Chapter 20 Fourteen Days till Christmas
20.
Fourteen days till Christmas
After the heat was fixed, Violet and Liz were able to start working in the Barn. They’d bought a whiteboard in town and cleared out the secondhand bookstore of all thirteen Sweet Valley High paperbacks, for added inspiration. Now, on an overcast Wednesday afternoon, Violet was at the whiteboard, marker poised, as they brainstormed what vampires represented in their story world, the broader theme the metaphor could help the season explore. Between them was a mess of snacks—star-shaped cookies, chocolate fudge, and, of course, tamari roasted almonds.
“Vampires always need sustenance, right?” Squished into one of the beanbags, Liz was thinking aloud. “Blood. Maybe that’s a stand-in for greed? Money?”
Violet wrote Greed? Money? on the whiteboard, underneath the phrases they already had, Disinformation and Lust for power being just two. “Youth? Although, I guess most of the characters are teenagers.”
Liz gestured for her to write it down anyway, reaching for an almond. “I think what I find so fascinating about vampires is how they can be both sexy and powerful, and yet, so tragic. So doomed and so vulnerable. That dichotomy is interesting.”
Violet nodded, head cocked a quarter-inch, teeth pressing into her bottom lip. “It reminds me of…” She paused, looking uncertain.
“Safe space,” Liz reminded her. “What happens in the Barn, stays in the Barn.”
“Okay. That dichotomy reminds me of being a woman. Especially one in the public eye.”
Liz nodded, listening closely. “What do you mean?”
Violet plopped down on the other beanbag with a sigh. “Well, if I’m being brutally honest, some days I feel attractive and confident, and some days I’m obsessing over a comment thread about, like, my chin being too pointy. I’m too fat; no, I’m too thin. My dress doesn’t fit; no, I don’t wear enough dresses. If I’m too sexy, I’m not smart. If I’m too smart, I’m not sexy. If I stand up for myself, I’m a bitch. If I’m too accepting, I’m a pushover.” She let out a frustrated laugh. “I’m not supposed to care what people think, but I also must care what people think. I’m not allowed to age, but because I’m young, I’m not respected. I’m finally making money, but I’m not allowed to talk about that because that’s gauche. And all of that can make being a woman really hard. Some days it’s hard to get out of bed.”
Empathy and anger flooded Liz’s veins. She tried to sit upright, but the beanbag’s plastic beads squished, tipping her off-center. “I’m going to—do something!”
Violet folded back a smile. “It’s okay, Lizzie. This isn’t our take-down-the-patriarchy brainstorm.”
“Send me a cal invite when that is happening.”
“My point is,” Violet went on, “maybe our vampire metaphor can be used to explore modern womanhood.”
“ Yes. ” Insight struck Liz like lightning. “That’s brilliant!”
Violet and Liz kept talking, the conversation big and juicy and honest and fun. They only stopped when it was dark outside, stars winking in the night sky through the large windows.
Liz closed her laptop with a gratified sigh. “Amazing work today, Vi. We’re onto something.”
“You think?” Violet gathered their empty cups and snack plates, heading to the kitchenette. “This is less scary than what I was expecting.”
Liz followed, curious. “What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know. That I would have to”—she laughed, a pretty, musical sound—“do some creative writing, then read it out to you.”
“I would love to hear your creative writing. Fan fiction about Alone, right?” The lost-in-the-wilderness reality show was Vi’s comfort watch.
Vi giggled, rinsing the cups. “Right—two survivalists meet-cute over skinning a porcupine.”
Liz found the dish towel. “Why did you decide to do something that you thought was going to be scary?”
Violet met her gaze, unblinking. Her eyes were the color of mist, swirling endlessly. “Sometimes, it’s good to do things that scare you.”
The air between them charged, a sudden crackle, as the rest of the room faded away. A crush of heat welled in Liz’s stomach. “Do you want to stay for the holiday party?” Her question came out three times louder than Liz intended.
They hadn’t nailed down how long Violet would be staying. She’d arrived one week ago, but now that they had a solid concept, perhaps she was ready to head back to the West Coast, to some chic holiday plans Liz wasn’t aware of.
Liz went on in a slightly nervous rush. “It’s this Saturday. All my mom’s friends who live in a one-hundred-mile radius come. Mom sings, Rafi and Ash rip up the dance floor, Birdie does something regrettable. It’s…boisterous.” Liz wasn’t used to selling the boozy Belvedere bash, but the idea of Violet leaving was unbearable. “There’s this really good dip.”
Violet raised a slow eyebrow, like a cat arching its back. “Tell me more about the dip.”
At the risk of sounding name-droppy: “It’s Holland and Sarah Paulson’s secret recipe. We’ve been trying to figure it out for years.”
Violet nodded thoughtfully. “I do want to try that dip. I didn’t bring a dress.”
“I can get you a dress,” Liz said, too quickly. “Or wear whatever you like. Wear sweatpants!”
Violet chuckled, gaze still on Liz. “I’ll get a dress.”
“So that’s a yes?” Liz wanted to make sure.
“That’s a hell yeah.” Violet deepened her voice, turning goofy. “Ho, ho, ho. Jolly Christmas!”
Was more time with Violet something she should be avoiding? In this moment, Liz truly didn’t care. “No one says Jolly Christmas.”
“They don’t?” Violet grinned so big her smile wrinkled the bridge of her nose. “Maybe they should start.”