“We’ve…well, we’ve all become a bit concerned about you. All this talk of going out with Jeremy, of doing stuff with Jeremy…it’s not healthy.”

“I know you don’t like him,” Marybeth hissed. “You’ve never liked him. But that’s no reason not to let me make my own decisions!”

The people gathered in the living room exchanged uneasy glances, and Marybeth thought she could hear a furtive whispering. “Well, you’re right that maybe, perhaps, we weren’t as welcoming of Jeremy as we could have been, at the beginning,” Aunt Roberta coughed. “But I hardly think that’s the point now.”

“Then what is the point?” countered Marybeth. “I’m meeting him later tonight, and unless you want to lock me in my room, I’m going.”

“That’s enough,” barked Uncle Richard. “I’ve had it with all this pussyfooting around. It’s time to cut through the bullshit.”

“No, Rich,” Dad said. “We discussed this, we need to break things carefully-”

His brother cut him off. “Marybeth, Jeremy is dead. He’s been dead for six months, and you talking about him like he’s alive is creeping all of us right out.”