Chapter 12
twelve
. . .
Violet
If staring at a blank Word document was a job that paid well, I’d be a millionaire right now. The research proposal for my fellowship application was drafted and emailed to Bethany for her feedback. However, writing a personal statement about adversities I’d overcome and my personal motivations for the research I wanted to do…that type of writing was its own kind of hell. I’d never been great at talking about myself or what I went through growing up. It took me almost a decade to find the courage to talk to Monroe about my dad, and that was only because she had overheard our moms speaking about what things were like before we left him.
I can still feel Monroe’s arms wrapped tight around me as she told me she was so sorry for what I had gone through. That and the feeling of embarrassment that ran through my whole body, as I realized she knew one of my deepest secrets. It’s funny how that works. You can be the person someone takes all their anger out on and still feel embarrassed about it, while they continue on unaffected.
“Violet, I know you hate talking about yourself, and I don’t want you to feel pressured right now…but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.” Monroe gives my hand a small squeeze of reassurance probably sensing that I need another reminder that I’m here. Safe.
“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before I just—” I won’t cry. This is going to be hard enough, but I refuse to cry, “I was just so…embarrassed.”
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I know it sounds dumb, but growing up I always blamed myself. I always assumed it was my fault. It was the only thing that made sense. My dad was so nice and charming to people at his job and in public. He only got really drunk and angry and upset at home, so I figured…I figured I was the problem.”
The sadness in Monroe’s eyes turns to rage as she takes in my words and engulfs me in a hug. “Vi, you did nothing wrong. Nothing.”
Over the years my default state was to push my emotions down and bury them as deep as I could. It served me well. Except for the moments when I had to write stupid essays that asked me to rehash a past I wanted nothing to do with. I had camped out at the Beanery the past three hours, hoping the smell of coffee and general anxious energy being emitted by the other students would rub off on me. Instead, I managed to achieve absolutely nothing. Unless you consider doom scrolling on social media an achievement.
“Rough day, Vi?” I lift my head to see Carlos, my favorite barista and manager of the Beanery, setting up fresh pastries in the case. While I was on a first-name basis with all the baristas, Carlos and I had become especially close over the years as I spent many late nights camped in the back corner. As the manager he’d usually be the last to leave, letting me stay way past closing. On those nights he’d walk me to the bus stop to make sure I got home safe .
“Eh, I’ve had worse. I’m more annoyed at myself than anything.” I turn my screen so he can see the blank document. “I’ve been here for three hours, and this is all I have to show for it.”
“That’s tough, but I think I have an idea of what might cheer you up.” He heads to the back, and I have a sneaking suspicion it’s to make my regular order.
I open my mouth to tell him it’s not necessary, but who am I to turn down my favorite drink? Accepting defeat for the day, I shut my laptop as he brings the glass over to my table. “Do you want to take a seat for a minute?”
“Sure, I’m due for a break.” He sets my chai latte down before claiming the seat across from me. “So, what’s new this week?”
We spend the next fifteen minutes catching up. I vent to him about how much I hate having to share my feelings knowing my mentors and other faculty will be reading it. He tells me about how he’s convinced his roommate, who refuses to do laundry more than once a month, has been stealing his underwear for the last few weeks. The look of horror on my face is then followed by a devious smile from Carlos as he tells me about his plans for revenge. He’s hidden away all his underwear except for one pair that he rigged with itching powder. If his suspicions are correct, Carlos’s roommate will have a very rough time soon. I’m wiping away tears of laughter when I notice the familiar scent of pine and soap surrounding me.
“I was just looking for you, Violet.” Mason’s tone is unreadable, which sets me on edge. He’s normally an open book when it comes to his emotions.
“Well as you can see, I’m busy.” I gesture toward Carlos. “Carlos made me a drink and we’re catching up. Now’s not a good time.”
“Did you forget our meeting today? We agreed on 3 p.m. right? I know I’m a few minutes early but?—”
“We agreed to 3:30. And we decided to meet in your office.” There was no way my broom closest would be able to fit myself, Mason, and Jake.
“Are you sure? Let me check my calendar.” Mason grabs a chair from a nearby table, plops in right between Carlos and me, and takes a seat as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“Back to drinking chai lattes I see.” He gives me a small wink before turning his attention to Carlos. “Is it half-sweetened?”
I watch as the tension starts to form on Carlos’s shoulders. “Excuse me?”
“Violet likes her chai lattes half-sweetened. The extra sugar hurts her teeth and leaves a bad taste in her mouth.” Mason tries to come off as genuinely curious and concerned for me. Nobody is buying that crap, buddy.
“I think I’d know her order by now.” Carlos bites out.
When Mason was still playing hockey, he was one of the biggest pests on the ice, always knowing exactly what to say to set someone off. Right now, he seemed perfectly in his element.
“Why? Is that because you’re her barista? Or you’re something else?”
“Careful. I think your jealousy is showing. And that’s never a good look.” It seems Carlos wasn’t so easy to rattle. I didn’t expect to enjoy this dynamic so much, but I just sat back and enjoyed my tea and a show.
“What we are is none of your business.”
“Oof. Caught in the friend zone, huh? That’s tough.” I swear the smirk was permanently etched onto Mason’s face.
“At least Violet considers me a friend. I doubt you can say the same.” Carlos was more perceptive than I thought.
Carlos’s cutting words leave Mason speechless and clenching his jaw. The movement is so subtle I doubt Carlos even noticed it. But I did. I knew all of Mason’s tells, including those that signaled he was losing an internal battle and was about to go off. And from the tension in his jaw and the way his hands were balled into fists, I gathered it was time to close the curtain on my entertainment and head to this meeting .
I push my seat back from the table and stand drawing their attention. “As fun as this has been, Mason and I do need to head to a meeting.” Mason looks up at me, the little storm clouds in his eyes settling as he registers the seriousness on my face. He gets up and puts some distance between us as I pack up all my things. Turning to Carlos, I feel a flood of guilt wash over me at the look of hurt on his face. “We’ll catch up more later C, I promise.”
“Maybe over dinner soon?”
We’d never really hung out much outside of the Beanery, but I sort of relished in the bold offer directly in front of Mason. I gave him a soft smile. “Sure, sounds nice. Talk to you later?”
“Definitely.”
With that I throw my bag over my shoulder and exit the café, Mason right beside me. Neither of us say anything as we begin our walk to the hockey arena, his silence only fueling my irritation. We are almost at the rink when I can’t contain myself anymore. “Care to explain what the hell that was back there?”
“Not sure what you mean Vi.”
“Seriously? Did I just hallucinate the dick-measuring contest?” I give him a pointed look so he knows I’m clued into his little games.
“Don’t be so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes as he holds the door to the arena open gesturing for me to walk in first. “I was just getting to know your friend.”
“No, you were actively trying to provoke him.”
“Oh, was I?”
“Yes. Your infamous ‘ I’m Mason Hayes. I’m so much better than everyone. I wonder how long I can keep pushing before this guy snaps, and I can feel better about myself’ face was in full force.”
“Wow. You got all of that from looking at me? Who knew you were so perceptive.”
I feel myself regressing back to when we were teenagers. “You can be such a dick sometimes. ”
“Yea, I’m a real asshole. Makes sense why you cut me out of your life.”
I nearly trip over my own feet at his words. He halts abruptly and turns back to look at me. “Oh, nothing you want to say now.”
It was a statement more than it was a question. Or really, an accusation. One that I didn’t feel the need to address.
“I didn’t think so.” He mutters more to himself than me as he continues to stalk down the hall, where we see Jake propped up against the door.
The tall blonde hockey player steps aside as Mason unlocks the door and huffs inside. Jake raises his eyebrows at his coach’s clear irritation, and shoots me a look that says, ‘What’s his problem?’ . When he realizes I’m equally upset and unwilling to talk, he rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh before entering the office. “This should be fun.”