last, stopping me just as I take a step back. “And why would you think that, little mortician?”

My heart plummets and I bite my lower lip, glancing up at the sky. “I found the ring before seven, just like you said.”

“And yet…” With a bit of a flourish, Amir lifts his hand to flip it over, glancing down at his smartwatch. Then he shows me the digital face, tapping it so the numbers are illuminated once more.

7:05 PM.