GRAY

two

Juliette

For the last twenty five years, I always thought I'm the luckiest woman alive.

I was born and raised in a lovely farm. Grew up in a happy home with happy parents. Went to the best schools. Made some wonderful friends. At seventeen, I was discovered by a modelling agency. That's how I became a successful model. Then I met a wonderful man last year, Harvey Hansen. He was a dream. A dashing dream of a man. He spoiled me. He loved me. He was crazy about me. I was lucky to be his girlfriend. Even luckier that he wanted me to be his wife...

Harvey was a prominent author. He wrote children's books that brought him fame and fortune. One of the things that drew me to him was how great he was with kids in his interviews. When he proposed, I couldn't wait to be his wife and give him babies. Babies that I knew he would love and cherish and protect. Babies that he would write books about or read bedtime stories. They would be the luckiest babies. And I would be the luckiest wife.

Well, that dream was crushed six days ago. And I'm not the luckiest woman alive anymore. Infact, I think I'm the unluckiest woman alive. Imagine watching your husband of one hour die right infront of you and there's nothing you can do about it. Imagine watching the man you just married take his last breath. Well, I don't have to imagine. That's my reality.

"Jules!" The door bursts open. "Please get out of bed! We'll be late!"

That's Megan. My assistant. She's also my best friend. She's wearing a black pantsuit and black heels. I wonder how many black suits she has because they all look the same to me. And she's always wearing them. Even on a Sunday morning when you should be wearing casual clothes. She's like a cartoon character that never changes clothes. And I like to make fun of her because of that but not today. There's nothing funny about today.

Meg walks towards me, a tray of breakfast in her hand.

"Okay." She sighs. "If you're not going to talk, atleast eat something."

She dumps the tray on my lap and sits on the bed. For the last six days, I've been surviving on water and milk. She's the one who's been forcing me to drink because I refused to eat. Everytime she's left food on my bed, she's found it dumped in the toilet. She's had a rough week, trying to keep me alive. I kinda resent her for not letting me die. She should just let me starve to death.

Meg stares at me for a long moment, her small brown eyes boring into mine.

"Six days." She says. "I've given you six days of silence. Six days of solitude. Six days of staying in bed and feeling sorry for yourself. I've managed to keep everyone away. Your family and friends. Your husband's family. Your agents and bosses. God, even your fùcking parents. They are so stubborn by the way. But you can't stay silent today. You can't lock yourself up today. It's your husband's funeral. He would've wanted you to be there."

"No!" I snap. "He wouldn't have wanted me to be there because he didn't want to die! He should be at his honeymoon not his fùcking funeral! He should be basking in a beach not lying in a fùcking casket!"

Meg is silent.

My throat is burning. I'm trying my best not to break down infront of her. I've not shed a single tear since my husband died. I'm scared that if I start, I won't be able to stop.

"I've probably never told you this." Meg says. "But my sister's husband died when she was young. Car accident. They were both in their twenties. She refused to go to her funeral because she couldn't bear it. My sister is now in her forties. She hates herself for not giving the love of her life a proper sendoff. It haunts her to this day. Don't let that be your story, Jules."

Silence stretches between us.

She's right. I would probably hate myself for the rest of my life if I don't give Harvey a proper send-off. He would have wanted that.

Slowly, I sip the milk and take a bite of the sandwich. A small smile draws on her lips.

"Do I have a dress?" I ask and she nods. "It better be fabulous."

**

I've never been to a funeral.

In my twenty five years of living, I've never been to a funeral. Never would I ever have thought that my husband's funeral would be the first that I ever attended. Never would I ever have thought that I would be made a widow on the same day that I was made a wife. Fùck me for thinking I was ever lucky. If this is what luck looks like, fùck luck.

I watch as my husband's casket is lowered to the ground. Harvey's mother breaks down in loud sobs when she sees that. A lump grows in my throat when people start tossing flowers on the casket. I toss my flower and storm out of the green yard. I can't take this anymore.

Megan runs after me and stops me.

That's when I feel the hundreds of stares on me. That's when I hear the harsh whispers and the clicking of cameras. Being famous doesn't allow you privacy even in private moments.

"Hey, are you okay?" She looks down at my hand. "Your hands are shaking."

"I just saw my husband's body being lowered to the ground!" I snap. "No! I'm not fùcking okay! And I don't give a fùcking fùck if my hands are shaking! And I know you're my assistant! And you should ask me stupid questions! But I'm not in the mood for your stupid questions! They are not helping the situation! Infact, they are making it worse! And they are making my hands shake more! Look!"

I show her my shaking hands as guilt draws on her face.

"Okay." She mutters. "How can I help?"

"Bring back Harvey." I laugh. "Can you do that? That will definitely help!"

I storm to the parking lot and climb into my car. I take off my black hat and roll down the window. The brush of breeze on my face makes me feel a little better.

A few minutes later, Megan jumps next to me in the backseat. I'm relieved when she chooses to stay silent. The driver starts the engine and I turn to look at Megan.

"Book a flight." I sigh. "I'm going on my honeymoon."

***