17. Violet
SEVENTEEN
VIOLET
It’s been days since I sat in Colson’s lap, and we held each other. As much as I hate the distance and wouldn’t have imagined saying this a week ago, I’m glad for it. I’m hoping that when the time comes that he needs someone, he remembers that I’m someone he can confide in.
Until then, my main goal is to distract myself. Finals are doing a decent job of reminding me where my attention needs to be. I’m wholly focused on my notes, running my finger over the text repeatedly and then scribbling the information I need to know on notecards so I can memorize the material I need for my upcoming exam.
Finals week starts tomorrow. Less than twenty-four hours until I find out if I’ve fucked myself on all the hard work and effort I’ve given this semester because I chose to get caught up with a guy.
Then I remind myself that I need to trust my abilities, that I’ve never screwed up too badly on exams before and that my love for Colson is bigger than any tests I’ve ever had and any I’ll ever endure.
It’s strange to think about how I so willingly gave up trying with Webber but am acting like an entirely different person when it comes to Colson.
Because you actually love him.
“Focus,” I tell myself, squeezing my eyes shut then opening them to look at my chicken scratch. I normally pride myself on how neat my notes are, but I don’t have much in me to perfect them. I’ve lost the desire to keep everything neat and legible.
I try keeping my attention on studying, but when I eventually fail, I leave my desk for a glass of water. I lean against the kitchen counter and drink, filling it again and chugging a second once I finish.
I spent time in the apartment gym this morning. I let the yoga music take me away and only allowed myself to feel the sting of the stretches. Everything except for the strain on my heart faded. But my muscles are stiff and achy, and I know it’s because I haven’t hydrated myself well enough this week. I’ve lacked taking care of myself to be there for others, but if I don’t get a handle on it soon, everything is going to feel about ten times more overwhelming.
I put my cup in the dishwasher then turn for the cabinets. I’m rummaging through them, searching for something to snack on when someone enters the room. I know it’s not Everleigh because she’s with her sister, which means it’s Sylvia.
I twist around with a bag of tomato-basil crackers in hand and spot her at the other end of the kitchen, her blonde hair pulled back in a French braid. A hot pink skirt stretches over her thin waist and ends about five inches from her crotch. She paired a matching halter tank with it, and I’ll be honest, it’s a cute combo, but it’s not something you wear out if you’re just meeting up with friends in broad daylight.
“Hey,” I greet with a careful smile because as much as I’d like to bypass this awkwardness, that’d be rude. It’d be something she’d do, and it isn’t right. Even after all the messed-up things she has said, I push down my feelings and play nice. “Going out?”
She wears her best poker face, and I can’t tell if she’s zeroing in on a fight or if she’s going to let the tension float away. My hope is for the latter. The last thing I have the energy for is fighting with someone who sees nothing wrong with the way they act.
She makes her way to the alcohol cabinet in the corner and eyes the selection inside. “Meeting up with Fletch and the guys.”
“Sounds fun.”
Who am I kidding?
It sounds like the worst idea ever, but I’ve given up on trying to convince her otherwise. For some unknown reason, she’s become friends with them and sees them daily. I don’t know why, but I’m at the point where I understand it isn’t my business. We’ve grown too far apart for me to insert myself in her life.
She grabs a clear bottle. I catch vodka printed across the label before she reaches for an empty stainless water cup in the next cabinet over. You’d never know what’s inside of it unless you popped the lid and sniffed. She drains the vodka into the cup, then takes the little bit that’s left like a shot. She licks every last drop off her lips then sucks the straw into her mouth and drinks it easily from her canister. Like it’s water.
I ignore the urge to tell her what she’s doing is not okay. She hasn’t been her usual self since last year. It tears at my heart to see her so distant and turning to external vices that will only amplify her problems.
She turns to place the empty bottle into the trash bin and moves for the foyer. Before she gets very far, I step forward and pull at her wrist. She turns her gaze on me in slow motion. Her eyes flick down to my hand on her, but it’s almost like she’s in a daze and zoned out.
She’s not the girl who laughed at the thought of Colson breaking up with me a week ago.
Sylvia has always been known to have strong opinions and not sugarcoat anything, but this is something else entirely. We may not be on the best terms, but her walking in, barely saying a word, and just leaving is so unlike her character that concern immediately washes over me.
“Sylvia, are you okay?”
Her brow lifts in challenge as my eyes bounce between hers. Her voice is flat and lacking life. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
My attention moves down to the cup in her hand, and I choose to tread lightly. Maybe she has convinced herself she’s good, but she most definitely is not. She’s not around much, and when she is, she’s cooped up in her room sleeping or getting snappy with me and Everleigh. I don’t know if she’s going to her classes like she should be or if she’s planning to show up for her finals. Just because she was in the quad the other day doesn’t mean she's actively participating in her studies.
I don’t mention how we both know her cup is filled with eighty-proof liquor. I have no idea how she’d react, and I’m not certain I’d be able to handle one of her outbursts amped up on alcohol and whatever else seems to be in her system.
Not when I’m going through my own stuff.
Stuff she doesn’t even know about because we’ve grown so far apart.
It hurts knowing how attached she, Everleigh, and I were freshman year, and now we can’t even be bothered to keep each other up to date with what’s going on in our lives.
So quickly, we’ve gone from friends to complete strangers.
“We just haven’t really talked or hung out,” I say, giving her space by dropping her wrist and taking a step back. “Just checking in.”
“Do us both a favor, Violet, and don’t.”
My bottom lip curls into my mouth when she reminds me of the type of person she is, and I nod, leaving it at that. There’s nothing I can say that’ll end with us laughing it out or in each other’s arms.
As soon as she walks out the door, I track down my phone and send a message to Everleigh, telling her about Sylvia. That it’s only a matter of time before her behavior catches up to her and she makes a mess of her life, if she hasn’t done so already.
I set my pencil on the pull-out desk in front of me. The auditorium my professor teaches Language and Literacy in is a temporary placement until his classroom gets the fresh coat of paint the administrative department promised three weeks ago. Only, when they went in to start the project, there was a leak they had to deal with first.
It's pushed back completion, bottling us up in a different room. It’s not all bad, but the desks are small, the area between each seat miniscule. I don’t know how some of the guys are fitting into them, especially the jocks with their thick thighs and meaty torsos.
I send a quick glance around the room then start flipping through my exam. It’s ten pages, front and back, with an essay section on the last page. My nerves are all over the place. I need to just push everything else out of my mind, but it’s hard when I’d rather run in Colson’s direction.
I want to see him.
Hug him.
Make unrealistic promises, like tell him everything will be okay.
He lives in all the nooks and crannies of my mind as I check boxes and try not to second guess myself. My eyelids are heavy, and my eyes have this overwhelming dryness to them that always seems to come every spring when pollen coats everything. Not to mention I’ve been up since five, because I couldn’t fall back asleep.
When I think I’ve finally answered all the questions correctly, I collect my belongings and hoist my messenger bag over my shoulder. I’m at the end of the row, so thankfully, I don’t have to shimmy and excuse my way past peoples’ legs. I quietly set my packet down with the other few who are already done on the professor’s desk and offer a smile. He gives me a subtle nod and turns back to his laptop.
I head in the direction of the closest coffee spot on campus. They’re sprinkled all over the place, and usually have the same menu. I wait in line to fill up on caffeine since I plan on heading to the gym after. I have a short break in the day before having to show up to my Family Child Care class and finish that final.
One step closer to winter break.
I’m waiting to collect my order when strong arms envelop my shoulders. I see the hint of a green shirt and smile, knowing exactly who it is. Green is Sebastian’s favorite color, and I’d be doing him an injustice by saying that it doesn’t match up against his slightly darker skin tone damn near perfectly.
“You good to share what you ordered?” he asks with a cheeky smile.
“No way in hell.”
“Aw, come on. I’m working hard over here, too, you know.” He releases his hold on me, and I twist around to see his full frame. He doesn’t look like he needs coffee, that’s for sure. In fact, he looks like he woke up on the right side of the bed this morning. As if his cousin’s life and sanity aren’t up against the test of time. As if said cousin didn’t have his hand around his neck a mere few days ago.
“Are you almost done?” I ask him, referring to his finals schedule.
“Two down this morning,” he confirms, hands on the straps of his bookbag. “One more this afternoon and then I have two tomorrow, but one is more of a presentation than an actual exam.” The lady at the coffee kiosk calls my name and hands over my coffee. I fall in step with Sebastian, heading in the direction of the campus gym. It’s a trek, but it’ll be worth it when some of this tension in my body melts away. “What about you?”
“Two today, two tomorrow.” I blow through the small slit in my coffee cup, hoping it’ll cool down its near-lava temperature.
“Think you did okay?”
“I mean, I think I definitely passed.” I tilt my coffee just enough for it to scald my tastebuds. I wince and blow on it more. “But I don’t think I’m going to get the straight A’s I initially wanted.”
He bumps his arm into mine. “I’m sorry all this shit is happening right now. It’s the worst possible time for it, but we all appreciate you being there for him.”
I mean, I wouldn’t exactly say I’ve been there.
Every time I’ve tried, Colson has pushed me away, but I don’t remind him of that.
“I just wish he’d realize that he’s not alone. That there are people a call away who would drop everything for him.” Sebastian frowns, and I think our minds both go to the same thing. “Has he talked more about what happened at the lawyer’s office?”
“I haven’t been around since…” Since Colson had his hand wrapped around his throat . “I needed a little bit of space to focus on my finals.” He shakes his head in this solemn kind of way. Sebastian’s naturally grinning expression fades and replacing it is a version of him I don’t see often. I think he’s genuinely worried about Colson. And maybe wonders if we’ll be able to help him. I understand that. I’ve had moments where I think the same. Where I’m unsure if we’re strong enough to hold Colson up while his legs aren’t able to do it for him.
“What happened has been a lot. It’s normal to need a break from it. To have your own space. I’m sorry he did that to you, Sebastian.”
“It’s not your thing to apologize for. Besides, I know that isn’t him,” he tells me as we follow the walking path. “He’s never crossed those lines with me or with anyone I know. He’s just trying to redirect his pain onto someone else. Easier to make it through the day that way.”
“You don’t deserve it.”
The insanity of the swampy, crocodile-infested waters Colson can’t seem to swim out of is not something any of us deserves, but I also know we’ll all be there for him regardless of what any of us says. Because it’s what you do when you care about someone.
“None of us do,” he murmurs, his eyes slicing to me as if we’re talking about me now. “Are you going to see him any time soon?”
I shrug. “I need to finish these finals. Need to keep my head clear for them. I want to know what’s going on with him,” I admit, “But I also feel like space is good for us. All we do when we’re together is argue.”
Besides, he probably doesn’t even want to see me.
He sighs, and I feel it in my bones, tracing its way from one to the next until my entire body seizes silently from the pressures of life.
“For the longest time, I thought you were the only one who could lift the blinders he had super glued over his eyes. I don’t think that’s true anymore,” he concedes. “I don’t think anyone has what he needs to see clearly. And I’m not saying that because I’m giving up on him, Vi. I think the only person who’s capable of saving himself…is him.”
Maintaining my standing forward bend, I relax my body and let my head hang heavy. My ponytail swishes to the ground as my hamstrings pull tight. When the burn mimics a line of fire ants, I sink into the stretch deeper.
I push every thought out of my mind, focusing on the violin that accompanies the piano in my earbuds. It’s melodic and curls around me in a way that almost feels like a hug. I breathe deeply and allow my lungs air for the first real time today. All morning, I made it through campus on half breaths. Enough to keep me going, but not sufficient to the point my body was getting what it needed.
A pressure I’m used to from doing lots of downward dogs fills my head. It’s like hanging upside down but not as prominent. I relish in the fullness of it, trusting how it's regulating my nervous system and giving me the chance to come down from the stressful high I’ve been riding for days.
When my music cuts out and a new melody graces my ears, I stand tall, take one last belly-deep breath and release my stance. I roll up my yoga mat, pressing the Velcro together so I can loop the strap over my shoulder. My messenger bag with my books and water bottle sits off to the side. I head over, grab it, and look across the gym through the windows in the yoga room. It’s more muted in here than the rest of the gym, where boombox speakers pump uplifting workout music. College students are all around, and it’s not a surprise since it’s cold outside.
Pushing out the door and into the open space with weightlifting equipment and ellipticals, I hoist my messenger bag over my head. Somehow, it gets tangled in my ponytail. The smart thing to do would be to stop, set my water bottle down, and fix it.
But I’m not on my A game.
I keep walking, struggling to separate my hair from the metal buckle of my strap. Rounding the corner for the main entrance, I free the strands with a relieved breath.
The strap comes down to rest on my opposite shoulder at the same time I bump into someone. I stumble on my feet, the grip on my water bottle loosening. It crashes to the floor, the spout opening and water gushing out. One of my earbuds falls victim to the jostling as well, slipping out of my ear and skidding across the floor. I lose sight of it and reach for the water bottle to save it from creating a tiny flood where someone could slip.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” a guy says as his hand clasps around my purple stainless steel cup.
Surprise skitters up my spine. I know that voice. I spent two years of my life looking forward to hearing it after a long day and enjoying the way it murmured sweet words into my ear after nightfall. But I also remember how it cracked in brittle sadness when I broke up with its owner.
I glance up to find the same light green eyes that used to shine in the morning light that drenched my dorm room. “Webber,” I breathe out.
“Violet?” His gaze trails over my body, taking in my workout gear and disheveled look. He snaps the lid shut on the water bottle and holds it out. “You okay? I didn’t see you coming around the corner. You barreled right into me.”
I shake my head and drop my chin as I take the cup from him. There’s a hairline crack in the plastic lid. I run my finger over it as I mutter out, “Yeah, I…” I grab the strap of my bag, “I was having a bit of a malfunction with this. Got caught in my hair, and I was trying to walk and fix it at the same time.”
He steps forward, letting someone move around him while telling them to keep an eye out for the spilled water on the ground. I follow his lead when his hand comes up to my elbow to guide me out of the way. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you around.”
When I ended our relationship, Webber promised to give me the space I needed. Looking at him now, I notice the lightness in his features. The way his pretty eyes glow. The way he looks well rested and refreshed. Nothing like the last encounter we had.
“I’m…” I start, wanting to lie and tell him life is great. The reality is…life is a complete horror, and yoga is barely keeping me sane. “Hanging in there.”
His brows draw in, his gaze more observant than before. Concern flashes across his features, and when my eyes fall to the ground again, he reaches out and softly touches my upper arm. “Vi, what’s going on? I know things ended with us, but you can still talk to me.”
He says that, but see, I know otherwise. I can’t lean on Webber when it comes to me and Colson. Whether or not he would understand isn’t the issue. It’s that…I don’t want him thinking it’s an open invitation to rekindle what we had. The flame we shared was blown out, and there’s no match in the world that could relight it.
I’m quiet for too long. His gaze bounces between mine as I think of a response.
His tongue darts out of his mouth and smooths over his bottom lip. And that brow of his, it arches in question, joining his words for one hell of a ride when he quietly asks, “Is it Sebastian’s cousin? Did he hurt you?”
I glance away because yes, he did hurt me, and I want to shout that from the tallest building in Chatham Hills. However, the only person I really want to hear it is Colson. Not my ex who stands in front of me with assessing eyes and judgmental words.
“I know that look, Violet. You look fucking wrecked. I know you two have been seeing each other, and I’m good with that. Just want to make sure you’re good, too. If something happened…”
I conjure as much strength as I can muster and raise my head. My spine straightens along with it. “I’m okay,” I answer, looking Webber in the eyes. “He didn’t do anything. Finals are just dragging me down.” It’s on me for falling for someone who’s tragically damaged yet beautifully made.
“You say that, but I’m having a real hard time believing it.” He rubs his lips together. “If you don’t want to tell me, fine, but at least talk to Sebastian. He’ll help you through whatever you’re going through, and he won’t be afraid to call his own flesh and blood out on his bullshit.”
Webber’s name comes from behind me, someone shouting it over the clunking of a nearby weight machine. He lifts his gaze over my shoulder before I have the chance to thank him for being decent. With everything we’ve been through, it’s nice to know that he’s not holding grudges.
“That’s a buddy of mine I’ve been training with,” he explains, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “I gotta go.”
“Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”
He looks at me for one long stretch. Almost like he doesn’t want to go to his friend at all. But we both know he can’t stay rooted in front of me. We’re living two different lives now, and his is calling him back into its orbit.
“Keep your head up, Vi. And never fucking forget that you deserve the world. You know you do. Don’t settle for whatever shit you’re going through. Go after what makes you happy.”
I nod with a tiny smile, holding my water bottle to my chest despite my ribcage trying to reflect the crack in my cup. Webber steps around me, getting lost in the mix of chaos happening in the gym. I don’t turn around to see where he goes or if he turns and steals one last glance of me. It’s not until I’m halfway home that I notice I never picked up my earbud from the gym floor.