18 Chapter 18

I waved the limp carrot stick at her and shook my head. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant. But death is never the way we envision it.”

I tossed the uneaten carrot in the container with the other untouched vegetables and crossed my arms in front of me, staring into the dregs of my now cold coffee. “I meant that it’s still hard the second time around.”

She took a bite of her turkey sub and swallowed it down with a swig of her skim milk. “What did you do when your mother passed away?”

I hated that expression.

Passed away. It sounded manufactured and senseless.

My mom was dead. She had died.

I stared at Anne. “Exactly what I’m doing now. Wallowing. Grieving. Feeling fucking depressed.”

She took another bite, chewed longer this time, maybe so she wouldn’t have to answer me.

“How do you do it?” I asked her, lifting my coffee cup to my mouth.

“Do what?” she said, wiping oily dressing from her bottom lip.