Page 137 of Rivals
Revna looks at me and keeps walking. My chest feels like it’s splitting open like it’s being pulled into different directions. A bag is being pulled over my head, and my oxygen is slowly depleting. It won’t go away until I choose. I force my steps forward with Revna. I need to paint. I need to do something to work it out. To make the gasping of my heart pass.
When we got home, I returned to the painting I had started this morning. I breathe through the pain and use all the shades of red I own. If one isn’t mixed, I make it.
I faintly recognize that Revna is in the loft with me, but I don’t pay attention, pushing all of this out. I work and work and work. I don’t stop. Water appears on the small table next to the easel, and I drink it down.
Later, at some point, I noticed a sandwich on a plate. I eat and paint. I stopped once to pee, and then I went back to it. I lose my grip on the solid around me and let myself go. I need to give in to the beast right now. That much, I know.
The sun is down, and a small lamp lights the canvas in front of me. The shades of red scream of the chaos within me. I drop down on the floor and stare at my red-painted hands. It feels like an omen. Like I will do something, and more blood will cover my hands. I finally look up. Night has descended, and it’s quiet in the loft. I pull myself to stand and find Revna asleep in bed.
I force myself into the shower and stay in there too long. Letting the water wash away the red, I stare at it as it goes down the drain while exhaustion settles into my bones. The animal in my blood has calmed, but nothing has been solved. Answers have not been found.
Chapter 80
Revna
Thebeddipsunderhis weight. I know he thinks I’m asleep. I can feel his eyes burning into my back. The silent tears collect below my cheek on my wet pillow. I don’t understand what’s happening, and it’s hard for me just toacceptit. If I can’t take that my mom is dead, what makes anyone think I can acceptthis? I still think it’s more likely that I’ve crossed that fine line, and I’m sinking into the insanity within my mind. Regardless of whether I am or not, it still doesn’t put us a step in the right direction. Am I running out of time to be able to do that?
We still don’t have a project idea, and Lachlan has slipped away from me. The canvas was his lover for the rest of the day. I could feel his panic, his anger, his loss of control as if he were painting it on me. I want him to hold me. I want him to tell me everything will be ok. But I don’t know that he could say it himself. So, I stay where I’m at and sink into oblivion as the pills kick in. The numbness swirls around, and the tears finally stop. I let myself fall as the blanket of darkness covers me. I don’t fight it, and I let it smother me. Maybe this is easier.
I promise I won’t let you drown.
***
My alarm went off this morning, and I’m still in bed. It’s been a week since we’ve seen Chris, and we are no closer to a completed project. I haven’t seen Lachlan smile at me once. Despite the pills, there is still this knife in my chest, slowly sliding in behind my breast, straight for my heart. It’s piercing the tender skin and sits there, letting me feel every throb of pain. Then, when I get used to it, it slips in a little more, creating a new sensation of agony.
Lachlan doesn’t just get out of bed with me like he used to. I leave him lying there, staring at the wall or still asleep, maybe even faking asleep. I get home before he does, and then we do it all over again.
Something has to give.
I stare at the building outside the window, knowing I have to get up. “Don’t you have to get to work?” Lachlan rumbles behind me. I lift myself out of bed and glare at him before slamming the bathroom door.
After I put on my stupid uniform and my hair pulled back into a high pony, I find Lachlan still in bed, only his back is to me. Either he went back to sleep, or he’s making a point to ignore me. I stand there for a minute. My sternum throbs, and I know he’s in pain, too.
There’s nothing we can do about any of it except accept what it is. I stare at his broad back for a moment longer, get my shoes and jacket on, then leave.
The cool morning air is brisk as I hoof it to the diner. I want to cry, but I can’t. I open the door to the diner, and Betty shoots me a look. I silently go to the back, and muscle memory does the rest. The next thing I know, I’m leaning against the counter, sipping my cup of coffee.
“Good morning,” Betty says. I grunt, and she gives me a dirty look. “I know you didn’t just grunt at me,” she says.
“Fine, sorry. Good morning,” I grumble.
“That’s more like it. Are you ok?” I shrug and take another gulp. A man walks in and sits at the counter. He still has his navy blue cargo pants and a tucked NYFD t-shirt. I freeze. I stare at the man, maybe a little older than me. He’s probably in his early thirties, with close-cropped hair and blue eyes. He looks back at me and then drops his gaze to his paper placemat menu.
“Hi, honey. How are you?” Betty says to the firefighter. I glance at her, and she gives me a confused look. I shake my head and go to the back. Panic sits in the back of my throat, and I want to scream. I can’t escape her. She’salwaysthere. No matter what I do or how I try to move on, my mother is haunting me. Can someone haunt you when you’ve never met them?
I focus on taking deep, long breaths, trying not to pass out. My vision tunnels, and I grasp at the light that slowly fades from sight. Warm, thin arms wrap around me with surprising strength. I smell her Chanel perfume before I see her. “Hey, honey, it’s ok. Breathe. Just breathe in and out,” she coos, rubbing her hand up and down my back. “Just focus on breathing. You’re ok, sweetheart. You’re ok,” she says.
We stay like that until my breathing is more even. She doesn’t release me once, even when it’s back to normal. Her hand doesn’t stop going up and down my back, and I lean into the comfort. I miss Lachlan. I miss his hugs that made me feel safe and protected from the world. “Do you want to talk about it?” she says quietly. I shake my head in her arms. “Ok, well, give yourself a minute, and let’s focus on work. Everything else can wait, alright?” I nod. “And just so you know, I’m not saying that because I want you to get back to work. I think focusing on one thing will help right now.” I take another deep breath, and she releases me. “Ok?” she says, looking me in the eye.
I nod, and she squeezes my shoulder before leaving the back room. Our cook, Curtis, gives me a sad look. I force a small smile and then focus on my feet. It’s fine, I’m ok.
The drugs are not the answer, Revna. It’s time to let yourself mourn her.
I want to scream at the voice. How would it know? Why do I have to mourn someone I’ve never met yet has been the center of the fruition of pain in my life? It just doesn’t seem fair.
I rub my chest and force myself back out through the doors, pouring coffee for the regulars Betty pointed me to. I focus on one foot in front of the other and my job. I can’t bring myself to smile, but I manage to do my job.
I decided to pull a double to keep myself busy. That way, once I’m done, instead of going all the way back to Lach’s, I’ll just go straight to NA. I have no business being there, seeing as I am very much not sober, but at least the people there understand what it’s like.
