Page 91 of Dark Ink

I remained fixed in place as Stewart bounded toward the little kitchenette just around the corner. I couldn’t move as I heard him rooting around the handful of drawers, forks and knives, measuring cups and whisks clattering. I wasn’t even sure I’d blinked once as he returned with the bottle opened and two wine glasses wedged between his fingers. He nudged me forward with his foot and I stumbled into the living space. I only accepted a glass because I really did need a fucking drink. Stewart looked hurt when I didn’t raise my glass for a cheers, but instead downed the thing in one go.

Shaking off my rudeness, Stewart smiled again and said, raising his own glass, “That’s the spirit!”

I took the bottle from Stewart as he rambled on about the program he’d joined. How it was changing him. How he was a better man now, after being away. How he saw what was important in his life now. How he was ready to make amends, make things better, be the big brother he hadn’t been for me for so long.

It wasn’t a surprise when he said, “I’ll need a little bit of money to get on my feet, of course. But no, I won’t ask you. No, no, I’m done with that. I won’t ask you, Eithne.”

I snorted into my freshly poured glass of wine. “You won’t, will ye now?”

Stewart didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish as he said, “Well, I mean, if you’re offering?”

I laughed, chugged the rest of my wine, and looked my brother straight in the face. “Did Rian offer you money?”

Stewart hesitated. “What?”

“When he threatened you? When he told you to skip town? When he warned you never to see me again? Never interfere with my life again? Was there a carrot to go along with the stick?”

“Eithne,” Stewart tried. “I swear, if I thought I could safely—safely for you, of course—get in contact with you, I would have. Really.”

My fingernails dug into my palms.

“I left the only home I’d ever known for you, Stewart,” I said. “When our father demanded you leave, I stood up to him. I took the insults he hurled at me, the fury he took out on me. I took it and I’ve carried all that ever since. I gave up a life to stick with you, to be there for you. Because I loved you. And I thought you loved me, too. All these years I sacrificed friends and money and sleep and normalcy and art, the thing I love most in the world, Stewart. All for you! And you…you didn’t even try to call? You didn’t even call. Because you didn’t need me. You had all that I could have given you, all that you stuck around me for: money.”

“Little sis—”

“Don’t call me that,” I said, voice trembling. “I want you out.”

I pointed toward the door. I stood when Stewart remained in place.

“Out!” I shouted.

Stewart’s kind, brotherly demeanour shattered fairly quickly after that. He flipped me off. He called me a whore. He said good fucking riddance before tripping on a box left outside my front door.

“You’re a piece of shite, Eithne,” he shouted as he stormed down the stairs. “Always have been, always will be! Sucking for the highest bidder!”

I dragged the box inside and slammed the door. For a long time, I ignored it. I paced back and forth, angry but exhilarated. I’d set myself free. I’d finally seen my brother for who he was: a man who did not love me. Could not love me, no matter what I did or didn’t do. I finished the bottle myself with my heart racing and a strange hope rising in my chest.

I would have left the box for the morning. There were early classes. There were dishes in the sink. There were duties, responsibilities, a good night’s sleep calling. But I was too excited for sleep.

I opened the box. Didn’t bother checking who it was from. I just tore at the cardboard, yanked out the contents, and fell back on my ass like I’d been struck with lightning as I stared at the pieces of paper that drifted to the floor around me like snow.

I laughed, covering my mouth with my hand like a nervous schoolgirl, because they were the drawings of my vagina, the ones Rian had done. I almost felt embarrassed, but then I stopped myself. There was no one to embarrassed for anymore. My father was dead. Stewart out of my life. I was living for myself now. I had no one but myself to decide who I would be.

The woman who had been brave enough to open herself up to such intimacy had no chains around her. No expectations. No rules or customs. No boundaries. The woman who lay there on the floor of that lecture hall with the hasty scratch of the pencil mixing with her quickened breath took pleasure for herself, had the courage to take pleasure for herself. The woman who trusted someone enough to do nothing but receive, not give, not sacrifice, not earn, but simply receive, was free.

I wanted to be that woman.

I’d made a lot of mistakes with Rian. But not letting myself become her, if only for a day or two. That was no mistake. And it never would be. It was only a mistake to let her go. To not cling to her once I’d found her.

I would find her once more.

With conviction in my heart, I pushed myself from the floor and darted into the little kitchenette. The bills scattered on the floor as I yanked free the art exhibition application. I had a lot of work to do and fast.

Morning light was coming. It was going to fill every inch of this place, every darkened corner. I would be ready for it, with nothing but my paint, a canvas…

And me.

Eithne

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