COLSON
The voices are back again.
Only they’re different from the last ones. Before they were very chaotic but also collected. To the point, maybe, is a better way to describe it.
I’m awake, my senses in a tizzy. Except for my sight. I haven’t opened my eyes yet and have no plan in doing so anytime soon.
I like being in the black where my body is insignificant. Where I can hide. Where I don’t have to face my demons and fuck-ups. But, shit, I want to see Violet. I want to open my eyes and have the brown-eyed-beauty I’ve fallen in love with staring back at me.
Only I can’t find the familiarity of her voice in what I hear, so I reach for the darkness instead.
FIFTY-ONE
VIOLET
Olive:What’s the likelihood that if I turn around and show up at your doorstep again, you’ll let me in?
Violet:Please tell me you’re not doing that.
Olive:I’m not. Not yet, anyway.
Violet:Not ever.
Olive:Never say ever.
Violet:That’s not how the saying goes, Olive Garden.
Closingthe apartment door behind me, I slip my shoes off and lower the strap of my yoga mat off my shoulder. It catches on my wrist until I prop it against the wall and head into the kitchen.
Everleigh sits on the island counter, legs folded into a pretzel, with a piece of paper in her hand. “You’re never going to guesswhat this says,” she tells me, lifting the paper between her fingers.
I grab a water bottle from the fridge and crack it open. I spent an hour downstairs in the gym, stretching into poses that typically give me relief. They only semi-worked, leaving me with this underlying anxiousness under my skin. I can’t pinpoint what it’s from, but I can make a good guess.
Some days I hate myself for creating boundaries until I remind myself how crucial it was. I’ve replayed the same mantra in my head for days now, telling myself that I deserve better no matter the feelings I have for Colson.
I pluck the piece of paper from Everleigh and scan the top. Both of our names are scrawled in Sylvia’s perfect bubbly letters with hearts as dots over the i’s. “Why did Sylvia write us a letter?” I ask her. “That’s not like her at all.”
“She left,” Everleigh says point blank.
My eyes flick up to her. “What? Why?”
“Read the letter. It’s all there.”
I scan over Sylvia’s short and to the point string of sentences. Shock sinks down in me when I get to the part that says she’s moving back to Ireland to be with her family. However, there’s not really a direct reason behind why she’s going. It just says that by the time we read her letter, she’ll have already boarded her plane back home. She mentions not worrying about the rent for her room for the rest of the semester, the last line confirming she won’t be coming back.
Confusion swirls in my head, mingling with my post-workout endorphin rush. I step back and lean against the counter. “I’m not sure what to say.” I look at Everleigh who’s sporting a downcast expression. We’ve known for a while that something was going on with Sylvia, but I never thought she’d just…up and leave.
“Me either. I had to stay late for that T.A. gig I was telling you about.” She huffs out a sigh. “That’s a whole other story I’ll have to tell you about later, but that was on the counter when I came in. She just left, Violet. Didn’t even say goodbye. Did she text you at all?”
“No, nothing,” I tell her.
“When was the last time you saw her? God, I feel like it’s been weeks since I’ve actually seen her face to face.”
I think back, remembering when I saw her in the kitchen that day she went straight for the alcohol cabinet. And again when she found me and my sister watching TV. “It’s been days at the minimum. She was on a different schedule than me and must have stopped showing up for classes, because I haven’t bumped into her on campus at all.”
“I heard her come in late the other night,” Ev says. “But that’s it. I didn’t think much of it because it seemed to be her new way of living. Sleeping in late, coming home late.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Think her parents forced her back to their homeland?”
