It Ends with Us

bad people
. We’re all just people who
sometimes do bad things.”
I open my mouth to respond, but his words strike me silent. 
We’re all just
people who sometimes do bad things.
I guess that’s true in a way. No one is
exclusively bad, nor is anyone exclusively good. Some are just forced to
work harder at suppressing the bad.
“Your turn,” I tell him.
Based on his reaction, I think he might not want to play his own game.
He sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair. He opens his mouth to
speak, but then clamps it shut again. He thinks for a bit, and then finally
speaks. “I watched a little boy die tonight.” His voice is despondent. “He
was only five years old. He and his little brother found a gun in his
parents’ bedroom. The younger brother was holding it and it went off by
accident.”
My stomach flips. I think this may be a little too much truth for me.
“There was nothing that could be done by the time he made it to the
operating table. Everyone around—nurses, other doctors—they all felt so
sorry for the family. ‘
Those poor parents,
’ they said. But when I had to walk
into the waiting room and tell those parents that their child didn’t make
it, I didn’t feel an ounce of sorrow for them. I wanted them to suffer. I
wanted them to feel the weight of their ignorance for keeping a loaded
gun within access of two innocent children. I wanted them to know that
not only did they just lose a child, they just ruined the entire life of the
one who accidentally pulled the trigger.”
Jesus Christ.
I wasn’t prepared for something so heavy.

---

I can’t even conceive how a family moves past that. “That poor boy’s
brother,” I say. “I can’t imagine what that’s going to do to him—seeing
something like that.”
Ryle flicks something off the knee of his jeans. “It’ll destroy him for life,
that’s what it’ll do.”
I turn on my side to face him, lifting my head up onto my hand. “Is it
hard? Seeing things like that every day?”
He gives his head a slight shake. “It should be a lot harder, but the
more I’m around death, the more it just becomes a part of life. I’m not
sure how I feel about that.” He makes eye contact with me again. “Give me
another one,” he says. “I feel like mine was a little more twisted than
yours.”
I disagree, but I tell him about the twisted thing I did a mere twelve
hours ago.
“My mother asked me two days ago if I would deliver the eulogy at my
father’s funeral today. I told her I didn’t feel comfortable—that I might be
crying too hard to speak in front of a crowd—but that was a lie. I just
didn’t want to do it because I feel like eulogies should be delivered by
those who respected the deceased. And I didn’t much respect my father.”
“Did you do it?”
I nod. “Yeah. This morning.” I sit up and pull my legs beneath me as I
face him. “You want to hear it?”
He smiles. “Absolutely.”
I fold my hands in my lap and inhale a breath. “I had no idea what to
say. About an hour before the funeral, I told my mother I didn’t want to
do it. She said it was simple and that my father would have wanted me to
do it. She said all I had to do was walk up to the podium and say five great
things about my father. So . . . that’s exactly what I did.”
Ryle lifts up onto his elbow, appearing even more interested. He can
tell by the look on my face that it gets worse. “Oh, no, Lily. What did you
do?”
“Here. Let me just reenact it for you.” I stand up and walk around to
the other side of my chair. I stand tall and act like I’m looking out over the
same crowded room I was met with this morning. I clear my throat.
“Hello. My name is Lily Bloom, daughter of the late Andrew Bloom.
Thank you all for joining us today as we mourn his loss. I wanted to take a

---

moment to honor his life by sharing with you five great things about my
father. The first thing . . .”
I look down at Ryle and shrug. “That’s it.”
He sits up. “What do you mean?”
I take a seat on my lounge chair and lie back down. “I stood up there
for two solid minutes without saying another word. There wasn’t one great
thing I could say about that man—so I just stared silently at the crowd
until my mother realized what I was doing and had my uncle remove me
from the podium.”
Ryle tilts his head. “Are you kidding me? You gave the anti-eulogy at
your own father’s funeral?”
I nod. “I’m not proud of it. I don’t 
think.
I mean, if I had my way, he
would have been a much better person and I would have stood up there
and talked for an hour.”
Ryle lies back down. “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re kind of
my hero. You just roasted a dead guy.”
“That’s tacky.”
“Yeah, well. Naked truth hurts.”
I laugh. “Your turn.”
“I can’t top that,” he says.
“I’m sure you can come close.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes you can. Don’t make me feel like the worst person
out of the two of us. Tell me the most recent thought you’ve had that most
people wouldn’t say out loud.”
He pulls his hands up behind his head and looks me straight in the eye.
“I want to fuck you.”
My mouth falls open. Then I clamp it shut again.
I think I might be speechless.
He shoots me a look of innocence. “You asked for the most recent
thought, so I gave it to you. You’re beautiful. I’m a guy. If you were into
one-night stands, I would take you downstairs to my bedroom and I would
fuck you.”
I can’t even look at him. His statement makes me feel a multitude of
things all at once.
“Well, I’m not into one-night stands.”
“I figured as much,” he says. “Your turn.”

---

He’s so nonchalant; he acts as if he didn’t just stun me into silence.
“I need a minute to regroup after that one,” I say with a laugh. I try to
think of something with a little shock value, but I can’t get over the fact
that he just said that.