Chapter 11
Violet
What just happened? That’s the question spinning in my head as I walk out of Austin’s office.
When I arrived earlier, I had no idea that he was the architect I was scheduled to meet. I had envisioned an older man, but when I laid eyes on Austin, I was elated.
Over the past few weeks, Austin has come to the coffee shop every morning, and he has always been very nice. Every time he shows up, Josy pays close attention to every move he makes. After he leaves, she dissects his actions, telling me I was blind if I didn’t notice that he liked me. After the third day of his visits, I began to pay attention too.
I was shocked; Josy was right. Austin looked at me like I was water and he was dying of thirst in a desert. I couldn’t believe it, but it was there.
Now, I notice the way his eyes light up when he sees me, the way his smile broadens, and the way he always seems to find a reason to come to the counter when I’m working. It's flattering, and a little overwhelming.
As I began to notice his behavior, I also started to see just how attractive he was. Austin has dark blond hair cut short on the sides and left longer on top, which he often runs his fingers through absentmindedly. His beautiful green eyes stand out, especially when they light up with a smile. His five-o’clock shadow gives him a rugged charm, and he’s tall, probably six feet or six feet two. His build is lean yet muscular, suggesting he’s a runner but with a bit more bulk. Now that I am aware of how handsome he is, I can’t unsee it.
I find myself paying attention to all of his moves. Every time he arrives at the shop, I know he’s there just by the tingling sensation that passes through my body whenever I am near him. It's almost as if my senses have become finely tuned to him. His presence makes my heart race, and I can't help but steal glances at him whenever I get the chance.
But I still can’t fathom why me? Why has he set his eyes on me? I’m pretty sure there are plenty of single women who would do anything to have his attention. Why would he be interested in a single mom who is recently divorced? Yet, there’s something about every interaction with him that feels so genuine, like he’s really there, not just saying the right things.
Today, in his office, I saw that same look in his eyes. It wasn’t just kindness, there was something deeper. As much as I doubt myself, there’s a part of me that wants to believe this could actually be real. Maybe Josy was right, maybe I am worth the attention Austin’s been giving me.
I shake off the thought as I step into the sunlight, a small smile tugging at my lips. Whatever happens, I’ll take it one step at a time. Right now, I need to focus on building a life for Adrian and me. And who knows? Maybe Austin will be part of that future, or maybe not. Either way, I’ll figure it out as I go.
I head to the grocery store to grab everything we need for dinner since Josy wants to make steak tacos tonight, and like always, I’m eager to help. Cooking has always been my comfort zone, a way to unwind, and now it’s become even more special because it’s something I share with Josy. We’ve created this routine—sitting together, eating, and catching up on our day. Adrian’s always full of energy, talking nonstop about his new friends at school or how soccer practice went. He just made the school team, and he’s been practicing twice a week, sometimes three, gearing up for their first game. I’m already imagining myself as the loudest soccer mom on the sidelines, cheering my heart out.
Adrian’s is a funny kid, and I find myself laughing more, feeling more connected to him every day. Josy joins in, sharing funny stories from the sweet shop, and I throw in my own—usually something silly about a customer or a new recipe we’ve tried. After dinner, Josy and I have this workout routine we do together every night. It’s one of my favorite parts of the day because, for once, I’m not working out alone. It’s fun, full of laughter and gossip, and it’s just another way I feel less alone and more like I’m exactly where I need to be.
At the grocery store, I run into Mr. Baker. He is in the produce aisle, selecting tomatoes and avocados.
“Hi, Violet!” Mr. Baker greets me warmly, his dimples flashing as he smiles. “How are you today?”
“I’m good, thank you. Just picking up some groceries for dinner,” I reply.
Mr. Baker nods in approval. “What are you making today?”
“I’m making steak tacos.”
“Sounds delicious. Have a great evening, Violet,” Mr. Baker says when I move to keep with my grocery shopping. After I finish picking up everything we need, I head back to Josy’s house to drop off the groceries.
Later that afternoon, I arrive at my first appointment with Dr. Bennett, the therapist Josy recommended. I’m nervous, but I know this is a step I need to take for myself and for Adrian.
The therapist’s office is located in a charming old building downtown. The exterior is painted a soothing shade of blue, and flower boxes filled with vibrant blooms adorn the windows. As I walk inside, I’m greeted by the soft sound of instrumental music playing in the background. The waiting room is cozy and inviting, with plush chairs, soft lighting, and a small table filled with magazines.
The office is just as welcoming. The walls are painted in calming hues of sage green, and large windows let in plenty of natural light. There’s a comfortable couch opposite a desk, and several potted plants add a touch of greenery to the space.
Dr. Bennett herself is a woman, probably in her early forties, with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. She greets me with a warm smile and gestures for me to sit on the couch.
“Hi, Violet. I’m Dr. Bennett. It’s nice to meet you. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
I sit down, trying to relax. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you too.”
We spend the first few minutes chatting about general things—how I’m finding Honey Springs, how Adrian is doing at school, things like that—before Dr. Bennett gently guides the conversation toward why I’m here in the first place.
“So, Violet… Can you tell me a bit about what’s been going on?”
I take a deep breath, feeling the familiar pang of anxiety. “Well, I recently went through a divorce. It was...a really difficult time for me. My ex-husband, Taylor, was very...critical. He constantly put me down, made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. Over time, I guess I started to believe it.”
Dr. Bennett nods, her expression sympathetic. “That sounds incredibly challenging. It’s not uncommon for people to internalize negative messages received from others, especially from someone they were close to. How has this affected your self-esteem?”
I look down at my hands, fidgeting with the hem of my dress. “I don’t have much self-esteem left. I feel like...like I’m not worth anything. I feel ugly most days, and every time I look at myself in the mirror, I can’t help but see all the flaws that Taylor used to point out to me daily. I was with Taylor for over ten years and the last five were torture. I try to stay strong for Adrian, but it’s hard. I just want to feel good about myself again.”
Dr. Bennett leans forward slightly, her voice gentle but firm. “Violet, acknowledging these feelings is a huge first step. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s going to take time to heal. But I’m here to help you with that process. We’ll work together to rebuild your self-esteem and help you start to see yourself the way others see you—as a strong, capable, and worthy person.”
I nod, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
She smiles reassuringly. “You’re welcome, Violet. We’ll take this one step at a time. You’re not alone in this.”
Her words put me at ease, and the rest of our time together passes surprisingly quickly. There’s something calming about her presence, the way she listens without judgment and guides the conversation like a gentle current. She asks more questions about me—what I like, what I don’t, and the things that make me feel most like myself.
Then she gives me an assignment. “From now on,” she says with a soft but steady voice, “I want you to look at yourself in the mirror every day and point out your strengths. It might feel awkward at first, but this will help you shift your focus. Instead of dwelling on your flaws—or what Taylor convinced you were flaws—you’ll start seeing your strengths for what they are.”
Her words land heavily, but not in a bad way.
They stir something deep inside me, a mix of reluctance and curiosity. It’s been so long since I’ve thought about my strengths, let alone spoken them aloud. Taylor’s voice, his constant critiques and backhanded comments, always drowned out anything good I might have believed about myself.
“I’ll try,” I say, though my voice is hesitant.
She smiles warmly, a look of encouragement in her eyes. “Don’t worry if it feels strange at first. It’s a practice, not a test. Start small. Maybe it’s that you’re a good friend or a hard worker. Even if you have to fake it at first, keep at it. You’ll start to believe it, piece by piece.”
I picture myself standing in front of the mirror, speaking words I’m not even sure I believe yet. But maybe this is what I need—a new perspective, a new way of seeing myself. Not through the distorted lens Taylor left behind, but through my own eyes, clearer and stronger.
I feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, I can rebuild the way I see myself. And maybe it starts with something as simple as a reflection in the mirror.
As I leave Dr. Bennett’s office, I feel a mix of emotions—nervousness, hopefulness, and happiness. I’m taking steps to heal, to become the person I want to be, for myself and for Adrian. I believe that things can get better. I hope to be a new Violet. I don’t want to be the same I was before. I can’t be her, I need to become the woman who I was meant to be at this stage of my life. I want to love me again.
After my appointment, I pick up Adrian from school. As soon as he opens the door, a wave of body odor hits me.
“Adrian! You need to start wearing deodorant. You’re starting to get stinky,” I say, scrunching my nose. Adrian buckles up and smells his armpits.
“Wow! I really stink.”
“I know. I got hit with your stinkiness as soon as you got in the car.”
“Why am I stinky? I’ve never smelled bad before.”
As I start driving home, we continue talking. “Because you’re growing into a young man, and men tend to smell bad. You’ll also be growing hair in your armpits, on your face, and in your private parts.”
“Really? Will I be hairy like Dad?” Adrian asks, his eyes wide with curiosity. I chuckle at the thought. Taylor has a lot of facial hair, and his arms and legs are very hairy.
“You might be. He’s your dad, so I guess you might be like him.”
Adrian makes a face. “I hope I don’t get that weird patch of hair on my back. It’s like he’s part werewolf.”
I burst out laughing. “Well, let’s hope you skipped the werewolf gene. But seriously, we’ll get you some deodorant, and you’ll be fine.”
“Do I have to start shaving too? Like, I’ve seen Dad do it, and it looks like a pain, especially when he cuts his chin.”
“Not yet, but eventually. You’ll probably want to start with your face when you get some peach fuzz. And trust me, you’ll be excited about it when it happens. It’s like a rite of passage.”
Adrian grins. “I guess. But no hair on my back, right? I don’t want to be the kid with a fur coat.”
I laugh again. “I think you’ll be safe. But we’ll take it one step at a time. First step: deodorant.”
“Okay, okay. Can I get one that smells really good? Like those commercials where the guys are all cool and stuff?”
“Sure, you can pick out whatever scent you like. Just promise me you’ll use it every day.”
Adrian nods enthusiastically. “Deal. So, can we get one that smells like a beach? Or maybe like those fancy cars?”
“Whatever makes you happy, kiddo. Just remember, the goal is to not knock people out with your armpits.”
Adrian laughs. “Got it, Mom. No more deadly armpits.”
“Yes, please. I don’t want to die so young. I can imagine my obituary. Violet Pearson. Beloved mom of a stinky kid who killed her with his horrible smell.”
We start laughing at the same time.
“Mom, If you haven’t died from my farts, I don’t think you will die with my B.O.”
“Amen!” I say. This kid makes me so happy. I don’t know what I would do without him.