The Ten Best Days of My Life by Adena Halpern Page A

“I did just die, you know. I’ve got to think about my future.”
    Again, he looks at me like I’ve gone mad, which I’m now pretty much certain I have.
    â€œSo, let me get this straight,” he says. “You’re not interested in spending any more time with me because you’re in a weird place right now?”
    â€œExactly,” I concur, thinking his reasoning sounds good enough.
    â€œWhere do you think I am?”
    I have no answer. He’s got me there, and, thankfully, before I have to answer the question he poses another one.
    â€œIs there someone else?” he asks.
    â€œWhat do you think?” I shoot at him like it’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard, but it’s exactly the question I would have asked had the tables been turned. “Do you think I went out clubbing last night and met some other guy?”
    I’m being so mean. I hate myself right now.
    â€œI just need some space, okay?” I shout at him like I can’t stand the sight of him, when actually I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. “Can’t I just have some space?”
    â€œFine,” he says, throwing up his hands. “I won’t bother you anymore.”
    He walks out of my room and heads down the stairs. I want to scream, “Please come back!” I don’t though. I just don’t want to hurt him any more than I have. I want to tell him the truth, but I just can’t. I don’t want him to think less of me when I’m sent away. I don’t want him to wake up a few mornings from now and see that I’m not there anymore. I don’t want to have to leave him that note: Dear Adam, I’ve been demoted to fourth heaven. See you around . He’ll get over me. He’ll find someone else, someone better, some other more fabulous woman who led a more fulfilling life on earth.
    I hate her.
    I hear my front door shut. He didn’t even slam it. What a gentleman. I love him so much. I’m watching him from my window as he goes into his garage. I wait as I see him pull out in his red Ferrari: damn, it’s a convertible, too. I would have loved to have ridden in that. He’s got such a pained look on his face as he heads out of his driveway.
    Ugh.
    I need to talk to someone, anyone. Should I call my grandmother? I can’t call her. I know exactly what she’ll say: “You picked a fight with the most perfect man in heaven? What the heck’s the matter with you? Just tell him the truth. If he doesn’t get it, he wasn’t worth it.”
    I don’t need my grandmother right now. I don’t know anyone else who’s dead though. I’m the first of anyone my age I know who died.
    I see Peaches running through the yard with the other dogs.
    â€œPeaches!” I scream out.
    Peaches stops and looks up at me.
    â€œI need a hug!”
    Peaches resumes running.
    â€œWait, I’ve got treats! I have enough for your friends, too! We can have a party!”
    No luck.
    Now I’m really pissed off at her.
    You know, come to think of it, there is this one woman that died. She’s my mom’s age, but maybe she’s good at listening.
    My mom used to tell me about one of her best childhood friends. This girl, Alice Oppenheim, who died when they were sixteen. It was one of the saddest things I ever heard; that’s why I remembered it.
    It was right after Alice’s sweet-sixteen party, and evidently the party was a really nice one. My mom had gone with Alice and her mom to get her dress, a pink ruffly number, which sounds revolting, but my mom said it was better than it sounds. The party was held at the Tavern Restaurant’s party room, and my mom went with Sy Silverman, who later became really good friends with my parents. Anyway, as my mom tells it, Alice’s family lived about two blocks away from my mom and grandparents, and in the middle of the night my mom woke up to hear all