Page 92 of Dark Ink

Months later…

I watched the blossoms on the trees get tugged loose by the late spring breeze as name after name was called over the crackling microphone. Delicate little petals swept across the graduation stage decorated with green, orange and white balloons. Cheers rose and fell like the tides crashing over me, but I was less aware of the noise than swept away by its rhythm.

I was having a hard time deciding whether I was at the end or the beginning. I was finished with school, at last earning my degree. An ending, then. Or was it rather the start of my undecided career?

I clapped along with the rest of my class even though I hadn’t heard whose name was called to walk up and receive their diploma from the dean. Did she see this all as a beginning or an end, the girl waving to her family and friends gathered in the chairs spread out across the dewy green grass? Was she sad today? Or happy?

Another name was called and I pre-emptively winced in anticipation for mine. There would not be anything more than a polite spattering: strangers clapping because it was simply expected of them. Aurnia had insisted on coming, but I told her not to bother. When she laughed and said I was being ridiculous, of course she was coming, I said, “No, really.” When she shook her head and promised there was nothing that could keep her from being there to celebrate my achievement, I snapped.

“Aurnia!” I’d shouted. “Take a hint: I don’t want you there!”

I’d apologised later over text. Gave some lame excuse about being stressed about a few of my last finals. Dismissed it all by saying I wasn’t even sure I’d go myself; there was always the option to just pick my certificate up from the dean’s office a few days after the ceremony.

The truth was something that even I wasn’t sure I understood. I felt lost. I’d kept myself so isolated over my last semester, focusing solely on my art, that I wasn’t even sure how to act around people anymore. I’d given all of myself, all of what I was sure was my true self, and it had all amounted to nothing. So how could graduation be an ending if I hadn’t learned anything? How could it be a start if I wasn’t ready? Ready for whatever was out there for me. Ready for whoever I was still clearly becoming.

The dreaded moment came at last. With the start of my name I was already regretting even showing up. As my last name called over the speakers. For a split second, I considered just sinking down into my chair and pretending I wasn’t there. It wasn’t like many of my classmates could point me out anyway; if they knew me at all, they knew me simply as the girl who’d fucked Professor Merrick.

But from the crowd came the loudest roar so far. I whipped around in confusion. I stood from my chair, in the end, merely to see who could possibly be back there, making absolute fools of themselves over me.

A sudden swift breeze drew a strand of hair across my eyes. I tugged it away. There, up on Conor’s shoulders, was Aurnia. She held one end of a banner and Rachel, up on her chair, the other. The letters, “We love you, Eithne”, were upside down, but that just made it all the more perfect. Mason was whistling, the crew from The Jar—Noah, Aubrey and Candace—stomping on the grass like they were at a football match. And there, at the very end of the row, waiting for my eyes to fall upon his, was Rian.

His gaze ensnared mine and I heard my name repeated as if I were underwater. It was a small mercy, a small mercy when Rian turned, smiling gently, to take a noisemaker from Rachel, breaking our gaze and releasing me from his hold. I hurried along the row with bright cheeks, glancing back occasionally to see if he was still there, to see if it was all still real.

I basically snatched my diploma out of the dean’s hand. I’m not even sure whether I gave him my hand to shake. My heart was racing and all I could think about was him.

Time stood still or raced, I wasn’t entirely sure. All I knew was that I blinked and the rest of the ceremony was over: graduation caps streaked across the sky instead of petals now. I gripped mine to my chest like a blanket.

The crowds thinned and then they found me where I’d been the whole time, there at my chair. I wondered if Aurnia could feel how I trembled as she embraced me. One after the other I thanked them all for coming, told them, honestly and earnestly, how much it meant to me. I’d found a family I’d not been looking for. Dublin Ink was my home, no matter what. No matter what was about to happen next.

Then I found myself face-to-face with Rian.

The excuses were flimsy for all the others leaving: need to feed the parking meter, find a bathroom, see a rather interesting flower just over there. Rian scratched at the back of his neck as we watched them all leave, giving us space. I gripped my cap tighter in front of me; it felt like it was the only thing I had to hold onto as the world started spinning for the first time in nearly half a year.

“I, um, thank you for coming, Professor Merrick,” I said, returned somehow once more to a nervous first year student.

“I’m not your professor anymore,” Rian said, his smile tight.

I nodded. Toed at the budding blades of grass at my feet.

“Aurnia says you’ve been painting,” Rian said.

I really was going to have to kill that girl. I loved her, but she most certainly had to die.

“I don’t know,” I said, blushing with embarrassment. “I’m just—I guess I’m still trying to find…um…trying to find…”

“What you want to say?” Rian asked.

I looked up at him. His eyes were clearer. The purple bags beneath his eyes lighter. But there was a weariness about him that wasn’t there before. I feared he might carry it for the rest of his life: knowing always that he was one step away from the edge, knowing how easy it was to fall. He smiled like he’d read my thoughts, like he knew, too, how long the road of life would be for him.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Something like that.”

Rian studied me. “It’s difficult,” he said slowly, “trying to find what you want to say.”

Petals fluttered on the wind between us. One caught in Rian’s hair. It made him look younger. I wondered if there was a time when it was easier for him, a time before his addiction, a time when he was, in fact, younger. The sudden ache for him in my chest nearly stole my breath.

I spoke before there wasn’t any air in my lungs, “Rian, please—”

“Just—just let me try.”

---