The new collection.I grimace.
I haven’t been in my studio since I destroyed it after Lorraine’s passing, and I don’t know what state it’s been left in. I doubt any of my work is salvageable.
“I have something… More or less.” Because even I know at some point I have to pull myself out of this. I’m just not ready to let go. I’m not prepared for the world to change without her. And I certainly can’t fucking paint yet.
When I return home,I’m grateful Dante is out, because I can’t be bothered with yet another person trying to pry into my life. I throw the keys onto the counter and look at my phone. I have a text message from Sienna, asking if everything’s okay. I sigh, setting my phone on the counter as well.
“And the shittiest friend of the year award goes to Romi Lutton. And the crowd goes wild,” I say to myself as I look down at Borris, who's pleading with those sad puppy eyes for another treat. Damn, he’s gotten too good at that.
“Don’t be upset with me if we have to put you on a diet. But I suppose one treat won’t hurt,” I say as I reach for the box and see what looks like an unlimited supply of dog snacks.
“What the fuck?” I murmur, pulling bag after bag out. “Wow, Borris, looks like you left an impression. Mr. Asshole's gone all out." I pull out a treat the size of his face. His eyes grow wider, and he does an impatient little jig, licking his lips. I can’t help but smile at his obvious demand as I hand it to him.
I then become curious about the other cupboards that I haven’t looked in for weeks. My jaw drops. I’ve never seen the pantry so fucking full. I open the fridge, and much to my dismay, all the food looks so healthy and clean.
I suppose that’s no surprise, considering how lean the "doctor" is. I close the fridge and sag against the counter as I roll the smiley face lighter between my fingers, thinking.
I dare to look at the spiral staircase that leads to my studio, an immediate heaviness looming over me.
It’s just a room. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to go in there. I used to spend every day in there, painting, laughing, drinking chai lattes, and eating snacks. It used to be my sanctuary. Now, I’m too frightened to even step past the threshold.
But I know if I don’t soon, it’ll ruin my career.
But I justcan’t.
I’m not ready to face the ghosts that haunt me up there. My hands begin to tremble as vicious tears threaten to spill over once again. I look to the couch, remembering that Lorraine and I used to spend far too much time watching reality TV.
Or the time I shooed her ex-boyfriend from the apartment, threatening to cut his dick off for cheating on her.
The random theories we had about celebrities, and what our life would look like when we were "grown up," despite both of us already being twenty-eight.
This was our safe space for two years. And I wasn’t ready to let go of it as much as she wasn’t yet ready to let go of me.
Lorraine was the one thing I had outside of the cruel expectation of the wealthy and my mother’s social circles. Here, with her, I could simply be—even if I was a disappointment and an outcast—and remain true to myself.
Now… that's all gone.
Lorraine is gone.
That spark in my daily life was sucked away in an instant, leaving nothing but guilt, shame, and loneliness.
I reach for the cigarettes, my hands shaking as tears begin to spill over my cheeks unsolicited.
I miss you.
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry for being such an ugly mess.
I’m sorry for not being there for you.
"You killed her!"I close my eyes, bringing the cigarette to my lips, my hands still shaking.
Please go away.
Please leave me alone.
Please take me instead of her.
