When I called Mom next, she said she’d talked to Violet. Mom, being her typical self, tried to get Violet to come to the lake house. Of course, Violet said no, but she gave up a little information. She was at her parents’ in Rhode Island to celebrate her sister’s pregnancy.
Mom told Violet she missed her, and Violet said it back. She told her she should call me, and Violet said she was waiting for some things to settle on her end. What did that mean? Was she seeing someone and about to end it? Seeing where it goes?
But the message was clear. She hadn’t closed the door all the way.
I opened my text app and hovered my thumbs over the keyboard to respond to Yulia. I swallowed and popped my jaw. I closed my eyes to try to come up with a response, but all I could see was Violet.
I’d waited two years. I’d tried, and failed, to date other women. There was nothing wrong with them other than the fact that they weren’t Violet, and I would accept no substitute. I never made it to second dates or kisses or anything like that. I just wasn’t satisfied.
I wouldn’t have felt comfortable telling those women about my dark moments and insecurities. I couldn’t picture my parents liking them. I couldn’t envision a life with them, a house and babies.
When I saw Violet at Stelle’s wedding, everything came flooding back. The late night snacks, the laughter in bed, the way she really listened to me. The way she accepted all of me. And all I wanted was all of her.
Those joys were too brief, but they still outweighed all the pain of losing her. I kept my head high, because if I looked down I’d see the icy, rushing waters below me that could sweep me under in a second. Dwelling would only lead me to my potential downfall.
And for a minute in college, it did. Things got pretty dark for me, and I had some of the scariest thoughts I’d ever had. Thankfully, I was still on medication, and with a more developed brain, so less likely to give in to intrusive thoughts. Somedays were easier than others, but not a day went by where I didn’t wonder why she hadn’t come back, and if it was my fault.
I opened my message chain with Violet, reviewing everything. We got along so well on that wedding weekend. When I didn’t have Violet, I felt like a ribbon flapping in the wind. When I had her, it felt like it was tied into a neat bow, everything in its place and as it should be. For that weekend, I was tied up.
Now I was a frayed ribbon, wind-worn and sun-bleached, waiting for the moment when she’d come back and make me whole again. I sat there in my car outside Sorrento’s house, wishing this waiting would come to an end. My lower lip trembled and I sniffled.
It wasn’t fair. I wanted Violet, and no one else would do.
Tears slid down my face, involuntary gasps leaving me.
For everything we’d endured. For everything we missed out on. For every moment that we should have been something and instead, we were nothing. For whatever kept her away from me.
One more year. I would wait one more year. If I didn’t hear from her in a year, I had to move on.
But for now, I looked up the closest tattoo parlor. I needed a reminder of who I was waiting for—and why she was worth every second.
ELEVEN
VIOLET
SEPTEMBER | COLUMBUS, OHIO
“Okay.”My therapist neatly folded her hands into her lap. “How are you feeling right now?”
The trash can next to me was half-full of tissues, all produced by me. My face was so puffy I could see my eyelids when I looked down. My eyes ached.
I gritted my teeth to stave off another wave of tears. “Exhausted. This isn’t who I wanted to be.”
She shook her head. “It’s not who you are, though. You’re not defined by the things that have happened to you.” She uncrossed her legs. “How do you plan to take care of yourself this evening?”
“I think . . .” My lip wobbled again, but I stifled the tears and sat up straighter. “I want to call him.”
She did that therapist thing of waiting to see if I’d cry more. On cue, I did. After I’d sobbed adequately, she used a very practiced level of gentle. “Colton?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed a fresh tissue under my nose. “I’m scared he won’t answer. I’m scared he’ll be mad I haven’t called him sooner. I’ve lived here for four months and didn’t call him.”
“He might be mad, but he also might not be. You weren’t ready, and it’s okay if you’re still not ready today.”
That was an understatement. We’d been working up to this breakthrough for months. I was getting close to this point when I was in Boston, to uncovering the black hole in my memory, to not running from it anymore.
Then my supervisor got an offer to work in Columbus, at a major research center. She turned it into a perfect postdoc opportunity for me. It wouldn’t be Boston, but I wouldn’t be swimming in free time in a postdoc position anyway. I was excited to get to continue my work.
And, should I decide I was ready, Colton was there. This was almost divine intervention, an opportunity too good to pass up.
