Experiment in Terror - Book 9 - Page 54
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Book 9 - Page 54

Ada and her mother said “Amen,” like it was the Lord’s prayer, while Perry was staring at me, perplexed, like it was the weirdest eulogy she’d ever heard. Or maybe it was the way I beheaded half of the bouquet.

She stepped up the bank next, gathering the few nice stems left in one hand. “Maximus, I don’t have much to say. I…I don’t even know what to say. But, you came into my life for a reason and I couldn’t be more grateful.”

“Don’t say grateful,” I said out of the side of my mouth, my hands clasped in front of me. “I just used grateful. Pick a different word.”

She looked at me aghast. “This isn’t funny, Dex,” she said.

I shot her a sad smile. “I know it’s not. But I need it to be. Just for now, just to get through it.”

She shook her head, not understanding, and went on. “So I wanted to thank you, Maximus, for being a friend. For being that guy I wanted to call when everything went wrong. For showing up and helping me. For looking out for Dex. Sometimes I was never quite sure about you but I was always sure about you and Dex. You were friends, even when you weren’t, and I want to thank you for that. I hope wherever you are, it’s a warm place.” She sniffed and wiped away a tear. “I hope that it’s nice and that you’ll one day be with Rose again. I hope I’ll see you too.”

She closed her eyes and a wash of tears spilled down her cheeks as she threw her flowers in the river. I put my arm around her, holding her close to me.

Ada took the flowers next and gave half to her mother.

“Maximus,” she said. “I’m gonna miss you. I never thought I’d find a ginger with a soul, but you proved that wrong.” She kissed her fingers and then pressed it into the sky. “Peace out, ginger bro.”

She threw her flowers in and so did Perry’s mom, who said a simple, “thank you” and that was that. Daniel, of course, was standing wide-stance, arms folded across his belly. The interesting thing was he was starting to sweat a little. There was a tinge of “oh s.h.i.t, maybe these b.i.t.c.hes weren’t tripping” on his brow, of course phrased in a theologian way.

But ever the master of the house and of the smooth moves, he covered it up and said, “Well, now that it’s all done, who is up for a visit to MOMA and then some lunch?”

Yes, because nothing tops off a funeral like looking at abstract art.

Perry’s mother put her arm around Ada and said, “I think that would be a good idea. Good way to keep busy, right Ada?”

Ada just shrugged. They could have suggested an all-expenses paid shopping spree and she still would have looked the same.

“What about you?” Daniel asked.

I looked to Perry, who was red-eyed and dabbing her cute little nose with tissue. “Um,” I said, “I think we’ll pa.s.s on that.”

“Wait,” Perry said, turning to them, “can we go eat first? Then you guys can go to MOMA.”

“What are you going to do?” Ada asked, like she wanted an invite.

Actually I had no idea what Perry had in mind, but I was suddenly hit by a crazy idea, brought on by all the sorrow and s.h.i.t that was swirling around us.

She shrugged. “I think we just want to hang low,” she said. “But if we all ate first, it would give us a chance to talk.” She said that as she stared at her mom, sending signals that looked to be invisible but probably weren’t. Interestingly, I tried to drop in on her thoughts but I couldn’t access them. Perry was learning how to aim and hide at the same time. There had to be a s.e.xual a.n.a.logy somewhere in there.

Her mom nodded, hearing her loud and clear. “Of course. That sounds good.”

Daniel let out a puff of air, annoyed that no one was really listening to him anymore. Good luck steering your brood of loons around, I wanted to say to him. Especially as I would soon be included in that brood.

Poor guy.

We had lunch at the café that was made famous in When Harry Met Sally. I couldn’t remember the film all that well but Perry’s mom did a minor – and yet embarra.s.sing – re-enactment of the “I’ll have what she’s having” scene and all that it involved. Thankfully the place had a f**kton of pie. Pie was awesome.

At some point during our meal, Perry and her mom both simultaneously excused themselves and went outside. Again, she must have been sending her telepathic messages that I couldn’t pick up on. I knew what they were talking about, though. Perry was coming clean about switching her mother’s pills on her.

I didn’t know how I felt about that. I understand why Perry did it, but since I had been on the receiving end of that at one point, I also sympathized with her mother. There is nothing worse than seeing the carefully planned and crafted world you had created for yourself come tumbling down and you can’t figure out why.

But judging by the way they were hugging out on the street, it seemed to go all right. I suppose after everything, her mom was just happy to be alive and happy to have her daughter. I still wasn’t too sure how she felt about her future son-in-law.

“So,” her mother said as they came back inside. “We should get going.” She clapped her hands together and smiled and it was then that I realized she looked like she belonged in that G.o.d-awful Disney movie, Frozen. Not that she looked like a talking snowman, more like the blonde snow queen.

Beside me, Ada let out a small groan. I had been listening to Daniel talk about all the things wrong with New York that I hadn’t been watching her. She got up to her feet and then ran toward the bathroom, looking like she was about to barf.

“What’s wrong with her?” Perry asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, eyeing Daniel. “She seemed fine.”

“She probably had bad pie,” he said.

I frowned. “There is no such thing as bad pie.”

Minutes later she came back out, paler than normal but looking bright-eyed. “I’m okay,” she said sheepishly. “Sorry, I just felt nauseous.”

“It’s all the stress, honey,” her mom said. “We can go another time.”

“No,” she said, slinging her designer backpack on. “I’m all good. Totally. Let’s go.” She looked to us. “Are you guys sure you don’t want to come?”

Perry nodded and offered her a kind look. “Thank you but we’d rather be alone.”