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Dinner with Jasmine and Atlas went by with laughs and stories. She joked with her niece and complimented Atlas’s new dish he planned on trying out at Atlantis. And all the while Emma was smiling, laughing, and conversing with her friends, she was simply going through the motions. An invisible wall kept her from truly connecting—lost in a haze of grey, while they stood in the light. It shone so brightly from them it was blinding. She had nothing but numbness.
Emma was the outsider, like she’d always been. No one would truly understand her struggles. How could they when she didn’t understand why she was the way she was herself? Why wasn’t she happy when she had everything she thought she wanted? What most people fought their whole lives to get? And here she was taking it for granted. Not only that, but she’d let down her father to get it.
Maybe it was time she accepted that she would be stuck here, forever in the grey. Light wasn’t meant for her. But the darkness—sweet, tempting, black, churning, eclipsing darkness—as much as it scared her, it also tempted her. Because the shadows were accepting and familiar. The cavern seemed impossible to resist, like it was fated. Was there any use fighting it anymore? Or should she just give in to the inevitable?
8
Emma
Emma stared at the pregnancy test in her trembling hand. Three days late. Maybe it was stress? Or that pill had fucked up her cycle?
The blue dye helped her answer one question. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least Link wouldn’t have something to resent her for. She tossed the test in the garbage and opened the door.
Jasmine and Remy, two of her best friends, sat on her bed, dressed in black. A stark reminder that today was the day of her father’s celebration of life—what he’d wanted in place of a funeral.
Jasmine stood, holding out a garment bag. “This was delivered to you from your manager.”
Emma reached her hand out, the plastic crinkling in her numb fingers. Her body moved without her permission, going through the motions like a zombie. Numb. Hollow. Separate.
“Shoes came too.” Remy slid a box from behind her on the bed.
Emma lifted the material out of the bag. Inside was a gorgeous sheer red-lace dress with cap sleeves. It cinched at the waist, and the bottom was trimmed in more lace that would come a few inches above her knee.
“It’s gorgeous. But isn’t it supposed to be black?” Jasmine asked.
“The shoes are.” Remy opened the box, showing off the red-soled black stilettos.
Emma shook her head. “In the Ghanaian culture, people wear red and black to funerals.”
“Well, you’re going to look amazing.” Jasmine smiled.
Why do people dress up at all to say goodbye to someone who can’t even see them? Why bother?
She couldn’t find the energy in her to fake it today.
“Come on. Let’s help you get ready.” Remy stood, taking the clothing from her. Emma stripped down to her underwear. Remy handed her the dress, and she stepped into it, slipping her arms in. She turned so Remy could zip it up as Jasmine set the shoes on the ground for Emma.
“Let’s add some curls.” Remy motioned to the side table where she had a straightener set up.
Emma sat, zoning out while her friends did her hair and makeup. How many times had they done this for each other? Prom, dances, Remy’s wedding, Emma’s first big concert. Her friends had always been there for her—as much as she’d let them. But they had their own families now. Their own lives to lead that didn’t include Emma. How could they? She was on the road seven months out of the year.
Gratitude welled in her chest. No matter what, her girls were always there for her. True friends who didn’t let her rising fame get between them.
Jasmine swished some mascara on her lashes and winked. “Don’t worry, it’s waterproof.”
“You guys are the best, you know that?”
“We know.” Remy laughed. She set the straightener down and unplugged it before setting the curls with hair spray. “Now, go look at yourself,” Remy ordered.
Emma stood, adjusting to the too-high heels. She was used to Converse and Doc Martens—not stilettos. She’d have to remind Callie to tone it down next time.
The reflection in the mirror stole her breath. It was her, but she was stunning. Golden pink-and-blue-tipped hair flowed over her shoulders in waves. Smoldering makeup made her blue eyes stand out that much more. Her face was clean with highlights on her cheeks, her lips glossy. Emma ran her hands over the dress. It fit her like a glove.
“You guys made me so pretty.”
They came either side of her and hugged her between them. “You are gorgeous even without all this. But sometimes a girl needs a little armor for days like today.” Jasmine squeezed her tighter, her angular eyes meeting Emma’s in the mirror.
Emma dipped her head, fighting off the urge to cry.
