8
Revelations
“What was that noise?” Jared asked. His sunglasses had disappeared into his leather jacket pocket, and he leaned over to remove his expensive-looking loafers.
The clams with bellies had been lovely going down, but now I tasted the acid and fat at the back of my throat. How much did he really need to know about me and my family craziness?
“It was my grandmother’s rolling pin. She was reminding me to take shoes off.”
“Couldn’t she just come out and tell you?”
“Not exactly.” I tried to smile and not look crazy. “She’s a ghost.”
He grinned like I was making a joke. “Right. This is Festival of the Dead time, after all. And you do have CLS.”
It reminded me he didn’t know about the full manifestation of the symptoms except—oh, gods—if he realized his dream hadn’t been a drea
