Better Off Alone (BOOK 1)(Wattys 2016)

My Larkin

I don't leave the house except for one reason: to paint.

On the day after Christmas I find myself in the jeep, driving to the school early in the morning. No one's there, not even the custodians or staff. And who would be? It's the day after Christmas. I unlock the art rooms and I paint my heart out upon the canvas with every single mark of my brush.

I've finally found my final piece to be submitted for the Crary.

I paint my love for Larkin into every stroke and with every mark I pour my worry and my anger and my stress out. The image is unlike the ones of Olive and Clive. Nothing about it is abstract.

It is simply Larkin as the person I love.

His eyes have the sparkle that I'm in love with and his lips are quirked in the form that I love to see and his hands are the hands that I love to hold. I paint his as I love him with all his beauty and all his flaws.

He is the man I love and I am beyond worried for him.

Why hasn't he called?

***

Laurene calls me the next day.

"I saw the painting at the school. Do you want me to submit the work to the judges? The deadline is in a week, but it doesn't hurt to be early." She sounds excited and I should be excited with her, but I'm not.

It's been forty eight hours and still, no word. Not a single call.

"Yeah, go ahead."

"Gem, hon, you don't sound happy. Are you alright?"

I don't reply, but I think the silence is answer enough.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

There's nothing to be said and I don't want to rehash everything I've been through in the past two days. It's one thing to pour my guts out to Clive and Olive in my bedroom; it's another to continue sobbing to every person during the happiest time of the year. "No..."

"Call me if you need anything."

She's not the person I want to talk to on the phone.

There's only one person I want calling me and he's not going to.

***

On New Year's Eve I hear voices out in the hall. I still haven't heard from Larkin and I'm past worry - I'm angry. The voices in the hall belong to Clive and Olive, but they don't know I hear them. They only want to help but the situation is beyond help.

"She needs to get out. She's been in her room all day, hell, all week." Clive mumbles, worry creasing his words.

"We'll take her to the party. That's the only answer. She needs to get it off her mind. I'm sure he'll call soon." Olive, sweet Olive. What would I do without her optimism?

There's a gentle knock on my door and both of them enter. Olive climbs into the bed with me. "Gemma, we're going to a party in an hour and you're coming with us. I don't want to hear protests of any sort, alright?"

The funny thing is that I don't protest. I don't utter a single complaint as she nudges me into the bathroom with instructions to take a bath. I don't resist her telling me to dress in the small black dress that she has picked out. I let her do my makeup in dramatic swoops and my hair up in a fancy bun.

I let her do it all.

Because even when I feel my shittiest, I remember: this is the happiest time of the year. And sometimes, you have to try to have fun, no matter how terrible things are or how terrible you feel you have to try to have fun.

If only to forget the shitty things.

***
The party is lights and music and fast dancing.

I regret coming instantly because in my state, I do the one thing I hate: I drink.

I'm not sure who offered me the beer, but I took it and I drank it all. And when a guy I don't know asks me to dance I go with him and dance and dance and dance until I didn't know which way is up or down and which is left or right. I drink and I dance and I forget my worries.

The colors, the lights, the music, the sweat, the everything - I embrace it all.

I see the people around me, but I only dance with that first guy. I'm not sure what his name is, but I stick with him. He has nice dark eyes that don't remind me of Larkin and he's so different that I feel almost captivated by him. Almost.

He offers to get me more drinks through the night and I let him. What's the point after one?

It's not until he leads me to a back room that I almost slip down an irreversible trail or regret. It's when he takes me to a room and starts kissing me, starts undressing me that I feel myself slipping and messing up.

What am I doing?

What am I thinking?

I pull back from him, noticing how entangled we are in some strangers bedroom. But it's too late. I've already ruined everything.

Because it's as I pull away from the mysterious stranger that I hear my name being called from the doorway. I look over in my drunken state to see all my worries come crashing to an end.

There stands Larkin. My Larkin. There stands Larkin, his beautiful eyes filled with hate.

Filled with hurt.