But what if it’s not just makeup? What if this is my future? A forehead creased by stress…eyelids drooping from grief…the corners of my mouth turned down in chronic disappointment…
This is my life without Sunny.
Beads of sweat form under the layers of silicone glued to my skin. My face starts to tingle.
I need to get this shit off me—now.
I call my makeup artists, Cheryl and Delia, and they arrive what feels like seconds later. Maybe I’m losing track of time.
Maybe I’m losing my mind.
“Dex, are you okay?” Delia asks, staring at my hands.
I look down: my knuckles are white from gripping the armrests of the chair I’m sitting in while they strip my face clean.
FUCK!
I clear my throat. “I’m good. It’s just been a long day.”
Delia looks skeptical—I think. Like she doesn’t believe me. Or does she?
Maybe I’m imagining things.
Maybe I’m unraveling.
I keep waiting for Dex Oliver to kick in and crack a joke or two. But he’s abandoned me when I need him the most.
Oh god no, my hands are trembling.
“How much longer before you’re done?” I ask, clasping them together in my lap. “I haven’t eaten in a while. I think my blood sugar’s low.”
“Oh, you poor thing!” Cheryl exclaims. “No wonder you’re shaking like a leaf. Delia, go get him something from the fridge.”
Holy shit, I can’t see.
Just breathe, just breathe, just breathe, just breathe?—
Just keep it together until they leave.
“Here you go, hon,” Delia says, handing me a green juice.
I force it to my lips.
“Should be done in about five minutes,” Cheryl says.
Thank you, lord.
My heart slows just enough to get me through until they’re finished.
As soon as they’re gone, I crawl in bed and hide under the blankets.
My ears are ringing?—
I’m losing my hearing!
My vision is blurry?—
I’m losing my sight!