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We all reflected on that.

“Whatta say we get out of here and go get some lunch?” Anne said. “I could use a margarita after this nonsense.”

“I will never turn down tacos and tequila,” Alyssa said.

“I’m in. Grandma?”

“Got nowhere else to be.”

When we stood up, me adjusting myself on my crutches, she grabbed my arm.

“You know Ryan saved you, right? That light was headed straight for your head.”

I nodded. “I know.” Ryan was fifteen feet away right now, watching us. He’d been in and out the last few days, but he only watched me from a distance. We hadn’t spoken.

But I understood what had happened. He’d looked at paperwork he wasn’t supposed to and he’d seen that I was scheduled to die that night. It was why he’d been so strange on my birthday. He’d intervened and saved my life.

Neither one of us were ready to say that out loud or discuss it in any way.

But I knew the truth. He was written all over his face every time he looked at me.

He’d sacrificed the next step in his afterlife journey for me.

There was nothing I could do to repay him for that.

Except maybe name my firstborn after him and I had a hard time seeing Jake agreeing to that.

“There’s an Irish proverb,” Grandma said.

“Of course there is.”

“Shush. Listen to me. It’s “May the hinges of our friendship never grow rusty.” That’s you and Ryan. It’s stood the test of time and death. That’s a beautiful thing, Margaret.”

“It really is.”

I looked over at Ryan and gave him a wink.

Except I suck at winking and only managed to just squint really hard and look like I had a hair in my eye.

Ryan laughed.

And I knew everything was okay.

“There’s another one,” Anne said, having overheard Grandma. “It's a lonely washing that has no man's shirt in it.” Think there will be cute guys at the taco joint?”

“If there is, they won’t be looking at you,” Grandma retorted.

“A girl can dream.”

“A midsummer night’s dream?” I asked, feeling cheeky.

“Margaret, it’s only May.”

“May is the month of expectation, the month of wishes, the month of hope,” Anne said. “That’s Emily Brontë.”

“Or in this case, the month of funerals.”

“Let’s hope that’s the last one,” Alyssa said. “Though it is almost June.”

With that, we headed to get tacos.

And it wasn’t even a Tuesday.