Chapter 26
26
I have good news and I have bad news.
The bad news is I have trouble sleeping. Every time I edge toward oblivion, I think of Chloe. Her body. Her eyes. Her hair engulfing me. I catch winks of rest here and there due to pure physical exhaustion, but that’s about it. Also, my skin looks like shit. Not even the best skincare can save me from sleep deprivation.
The good news is I’ve lost a lot of weight. (Mostly because my insomniac body is struggling to function.) I fit into all of Chloe’s clothes now, which is fantastic.
In the grand scheme of things, my gaunt appearance helps the narrative. Every story I’ve posted has followers pooling concerns about me. How I need to rest and heal after my loss. How much they’d love me even if I took a break. They yell in my DMs to value my mental health.
It’s nice of them, really.
But I have no time for a break. I have bills (blackmail) to pay and videos to film.
I’m by the Hudson River, dressed in a Burberry trench and matching scarf. Chloe rests in my hand, her body contained in a nice beige urn with a spherical top. Simple. Modern. Deceptively expensive. I think she’d like it.
Fiona points a camera at me. “Okay, I’m rolling.”
I open the urn and stare into the gray ashes lovingly. I sigh like I’m about to make an apology video. The wind blows at the perfect dramatic second. I brush away my hair and say, “I’ll miss you, Julie.” Images of us as children, tiny little twins, pop into my head. Chloe, brave and smiling. The two of us, our chubby fingers intertwined. Sweet mango on my tongue.
Warmth creeps into my chest. Pressure pushes behind my eyes.
Holy shit, I’m actually sad. This is perfect.
I let the somber moment take over. My eyes water. I blink. A tear rolls down my cheek. I sigh again. Biting my lip, I look into the lapping waters of the Hudson River. A plastic bag floats lazily downstream. I tip the urn over and pour the ashes out. Some of Chloe’s dust gets blown into my mouth and nose. It’s like she’s trying to crawl into me, take back her life, infect me cell by cell by spreading down my throat, into my lungs. I cough her out as phlegm and spit her into the water. Her ashes seep into the river in an instant, caught in the current. A human being, gone. Just like that. Longing pervades me as I glance into the empty urn. I didn’t think it would happen so fast. Twenty-four years vanished in seconds. Swept into the wind to be breathed in as micro-pollution, sinking to the bottom of the riverbed, food for mollusks.
I clutch the urn to my chest and stare into the camera with an intense look of suffering, my cheeks raw from the cold.
“Grief is not easy to deal with alone. If you or a loved one is suffering from a loss like I am, please seek counseling for support. This video is sponsored by BetterTherapy.”