On the second floor, they lead us down a long hallway before stopping in front of two opposing doors.
“These are your rooms.” Sybil gestures at the door on one side for me and then motions across the hall for Cat. “As Essos mentioned, you will be provided with everything you need. Inside each room is a full wardrobe with clothes in your size, along with your old belongings. Should you choose to stay with us, there will be requirements both in dress and behavior that we will cover tomorrow morning.” With a small bow, they turn and disappear down the hall.
I open the door and step into the space that is to be my room for the foreseeable future. In another life, this would be my dream bedroom. The space is breathtaking, like the rest of the house, and is immaculately laid out, including a queen-size, four-poster bed with a beautiful lavender comforter. I hear Cat gasp as she steps into my room as well. The windows overlook the beach, and I can hear the waves crashing against the shore. I step to the window and pull back the curtain to get a closer look, and I might be crazy, but I think this might be the same window I caught Essos watching us from. The pool and the exact spot where I was sitting are in view below. Between the two large windows is a beautiful white vanity, which, at a glance, has all the brands of toiletries that I love.
“Sweet baby Jesus.” I turn to see that Cat has opened the double doors opposite the bed. I follow her to find a walk-in closet stuffed to the gills with gorgeous gowns and shoes. In the center are two dressers pushed together with a large, see-through jewelry chest on top, beautiful gems glittering from behind the glass. Rings and earrings and bracelets all begging to be worn dazzle me from the case. I gently lift the top and run my fingers over them, feeling the cool metal and stones.
My heart stalls. Nestled among all the shiny new gems are two familiar pieces. My maternal grandmother’s wedding band and engagement ring, one a solid gold band, the other a gold band with a diamond solitaire. They weren’t worth much monetarily, but Phil and Melinda were keeping them for me in the family safe until I was ready for them, something I was always afraid I would never be. Even now, I’m afraid to run my fingers over them. These rings represent a long love that didn’t end with death. To me, they’re a priceless reminder of home.
I look at Cat, and the same thought crosses our minds. I replace the top, and we race across the hall to her room, which is equally resplendent in a deep burgundy. The view out her windows is of a vast garden, which I don’t recall seeing when we arrived.It’s dark out now, but I make a note to check it out and see if I can put my green thumb to use.
Cat, too, has a closet full of dresses and shoes and gems, all not only fitting her personal style but also in colors that will complement her hair and eyes. While she looks through her closet, I step into her bathroom to take a moment for myself.
The truth of what is happening is settling on me like a weighted blanket, and I want to let it drag me down. With the lock engaged, I lean against the door and cover my mouth to stifle a sob. I might not have been sure about what I wanted from my life, but I know I wasn’t ready to die. I wasn’t ready to leave after keeping the only real parents I’ve known at arms’ length. All that time I expected to have to fix my stubbornness is gone. If I had known, I would have texted my mom back. I would have told her I loved her. I died leaving her on read. My only comfort is knowing that they’ll take care of Waffles. They got me the cat as a bribe when I moved in with them; he was meant to be proof that they would love me and give me whatever I wanted. Instead of running to them with open arms, I squandered those years.
Bracing my hands on the bathroom counter, I look at myself in the mirror. It hurts to force a smile onto my face, but I need to shake off this despair because, as much as I kept my family at arms’ length, Cat was close with hers. Tonight, I need to be the rock. I can find another time to break down.
Emerging from the bathroom, I catch Cat digging through her vanity.
“I suppose this could be better than being President.” Her laughter echoes in the room, but it sounds flatter than usual, and I know she’s trying to bolster both our spirits. I laugh along with her, if only to fake a calm that I don’t yet have.
“Do you think you’ll stay?” I ask, not meaning to bring us both down, but we’re pretty low anyway.
“Do you?” She’s deflecting, feeling me out.
“I think so.” I nod, slowly at first, then more vigorously. “I mean, what do we have to lose? We’re already dead. We already have nothing but our afterlives. I doubt I’ll be chosen—my resume isn’t exactly fit for a queen. Future president of her sorority and our country, however…”
Cat falls back on the bed, frowning.
I wince at my own carelessness. My thoughts are coming in an awkward way—in the same breath that I’m talking about possibly becoming Queen of the Underworld, I’m also mentioning the future Cat was supposed to have as if it could still happen.
“Don’t you want to see your parents?” She’s treading lightly, not wanting to make me uncomfortable, which I deserve after my comment. I fall back on the bed as well and turn my head to look at her.
“Honestly? Not right now, no. I guess I always thought I would see them through the pearly gates or whatever, and I would have this mountain of accomplishments to point out. Like, look at this awesome thing I did, I was able to cure cancer or be chief of staff to the first female president. Right now, all I can say is, what? I can hold a keg stand for 27 seconds? That I once chugged an entire bottle of champagne through a beer bong without vomiting? I wanted them to be proud of what I accomplished, and I don’t have anything to show for my life. I would also like to point out that all of those things do not a queen make.”
Cat squeezes my hand. “I really hope it doesn’t take another 24 years to elect the first woman president—that would be fucking sad. Kidding aside, I think you’re well adjusted for the level of trauma you’ve survived, and that alone is an accomplishment. Look, if you want to pass on, I think they will be proud of you, not just your parents, but your grandparents too.”
“You didn’t answer me,” I point out, trying to bring us back to where we started.
“You’re right. That’s because…I don’t know. It’s not like I can go back to my old life. But I miss my parents and my brother. I was looking forward to the end of the semester and going home to see them, and that can’t happen. I just wish my last goodbye hadn’t been muffled by a bagel as I ran out the door. I want to hug them one last time, and I can’t. Staying or going isn’t going to change that. If you stay, I stay. For what it’s worth, I think you would make an awesome queen—doing a keg stand for 27 seconds shows a level of dedication any king would be lucky to have. Real talk, you do this all the time—convince yourself you’re not good enough, and at the last minute, stop because you’re afraid of what you’ll hear. You did it with rush, and you did it when we ran for government in our freshman dorm.”
“I only withdrew because you wanted it so much more.”
“And I love you for that, but it doesn’t make me wrong. You’ve been living with Phil and Melinda for ten years, and I swear, sometimes it’s like you’re still waiting for them to return you to sender. You’re a smokeshow, you’re ridiculously smart, and anyone would be lucky to be loved by you, because you’re fierce when you love someone.”
“Ride or die,” I whisper, hooking my pinky with hers.
“Ride or die.” She gives my pinky a squeeze, sealing our fates.
CHAPTER5
That night, my dreams are haunted by a man.
We are lounging in a park, under a tree, with a blanket spread out beneath us. The man with me is dressed in a three-piece suit, with a hat pulled low over his face, blocking the brilliant sun above. Only his plump lips are exposed, practically begging for me to kiss them. He is seated with his long legs extended before him, while I am lying on the blanket in a long-sleeve blouse and a full-bodied long skirt, a black fascinator perched on my head.
He leans over me, brushing a stray curl of hair away before cupping my face. I squint, trying to look at him clearly, but the sun is so bright it hurts. It doesn’t matter, I trust this man, so I close my eyes, letting him hold me. His lips meet mine as he kisses me with abandon. I return his kiss with equal passion and press my body against his, the fascinator knocked askew. I place my hand on his chest and feel the beating of his heart through his suit. He rolls on top of me, his weight a delight as he settles between my legs as best he can, given my voluminous skirts. His hand moves from my face to my breasts, his fingertips skimming the tops as they peek out over my corset. He groans a name that feels like mine before his hand slides down the length of my body, fighting to reach the ends of my skirt.
“Must there be so many layers?” the familiar voice huffs.