Leslie wakes up the next morning at 5:23:32, and not solely because the cops are coming ‘sometime between 6 a.m. and 8 a.m. She had had a nightmare in which John had returned to her, but as a zombie. Now, while the real John would have appreciated that as he was an absolute fiend for zombies, Leslie had freaked the fuck out in her dream as John tried to eat her brains. She had had to dead him again, and it broke her heart to have to empty a bunch of bullets in his brain and then decapitate his head, even though she knew it was a dream. The head remained alive, and she was careful not to put her fingers in its mouth. John’s eyes were trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t decipher the message.
She shuffles off to the bathroom to go about her daily ablutions. She notices that Josephine is not behind her, and one quick glance backwards shows her a sleeping cat who is parked in the exact spot where John’s chest would be—if he were still alive. Tears filled Leslie’s eyes as she realizes she’s not the only one who fiercely misses John—so does Josephine. Leslie wants to comfort the cat and tell her that John will be home before she knows it. However, Leslie tries not to out-and-out lie whenever she can help it, so she remains silent and goes about her morning ritual. She is somber as she thinks about John and all she’s learned about him since he was murdered. She has to admit to herself that’s she’s pissed—at him. She’s not mad because he’s dead—no, she’s mad because he hadn’t trusted her enough to share his past with her. She could hear him protesting in her ear that it had nothing to do with how trustworthy she was, but it’s cold comfort, indeed.
She cringes as she remembers all the things she confessed to John—the molestation, the abusive relationship she endured right after she moved into her own apartment, and her two hospitalizations. In turn, he had told her about the difficulties he encountered growing up in the south. While he was from the south, he was not born of the south, or so he’d been told. He was labeled different by the time he was four years old. He wore it as a badge of honor once he hit his thirties. He was into the Clash before they got popular, and everything about him screamed dork! Leslie has not been able to find any evidence to the contrary, so she accepts provisionally that what he had told her about his childhood was mostly true.