A Close Second

Seventy Ninth

Courtney Beatrice Singson

I used to like watching myself move.

Not in a narcissistic way of course—but it was charming, seeing myself in the screen. I could see now what they were saying: I knew where the light hit my face, to tilt my shoulders and angle myself in the most flattering ways.

I scrolled through my laptop videos, which was a compilation of my favorite clips and photos. Campaign stills. Screenshots of me dancing at AIM with Greg. a laugh caught mid-breath. Me, smiling at something I don't remember anymore.

I looked so carefree, so relaxed, so blisfully unaware.

'She looks untouched', Courtney says, somewhere behind my eyes.

I don't answer her. I never do at first.

I pressed next and I see our graduation photo. Five of us in a row, Greg and Jake on one side, myself in the middle, Keith Andrew looking at me, and then Nico doing bunny ears for Andrew.

'Would you look at that...they looked so happy.' Courtney muses again. 'That's until you ruined it. Now everyone's changed.'

I try my best to block her out, closing my laptop and going out of my workstation before plopping myself in my mattress. She doesn't let up though, appearing on the foot of my bed and putting up her feet like getting ready for me to dish out the next gossip in a sleepover.

With her, it's a continuous sleepover. My doppelgänger is a guest who overstays her welcome and doesn't even get a clue that the host is already irritated.

'Hey, I'm only here because you can't seem to be left alone.'

"I wish you did though."

'Oh, no can do. It's till death do us part.'

"I wish you died though."

Her laugh rings through my ears. 'That's like wishing you're dead too.'

I go back to ignoring her, looking up the ceiling and letting the ceiling fan blades hypnotize me for a bit. I gave it a few minutes before reaching for the pink iPhone nestled on my pillows, pressing into the familiar pink and yellow app that said +999 notifications.

A white pop-up bubble says I had 321 private DMs, 651 new followers and a lot more comments. I scrolled through the DMs, not really reading through, just letting the movement pass through my eyes. I didn't read a single name, just scrolled swipe left

Thea had told me I could set it so the app will not receive any message whether requests or comments from anyone, but I was not ready for that kind of hold off yet.

My thumbs moved faster than my thoughts. I just chose randomly, hard pressed and then delete. Press and delete. Press and delete. The app stopped confirming with me and just let me do it again and again.

When I got my account back from them, it was near 700+ DMs. I had gotten good with deleting messages. I didn't even mind, just watched the scroll bar go longer bit by bit.

I wondered briefly if I had deleted someone I actually know.

Jacob did say it's better that way. Anyone who's important can reach me through him, Thea and Keith, while the agency will handle all official businesses. I didn't have to mind the messages, they say.

'Easier said than done.' Courtney says, now lying next to me, looking at the screen I was holding away from me. 'Ohh, that's one of the dancers from ASAP'

Long press. Delete.

I didn't need to know what was in it, and once the issue has gone cold, I can probably message the person back anyway.