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He nods at me and pats my face. “Mama.”
Holy shit.
He’s going to get me in so much trouble.
He pokes the sticker again.
I wince.
That’s not helping my hangover, kid.
“Star. Mama.”
“No. I’m not your mama. I’m dead, remember?”
“Where are you, buddy?” The man’s voice is growing more concerned and closer.
He can’t come closer.
The sun is beating down on my shoulders, and I’m not sure if I’m sweating from the heat or if I’m panicking.
“You need to go. Your dad will be worried.”
Giggling, he potters away, but before he can, I stop him.
I don’t know why.
Like I said, I’m still drunk.
I pull a daisy from the grass and hand it to him.
He blows me a kiss.
How sweet.
Turning, he runs away onto the path and out of sight.
“Dada,” he screams.
“Jesus, you can’t keep running away like that,” the man says, clearly relieved.
Kneeling, I peek over my best friend’s gravestone, curious for a glimpse of the stranger with the deep voice.
“Sorry, Nick,” I whisper to the ground. “I don’t know why I’m apologizing to you. You’re dead.”
I’m so drunk.
The man is scooping the little boy in his arms when I peep over, careful to hide and not get caught.
His back is to me as he walks away.
The little boy giggles again, waving his flower while blowing me another kiss.
I wave back.
The man turns, and I quickly resume playing dead, falling on the grass again.
Please don’t see me.
