Cris stayed in school, thankfully. From the look of it, she wasn’t keen on repeating any more of my mistakes. Or slinging coffee part-time had reinforced her interest in sociology, after all.
At some point, she got back in touch with our mother. Gloria must’ve humbled herself, inviting her home, like she ought to have done with me. From the sound of the one-sided phone conversations I sometimes overheard, and the awkward vibe over holidays, she had to submit to new boundaries if she wanted to keep the only child she had left. Cris walked out once at Thanksgiving dinner, all the way to her car. Gloria had to chase her out in the snow in her slippers and no coat, her undignified pleading carrying across the street.
It did sting, seeing her change, too late. But I couldn’t begrudge my sister for holding onto what was left of her original family, even if I much preferred the new one she’d found.
Cris cut back the drinking to one or two glasses of wine at a time, usually at the dinner parties she threw with Vicki. They weren’t exactly the ragers my ex used to host, but the warm yellow light and peals of laughter spilling out of the window made me feel like a street urchin spying on a family opening Christmas gifts.
I had no choice but to watch from afar, often through windows, since she still hung out with Ren. They went to a bereavement group together; later on, they’d meet up to study, since he’d started taking night classes. From the snippets of conversation I overheard through the walls, he’d begun working toward a degree in psychiatry.
Eventually, I’d see all of them through Vicki’s kitchen window, framed by her hanging ferns and herb planter as they came to grab drinks, serve food, help with the dishes. Since they were together so often, and it got harder and harder to eavesdrop unnoticed, I finally began visiting less. I could trust my old friends to take care of my little sister, like they’d once done for me. Someone had finally convinced her to stop straightening her hair, those old curls I’d missed bouncing freely on her shoulders.
But no matter how many new friends and lovers I made on the other side, I never stopped missing them. Judging from all the sunflowers and bottles of whiskey and packs of cigarettes forever crowding my grave, they felt the same.
* * *
Every Día de los Muertos, in addition to my dad and Liam, I visited Alastair. Not that I could leave any offerings, but at the very least, I caught him up on how we were all doing while I brushed the moss off his gravestone. Sometimes I swung by to talk to him year-round. There were some things I couldn’t confide to anyone else, given the image I had to maintain. Only my predecessor would understand, if he was listening.
“Hey there, old man.”
It must’ve been spring, judging by the blooming daisies. I plopped down in the grass and picked a few.
“We’re doing really good at the new Haunt,” I said. “Remember Terence, the mortuary science guy? He got together with Danny. They’re so sweet, it’s nauseating. Carlos and I are still breaking hearts, of course. Oh, and I finally had a new harpist land in my lap! It’s been, what, years?” Wilhelmina had crossed not long after Alastair, as if she’d had some say in it, not wanting to linger without him. “This new girl is shy, but no offense, way less of a problem. I could do with less drama from the rest of the band, but I’m handling it. You made it look so easy.”
I finished my daisy bouquet and laid it across the headstone.
“So here’s something funny. For one night only, there’s gonna be a tribute band for Goodbye Courage.”
Cris had the flyer on her fridge one morning when I found her staying in and making breakfast instead of going to her new church.
“I’ll probably regret going, right?” I asked. “So, of course, I have to do it. I just won’t go alone. If you’re not busy, do me a favor and look down, or press an ear up.”
I kissed my fingers and pressed them to his name—the real one I’d never tell a soul.
“Hurry up and be reborn,” I said. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
When I got up, the wind tossed the tree branches above me, stirring big enough gaps to let a little sunlight through. I could almost feel my face warm.
I waved it off. “Quit being such a sap.”
* * *
The tribute show gathered more of a crowd than I would’ve thought. I nearly had to dance to get around touching all the living cramped together in the subterranean dive bar. Cris and Vicki barely got through, even with bodies to part the way.
“You never told me you were so popular,” said Danny.
Carlos put an arm around her. “Well, you missed the heyday.”
“I must’ve gotten rediscovered post-mortem by all the hipsters,” I said. “Either that, or they’ve got some kind of drink deal going on.”
“Check it out,” said Carlos, pointing up at the stage beneath the low ceiling.
I started at the sight of my face. They had pictures of me projected on a white sheet thrown over the red brick, alternating with pictures of Liam. Each had a big, cheeky “RIP” in a red Halloween font.
Cris gave it a good, stoic stare. Vicki laughed.
“Are they honoring my life?” I asked. “Or glorifying my death?”
“Why not both?” said Carlos.
Danny grabbed both of us and wordlessly began inching back. I looked up to see Ren and Evie bobbing amidst the crowd.
I’d wondered if it would feel the same as reuniting with Liam. If I’d look at them and only feel scar tissue, like an old lady aching whenever it rains. But the sight of them still pulled me in, like the tide to the moon.
As soon as the hipsters and old-school punks noticed, they started pushing and tripping over themselves to let them through. Evie had decorated her plain metal canes with ribbons, matching the ones woven into her braids. Ren hovered, but let her walk on her own. He wore pink-tinted glasses and small black earplugs.
Carlos let out a low whistle. “They look so good.”
“Older,” said Danny. “I mean, in a good way, but it’s weird. I forgot—forgot they could, you know? Get older.”
I couldn’t reply with my heart in my throat.
Ren and Evie were given enough space to get a standing spot toward the front. Once they’d gotten there, he steadied her with an arm around her waist, like he couldn’t help himself.
“Are you all right?” asked Danny.
She reached for me, but I recoiled on instinct. I didn’t want her catching any of my mixed feelings.
I tried to focus on the good parts. Mostly relief, and a hint of smugness, since I’d set them up. I even managed to get a bit turned on. That didn’t necessarily feel good, paired with the envy I did my best to repress, but it spoke to my resilience.
Carlos waved a hand in my face. “Color?”
I coughed. “Green.”
He raised his eyebrows. I huffed.
“Greenish-yellow.”
That meant I wanted to stay, but they should keep an eye on me, just in case.
Cris and Vicki finally made their way to the front with Evie and Ren. They didn’t have enough room for full hugs.
The audience quieted at the whine of a microphone as the lead guitar began to speak. It didn’t take him long to acknowledge the pictures being projected behind him.
“As I’m sure you all know, we lost the brains behind the brilliant music. Over seven years ago, lead guitarist Liam Marston had a heart attack at only thirty. Six months later, Mal Caldera, the consummate crazy drummer, took her own life and joined the twenty-seven club.”
He allowed for a brief moment of silence.
“But we’re not here to mourn—we’re here to celebrate. Tonight, we party in their memory. I want them to hear us in hell!”
The crowd practically rattled the glasses at the bar with their cheers. I couldn’t help but join in. Somehow, I found myself laughing.
Ren’s head whipped right around, and he made eye contact with me.
Danny and Carlos stared, like they thought they’d have to follow if I spirited away. They both put a hand on my arm for that purpose.
I didn’t move. Neither did Ren. We didn’t have to touch to know what the other must be thinking.
“Green,” I said.
There wasn’t much room to dance, but the crowd undulated anyway, feet bouncing, heads bobbing. Cris’s dark, curly hair swung gorgeously over her shoulders as she twirled, swinging with Vicki. Evie passed her canes to a good Samaritan who propped them by the wall, so Ren could pick her up, letting her stand on his feet. They swayed in place, arms wrapped around each other.
Carlos gave me a playful shove. Danny joined, and we stomped and skanked, laughing in our own tiny pit until we were panting, as if we had any breath to lose.
After the set, some of the crowd went to mill outside and smoke until the next band went on, while the rest drank inside. Cris, Vicki, and Evie went out for air. Danny and Carlos left early to go get our own band warmed up back at the hotel.
I cocked my head toward the emergency back door. Ren nodded.
Sure enough, when I got to the alley out back, I turned around to find him standing there. His hair had grown to its old length, except for the shaved sides. It was hard to see the raised scar on his scalp curving over his ear, mostly hidden under the buzzed hair. How often did he get asked about it? Did he share as readily as the dead bragged about our demises, but as a story of survival?
“You look good,” I said.
He took off his glasses to return my sweeping gaze, eyes glistening. “You, too.”
Of course, I hadn’t changed at all.
I shuffled my feet, playing coy, like that could disguise my suddenly real shyness. “You wouldn’t happen to have a smoke?”
“Nah, sorry.” His lips twitched, bittersweet. “I heard they’ll kill ya.”
I couldn’t find it in me to smile all the way. “You know, we’re ruining our goodbye again.”
“I thought you told me counting lasts is no way to live,” he said. “I’d rather have another hello with you, even if it means another goodbye.”
“How are we going to make this one memorable?”
“Well, I never did thank you—for everything.”
“Please don’t.” I’d thought giving thanks had been hard, once. That was nothing compared to receiving. “I’m just glad to see you alive and well.”
His eyes were as tender as ever. “How are you holding up?”
My lips tugged with an echo of my old coin-trick smile. “I exist.”
He grinned, blinking back tears.
Suddenly, he turned, as if he could feel her before she even showed up. He pulled the door open for Evie.
She made her way slowly over to me with a smile. “I’d say ‘long time no see,’ but you’re not as sneaky as you think.”
“Please, no more thanking me, I’m rolling in my grave.”
Her eyes widened with the kind of innocence she had to fake now. “How is everyone?”
“They’re happy at home.”
I told her about the way I’d split the party into two. Before sunset we’d hold a jam session so all the wallflowers new and old could mingle for some low-key, sometimes silly dancing. Once it got dark, it would heat up like usual when the rest of the ghosts showed up for the afterparty.
“Oh, that’s so thoughtful,” said Evie. “I wish I’d come up with it.”
I didn’t mention that I’d gotten the idea from eavesdropping through Vicki’s window.
Evie’s little smile was almost sly. “You know… you don’t have to stay away.”
“I do, though.” My lungs bloomed with a swallowed sigh. “You’ve both got your lives to live.”
“We’re doing that already.”
Ren shook his head at me. “Same old excuse, huh?”
“Aww, come on.” Hopefully, they couldn’t see well enough in the dark to make out the blush burning my cheeks. “Don’t tempt me.”
It would never work.
“Thanks for keeping an eye on my sister,” I said. “Speaking of which, are you keeping an eye out for my sister?”
They got the hint, looking around, like she might arrive any moment searching for them. Then they turned back to me, staring, as if I were that picture projected on the wall. They were already making a memory of me, in case I didn’t come back. But even if I ended up reconsidering one day, I decided to make this one a funny memory, and shot them some finger guns.
“See you on the other side.”