Page 18 of Inked in Bloom
9
MONROE
After we’re dismissed from orientation, we head back out the entrance and down the path of stepping stones leading away from the Conservatory.
“Thanks for coming with me,” Cherri says.
“Of course.” I frown at my bare feet. “It was good to learn more about the program.”
And now I know there’s a way I can see everyone again.
She rests a hand on my shoulder. “Want your shoes back?”
“Yes, please.” I grab the hedge for balance and brush dirt off my feet as best I can.
With a wiggle of her nose, my heels reappear. My confidence lifts with the extra four inches. I twist to admire their peeks of pink on the bottoms. “It’s a lot to take in, but it has been nice to get out of the house.”
“I totally get that.” Cherri takes my hand and drags me across the checkered courtyard to our right, passing a teacup tower spilling with burbling water and sculpted floppy ears. A few children sit around the ledge, plucking petals off flowers and tossing them into the fountain’s pool. “I didn’t leave the house for weeks after Fate found me. I stayed tucked away in my room. Roxy brought me food from thecafé every day.”
I can’t say it’s been a great plan, but crawling back under the covers is still appealing, especially when I see all the people—harbingers—gathered up ahead.
Cherri waves at Kendrick who’s surrounded by a gaggle of his tiny students. He circles his arms dramatically, and a bunch of wildflowers grow up from the ground, eliciting wild giggles and giddy screams. The children pick them, run toward the fountain to join their friends or weave them into their hair. Their squeals ring through the open air as we continue to head for the mixer marked by a large welcome sign.
Rose-gold lanterns float above pallets stacked with miniature cupcakes, brownies, towers of macarons, and flower-shaped sandwiches. Dispensers of yellow, pink, and pale-orange fizzy drinks sit in a line with bulbous cups next to them. Cherri and I fill our plates to the brim, then grab something to drink. Cherri picks the yellow and I pick pale-orange, but we take turns tasting each other’s. Mine is peachy, while Cherri’s is fizzy lemonade with an elderflower aftertaste that coats my tongue long after I’ve swallowed.
Following Cherri to an empty pallet table with four cushions set around it, I sit next to her, leaving room for her classmates to join us on the other side.
“I know it’s hard to get used to this being the new normal. Believe me, I wasn’t this well-adjusted when I first arrived.” Cherri fidgets with her napkin and tucks it into her lap.
“How did it happen—if you don’t mind me asking?”
Her attention stays on her napkin that she spreads across her pants. “Got dumped and decided to go out with my friends to get over the asshole. Drank too much. Took a pill that was supposed to bea good time. Let’sjust say…it wasn’t.”
“I’m so sorry, Cherri.”
“Same…” She shrugs, though she doesn’t meet my gaze. Her death still haunts her. And why shouldn’t it? I can’t imagine getting over mine. Ever. Our stories aren’t so different. We both deserved more than we got. But isn’t that always the way? Most deaths are unexpected, unnecessary, and ugly.
Cherri lifts her chin and smiles at me. “Not worth dwelling on that now. On the bright side, I’m definitely over my ex.”
Guess Blooms like to stick to the bright side.
Everyone’s carefree and happy, spread throughout The Nursery’s playground and sprawling park. Envy twists in my chest, wishing I felt that too. Isn’t that what the afterlife is supposed to be? An idyllic place where you’re safe for eternity?
Yet among dozens of people enjoying their sunshine afternoon, I’m somehow lonelier than ever. What I wouldn’t give to be back in my apartment, surrounded by my mismatched canvases, dancing with only my bunnies for company. My nails dig into my palm, and I unclench my fist, picking up a brownie and taking a bite.
I have to remind myself these are normal emotions for someone who’s grieving. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Logically, I know there’s no wrong way to grieve…but it’s strange grieving for myself. A person I no longer am. A life I no longer claim.
Cherri stares behind me. Flicking a gaze over my shoulder, I spot what’s snared her interest. Kitt and Tess stand by the drink dispensers, his hand resting on the small of her back as she scans the grass, waving at a few students I recognize from orientation before shooting us a smile. Cherri waves and I give a polite nod. Rose goldglints from the tattoos running along every inch of their exposed skin.
“Is the rose gold a Radix thing?” I ask, noting that the only other person I see here with the same hue strewn throughout their inked tattoos is the dean.
“No, it’s a mate thing.”
“Mate?” My brows furrow. “Is that the harbinger version of marriage?”
“Oh, it’s so much more than marriage,” Cherri says, almost dreamily. “Mates have an unbreakable bond. Getting one chosen for you is an eternal blessing from Fate.”
“Chosen for you?” I grimace. “Sounds more like a curse to be trapped with someone for eternity.”
