Nicholas and Ren sat in the grass beside my grave and took turns drinking from a flask.
“I think he was going to tell me, you know,” Ren said. The day after my funeral, Nicholas decided he wasn’t keeping secrets he didn’t have to anymore. He brought Asher home to meet his family. He told them all about NYU. And when Ren cornered him one day at school and told him she wanted the truth, all of it, he gave it to her. “The last time I saw him, he promised he’d tell me everything.”
“What would you have done?” Nicholas asked.
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Did you love him?”
She took a long sip of the alcohol and shook her head. “I didn’t really know him.” She sighed. “But maybe I could have loved the real person he was. Someday.”
“I know what you mean,” Nicholas said.
“When are you leaving?” she asked.
“Next week,” he said. “Asher and I moved up our trip. I just . . . have to get out of here. I heard you’re moving?”
She nodded. “Joining my parents in Dubai.”
They sat in silence for a long time after that, passing the flask back and forth. I wished I could talk to them. Tell them I was sorry, tell them the truth, make it all right.
But you only get one life to do those things, and mine was done.
“I’d better go,” Nicholas finally said, standing.
“Yeah, me too.” Ren pressed her hands to the grass, and I recognized the unspoken good-bye in the gesture. “You know, I never even knew his real name.”
Nicholas looked down at the headstone, where the name of his brother was engraved.
“Me neither,” he said.
And then they left.
? ? ?
I’ve imagined a hundred lies I could tell you about what happened to me. Maybe Ren and I really did run off together. Maybe I was arrested right alongside Lex and Patrick and I’m composing this from my prison cell. Maybe I’m actually a grown Nicholas sitting at a laptop in my apartment in New York City, trying to use words to sort through that terrible period of my life.
But, strangely enough, I think the truth is the best version this time. My little burial plot isn’t much, but it’s a place to belong. A place where people I love, who love me, too, come to see me. Jessica visits often with Mia, who always has a handpicked bouquet for me and kisses my headstone before she leaves. Robert and Nicholas come whenever they’re in town. And every once in a while Lex comes to stand at a distance, silent and pale faced. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough for me. I’m Daniel Tate, and, weirdly, I’m finally at peace.
? ? ?
Do you believe me?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to thank my editor, Zareen Jaffery, Mekisha Telfer, Chlo? Foglia, Justin Chanda, and everyone else at Simon & Schuster for their hard work and backing of this book.
Much appreciation also goes to those who read Here Lies Daniel Tate in its early stages and offered their suggestions and encouragement: the Moor women (Lynn, Annie, Ava and Amrita), Diana Fox, Shae McDaniel, and Eden Grey.
Lastly I’d like to thank my friends and family for their unceasing support and my readers for their patience and continued enthusiasm. Love you guys!