by Daya Daniels
I groaned a yes.
“Left handed is rare.”
“It is.” I replied with narrowed eyes, curious about the read she had on me.
“I know that you bathe in Irish Spring soap.” She pursed her lips.
I laughed out loud. “It’s a fresh scent that I like.” I explained. “I don’t really wear cologne.”
“I like it.” She said with a smile. “It’s nice.”
“Thank you. What else do you know?”
“Not much. I’m drawing a blank with you.” She admitted.
“Leaving someone curious isn’t a bad thing.”
“I suppose it isn’t.” She smiled. “But all my senses aren’t that great. I fall all the time and bump into things, usually when I’m home.” She laughed. “I’m used to it, believe me.”
It’s quiet for a moment, while I take the time to simply stare at her while she squirms under my gaze. It’s almost as if she can sense my eyes on her but she doesn’t say. She’s sexy as hell and I’m rock hard just sitting next to her staring at her lips and something about this encounter makes me feel like a teenaged boy.
I swallowed back my laughter at myself.
“This is nice, just eating and talking. I don’t usually do this.”
I groaned. “Why?”
“I don’t know. People don’t find me that um, sociable.” She said in a small voice.
I brushed my fingers over her cheek, swiping away some tartar sauce that had gathered at the corner of her mouth and wiped it away. Her hazel eyes blinked slowly and her hand lifted clutching my wrist. They fell closed for a moment at the contact and my breathing hitched for a moment, making it difficult to breathe. I pulled away without saying anything and cleared my throat.
She rushed back to eating her food. “Eating sometimes, especially in public can get a bit messy.” She laughed.
“It’s just us here and some people in the distance sitting in the park around here. No worries.”
Her shoulders lifted. “I feel comfortable with you.”
I smiled. “I have that effect on people. They usually like to talk to me.”
“You studied English literature in school?
“Yeah.”
“But you don’t believe in romance?”
“Nooo.” She said with a chuckle.
“Just seems ironic.”
“It is.”
Violet
The air was cool out and the mood was different. We talked and I relaxed more and more as the conversation went on. Music echoed from the distant bars around us and people talked. I’d just finished eating one of the best wahoo fish tacos I was certain I’d ever had. We sat beneath a sycamore tree, partially in the dark and light.
I felt his eyes on me and sank into the rhythmic sounds of him just breathing. He’d nearly inhaled his food so I knew he had a large appetite. He was funny and charismatic and something about his presence just made me want to talk.
When did I ever talk?
Soon, he’d be inclined to roll the white couch out right here and have me stretch out on it and tell him my life story.
“Do you live alone?” I asked.
“Yeah, I do.”
“You like that?”
“I suppose.”
“I live alone too.” I admitted.
“I’m just going to go and chuck this all in the trash.” He said as he gathered up all the items in front of us and rushed off.
He was back in a flash making himself more comfortable on the bench next to me.
“Where are your parents?” I asked him.
“My mother Maira stays at home and my father Peter is a deputy principal. They’re still together and have been for the last forty years. They live a few minutes from me in Cannon Beach.”
“That’s nice.”
“They’re still in love.” He said with a smile in his voice.
“Love.”
“I had a normal upbringing, full of great memories. I have a younger brother named Asher who’s three years younger than me. We’re close but we’re nothing alike.
“Do you have any siblings?”
I’d always wanted a brother or a sister but after my mother left, James seemed to have given up hopes of making our family any bigger. He never dated. Until Fiona, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even known my father to be in a relationship with a woman. Growing up, most of his time and resources were spent taking care of me.
Everyone in my life made sacrifices for me. They all gave up large portions of their own happiness to take care of me and I hated that. I hated that I was a burden. I hated me.
“No.”
“Just you then.” He said.
“Yeah, it’s always been just me. I know my father wished he could have had more children but he never did. So, I’m like his son and his daughter put together.”
Elijah’s deep laughter vibrated through me where we sat. His warmth surrounded me and I had this weird desire to crawl into his lap and live there. There was something comforting about him that made me feel different.
I swallowed back my next question, unsure of how to approach it. “Why’d you decide to become a doctor?”
He inhaled deeply through his nose. “I like to help people. I always have. I’m always curious about what makes people the way they are and so forth.”
“That’s nice. Have you diagnosed me?” I asked hesitantly, unsure if I’d fly off the handle if I knew the answer.
He only groaned in response but didn’t enlighten me.
“Elijah.”
“That’s a loaded question or better yet, that’s a trick question Violet and you know it.”
I smiled. I liked this guy. I really really liked this guy.
His large hand cupped my cheek, drawing me closer to him causing goose bumps to erupt all over my skin. There was something about his touch that disarmed me, melted me, turned me into putty in his hands. It was different. A touch unlike any I’d ever felt before. His fingertips left invisible burn marks on my flesh everywhere they touched.
I took a few light breaths, desperate for him to kiss me again. He was so close that I could smell the natural scent of his skin and sweet remnants of Dr. Pepper on his lips. My hand covered his for a moment while his eyes swept over my face. I couldn’t see it of course but I could feel it.
“I like when you touch me.” I whispered.
His thumb brushed over my cheek. “Do you say that to all of them?”
“No.” I cringed a little, resisting the urge to slap him.
He shoved his fingers into my hair feeling the soft strands roughly, forcing me to crane my neck up to him, running his thumb down the length of my neck. The gesture earned a squeak from me, shocked by the gentle brutality of it.
But he didn’t kiss me again...
“Excuse me.” A soft voice interrupted our conversation.
“Yes.” Elijah answered.
The woman gasped and rattled out her words. “I-I I’m sorry. I-I was just wondering if you knew which way…I’m sorry never mind. I – I - I’m sorry.” The soft voice trailed off until it stopped completely. Footsteps moved briskly away from us, cutting through the grass from the woman heading away.
Elijah inhaled loudly, filling the awkward silence. “I should get you home. It’s getting late.” He muttered.
“Okay.”
Violet
The night hadn’t ended the way I thought it would. I was stuck between feeling spurned and oddly cherished.
I was going out of my mind!
Elijah handed out rejections like they were Jehovah Witness pamphlets. They were frequent, free and fucking endless.
I had to give it to him. He was interesting. I was comfortable talking to him. I wanted to talk to him. I couldn’t remember the last time, I’d just talked to a man. Groaning as I took the stairs to my loft, I reminded myself of how badly I wanted to fuck him. But he didn’t want me that way. He’d quickly ruined those plans and now I was left a horny, frustrated
mess.
Why was he torturing me?
Taking a deep breath, I slumped against the wall on stair number nineteen thinking about him. After a moment, I took the rest of the stairs slowly until I made it to the top.
“Vi, are you okay?” Brooke asked.
“Yeah. What are you doing up?”
She was silent for a moment, likely looking me over, giving me the inspection that I always got when I arrived home at strange hours of the night.
I loved Brooke to death but she wasn’t my mother. I needed her to be my friend and nothing more. After moving into this loft and her and Kyle settling in next door, her level of involvement in my life seemed to be reaching an all-time high.
Brooke was a people pleaser, always putting herself last. I couldn’t be blamed for that. She worried about me. She took care of me. She treated me like a fucking child.
“I’m not drunk, Brooke.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
“Was that the same man? He’s tall. Elijah, is it?”
“Yes.” I huffed out, plopping down to take off my shoes.
She made a strange sound but still didn’t speak. “I was watching you both from the window.”
“Yeah, he said.” I scoffed, tossing my shoes to the side.
“That’s a vintage truck he’s driving. It looks old but it’s definitely been restored.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know Brooke. I didn’t ask him about his truck. I guess you’re forgetting that I can’t see it.”
“Did you let him get in your pants, Vi?”
I chuckled. “I was going to but he didn’t want to.
“Interesting.” She whispered in a tease. “Not used to that huh, Vi.”
“No.” I admitted, listening to her stifled giggle.
“I can never see his face, Vi. He’s always wearing a hood.”
“Well, it’s cold.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, I suppose it is.”
“I’m going to bed.” I said, walking slowly in the direction of my bedroom.
“We have to be on time tomorrow. It’s important.”
“Yes, mam.”
CHAPTER THREE
Violet
“We’ll give you time to think, Violet.” Dr. Randall said as he ran his fingers along my eye sockets, pulling on my skin gently so he could get a better look.
“The retina is a light sensitive tissue in the back of the eye. The problem, is that the retinal detachment you’ve experienced has spread far enough that it has affected parts of your central vision.
“When the macula, the part of the retina that provides central vision loses contact with the layer beneath it, it quickly loses its ability to process what the eye sees.
“In your case the macula is detached. Usually, when the macula detaches it’s too late to restore normal vision but with the advances we have made we can correct that as well but it will require a few more procedures, which can be done at the same time.”
A bright light was shined into my left eye. The middle-aged doctor hovered close while his soft breaths skated across my face, allowing me to smell the antiseptic that lingered on his lab coat.
“It’s a possibility that we’ve waited too long to attempt this surgery but the sooner we begin Violet, the sooner we might be able to restore your vision and you can begin a new life.”
I should’ve jumped for joy about that. But instead I wasn’t sure how I felt about being able to finally see. I’d lived twenty-nine years like this. What was the rush?
While the thought of being able to see excited me, it terrified the shit out of me.
“Violet, what do you think?” Dr. Randall asked, as the examination chair I was sitting in quickly shifted to an upright position.
“I don’t know. I’m afraid I won’t look the same if it fails.”
Dr. Randall chuckled.
“Vi, you’re being superficial.” Brooke chimed in.
“Well Vi, if I’m going to be blind. At least I could look good being blind.”
She sighed.
“A detached retina does not get a supply of oxygen. This causes cells in the area to die, which has led to your blindness. If we can push cell regrowth, it changes everything.
“We have to give you the odds of success or failure but I’m confident that we can restore your vision Violet but it will be a very complex surgery.”
I dropped my head.
Dr. Randall touched my hand softly. “I can assure you that you are in good hands, Violet.”
“Thank you, Dr. Randall.” Brooke said. We’ll give you a call in a few weeks and let you know the decision.”
“Thank you.” I said softly.
Violet
“You’re daydreaming.” Brooke said interrupting my daze.
Oh Wonder’s song White Blood, echoed from the car radio. Occasionally, I hummed along to the entrancing tune. Chuckling at Brooke’s statement, I enjoyed the soft breeze on my face as we drove and the pungent smell of exhaust fumes from the other vehicles along the highway.
“I’m just thinking.”
“About what?”
“What it will be like if I’m able to see. How everything will change.
“What if I’m not a great artist anymore because my new vision has clouded my artistic ability.”
She laughed. “Violet, that sounds crazy!”
“Does it?”
“Yes, it does.”
I leaned against the side of the car, enjoying the motion of it as we cruised along the highway.
“I took a review of all the work you have so far for this collection and every piece is amazing, Violet. We’ll make the deadline for the show.”
“Good.”
“I need clay.”
“What?”
“I want my next collection to be all sculptures. I need clay. Can you get me some?”
She hesitated. “Um, yeah sure.”
“Are you sure this is the direction you want to go in?”
“Yes, I’m certain.”
She remained silent. “But that’s not what you were thinking about was it?”
“No.” I chuckled.
“What’s this guy’s last name, Vi? What does he do?”
“I don’t know.” I said simply.
She laughed. “You spent time with him last night and none of those questions came up?”
“I guess they didn’t. I was focusing on other things I guess.”
“Like what?” She asked incredulously. “If you weren’t fucking, then what exactly were you focusing on?”
I smiled. “His voice, his smell, the way he touched me casually. The way he kissed me. I’ve never had a man kiss me like how he kissed me, Brooke.”
I dragged my fingers across my lips, remembering how his felt against mine.
“It was soft?” She asked with a giggle.
“No.” I barked. “It was just different.” I whispered.
Elijah
“I came over last night but you weren’t here.” Asher announced as he pushed the front door open.
“Yeah, I went into the city for a bit, to listen to some music.”
With a quick nod, he spoke again. “I haven’t seen you in a few days. I keep missing you I guess.”
He grabbed a cup from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with coffee. “How have you been?” He asked taking a seat at the kitchen table across from me.
“Good, I have a long list of patients to get to today.”
He took a sip of his coffee and eyed me strangely. “You sure?”
“Yes.” I said glaring at him.
He raised his hands defensively. “Okay.”
“I know Mom requires you to come and check me once a day but it’s really not necessary.”
He sighed. “She means well. You know, Mom. We’re her babies.
“How’s the hand?”
I flexed it feeling the tightness in the tendons between my fingers. “It’s getting there. How’s business going?” I asked.
&
nbsp; “Good. I have a vintage Ford to work on. The guy that owns it has all these bizarre requests for the restoration - chrome wheels and fittings, he wants a unique color design on the outside and the rims have to be imported from another state. It’s a long list of craziness man.” He chuckled. “But it’s good, keeps me busy.”
Asher ran a vintage automobile restoration business, which I invested in when he finished high school eight years ago. He’d also been featured on a few television shows and was well known for the work he did throughout the Pacific Northwest, restoring old vehicles. So far, business for him was booming and he was doing what he loved.
I would’ve said two years ago that Asher and I were almost the splitting image of each other, with him only being maybe two inches shorter. We both had the same dark hair but his was long and always tied up in what I called a man-bun. We had the same blue eyes, that we inherited from my graceful mother. My brother was covered in tattoos from his neck down to his fingers. I’d never been a fan of the ink and it wouldn’t have fit in with my profession anyhow. I could imagine the strange looks I would’ve gotten from patients, if I were covered in tattoos and piercings – doubt it would’ve gone over well.
I stood from the chair, taking a long stretch and making a yawn.
“You still running?” He asked looking up at me.
“Every morning.” I told him, sauntering over to refill my coffee cup.
“I’m sure you’re still working out.”
I grunted a yes in response to his question, with my back towards him. “Two hours in the gym five days a week.”
“Says your chiseled pecs.” He laughed.
“Yep.”
“The fridge is full and I can see you’re still eating well.”
“Asher, I take care of myself.”
He nodded. “Yeah you do. I need to come down and put in some time in your gym myself.” He chuckled.
“How is Kate?”
“She’s a-fucking-cunt.” He whispered while his face twisted in a disgusted expression.
I groaned.
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Asher and his current wife Kate were in the middle of a brutal divorce after only two years of marriage. Their constant bickering pulled my two nephews every which way, between their mother and my brother. Asher and Kate continued to live in the same house, which only made matters even more complicated.
