Page 51 of Dark Ink

“We’re not even in a relationship.”

The beer was at my lips again. It was tumbling down my tight throat faster than it should have been. Why was the can suddenly empty? Were they supposed to be empty so fast?

“Oh, um, okay,” Aurnia muttered awkwardly. “It’s just that…I mean, I thought.”

“Is there more of this?” I asked, holding up the beer can.

Aurnia looked surprised. “Yeah, sure.”

“Wait,” I said, my hand on hers this time. “Is there more of that other stuff?”

“Tequila?”

I nodded. “Yeah, tequila.”

Aurnia and I did another round of shots. Then another. It was easier then. To talk about art. To talk about school. I’d never done that. I knew almost none of my classmates. I’d hardly ever been invited to anything. And on those rare occasions I’d never really considered going. It was always school. Grades. Work to pay rent, bills, debt left over from the places Stewart had trashed. Stewart. Each was more than enough on its own.

She introduced me to her boyfriend, Conor, one of Rian’s best friends. I barely repressed the look of surprise on my face as I glanced between the two of them. He must be at least a decade older, probably more. Not that there was much less of an age gap between Rian and me.

Then she dragged me over to meet Rachel, the bride, married to another one of Rian’s best friends, Mason.

Aurnia and I exchanged numbers somewhere during the night. Sometime before the numbers blurred too much to see. Sometime after I’d danced on the kitchen table with Rachel. After Mason winked at me before picking his wife up off the table and throwing her over his shoulder. She screamed with glee as he carried her off, probably to finish off what I’d interrupted by barging between them at the front door.

I vaguely remembered Aurnia whispering, “Call me if you need anything. Please, Eithne. If you need anything.”

I vaguely remembered her eyeing Rian.

I vaguely remembered Conor and Rian arguing, Aurnia jamming her finger against Rian’s chest, Aurnia glancing back once more at me, all as my eyelids got heavy as I lay on the couch.

The memory of Rian coming to me, however, was all crystal clear. The heat of his arm beneath my knees. The wrapping of his fingers around my shoulder. The ease with which he pulled me up into his arms. I remembered perfectly how nice it felt to rest my cheek against his chest as he climbed the stairs. The peaceful feeling as the music grew softer, his breathing louder. The way my fingers curled in his shirt as we made our way through total darkness.

Rian lowered me onto a mattress which was so cool it made me shiver. I wrapped his arm around me as he came beside me.

“I don’t get it,” I said drunkenly, slurring probably, maybe already even getting ridiculously emotional.

“Get what?” Rian whispered into the crook of my ear.

I was silent for a moment. Rian probably thought I’d passed out, fallen asleep. He was probably just about to slip his hand from mine. Leave.

“Who were all those people?” I asked finally, sleep indeed pulling at me.

It hurt to ask that. The alcohol surely didn’t make it any better. I’d kind of thought that Rian was like me. Alone. Distant from other people like an island is distant from the main shore. Not because it necessarily wants to be. But because it is. Because it has to be. Because that’s the way things are.

There I was, closer to him than I’d ever been despite the clothes, his and mine, between us. And yet I’d never felt so far away. Never felt so lonely.

“They’re my family,” Rian replied.

It was the answer I feared most. It meant there was something wrong with me. If someone as eccentric and independent and difficult as Rian could have a family, then there had to be something wrong with me. My father was right. I was perverted. Wrong. Fucked up.

I started to cry. I cried because I was too drunk. I cried because I’d never had the chance before to get too drunk. I cried because I wanted Rian but I was so tired. But mostly because…

“I’m alone,” I admitted on a broken sob.

I was alone. And I always would be.

“Shh, now,” Rian whispered softly as he pulled me tighter. “You’re not alone. You have me.”

My tears fell onto his hand as I tugged it up beneath my chin like a child with her blanket.

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