She doesn’t know she’s dead.
Then again, she’s so drunk, I think she wouldn’t care. She rocks slightly as she’s talking and the speech is slurred. She asks me the same question yet again:
‘Do you know why I’m sad?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because your sisten died, and then your mother died. Whenever you love someone — they go away’.
She nods, shocked I know sometning she’s repleated throughout the beautiful evening, one of the best of my life.
Her face screws up with sudden grief – this, as soon as it appears, she pushes it away with a forced expression of joy, a smile thrust so high she’s like a grinning cat in a fairytale. Right on cue, she says on script and again repeats herself.
‘But it’s all OK. Do you know why?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the happiness they give you is all inside, always there.’
The grin leaves she she looks down. The most beautiful hosts that I saw, and can now see, whenever I want to.