I open my eyes to complete darkness. My head pounds as I struggle to remember who or where I am. As my eyes adjust to the dimness, I am able to make out the shadows of my living room and reality catches up to me. Skyla, the fight, the accident, the phone call, the funeral, the overwhelming pain worse than any pain imaginable. I check the time and groan. It’s 3 a.m. Knowing that I won’t be able to go back to sleep, I get up and move to open the curtains of my 4th-floor apartment, letting the artificial city light in.
Realizing that I’m still wearing my suit from the service, I force myself to go change, staggering to my room and stripping off my shirt. The front is stained a dark amber, no doubt from whatever drink gave me this headache. I grab a pair of worn sweatpants from my dresser and pull them on, searching for a sweatshirt. I open my closet and pull out the first one I can find, haphazardly throwing the hanger on the floor. I put it on and am immediately hit with the familiar scents of rose, eucalyptus, and Billie Eilish perfume. Looking down, I realize that I unintentionally put on Skyla’s favorite sweatshirt. The one I got her when we went to the Eras tour for her birthday last month. I contemplate taking it off but decide not to. I want to keep her as close as possible, just like I promised.
I leave my room and stumble, clumsily to the kitchen. Grabbing a beer out of the fridge, I open the cabinet, and after a minute of searching, find the glass I’m looking for. It’s the same as all the others aside from the faint, pink lip gloss stain on the edge. I pour the beer into the glass and take a sip, making sure to use the side opposite the stain. I make my way back into the living room. All the lights are turned off, making it dark aside from the harsh lights of New York City. Traffic bustles down on the streets and I start to wonder if people knew, would they even care about the beautiful, kind, intelligent girl this world, is now missing way too early. A sob escapes me, and then another. After a few seconds, I sink to my knees, sobs wracking my body. I know if Skye were here right now she would run to me, wrapping her delicate arms around me and telling me not to cry. Telling me that she’s not worth the tears. But she is. That’s the thing. She’s worth everything and I never even got the chance to tell her.
I place the glass down next to me and it tips over, the fizzy liquid spilling all over the white rug. I don’t even care. Instead, I continue to sob, staring out the window at the city that she loved so much. The city where we planned to grow old together. The city we used to call ours. Eventually, my sobs die down a bit and I whisper, “Hey, Siri?”
My phone glows a bright white from next to the couch, illuminating the room with a picture of Skye. “Call Tiny,”
The phone rings once, twice, three times before going to voicemail, filling the room with her carefree voice.
“Hey, it’s Skye. Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, I’m probably at volleyball practice or doing something super awesome, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!”
The phone beeps and she is gone again. I look over at my phone, which is still recording the voicemail, and find myself staring into her chocolate-brown eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say, quietly. “I’m so sorry Skye. I never wanted to lose you. You mean the world to me. You always have. You always will.” I start to sob again, harder than the first time. “I love you Tiny,” I whisper, reaching over and hanging up the phone.
I stand up, shakily, and move to the record player. It is too dark to see what record is on but I play it anyway, turning up the volume. After a few seconds of static, the peaceful melody of her favorite song begins and I close my eyes.
“No words appear before me in the aftermath,” the lyric echoes softly. I stand up and start to sway around the room, my arms wrapped around the invisible body of the love of my life. I continue to dance, the New York skyscraper lights dancing around the room with me like a broken mirrorball. “Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, you were bigger than the whole sky.”
Tears continue to stream down my face as the song ends, and I am engulfed in silence once again. Another song starts, this time from a different artist. This must be that record she had made of her favorite songs. This one I’ve never heard before, but I immediately fall in love with the beautiful piano. I start to dance again, as a female voice sings in the background.
“Yellin’ at the sky, screaming at the world. Baby, why’d you go away? I’m still your girl.” The song continues and I open my eyes, pausing when I notice a soft silhouette standing by the window. I take a step closer and fall to my knees. I must be losing my mind. I look up again and she’s still there.
Her light blonde curls are pulled back, and she’s wearing my navy NYU sweatshirt that she “borrowed” and never returned.
“Skye?” I whisper. She doesn’t respond. Instead, she makes her way over to me, taking my hands and pulling me up. She wraps her arms around my waist and lays her head on my chest, swaying as the melancholic lyrics continue in the background.
“I put the record on, wait ’til I hear our song. Every night I’m dancing with your ghost.”