15. Violet
15
VIOLET
I’m standing outside the door again, pacing back and forth as I prepare myself to go in and see Isaac. I peeked through the window a second ago and saw him sitting at his usual spot, waiting for me. This is the second time we’ve met here since breaking up, and I’ve shown up late this time, too. I don’t ever want to be the one who has to wait for him again.
I went through a whole range of emotions when he texted me. I was on the phone with Avery, talking to her about my mum still not responding to me when it came through. At first, I thought I was just imagining it, but then, when I tapped on it, it was real. All he said was ‘hi’, just one word but it had me on the verge of breaking down.
Seeing it at the bottom of all the other messages he’d sent me over the summer got me thinking about how much I’d missed seeing his name pop up on my phone. Even though I didn’t respond to anything he sent while we were at home, there was some part of me that still liked getting his messages because it meant he was thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him.
Our conversation was short, and when he asked to meet up, I was hesitant at first. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt and give him the chance to explain, but I don’t know how I’ll feel once I hear it. But if I want to move on from this and give him another chance at being friends or whatever, then I know I need to face him.
As soon as I step forward to open the door, I look through the glass, and he’s already staring at me. His eyes catch mine, and there’s so much relief in them at seeing me that I push open the door and walk towards him before I can second guess myself.
I sit at the desk in front of him again, knowing I need to keep my distance because I feel like my guard is already slipping.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
“How was your exam?” I ask, hating that all of our conversations now are just full of small talk.
“I tried my best.”
He always does.
We just watch each other for a moment, and he looks tired in a way I’ve never seen before. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his face is paler than usual. There’s a weariness in his eyes, and they’re missing all the brightness that I loved so much. I have to look away, a pang in my chest at seeing him like this. Instead, I watch the way his hands are folded on the desk and how he twiddles his thumbs. I want so badly to reach out to him, to take his hands in mine and feel that familiar comfort.
“I didn’t even want to do it really. ”
What?
I look back up to meet his eyes, trying to figure out the unspoken words he’s saying with that, but he turns his head, looking out of the window instead.
“You didn’t want to do it?”
I don’t want to read too much into what he’s saying, don’t want to start hoping too much that there might be a chance for that future we dreamed of together. But if he didn’t want to take it, then why did he?
“Forget I said anything.” He shakes his head before turning to look at me. “Did you work on the project at all?”
He’s never changed the subject so suddenly like that before, and it just has me confused. I want to know why he didn’t want to take it. I want to know why he did.
“I… uh…”
I can’t get a full sentence out.
I need to know what he meant, but I can see he’s shutting down, retreating into his head to a place that I worked so hard to get to before and have no chance of getting to now. I want to shake him, confront him, force him to talk to me, but I can’t. Instead, I just talk about the project. A neutral ground for us now because it seems like we can’t talk about anything else.
I take my journal out and turn it to the page where I’ve written everything down. I tell him that I worked on the characters more, fleshed them out enough to know what they look and act like so he can start drawing them. I tell him more about the settings that we’ll need for future scenes: a park, an airport, and a train station.
Isaac listens attentively to everything I say, nodding his head and watching me intently. He doesn’t interrupt me once, and I’m reminded of all the times he used to listen to me when I would tell him about my day or whatever issue I was going through. He would always just let me vent out my feelings, waiting until I’d finished before responding or even just holding me so I knew he was there for me.
“Thanks for doing all that,” he says, and it sounds so detached. “I can work on a few sketches and send them over to you later. Can I take a picture of your notes?”
I turn my journal around and slide it across the desk to him.
ONE YEAR AGO
“You can read this?” Isaac holds my notebook close to his face, squinting to look at it, taking his glasses on and off as he exaggerates. “Is this even English?”
“Give it back!” I lean over the desk to try and get it from him, but Isaac scoots his chair back, standing up and holding my book above his head, twisting and turning it as he pretends to try and read it.
I stand up and go towards him to try to get it, but he’s taller than me, and with how far above his head he’s holding it, it’s impossible to reach even when I jump. He looks down at me, a huge smile on his face, and then his arm is around me, pulling me closer to him. I drop my arms and cross them, pretending to be annoyed with him, but it’s impossible to when he’s looking at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen.
“Isaac.”
“Jaanu. ”
“Don’t call me that, I’m annoyed.”
He leans down to kiss my cheek, and it takes everything in me not to smile at him right now.
“This isn’t going to work, you know?”
He lowers the book in between us and loosens his hold on me, leaning back slightly to properly look at me. He looks worried, and I realise he’s taken what I said in the wrong way, thinking that this meant us.
“What do you mean?”
I decide to play into it because he looks adorable like this, and I can’t believe he would even think that I’d consider breaking up with him ever.
“How can I be with you if you make fun of me like that?”
His face drops, and it might be a little mean of me, but I have to hold back a laugh because I’ve never seen him look this serious before.
“I was just kidding, Violet.”
He lets go of me, and I regret playing this joke out instantly. I want him back, want his arms around me again and his face so close to mine.
“I love your handwriting. It’s so cute, and it shows how fast your brain works like you can’t help but just write everything down as soon as you think of it. I think you’re so smart.”
My heart blooms as he compliments me, and I feel so bad for making him think the worst. I step towards him, reaching up to hold his face in my hands and pull him down to me.
“I was just playing with you,” I tell him, and we’re so close that I can feel the sigh of relief he lets out, see the way his eyes close briefly before they open again, and he scans my face.
How could he ever think I’d want anything less than this?
He drops the book on the desk behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold me close to him as I tuck my head into his chest, my arms dropping to his shoulders.
“I thought my heart was going to stop,” he whispers into my hair. “Don’t do that to me again.”
I look up at him, and then one of his hands is on my chin, tilting my head up to his, and our noses brush.
“I won’t,” I say as he closes the distance between us.
I watch Isaac as he reads over my notes before taking a picture of them. He doesn’t say a word; just taps a few times on his phone before locking it and putting it in his pocket.
“I need to go actually.” He suddenly stands up, throwing his bag over his shoulder and stepping away from the desk.
“What?”
He wanted to see me today and explain something to me, but now he’s leaving?
“I have something I need to do.” His voice is low and he’s not looking at me, staring down at the floor instead.
“You said you wanted to explain and now you’re leaving? What’s your problem, Isaac?”
I know I’m on the verge of shouting, but I can’t help it. Everything he’s done since the day our relationship ended is so confusing. I don’t think I know who he is anymore. I don’t know what’s happened to him since we broke up, but this isn’t the Isaac I fell for. Maybe he was acting for our entire relationship, and this is who he really is, someone who can’t face up to the consequences of his actions.
But deep down, I don’t believe that. I don’t want to think that everything that happened between us might have been fake or that it meant more to me than it did to him.
His answer stuns me.
“You, Violet. You’re my problem.”