Chapter Eighteen

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The weeks following Ada's death have been a jumbled blur. I go to school, I go to work, and I go home. And then I do it all again. It feels like I'm watching life happen from behind a television screen. I'm a spectator, not a participant.

Perhaps it should bother me how detached I've become, but I'm too numb to care.

Ada is gone. She's actually gone this time. She made a noose out of her bed sheets and took her own life.

She could talk to ghosts. Now she is one. I can't help but snicker at the morbid irony.

Jose has been by my side through this whole ordeal. He's understanding, patient, and everything a boyfriend should be. I haven't made it easy for him, but he's still here. He's still my rock. I'm very fortunate to have him.

Damian and Moira have offered their support as well, even accompanying me to the funeral. The burial took place at the same graveyard where Ada lost consciousness and had to be taken to the hospital. I thought that was ironic, too.

The hardest part has been watching Mrs. Fitzpatrick pretend to grieve. She fake-cried at the funeral and took a couple weeks off work, but she bounced back fast. Now when I pass her in the hallway, she's smiling, laughing, and sipping coffee from her 'World's Greatest Mom' mug like everything's copacetic, like her daughter didn't just commit suicide.

Like she didn't push her to do it.

I realize it's unfair to blame Tara for Ada's death. It isn't technically her fault. But if she hadn't sent Ada away, if she had been a more supportive mother, then maybe my best friend would still be alive.

God, I wish she was still alive. I miss her so much.

I'm starting to feel better, though. I'll never "get over it," but I'm moving on. I have to, right? Ada might be gone, but I'm still here.

I'm still alive.

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"What do you want for Christmas, mi amor?"

"You don't have to get me anything."

"You're kidding, right? I'm gonna get you something."

Smiling, I snuggle deeper into Jose's side. It's a cold Saturday afternoon, and we're watching Saving Private Ryan on his laptop. I don't care for war movies, but he's obsessed. They remind him of his father.

"I just want you," I tell him.

"I'm all yours. You know that."

"No, I mean I want you." I sit up, pause the movie, and look into his chocolate-colored eyes. "I realize the last time we attempted to have... relations, things took an ugly turn, but I'm ready to try again."

He chuckles. "Sex is an unconventional Christmas present, but if that's what you want...."

I playfully slap his arm and pull him in for a kiss. Somehow, Ada's passing has brought us closer. The awkwardness that rained down on us like a storm cloud is gone. Now there's nothing but sunny skies. He's been so good to me, and I want to show him how grateful I am.

"On Christmas Eve, my mom and Mariana are going to midnight mass," he says. "Maybe you could come over then?"

"Sounds perfect," I respond. "Wait, why aren't you going with them?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I haven't stepped foot in a church since Dad died."

"Why?"

"Doesn't feel right."

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