I shrug. I don’t see how any of that fucking matters. “You're joking, right? Jesus Christ. I’m mourning, not fucking suicidal.”
They remain quiet. Great, so my friends think I’m going to hurt myself.
“You can’t keep pushing everything away with drugs, alcohol, sex, and whatever else you’re doing right now,” Sienna adds quietly.
I shake my head as I put out the cigarette. I move around the kitchen to grab Borris’s food from the top shelf and tip it into his bowl.
“What good friends you are. I never forced my opinions on any of you when you were dealing with your own shit.”
“We’re worried about you,” Lily says, pushing forward with her hands to her chest, and I hate how my oldest friend has that kind and calming energy buzzing around her. She’s always been so wholesome, and right now I want to do everything to fight it, feeling undeserving of her worry and love.
“There’s no fucking need to be,” I grit, two seconds away from either exploding or breaking down, and I hope it’s not the latter.
“There was a woman trying to drag out one of your fucking lamps this morning, Romi. Do you even remember her name?” Sienna says explosively.
I try to recall her name from the night before when we met at the bar. Was it Felicity? Falecia? Florence? Oh, fuck me, it started with F. I can remember that much.
“Who gives a shit? I’m havingfun.”
“You’re not having fun. You’re trying to avoid everything because you’re too scared to confront what’s behind that door,” Lily says as she points to the second bedroom—Lorraine’sroom.
I take in a sharp breath, the memory of when I answered the call slowly creeping in.
“We need you to come down and identify the body.”
Those words haunt me.
I try to push them away, and I pet Borris as he chows down on his food.
“I can move in for a few months,” Sienna suggests.
I put my hand up. “No. You’re going to spend time in London for that acting gig you worked so hard to get. I just need time to process, okay? That’s all.”
A silent question remains, one they’ve all asked before—will I move out of this apartment at all? I come from money. Although my mother forfeited her place in high society when she married my father for love, after their divorce she remarried back into it, reclaiming her entitlement. And this apartment wasn’t, and still isn’t, approved by my mother. My friends have never said it openly, but I know they don’t understand why I choose to live in a place like this, especially when those in our inner circles all live in penthouses or mansions.
Lorraine was someone I met randomly on a night out after she had just moved to the city. She was different from the people in the social circles I’d grown up in, and I was drawn to her idealization and goals of starting a new life in the city I’d come to take for granted. It was an immediate friendship, and we drunkenly came up with the idea to move in together. I never cared about how this place looked to others; it was within Lorraine’s budget. It might be modest, but I always enjoyed its vibe. Leaving this place would feel like abandoning the memory of her and the life she had.
“It might be good for you to have someone with you. Even if only for a little while. What do you have to lose?” Lily suggests carefully.
I look away, shivering at the sudden chill of my wet clothes clinging to my body. I’m angry. At them. At the world. Mostly at myself.
I just want to be alone, and it’s my right to be so, and yet all I’m doing is using different people every night, so I’mnotalone, and I hate how much they fucking see that.
I don’t know up from down right now, and I don’t even want to attempt to figure out my bearings. I’m just punishing myself through this messy, disastrous version of myself.
I glance back at Lorraine’s room. I’m not ready to let go. I’m not even prepared to say goodbye yet.
As if knowing everything I’m thinking, Sienna gently says, “What if we pack all of her things into boxes, and we can put them in your studio until you’re ready to go through them? We can help you put up a roommate advertisement. We promise we’re doing this because we love you.”
I hate how much of me they see, too scared that they’ll see the ugliness at my core. I shrug, trying to push away the tears that dare to spring to my eyes.
“Fine, but I’ll do the ad.” I know it’s the only way they’ll stop pressuring me. “And I make no promises that the new roommate will last any longer than a few days. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a shower before I catch a cold.”
My gaze catches on Lorraine’s door one more time as I walk through the living room and toward the bathroom, a lump forming in my throat.
"You killed her! You did this!"Lorraine’s mother’s voice echoes in my head, and I shove away the words that ripped the rug from beneath me and made me feel as if I’ve been swallowed whole.
On my way into the bathroom, I snag the open bottle of vodka on my coffee table, grateful that my friends don’t comment on it.
