Chapter 36
36
LINCOLN
Three weeks, five days, five hours, and thirty-six minutes.
That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen Violet.
Since I’ve had a full night’s sleep.
Since I held her.
Felt her warm skin on mine.
Since I saw her smile.
She’s gone AWOL on social media following my departure and the last photo she posted was a selfie of her and me on the beach together. We were so happy and her eyes were sparkling with joy.
Fuck.
I left her.
I’m a fucking dumbass.
I didn’t even leave a letter, and I did exactly what my mother did to me. I left without a word, leaving it up to my father to explain.
What a low-life asshole shitty thing to do.
And I can’t even bring myself to call her. I don’t know what I would say .
“Sorry” will never cut it.
I feel sick to my stomach with the way I have behaved and I’ve been avoiding my dad and my family because I’m so ashamed of what I did.
I fucking blew it all to hell.
And I miss her.
So fucking much.
I fucking hate goodbyes. So I didn’t say it. What the fuck would she want with me? The broken boy rejected by his mother. Twice.
Nobody wants or deserves my fuckery. Violet deserves better. She deserves someone who lives close to her, in the same town—Christ, someone who lives in the same state. But I live in a completely different country.
She deserves more than I can give her.
After the showdown with my mother, I thought I knew best. I thought it would be easier to leave without a backward glance. My mom seemed to manage it just fine.
But I am not her and I have lived with so much regret since leaving Santa Monica.
I fucked up. Big-time.
I don’t know what I was thinking.
Clearly, I wasn’t, and I still can’t think straight.
And now I am back to square one.
Back to feeling like I’m missing something in my life.
And nothing has changed here in Scotland. It’s as if I never left.
Everything is the same.
But I have changed.
A sharp pain spears my chest. I’ve been getting shooting pains since I left Santa Monica. I went to see a doctor about them, but after running a few different tests, he gave me a clean bill of health and sent me on my way. But there is something wrong with me. I feel horrific.
Maybe I need a good home-cooked meal as I’ve barely eaten in the last few weeks either. I’ve lost my appetite for everything.
“You look like skatá .” My yaya throws shade my way, telling me I look like shit in Greek.
I hunch myself over her wooden kitchen table. I feel like skatá.
“When did you last eat?” Her accent is a mix of Greek and Scottish. It’s a fucked-up cocktail.
“ Chthés .” Yesterday.
She flies off the handle, throwing her wooden spoon into a sink full of water, making the soapy water splash everywhere.
Food is a big thing on the Greek side of my family. It’s a huge part of our culture. Food for us is about celebrating and, more importantly, it’s about family, friends, and socializing. Food for my yaya is about her keeping us content, warm, and happy. She feels better when she feeds us, and she sure loves to feed us.
“ Fáe .” Eat. She slams a heaped plate of moussaka in front of me. There is no elegance about her today. She’s mad at me. Mad at me for not eating. Mad at me for throwing the love of a good woman away. Mad at me because I didn’t speak to her about my predicament.
She’s just mad.
She bunches her jet-black hair up on top of her head and wraps it in a bun. Dressed in a simple maroon wraparound dress, as always, she is effortlessly chic. However, it’s the first time I have noticed that she’s going gray as little white hairs poke out here and there through her dark locks. She’s getting older.
She’s going to leave me, too.
I dig into my food with a heavy heart. She rambles away to me in superspeed Greek, telling me about her and my grandfather and how it all seemed impossible, but how I am not like him and she’s disappointed I didn’t fight hard enough for Violet.
I could recite what she is saying to me word for word. She’s been saying the same thing to me since I returned from overseas.
While on vacation in Athens, my grandfather fell in love with my yaya and he did everything he could to bring her back here to Scotland. He swept her off her feet and literally changed her life.
He promised her mother and father he would look after her and boy, did he do that. She has a bountiful life here. They live in the biggest house in all of Castleview Cove. She has several staff who take care of everything besides the cooking, and my grandfather tells her every day how much he loves her. He’s forever leaving love notes for her everywhere. He’s such a big soft-hearted soul.
Pulling a chair out from the table, she sits down beside me.
She tells me off for slouching and whacks me across the back of the head with the palm of her hand. She’s a stickler for manners.
I pull my shoulders back and sit up straight.
“So what are you doing tonight, huh?” Her nose takes a scornful tilt.
“Going home.”
“But it’s a Saturday night. Are you not going out with the boys?”
I sigh. “Not tonight.”
“Lincoln, my darling boy.” I’ve always loved how she rolls her R s when she calls me her darling boy. “What are we going to do with you?” She ruffles my hair.
I shake my head and throw my fork down on the plate. It makes an almighty clatter when it hits the fine china.
“I can’t do this.” I push the palms of my hands into my eyes as an odd rush of emotion I’ve been holding in finally breaks the dam. “I feel so lost.”
Warm arms envelop me as she pulls me into her chest. “Let it all out, my boy. You have a heart and this is why you feel such true and pure emotion. Just let it all go.”
“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” I sob in her arms.
“You don’t have to hide your pain.” She rocks me slowly while I have my breakdown.
Violet was the first person I actually felt like I could be myself around. She didn’t care about my flaws and she saw me for who I truly was. I miss the way she kissed me and the way she would hold me.
“I messed everything up.”
“You did.” My yaya is anything but subtle and she’s always honest, sometimes too much.
Everything hurts. From my heart to my head, I feel exhausted. The weight of my heart feels too heavy to carry around.
But I only have myself to blame.
It’s breaking over the self-inflicted loss of Violet and for losing my mother all over again. It’s a double blow of grief I’m not emotionally equipped for. I need therapy.
Or Violet. I need her; she made me feel grounded and whole, a feeling I hadn’t truly realized I was missing until I found her.
“Come now. Sit up and look at me.” She cradles my face and wipes my wet cheeks.
I force a half smile.
“Stop pretending everything is okay, Lincoln.” She pats my cheek twice. “My gorgeous boy. You are so very handsome. Just like your father.”
“I’m so glad I don’t look like my mom. ”
“Hey now. Stop that. It took two people to make you and you have her to thank for you being here. Even if she is not here now, part of her will live on in you forever. She is part of you, and you are part of her. You cannot rewrite history or your DNA.”
I’ve never thought about it in that way before.
Although you would never know she was my blood mother after all her inconsiderate and hurtful words said to me weeks ago. I’ve replayed them every day in my head, looping around like CCTV.
Her eyes light up when she continues in her clipped accent. “You are so very special to us and when you were born, I loved you from the minute you arrived in our lives. When you were a little boy, you made me smile every day, and you thought it was so funny when I muddled up my Greek and Scottish words.” She used to make me laugh and say stupid combinations of things that made no sense to me, but then I think she continued doing it on purpose because she knew how much I loved it. “Oh, how all of my friends loved you. You were so cute with those big brown Disney eyes and chocolate-brown hair. You were the most beautiful baby.” She pinches my cheek like I am four years old again. “Just don’t tell your father I said that.”
I’ll have great pleasure telling him that.
“Deep down, I am glad your mother left. You know why?”
Her confession is a complete surprise. “Why?”
“Because I am selfish and I got to spend every day with you.” She’s trying to make me feel better, but I also know she is telling the truth. “You made me feel happy all the time. You filled our lives with so much joy, fun, and laughter. Plus, I am a very possessive woman when it comes to the men in my world.”
Her words make my heart seem better.
She tilts her head. “You are loved beyond measure. Your father is a great man. The best mom and dad all rolled into one. And you know deep in your heart that it was more than you ever needed.”
If she’s not careful, I will cry again.
“And I know if you and Violet are meant to be together, love will find a way.” She winks at me. “So no more carrying on like a zombie.” She lets her mouth drop open as if she’s making a zombie face.
“That is not an attractive face.” I attempt a laugh.
“Exactly, but that’s what we’ve had to look at since you returned. Now you know what we’ve had to put up with these past few weeks. So eat up. Go home. Sleep, my darling boy, and go to work on Monday. It will get better. I promise. But you come to me when you need to talk. Okay? Okay. That’s settled. Eat.” She tilts her head to my food. “You look like a skeleton.”
I don’t. I’ve done nothing but hit the gym; that’s also why my body is sore. Not eating properly and working out relentlessly is not the smartest combination.
Come Monday, I will throw myself back into work.
My job was always my first love. Until Violet.
And as much as it pains me to think, I hope she finds someone who loves her better than I did.
She deserves better than me. Someone who doesn’t walk away and someone who can make her happy.
She deserves someone who would fight for her.
But all my fight disappeared.
My tank is empty and even though the talk with my yaya has made me feel better, I am exhausted.
For the first time in weeks, I finally feel like I will sleep tonight, not from finding peace, but because I have nothing left.