The Re-do #4
I felt myself smile too, and something in her lit up. She set the bag of chips on her knee, shifting the entirety of her focus on me.
“You seem like a reasonable person, Dex,” she said.
“I hope so.”
“It wouldn’t be reasonable to take two random girls on a road trip across the country,” she continued. “But I think you should anyway. Before you say no…” She swallowed, blinking rapidly. “Don’t say no. Please.”
I knew this feeling. That raw desperation, clawing at anything that might ease the pain, even for a second. A Band-Aid, she’d called it. I’d been seeking them out for two years. I was still stuck in it.
I couldn’t bring myself to keep being the bad guy with this kid. Not today.
“Maybe,” I said. Her eyes widened comically. “If this is something your sister would be comfortable with or want to do—not because she’s trying to appease you—maybe I’d consider it.”
Her face split into a bright grin. Days ago, Violet broke down in the lobby because it had been so long since she’d seen this kid smile, convinced that Benji’s letter was the answer. It seemed she was right.
“Are you serious?” Phoebe let out a mystified laugh. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”
“Maybe,” I reminded her. She nodded and bent to unzip a front pocket of her backpack, withdrawing her phone.
“No, yeah, for sure. I’m gonna text Violet and let her know I’m here.”
“She doesn’t know you’re here?”
“She never would’ve let me, so I just came by after school. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not,” I said. “But she probably is.”
She waved this off, focusing on her phone. “I’m not that late. Shit, my phone is dead.”
“ ‘Not that late’ is still late.” I grabbed a pen and a Post-it off my desk. “Do you know her number?”
Phoebe looked up at me, the first hint of regret splashing across her features. “I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. It’s been, like, an hour.”
“Do you know her number or not?”
She relayed the number, and I jotted it down. Briefly, I contemplated calling her myself, but I didn’t want Violet to associate this particular moment with me, and I tried not to think too hard about what that meant. Instead, I told Phoebe to sit tight and headed into the lobby.
Mary was sitting at the reception desk, fingers flying across the keyboard with her eyes locked on her computer screen.
She’d been Benji’s favorite co-worker; they were both trans and I believed it meant the world for my brother to see someone like him who made it out on the other side, gay and happy.
That first day I showed up at Sequest and she told me how sorry she was, I could feel how much she meant it.
“Hey, Mary,” I said. She glanced over, still typing. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting.” She pulled her hands back and spun in her chair to face me. “What’s up?”
I offered her the Post-it. “Could you call Violet St. Clair and let her know Phoebe is here?”
“Sure.” She studied the Post-it curiously, and then her gaze lifted to meet mine. “Anything else?”
The smile she gave me was unsettling. I rubbed my jaw and muttered, “No. Thank you.”
I liked Mary. We were friendly. I didn’t share things with her, so it made sense why she believed there was something different about Violet. Mary saw me that day Violet showed up on her own, and she saw me afterward.
I’d been rattled. It had been so long since I’d looked at anyone and felt something, Violet may as well have sunk her hand into my chest cavity.
It was painful; not looking at her but seeing her.
She was a stranger and yet I knew her, understood her.
And when she looked at me, it felt like she understood me too, which was so fucking absurd I had to sit at Benji’s desk with my head in my hands for half an hour afterward.
Mary had to ask me twice if I was okay. For once, I’d answered honestly: I don’t know.
I tried to convince myself Violet affected me like this because she was beautiful—so fucking beautiful in a devastating way, like she’d already broken my heart.
But mere beauty doesn’t haunt you, and it certainly doesn’t attach itself to you, hanging off your neck, fingers pressed against your windpipe so you can’t breathe without thinking of pink lips and freckles.
I returned to Benji’s office and Phoebe proceeded to talk for fifteen minutes, seemingly without taking breaths. I focused hard on every word, every syllable, so I wouldn’t think about the imminent arrival of her sister until the moment she barreled through the door.
I scrambled to my feet, Benji’s chair clattering into the wall behind me, and Phoebe looked at me like I might be crazy.
Violet was soaked to the bone, clothes practically melded to her body, copper hair stuck to her cheeks.
Rain dripped from her eyelashes, her chin.
She was gasping, terrified, until her eyes landed on Phoebe, and I watched relief hit her like a dose of morphine.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe and a part of me would’ve been fine with Violet’s face being the last thing I saw.
I was fucked.