Если я останусь
5:42 A.M.
ShetellsmeaboutAdam,hisdeterminationtogetintoseeme,howafterhegotkickedoutoftheICU,heenlistedthehelpofhismusicfriends,whowerenotatallthesnobbyscenestersshe’dimaginedthemtobe.Thenshetoldmethatabonafiderockstarhadcometothehospitalonmybehalf.
Ofcourse,IknowalmosteverythingthatKimistellingme,butthereisnowaythatshe’dknowthat.Besides,Ilikehavingherrecountthedaytome.IlikehowKimistalkingtomenormally,likeGrandidearlier,justjabberingon,spinningagoodyarn,asifweweretogetheronmyporch,drinkingcoffee(oranicedcaramelfrappuccinoinKim’scase)andcatchingup.
Idon’tknowifonceyoudieyourememberthingsthathappenedtoyouwhenyouwerealive.Itmakesacertainlogicalsensethatyouwouldn’t.Thatbeingdeadwillfeellikebeforeyouwereborn,whichistosay,awholelotofnothingness.Exceptthatforme,atleast,myprebirthyearsaren’tentirelyblank.Everynowandagain,MomorDadwillbetellingastoryaboutsomething,aboutDadcatchinghisfirstsalmonwithGramps,orMomrememberingtheamazingDeadMoonconcertshesawwithDadontheirfirstdate,andI’llhaveanoverpoweringdéjàvu.NotjustasensethatI’veheardthestorybefore,butthatI’velivedit.IcanpicturemyselfsittingontheriverbankasDadpullsahot-pinkcohooutofthewater,eventhoughDadwasalloftwelveatthetime.
