Perfection #3 Read Free Page A

when she died
too, during the first week of my college freshman year. Now there was no one.
Even Aunt Sadie’s crabby old cat was gone—I had tried to take him with me but
he died right after she did.
    I don’t know why that poem came back to me now.
    Bullet was sitting on the leather ottoman in front
of me, talking. What was he asking me? I couldn’t hear him because I was
reciting the poem in my head, “Soaring on the wind, above the world below, the
soul of my friend….” I hated that poem. Why would she choose that poem? I had
been only a kid but even I knew that wasn’t the thing to say at a funeral, to
the loved ones. I wanted to walk up to that podium and slap Mom’s friend and
scream at her. I wanted to say, “She not flying above the world! She’s dead and
in the cold, cold ground!” I imagined doing just that. Tears filled my eyes and
thankfully the image disappeared melting back into the painful past.
    “Lilly! What the hell? Aren’t you listening to me?” Bullet
yelled at me, his chiseled face etched with concern and frustration. I yelled
back. “Yes! I hear you!” More calmly I said, “You don’t have to scream at me. I
hear you, I was just thinking about something.”
    “You don’t have a scratch on you. What’s going on? I
can tell something isn’t right.”
    I felt myself stare through him. I wanted to scream,
“I almost died! I should have died!” but I didn’t.
    “Do you want me to take you to a hospital? Can I
call someone for you?”
    “Who would you call? They’re all dead,” I heard myself
whisper. “But I’m not dead. I’m not dead again.” Guilt washed over me, and my
heart felt like it was being crushed like a beer can in my chest. On top of the
guilt was the flinching. I flinched at every pop of the fireplace, every
slamming door. Every loud noise played a crescendo on my nervous system, and
each time I caught my breath and felt my heart skip a beat. Bullet sat on the
couch next to me, holding me close. I didn’t respond at first; I wasn’t sure
what was happening. If he grabbed my breast or tried to kiss me I’d probably
scream, but he didn’t. He just held me. He smelled warm and comforting. I began
to cry. Not soft, delicate tears either—my sorrow came from the inner depths of
my heart. I wasn’t even thinking about the bear’s terrifying growl, the bear’s
stench, the stench of death. I wasn’t thinking about almost being eaten by a
wild animal. I was thinking of my sister’s cold dead hands that I grabbed when
I tried to wake her up.
    When I couldn’t cry anymore, Bullet picked me up and
carried me upstairs. I sat on the edge of the bed while he undressed me and then
placed me in a tub of warm, soapy water. From a shelf he reached for a jar and
he sprinkled in a few spoons of scented bath salts, eucalyptus I think. It felt
like heaven. I began to breathe more calmly and I felt my peace return. He was
gone a few minutes but when he came back, he had two glasses of brandy. He
didn’t try to put the moves on me, thankfully. He just sat on the floor next to
the tub, sipping his drink.
    “Feeling better now?” he asked, sipping his brandy.
    “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry I fell apart like that.
Could you hand me a ponytail holder? There should be one on the dresser. I
don’t want to get my hair wet.” He brought me a scrunchie and I piled my wild blonde waves on top of my head.
    “You look very fetching,” he joked with me.
    “Thanks, I think.” I sipped my brandy.
    “How about some more hot water? Just a little to keep you comfortable.” I nodded my
consent. Absently, I wondered about his other house guests. I hoped they stayed
out of the woods.
    “Animal Control is coming to pick up that bear, if
they haven’t already arrived. We don’t normally have bears this close to the
cabins here. I’m sorry that happened to you and…I’m sorry I was such an ass
earlier.”
    I leaned my head on my foamy knees and wrapped my
arms around them. I