Secrets to the Grave

89

Gina, you have to wake up.

Why?

You have to wake up so you can tell the story.

But this is so nice. It’s like sleeping, only better.

You can’t just stay this way. All your muscles will atrophy and your body will feed on itself until you look like a petrified cadaver.

Gross.

And you know your mouth is hanging open, don’t you? You’re drooling.

You’re such a bitch, M.

I love you too.

Gina’s mouth began working first, opening and trying to close. So dry. Parched. She needed a drink. No one noticed. The nurses were busy. One had checked on her not that long ago. They wouldn’t look in on her for another fifteen or twenty minutes unless one of her monitors went off.

That was all right. She was already tired from the effort of moving her mouth. She would rest awhile and try again later.

Open your eyes, G.

What? I’m trying to rest. Go away.

You’re done resting. You have to open your eyes.

They’re stuck shut.

You have to open your eyes. There’s so much for you to see.

Like what?

You’ll see.

See what?

You’ll see when you open your eyes.

You’re so annoying.

Her eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. Gina tried to lift them. They were like stone weights. Maybe they had coins on them. She had seen that in an old Western movie—when someone was dead, the undertaker put coins on the corpse’s eyelids to keep them shut.

Maybe she was dead after all.

But if she was dead, how could her heart start beating faster? It wouldn’t beat at all.

She must not be dead.

She tried harder to open her eyes. A little wedge of blurred colors appeared. But that was the best she could do for now. She would try again later.

Promise me, G.

I promise, M.