Page 56 of The Edge of Always

The little card at the side says, The Weight of Light, to reflect the fact that the river looks to be holding up the sky. ‘2005.’

‘Are you going to record, for the blog?’

Emmett had suggested this yesterday, but I hadn’t taken it seriously. I’d never normally record somewhere like this, with so little preparation.

‘Do you think I should?’ I ask.

‘Definitely. The Deathers demand it.’ Emmett laughs.

It would be a nice touch, to record next to Earl’s first painting. ‘Could you, maybe, record me?’ I ask Emmett.

‘My pleasure,’ he says, taking my phone and pointing it at me. I take a deep breath, I’ll only get one shot at this, since I’d rather die than ask him to film me over and over.

‘Okay, I’m ready. Go.’

Emmett holds up a thumb.

‘Hi Deathers, and welcome back to the Art of Dying, the blog where we connect you, the slightly morbid public, with works of art related to death and dying. That is, until today. As you all know, this week I’m in Paris at the new exhibition of Earl Josef Spencer, since Spencer, very mysteriously, painted yours truly into his last piece. I didn’t know about The Edge of Always, but I did know Spencer, or Earl, as I think about him. So here I am in MAM, standing in front of the first painting that Earl ever sold. The Weight of Light.

‘I was there while Earl painted this. I watched him use an old kitchen towel on the waves. He told me once that water was hard to paint, but I think we can all agree that he did a brilliant job of it. When I asked him why he painted this particular river, he said that it was just a really beautiful place. He was good at that. At seeing the beauty all around us. It’s something I’ve struggled with, over the years.’

I keep talking, whispering since we’re in the exhibition space still. Although I didn’t plan to film in here, it feels right. It feels so right to talk about Earl, too. I thought it would be hard, talking about things from The Time Before but that’s not the case. It’s easy. Emmett had said that this mini-break was for Earl, and I don’t think I realised what that meant, but perhaps he’s right: perhaps neither of us got the closure that we needed… after.

So it comes easy, talking about this painting, about why it’s so full of love and life, because that’s what Earl was. It doesn’t even feel strange talking about a painting like this on a channel devoted to death and dying. The Deathers know about me. Mae thinks that they’re all just there to watch my slow decline like a load of weird grief tourists. But there are others in my followers, too, and I like that it feels like I’m not alone in this. Honestly, it often feels like they’re the only people who get it.

I finish what has only been a couple of minutes by saying how proud I am that Earl’s work is getting the recognition it deserves, and Emmett turns to pan my camera down the length of the exhibition so that the Deathers can see the scope of it.

He comes back to me.

‘And that’s everything. Have a great day, Deathers.’

I’ve already decided that I won’t tell them about Earl and Sebastian, that’s private, but for an off-the-cuff video, it couldn’t have gone much better. I don’t even edit it.

Emmett is still pointing the camera at me.

‘It’s fine now, you can stop filming.’ I tell him.

He’s still staring at me.

‘That was brilliant, Luna.’

I laugh. ‘Hardly, it was a three-minute video blog.’

‘It was brilliant. Earl would love that you’re doing this.’

I can only hope that Emmett is right. I’m self-conscious now, though. Speaking into a void is so much easier than speaking to people.

‘I don’t know.’

Emmett is on his phone. ‘How do I sign up, to the blog?’

‘No, don’t.’ I’m louder than I plan to be. I even reach for Emmett’s phone before I quickly drop my hands. ‘I have a no friends or family policy,’ I tell him. ‘It’s private, that’s all.’

He frowns, and I silently urge him to drop it. To not push me on this.

‘Am I a friend again?’ he asks.

Of course, the answer is that I don’t know if I could ever be just friends with Emmett; we’re playing with fire even spending this time in Paris together.