thirty four

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I called my grandma to explain to her the whole story, and she agreed to let me go up to the lake house, at least for today. I was sure David's family would be staying the whole weekend, but I'd figure that out when we got there. We waited for David's pizza, then we got into his Mercedes (because pizza was not, I repeat, was not going into his classic Ferrari). I offered to drive repeatedly, but David looked at me like I was crazy for even thinking he was going to allow me to drive, and so I climbed into the passenger seat silently.

On the way there, we listened to AJR and talked about our thoughts on the afterlife... as if the day wasn't already morbid enough.

"I think I believe in the classic afterlife. You know, mansions and streets of gold," he told me after I made it clear I didn't want to go first. "It's so crazy to me that no one on Earth knows. I think those "I saw Heaven" people are bullshitting, not gonna lie, but wouldn't it be nice?"

"I—" I couldn't even think about how to say my response without sounding crazy. "I wouldn't want it to be like that."

"Why?" he frowned, pulling another piece of pizza out of the already half empty box. "Being with everyone you love in an always sunny place where you live in mansions?"

"I cannot imagine living eternally as a good thing," I admitted awkwardly, taking more interest in picking off the onions on my pizza than looking David in the eye. "I just... if it were me, I would want to sleep forever. That would bring me the most happiness. I don't know, do you think Heaven is like... tailored to a person? Or everyone just ends up in one big place of good?"

"Can I ask you something?" David completely ignored my questions, and then without so much as a nod of confirmation from me, he continued, "Have you ever been to a doctor for your depression?"

"I don't have depression," I told him. It was a lie, and we both knew it. "I just don't see the point of living forever. It sounds horrible."

"Because you're depressed," he said. "I don't know why you're denying it when you literally tried to kill yourself, like, four months ago."

"I miss when you were embarrassed to talk about things like this," I snapped.

"What can I say?" David smirked triumphantly, thankful he was under my skin instead of the other way around. "I'm a changed man."

"How much longer until we get there?" I asked, changing the subject entirely.

"Twenty minutes," he replied. "We just passed Uncle Fish's. You don't really pay attention to your surroundings, though, do you?"

"I'm tired," I sighed, setting my half eaten food back into the box, careful to make sure any side I had bitten off wasn't touching good pizza. "I ate, like, three pizzas of pizza."

"Two and a half," David replied.

"Okay, well it would've been three if there was pineapple on it," I sassed.

David and I bickered the rest of the way to the lake house about whether or not pineapple was pizza's saving grace (... it is!).

When we arrived, David turned off the car, his demeanor changing to be much more nervous. We hadn't called his dad or Sam or anyone to tell them we were on our way, just in case David lost courage and we turned around. Now that we were sitting outside his house, with his family just a few walls away, he was probably worried about what they would think or how they would react.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my hand finding his.

"Are you my girlfriend, Mona?" he asked after a brief pause, completely ignoring my first question. I sat for a moment, thinking.

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