The Dying Story (Chasing Illusions #3) | A Novel

Chapter 3

Work and work and work.

Work was my comfort. It was what I know best out of everything in the world. As I read through whatever I had to for publication, I eased myself into a rhythm.

I always go through an article three times—first time would be a cursory gaze. The second time would be a more detailed look. The third time would be extra-detailed look. I took this very seriously, sometimes spending too much time on it. At the same time, if I didn't spend enough time, I felt the same gnawing feeling that maybe I wasn't doing right. Did I miss a grammar mistake? Did I miss a detail that would cause issues? Did I miss...

The list goes on. Charlotte would have smacked me and say not to think too much about being perfect.

She's dead.

I cursed at my peace of mind being disturbed. Placing the paper down, I leaned my head against the head rest, with my thoughts being in a swarm, once more.

She killed herself and you didn't notice it at all. How could you? And that phone call. How could you have not picked it up? Wasn't she your friend?

She was. I breathed in again, feeling the deep grief bubbling up. It's distracting me again.

Why, I asked myself, why did she decide to call me out of all people?

Why not her mother? Why not her father?

Why me?

A knock came on my door, and I stood up to open it. In front of me was my boss, Helena.

"Hey," she said in a soft voice. "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, but not quite achieving it. My face was too sad, too lopsided.

"I guess I'm fine. It wasn't as bad." It was definitely way worse than I thought.

It wasn't my first funeral, but it was sure the first one where I truly cared for the deceased one. My first one was of my father, and frankly he was nothing to talk about—a man who left his family and decided to go who knows where. If it wasn't for my older brother, I wouldn't have bothered.

Helena nodded sympathetically, and she patted my shoulders. "Don't be too harsh on yourself, Emily. Take it easy."

I nodded, not taking her words seriously and simply to satisfy her. It's the same thing people have been saying to me all year—take it easy, take it easy, take it easy. When I worked over night and came out exhausted, "take it easy". When I stressed about the upcoming deadline and the quality of my work, "take it easy". When I am not satisfied with my work and demand how I can improve it, "take it easy."

I can't understand the phrase "take it easy". Take what easy? Life? Because life is never easy.

"Don't worry about it, Helena. I'll manage it."

Helena smiled, and I thought about how most people asked these sort of questions for no real good reasons. It's a way to assure themselves that the other party is fine, and they are not liable for anything that happens to that other party because the other party clearly states they are fine. That's the sort of thing people do to alleviate responsibility.

"Well, then I shall not continue to disturb you. I'm glad you are dealing well with whatever is happening."

The irony was definitely not lost on me when she left me with those words and walked off. A memory floated in my mind again, some distant one regarding one of those moments with Charlotte.

"You always seem like the type that deals with things so well. Always in control, always cool, always strong. I wish I could be like you."

Charlotte, just like everybody else, saw some strength in me that I wasn't sure if I believed in it. Now that I thought of it, she wanted that facade of strength I put up, because she was falling apart from the inside. Was she having troubles even then, back when we were in college? I didn't know, and I probably would never know.

But if she did, then I must be one of the worst friends out there not to see her falling apart all along.