BooksBarbecue
Back Afterlove Save as PDF
Chapters (86)
  1. Title Page
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Love
  4. Before
  5. One
  6. ONE
  7. Two
  8. TWO
  9. Three
  10. THREE
  11. Four
  12. FOUR
  13. Five
  14. FIVE
  15. Six
  16. SIX
  17. Seven
  18. SEVEN
  19. Eight
  20. EIGHT
  21. Nine
  22. NINE
  23. Ten
  24. TEN
  25. Eleven
  26. ELEVEN
  27. After
  28. One
  29. ONE
  30. Two
  31. TWO
  32. Three
  33. THREE
  34. Four
  35. FOUR
  36. Five
  37. FIVE
  38. Six
  39. SIX
  40. Seven
  41. SEVEN
  42. Eight
  43. EIGHT
  44. Nine
  45. NINE
  46. Ten
  47. TEN
  48. Eleven
  49. ELEVEN
  50. Twelve
  51. TWELVE
  52. Thirteen
  53. THIRTEEN
  54. Fourteen
  55. FOURTEEN
  56. Fifteen
  57. FIFTEEN
  58. Sixteen
  59. SIXTEEN
  60. Seventeen
  61. SEVENTEEN
  62. Eighteen
  63. EIGHTEEN
  64. Nineteen
  65. NINETEEN
  66. Twenty
  67. TWENTY
  68. Twenty-One
  69. TWENTY-ONE
  70. Twenty-Two
  71. TWENTY-TWO
  72. Twenty-Three
  73. TWENTY-THREE
  74. Twenty-Four
  75. TWENTY-FOUR
  76. Twenty-Five
  77. TWENTY-FIVE
  78. Twenty-Six
  79. TWENTY-SIX
  80. Twenty-Seven
  81. TWENTY-SEVEN
  82. Twenty-Eight
  83. TWENTY-EIGHT
  84. Eleven Months Later
  85. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  86. Copyright

It looks like me, kind of. I’m the same weight and height with the same dark eyes and the same smooth black hair tied back into the high ponytail I favour every day, the only evidence that remains of my Ariana Grande phase. My skin is the same colour, that same rich brown I used to scrub at in the shower until I was red raw because my Aunty Lalita would constantly tell me what a shame it is that I’ve inherited my father’s skin tone and I’m not as light as Rosh, as though she’d won the genetic lottery. My mother would tell me not to listen to her, that she loved the colour of my father’s skin and she loved mine, too.

It was years before I believed her, but now I do and when the sun hits it and my skin is as bright as a brand new two-pence piece, it doesn’t feel like losing at all. But when I look in the mirror, it’s kind of like looking at myself in a CCTV monitor. It’s me, but it’s not me, everything unique – my nose ring, the mole on the bridge of my nose, my fierce red lipstick and black eyeliner – smudged away.

I see Esen’s reflection and swallow back another gasp as I look between the mirror and her. She doesn’t look the same, either. Again, she’s the same weight and height with the same dark eyes, but in the mirror her warm brown skin is dull and her tight, glossy curls are greasy and limp.

Esen nods at our reflections in the mirror. ‘That’s how we can walk around without being noticed.’

We.

I don’t like that.

When I don’t respond, I hope she takes the hint, but doesn’t. ‘The thing is, we can’t look like we used to because everyone can see grim reapers, because everyone is going to die eventually. But they don’t see us – like, really see us, what we used to look like before we died – until it’s their time.’

I lean forward and lift my chin to find that there’s nothing there. The scar I acquired when I fell off the slide in the playground when I was six is gone, but when I graze the spot with my knuckle, I can feel it.

It’s still there.

‘Which is why you shouldn’t be here,’ Esen says when I turn back to her, my arms crossed.

‘Why?’ I ask, avoiding her gaze.

‘Because you don’t want anyone from your family to see you.’

‘But they can’t. I thought we were invisible, or something?’