“Next up,” I hear her say. “I have something from my personal collection.”
She reaches for a small, velvet box and cradles it carefully in her hands.
“My mother’s,” she murmurs to the camera with a softness in her voice that makes my heart clench. “I guess I’m sharing this with you guys because... well, it’s the holiday season. And she always loved the holidays. She wasn’t one to dress up or get extra fancy, but the holidays were the one time when she would. Jewelry was always part of it.”
She opens the box slowly, careful not to disrupt the contents within. I strain my eyes to see from my vantage point.
Inside is a ring, a gemstone brilliantly catching and refracting the light from her lamp. A blue sapphire, cut in the shape of an oval surrounded by little diamonds, glints back at me.
“It’s not the most valuable piece in the world,” Chloe says softly, almost reverently. She lifts it out of its velvet confines to show it off to her followers. “But it was hers. And now it’s mine.”
A pang of guilt hits me like a punch to the gut as I realize the depth of my intrusion. Despite the physical distance, despite the hidden nature of my presence, I’m invading one of her most intimate moments—sharing something personal about her family.
Yes, she’s telling all her viewers, but she isn’t telling me.
Yet, I can’t tear away from this scene as she gingerly puts on her mother’s ring on her finger. Even from my distance, I can see her eyes well up with tears even as she tries to keep her composure.
“But that’s enough about me.” She suddenly blinks away the wetness in her eyes and forces a smile for her audience. “Let’s move onto something brighter.”
She reaches for another item from her table, but I find myself unable to concentrate on what she’s saying next.
My thoughts are mired in guilt, confusion, a longing I’ve been trying to suppress. In the anonymity of the shadows, I fight a silent battle with myself as Chloe continues her show. She isn’t aware of my presence, but here I am privy to every word she speaks, every emotion she displays. But it’s not about me being a silent spectator; it’s also about how these stolen moments are affecting me. How they’re making me feel things I’d never considered before.
“All right, here we go. This one is a bit more fun and traditional for the holidays.” She holds up a pair of reindeer-shaped silver earrings, their antlers adorned with tiny multicolored gems.
Suddenly, my phone vibrates in my pocket, providing an unwelcome distraction. A text from my chief—a structure fire alert. All hands needed. Duty calls. It’s my night off, but it’s not uncommon for me to get the call ins, or my buddies asking if I can cover a shift for them. I’m single, have no kids or family needs, have no real life to speak of, and frankly, I love my job. Other than watching Chloe, I have little else on my plate. Pathetic yes, but the facts.
Good ol’ Jack can bail you out.
Being a workaholic does pay off, however. I get a sweet deal to park my truck at the station a few blocks away from my apartment, which saves me a fortune.
I take one last look at Chloe, etching this moment into the corners of my memory. She’s laughing now, her sorrow from a few moments ago replaced with unbridled joy as she talks about the next piece of jewelry.
As I get into my truck and drive off, I glance back at Chloe’s house. The single strand of Christmas lights is about to turn on, like they are every night when I leave. And like always, I promise myself that this will be the last time I come around to watch her from afar.
But deep down inside, I know that’s a lie.
Chloe Hallman is my drug.