I have ideas of making plans for my final week alive, to do something meaningful. Instead, I mope around and feel depressed. Nothing I can do now will matter because it’s too late to do something with my life. Two weeks warning just isn’t enough time. It also didn’t help that I’m incredibly afraid to die.
All the questions that no one thinks too hard on, hit me like a ton of bricks. What happens when you die? Where do you go? Is it just lights out and you don’t exist? Is there such a thing as reincarnation? What if I was aware, but trapped in a coffin for eternity? That also brought me to the question, cremation or burial?
My last fear of being trapped in a box underground helps me decide cremation and while I try to subtlety mention that to Mom, as well as wanting to be an organ donor, I’m not sure it went over all that subtlety. I had to call her to talk since she was practically sleeping at the office from all her late night meetings and it was hard to try to find a place to bring it up in conversation. In the end, I had to lie and say a friend of a friend had passed away and no one had known what she wanted. Mom never was keen to discuss death, especially after Frank died, and it’s an easy way to end a conversation with her. Mom still isn’t over Frank and I fear what my death will do to her. If she works this much just to forget about Frank—who passed away nearly ten years ago—then what will she do when I die?
I had vetoed the party idea so maybe I won’t be killed in front of everyone, maybe I will get shot somewhere else? I might be able to make it seem like I had run away then everyone could imagine I was out there somewhere, happy and alive.
It’s an idea that I wish I had thought of earlier. If death is going to follow me no matter what, then I could have left the country and no one would be the wiser. Instead, I’m listening to Dana pull up outside my house on the day I will die. If I live through to tomorrow, then I will make sure to run. It’s better than the alternative.
Dana pops her head in the front door and calls out to me. “You ready for some lunch? I’m starved.”
“Yep, just let me grab my bag.” I grab my tote bag off the kitchen bench and hope Mom sees the note I left on the fridge about remembering we had dinner plans. She often forgets the plans we made together, but this night is important. She might not get to see me again.
“Like my new car?” Dana wiggles her eyebrows at me as she holds her hands out in the air as if presenting a prize.
“New car?” I gasp. I look over it and it looks nice, but more second hand new rather than brand new.
“Well, technically, it’s my Mom’s new car, but I am allowed to borrow it today. So I’m going to say it’s my new car.”
“Wow, when did she get this?”
“A couple weeks ago, so it’s totally my turn to drive us today.”
“Do you remember how to drive?”
“Yes, silly. Stay on the left side of the road, give way to no one and to work the brake, you just say ‘Stop’ really loudly.”
“Well, now I feel super safe,” I speak sarcastically, but I can’t help laughing.
“Don’t worry; I drove my car here the other night, didn’t I?”
“And did you make it home without so much as a scratch?”
“Well, sort of. The car did breakdown, which is why I’ve got Mom’s today, but it totally wasn’t my fault.”
“Sure.” I roll my eyes, but still open the door and sit down. I make a show of very carefully putting on my seat belt and then looking around carefully. “Does this thing come with crash helmets?”