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“You’ll find love again,” Demi told me tremulously, sounding like she really believed it. “Just when you least expect it I bet you’ll run into some wonderful man that makes your heart race again.”
I knew better, but I kept my piece. Demi could stay sweetly naive, her soul light and beautiful. I didn’t want to take that from her.
But she couldn’t have been more wrong.
There is only one heart in this universe that calls to mine, and it does call. Constantly, relentlessly, it sings out to me in a captivating, resonating voice.
Day after day, year after year, it calls to me.
But I won’t listen to it. It belongs to a liar.
When Anton returned, he seemed more or less back to normal, and we didn’t comment on his absence.
We were still huddled on the couch watching people get tattoos, and he rejoined us without a word.
“There’s like a six month waitlist to get ink in her parlor,” I pointed out in true buzz-killer style. I liked crushing dreams. It was a hobby of mine. “And from Frankie herself? Who knows. Probably years. You’d probably have to know somebody.”
“Well, poo,” Demi said.
Anton and I shared a smile. She was way too adorable for her own good.
Meanwhile on Kink and Ink, someone was crying as they described the reason for their angel tattoo.
“I hate it when this show gets emotional,” Anton said, rising from the sofa to refill our glasses.
“Why does the term emotional have such a negative connotation?” Demi asked him, sounding riled. “Humans are emotional creatures. I’m emotional but that doesn’t mean I run around crying all the time. I’m more likely to laugh and love harder because I’m emotional.”
I blinked at her after she’d finished her own little rant. I liked this sassy side of her.
I sent Anton a sideways glare because he seemed to like it too by the way he was looking at her. I made a note to have a talk with him at some point. He was not allowed to mess around with Demi. She was too innocent for him.
At some hazy point Leona came home. I was pretty numb by then and so it didn’t hurt quite as bad to tell her about Gram.
“Oh Scarlett,” she said, coming to sit beside me, taking one of my hands into both of hers. “What can I do? Do you want to talk about it?”
I thought about that. “I do not. The scotch is helping. This show is fucking awesome, so that helps, too. You drinking with us?”
She bit her lip and nodded.
Even later than Leona, Farrah showed up and joined us in over-toasting my gram.
At some point I was so sloppy drunk that I even confessed to Leona, “I slept with him last night.”
Her eyes widened and I could see by how horrified she was that she was far from as drunk as I was. I was at the drunken stage that was incapable of horror.
“You what?”
I nodded, giving her what I imagined was a thoughtful look. “What indeed, my friend. What indeed.”
I thought she was going to drop the subject, and I thought that was odd, but eventually she came back with a stunned, “You slept with him?”
How to explain? I thought about it and, “It’s complicated.”
“Clearly,” Anton drawled.
“Are you guys in a better place, then?” Leona asked.
“Not fucking likely. It’s complicated.”
