Death Takes a Holiday by Jennifer Harlow

you, you lie, even about your name. Smart guy, my brother. Always knew what to say. Later he’d use this skill to wound me so deeply I’d almost kill him.
    Which brings me to my last memory of this house.
    My eyes dart to the dining room wall. Nana must have hired someone to spackle the two edges together after I cut through it like a piece of bread. Nana notices me staring at the wall. “I cleaned. Did you notice?”
    I look away. “Yeah. The place looks great.”
    “Your bedroom’s all ready for you.”
    “Thanks,” I say with a small smile. I walk quickly past the dining room and into the hallway with the three bedrooms. Mine is the corner one with the green and purple “Beatrice’s Room” plaque on the door.
    When I open the door I’m transported back in time. I lived in here, dreamed in here, and did my homework in here until I was twenty-four and saved enough for my own apartment in Chula Vista, ten minutes away. Not a lot has changed over the years. A Brad Pitt poster from Legends of the Fall that April gave me for my birthday a million years ago hangs over my white plastic desk. A white TV stand with small TV sits across from my double bed. The only other decorations are pictures and paintings of mermaids I bought when I was in the throes of a mermaid obsession fifteen years ago. The carpet is dull beige, but a pink and yellow daisy rug covers most of it. The sheets and quilt on the bed match the rug. This room was obviously decorated by an eight-year-old who never grew up.
    I have a lot of happy memories in this room. Nana reading me stories as I fell asleep. April and me lip syncing to Cyndi Lauper with our hairbrushes. Dressing for my high school graduation. This was my sanctuary. This is also where one of my lowest points played out. The last time I was in here, I tried to kill myself. I flip on the light and fan above and look at the rug. No signs of that night remain. No puke and no pills. Nana must have cleaned it up.
    “Are you okay?” April asks behind me.
    “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.” I step in. “Just jet lagged.” I toss my suitcases on the bed as April closes the door. “You’d think I’d be immune by now.”
    “You always did want to travel.”
    “Yeah, but I meant to New Orleans and Washington, D.C., not Stone Bridge, Colorado, and Venus, Texas.”
    “But I thought you saw all those places when you drove cross country,” April says as she sits at the desk.
    Crud. Forgot that lie. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to go back.” I start unpacking as April watches.
    “But you like your job, right?”
    “It’s a job. Don’t want to do it for the rest of my life or anything.” She doesn’t respond, which is unprecedented. I turn from the closet and she’s biting her lower lip. “What?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Say it.”
    She shifts in the chair. “If you don’t love the job, then why do you stay? I mean, Will’s still giving you crap right?”
    “It’s getting better. He drove me to the airport, and we had a good talk.” And we didn’t stop holding hands until we reached the airport.
    “On a semi-related note, I have something to tell you. But you have to double-dog pinkie swear not to get mad and that you’re still coming to your party tomorrow.”
    “I triple-dog swear.”
    She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Javi invited Steven to the party.”
    Oh joy and bliss. And I came here to escape men.
    “Is he bringing Allison?” I ask.
    “Nope. Remember? I told you they broke up a month ago!”
    “Right. Forgot.” Didn’t really care.
    “With how hot you are now, he’s going to totally regret never fighting for you.”
    “It wouldn’t have done any good.”
    “He should have at least pulled a Lloyd Dobler with Peter Gabriel underneath your window,” she says.
    “Grand romantic gestures were never his thing. Remember what he got me for Valentine’s?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Yes, nothing. Not even stale candy. Not even a ‘Happy