Page 134 of Rivals
“You didn’t, it’s fine,” she says. Her tone is odd, and my heart spikes higher. She sounds like this after drugs have run through her system. It’s almost like a hangover because what was numb begins rushing back into your body. It takes anyone a minute to readjust.
“We need to talk about what our plan is for the last piece,” I say into her hair that smells like me.
“I know,” she mumbles into my chest. “Betty asked about you.”
I smile to myself. She is a spitfire of a woman. I appreciate the way she loves Revna. She pays attention to her. I know it ticks Revna off, but she doesn’t have a woman like that in her life. It’s a good thing, in my opinion. She’s probably the closest thing Revna will ever have to a mother figure. “Oh? What did you say?” I ask her.
“I said you were fine,” she says. I’m not fine. I’m the absolute opposite of fine. I am reeling because I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place, having to choose between the people I love. Some would say there is no choice. Pick your family. I respect that because, in some respects, it’s true. But Revna is my family. What’s the point of any of it if I don’t have her? I would be killing myself so my mom and sisters might like me. That doesn’t make sense.
“Oh,” I mumble. She untangles herself from me and strolls into the bathroom. I puff out a breath. That was my chance to talk to her, and it just passed by. I should have just said something, anything, to get it out.
I start the coffee and put a canvas on the easel. It’s small, a practice one to get the juices flowing.
I mix some black and red and don’t think, I just do. I swipe the paint back and forth over the canvas. I hear Revna in the kitchen, and then she appears with a mug of coffee next to me.
“What are you making?” she asks. I shrug and take a sip.
“I don’t know yet.” She nods absently. I watch her go over to the stacked canvases and flip through them. I swipe some more red at the top corner.
“Where is that first painting we did when we were high?” I glance at her and back to my easel. I guess we’ve never talked about this. I kind of forgot about it, but I didn’t want to remember, either.
“I threw it away,” I mumble into the rim of my cup.
She makes a face. “Why would you do that?!” she yells. I shoot her a look, and my heart thumps nervously. That painting was not burnt, yet we were both convinced it was. Which is why it was ruined and water-logged when we woke up. “Why are you making that face?” she asks.
“You are full of questions this morning.”
“You aren’t telling me something,” she snaps. My heart sinks because that statement is loaded with a whole lot of truths. “I know it was all water-logged, but I guess I thought you might save it because the whole thing was wild.”
“I don’t think it was ever on fire,” I say quickly. Her mug lowers from her mouth.
“What do you mean you didn’t think it was on fire? I saw it on fire. You did, too. But then…” she says with a tremble in her voice. I shake my head no because I don’t know. I just reacted. “Yes, it was. I screamed at you, ‘It was on fire,’ and then you sprayed it with water. We put it out before we burnt down the whole place!” Her voice is almost a full-on panic.
“You’re right. I thought it was on fire then, and I sprayed water on it. But I can promise you, there was not a single singed hole or piece of burnt canvas anywhere the next morning. You didn’t see?” I say as gently as I can. She’s on the edge of a panic attack. I can see it on her face.
“I did, but that’s not possible. I mean, it was on fire, and then sprayed with water, none of this…I just thought… But how did it catch on fire? Did I see it burn? Maybe you were still tripping. We both were pretty high when we made it.” She says with panic, tinging her voice as she questions her memory. I shrug, not wanting to argue about it or set her off.
“I don’t know if I was still high, and it all happened so fast, and I checked the hot plate; it wasn’t even on. It was ice cold.” Her lips purse, and she shakes her head back and forth rapidly.
“No, I don’t believe you. It had to be because that painting caught on fire, and the only explanation was the hot plate. But it was wet the next morning. I didn’t see the ash… I’m not….I’m not crazy, Lachlan. I know what I saw.”
“I saw it too, love. But after you left and I went to clean up, it was just soaked. There weren’t any ashes.” Her knuckles go white around the mug’s handle, and I step towards her. “Are you ok, Revna? Look at me,” I beckon her. She immediately looks down at her toes and stares at them. I grab her face, afraid of what I’ll see when I force her to look at me. “Look at me, love,” I say quietly. Is she doing something worse than OBA? Please, dear God, don’t let her get into the harder stuff.
We can’t afford rehab. Well, we can if I…I shake my head and refocus on Revna. I lift her chin. Her eyes are glassy, and her pupils are blown. My body feels like it’s vibrating. I bite my tongue and press my lips on her forehead, lingering before I let her go. She lets out a breath, and I go back to my canvas. I need more red.
“Lach?” Revna whispers. I glance at her from the canvas as I swish a line of a wrist. I guess I’m painting hands.
“Yes, love?” I focus on the canvas, putting all the hurt rolling through me into it. Otherwise, I will break my hand on the brick wall right now.
“What if…what if it’s something more. What if it’s something else?” She says and glances up as if to point at the sky.
“What are you talking about? The sky? God? The universe?” She shrugs.
“I don’t know, but isn’t it possible that…” she trails off like she’s afraid to say the words. She clears her throat and takes another drink of coffee. “I mean, I’ve heard…I hear the voice, Lachlan. Am I…I’m not…” Her eyes brim with tears, and she covers her mouth with her free hand.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I say, taking the mug from her. I set it on the floor and pull her into a hug while she cries into my shirt. I don’t want to say she’s wrong because I’m not sure of any of it. When I got up the next day, it was not burnt. “It’s going to be ok. I’ve got you. You’re not crazy.”
“But how do youknowthat?“ she cries.
