'i Don't Get It,' Caroline Said, Bemused.

Morgan Sighed. "i," She Announced, "am So Pathetic." "you Are Not," I Said. "i Am." She Went Over And Straightened The Cling Wrap, Corner To Corner. "do You Know How Many Times I've Brought In Devilled Eggs? This Is, Like, The Only Time I Haven't Been Sobbing And That's Only 'cause I Cried All Night. And Norman," She Said, Her Voice Rising To A Wail, "sweet Norman, Always Just Acts So Surprised To See The Eggs, And Pleased, And He Never, Once, Has Ever Acted Like He Knew What They Meant."

For Once, You Believed In Yourself. You Believed You Were Beautiful And So Did The Rest Of The World.

That Was The Hard Thing About Grief, And The Grieving. They Spoke Another Language, And The Words We Knew Always Fell Short Of What We Wanted Them To Say.

It's Hard To Do," I Said. Wes Looked At Me. "what Is?" I Swallowed, Not Sure Why I'd Said This Out Loud. "get It Right.

"i Don't Know," I Said. "what Else Did You Do For Your First Eighteen Years?" "like I Said," He Said As I Unlocked The Car, "i'm Not So Sure That You Should Go By My Example." "why Not?" "because I Have My Regrets," He Said. "also, I'm A Guy. And Guys Do Different Stuff." "like Ride Bikes?" I Said. "no," He Replied. "like Have Food Fights. And Break Stuff. And Set Off Firecrackers On People's Front Porches. And..." "girls Can't Set Off Firecrackers On People's Front Porches?" "they Can," He Said... "but They're Smart Enough Not To. That's The Difference."