by Olivia Luck
The bus is warm, but a stark shudder rolls through my shoulders.
He’s gone, Violet.
And yet, I can’t let him go. I don’t want to let him go.
The positive energy roaring through my veins abates as I ascend the staircase inside the three-story condominium building. Stella’s place holds the warmth she infused with her decorations and from simply living there, but still a coldness clings to me when I’m inside. This place isn’t truly mine. No place feels like mine anymore. I’m endlessly longing to go home, but I have no clue where that place is.
Drifting in the deep recesses of the unexplored ocean, the twenty-seven-year-old widow clings to the life raft with no hope of rescue.
“Stop.” In the silence of the apartment, my voice is raspy and hollow. “This is why you need a dog,” I mutter.
The stylized suit goes back where it belongs, hanging neatly in the closet. I’ve organized my clothes by shade, a gentle rainbow of sweaters, dresses, jackets, pants, blouses, and denim. Even if I didn’t have all this free time on my hands, I’d live in a color-coded world. The neat, orderly existence gives me something to do and a sense of calm in a world that’s typically full of chaos. I select a pair of denim leggings, a soft white t-shirt, and a long black cardigan. I cross my legs in front of me and settle down onto the hardwood floor in front of a floor-length mirror. Carefully, I section my hair then plait the strands together in a waterfall braid.
Only then do I make my way to the desk in the corner of the room. Lying open is my list. Not a bucket list, or anything that drastic, but a Violet list. These are products of a restricted youth—movies I’ve never seen, books I haven’t read, television shows I haven’t watched, foods I’ve never tasted. This is the first step in broadening my horizons. The sheltered cage I grew up in kept me from learning about the pop culture and expanding my boundaries further than the microscopic town four hours outside of Chicago. I finger the crinkled notebook pages. This list came to me one night after Felix moved me into Stella’s condo. We were sipping wine when I admitted I had never tried Thai food.
“Seriously, Thai food?” Felix splutters from the other end of the couch.
I know my cheeks are turning redder than the tomatoes my sister used to grow back home. “Seriously. There are a lot of things I’ve never done,” I blurt out. Confessions are cathartic, right?
Felix’s brows furrow together. “Like what?”
Bashfully, I study my clear, unpolished nails. “I’ve never left the state.”
“What!” Felix jumps to his feet. “No, not possible. Indiana is like twenty minutes away, and Wisconsin an hour. There’s a great cheese castle across the border. We’re going. Now.”
My hand flies up in protest. “Wait, wait, wait. Can we start with baby steps, like going to a Thai restaurant tonight?”
But Felix isn’t listening. He launches himself up, striding across the living room and down a short hallway to the bedroom. He’s rifling through drawers then reappears with a notebook and a pen. He drops them on the coffee table in front of me. “Yes to Thai food tonight, but we’re probably going to need to order in. We have a lot of work to do.”
“What kind of work?”
“List your never-haves. I’m guessing there are quite a few on there for a preacher’s daughter who went to a religious college.”
Lifting my eyes to Felix, I find no judgment. He’s one hundred percent serious about this task. The tight vise around my heart lessens by a millimeter. Something to look forward to? Okay.
“There are a million movies I haven’t seen.” I lift the blue Bic and twirl it between my fingers.
“What are you waiting for? Get started.”
I flick through the pages full of my scribbles. Then I reach the last pages of the journal where I keep my most coveted part of the book—places I want to visit. Starting small, I listed New Point, a small beach town in Michigan. Then, of course, New York City, Boston, Philadelphia, DC (I’m a bit of a history nerd), the Grand Canyon, Los Angeles, New Orleans. And that’s just the United States! Greece, Brazil, Japan, China . . . There are too many countries, too many places to see.
Secretly, the motivation for getting back into the working world is for traveling funds. Without Max, the city that once bubbled over with possibilities now feels claustrophobic.
“Patience,” I mutter aloud. Flipping back to the front of the notebook, I find my next target. I uncap a pen and draw a line through the movie title. An independent theater on the north side of town is playing this one tonight, and I’m going to watch.
A little while later, I shrug into a sweater coat, thread a scarf around my neck, and venture outside again in search of the bus. I ride east until I run into the elevated train. All the while, loneliness clings to me. Sure, I could call up Stella and see what she’s up to tonight, but my dear friend has dedicated so much of her free time to me already, allowing me to tag along on dates with Blake and time with her other cousins.
You’ve been alone before, you’ll be alone again. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
The line to purchase tickets to this theater assembles outside. I take my spot behind a cluster of college-aged guys goofing around while they wait for their turn. Hugging my purse closer to my side, I wait impatiently.
“Violet?”
I jump at the sound of my name and then whirl around with my hand covering my hammering heart. The guy who said my name has a baseball cap pulled low, the bill covering his eyes. Brown cinnamon facial hair is the best clue I have of this guy. He’s tall and wearing a gray hoodie—and then it clicks.
“Cameron?” I answer his question with a question of my own, though it’s said softly as to not draw attention to him.
He rewards my recognition with a flash of his pearly whites. “I didn’t take you for a Coppola fan.”
“Well, that could be right. I’ve never seen The Godfather. Tonight will tell how I feel for the director,” I say.
“Wow. This is about to be one of the greatest cinematic experiences you’ve ever had. Are you prepared?”
“No,” I say arching an eyebrow. “What does one do to prepare for such an experience?”
“You’re going to need snacks. This movie isn’t short, and you can’t miss a second to go to the concession stand,” Cameron says with a straight face. But from the gleam in his eyes, I can tell he’s teasing.
Looking over my shoulder to make sure no one’s watching, I open my purse and tilt it toward him.
“Contraband. I like it,” he says after seeing the candy I’ve brought along with me.
“What they charge you for a pack of Sour Patch Kids is outrageous.”
Cameron chuckles, shaking his head. “A crime in itself.” He points his chin toward the ticket booth. “They’re ready for you.”
I purchase my ticket then wait awkwardly near the entrance as Cameron purchases his. Are we going to sit together now that we’ve run into each other? I wouldn’t mind sitting with him, but that might be weird. Maybe he came here to get away–
“Mind some company?” Cameron asks the question easily, completely unaware of my inner turmoil.
I smile timidly at him. “Sure. I’ll share my sugar.”
Cameron’s eyes widen for a moment; only then do I notice they’re nice eyes. Framed with dark brown lashes, they’re a golden amber. Beyond that, I find kindness reflecting back at me when I look up at him and that makes me comfortable.
“You have a lot to learn about The Godfather, young grasshopper. We’re going to need more than that.”
“Shouldn’t you be eating, um, healthier because you’re in season?” I ask while he orders a tub of popcorn, some sort of peanut butter and chocolate candies, and a bottle of water.
“That’s why I got water instead of Coke,” he says with a completely straight face. Dropping my face toward my chest, I try to hide the bubble of laughter escaping.
“Tomorrow is a travel day, and we play on Sunday. I’ll have a day to get this ou
t of my system. Plus, you’re sharing it with me.” He tosses the candy my way, and I have no choice but to catch it. We walk side by side into the theater with a comfortable silence between us. I follow Cameron to the center seats. Because the theater was originally built in the 1930’s and had not been renovated much since then, the seats are small and close together. There are no cup holders for beverages or large armrests. Cameron looks like a giant squashed in the seat next to me.
“Are you going to be comfortable?”
“Not really, but this is the only place showing my favorite movie on a Friday night I have off. I’m not complaining.” Then he reaches into my purse, pulling out the sour-sweet candies. “Pardon me, miss, but if we’re going to watch this movie, we need to watch it right.”
My body perks up with interest. Hanging out with Cameron is fun. He’s silly and nice, and even though he’s a famous professional athlete, he seems completely unaffected by his celebrity status.
“Pray tell, what does that mean, good sir?”
With a decisive rip, the bag I bought from the nearby convenience store opens. He dumps the candy into the popcorn tub, shaking it around until the sour jellies disappear into the valleys of the popcorn. “One of the best parts of having an older brother was learning about the mysteries of junk food. Not only is the movie going to blow your mind, but movie theater food will forever be ruined by this combination.” He thrusts the bucket in my direction and I grab a handful of popcorn and candy.
“Oh, wow.” I don’t care that my manners are gone and I’m talking through a mouthful of food. The mixture of salty, sweet, and sour is that addicting. “You were right,” I say once I finish eating.
Cameron shoots me a smug smile. “Don’t second-guess me when it comes to food.”
I raise my hands in mock surrender. “Never.”
We settle into our seats. With only a few minutes remaining until the movie starts, a tall man plops down directly in front of me and my heart sinks. Now, I won’t be able to see the screen, and there are no other options to move unless I ask Cameron to shift to the front of the auditorium. That’s arguably worse than having a neck and head blocking my view.
“Want to switch seats?”
I shoot Cameron a relieved smile. “Thanks.”
Three hours later, my stomach is queasy from the sugar and butter intake and my curiosity quenched. “Believe the hype,” I say to Cameron when the credits start rolling. He stands, stretching his arms above his head and grinning down at me.
“Now you’ve got to see the second one.”
“Yes, definitely. I’ll add it to my list. Was that a real horse head?” I collect our garbage from where we discarded it on the theater floor. Cameron leads the way out of the narrow aisle.
“From what I read, yes, but it wasn’t killed for the movie. Somehow, they found a decapitated . . . You get the picture.”
My nose wrinkles as I toss the remnants of our stash into a large garbage can. “Yeah, I don’t know why I asked. I didn’t really want to know the answer.”
Suddenly, Cameron loses the confidence he held all night. He shoves his hands into his pockets when we’re standing outside, rocking back on his heels. “Look, I don’t want to hammer the point, but do you want to meet Rocky? We could stop by my place real quick and you can decide. You can follow me back to my place in your car.”
I open my mouth to respond when he cuts in. “I swear I’m not some psychopath trying to get you back to my place. You can call Stella for a reference.”
“Don’t be silly. Stella already told me this is the way you pick up chicks.” I force my features straight, trying not to give any indication that I’m joking. Cameron’s mouth falls open. Then closes. Then opens again.
“I’m completely kidding!” I giggle a little at his startled expression. “Of course, you’re not a creep. Stella only tells me how you are the greatest. I’m glad we hung out tonight, and I would love to meet Rocky. I didn’t drive, though.”
I didn’t realize how tense Cameron’s shoulders were until he let out a relieved breath and dropped them down to their natural position. “Right. Okay. You got me.” He grins boyishly. “I’ve got my car. Parked over here.” Shaking his head, though smiling, I follow him toward a side street. Even though he’s a man I don’t know well and should probably feel intimidated by because he’s super handsome, I’m anything but. Spending time with Cameron is like being with a good friend and now, more than ever, I need friends.
Cameron
Holy shit. I almost passed out. The guy who faces pucks flying at nearly ninety miles an hour, straight at his face, got nervous over a joke from the gorgeous woman.
Until today, the majority of what I knew about Violet I had gleaned from conversations with Blake and Stella, and the couple of times I had observed her kindness. If that wasn’t enough to whet my appetite, the woman was fucking brilliant. The presentation today blew me away.
Imagine my immense surprise when I run into this beauty at my favorite movie. Complete fool’s luck. What’s that saying, I’d rather be lucky than good? I don’t subscribe to that philosophy in my work ethic, but with Violet, I’ll take it. God, she’s funny and playful and . . . unavailable. There’s no way she’d be walking to my car with me right now if she knew my thoughts since seeing her this morning. I’ve thought of nothing else than bringing her back to my place and having my way with her until neither of us can stand.
The car beeps when I unlock it with my key fob. I grasp the door handle and open it wide for Violet to dip into the car. She smiles politely in thanks and I quickly shut the door before I say something stupid—like how the color of her hair reminds me of maple trees and leaves changing color in the fall.
I’m fucked.
“You can’t have her,” I remind myself gruffly, as if saying it aloud will let it sink in. Then I climb into the car.
“Is this an iPad built into your car?” Violet asks when the electric motor rumbles to life.
My lips lift in real pleasure now. My car is my baby and a topic I enjoy. With the touch of my fingertip, the touchscreen display rouses. “Not exactly, just the beauty that is a Tesla.”
Violet perks up in her seat. “Wow. So cool! I’ve heard about these and was curious how it would drive.”
“Feel free to poke around.” Glancing over my shoulder at traffic, I navigate the car out of the spot, steering toward River West where I live. A few seconds later, The Black Keys fills the cabin of the car.
“Love this song,” Violet mummers above the lyrics to I’m Not the One. Damn, even my music knows that Violet can only be a friend.
Blake told me about her anguish, the sorrow that stripped her of the will to smile for months and months. As much as I want to chase away her pain, I know that she’s not in a place to date, let alone have a relationship. Whatever feelings I think I have for this ridiculously gorgeous, intelligent, thoughtful, compassionate . . . Yeah, it’s time to send her to the friend zone.
“How long have you had Rocky?” Violet’s melodic voice is all sugar and sweet.
“I got him last year at the Wagging Tails shelter on the North Side. Have you heard of it?”
“Yes, I’ve gone there a few times to scope out the dogs.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Violet’s cheeks take on a rosy glow. Every minute, I discover something new and irresistible about her. Her creamy complexion looks smooth as silk. The blush only makes them more desirable, more kissable. I almost groan aloud as the muscles in my hands flex around the wheel. This is turning into the most uncomfortable car ride of my life.
“Can you tell I really want a dog?” She laughs softly to herself. “Growing up, we always had at least one dog. They’re the ideal companion, always happy to see you. Though I have to admit, I’m surprised the famous athlete has a pup at home. I mean, you travel quite a bit.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Like you, I grew up with dogs. I’ll deny this if you ever tell anyone, but being a professional ath
lete can be lonely. Rocky’s my bud. When I’m not on the road, we do everything together. He’s not that big, but he loves to be outdoors and at the dog beach. It works for us.”
I allow myself a quick glance her way. Her eyes, a blue so dark it reminds me of storm clouds on a summer day, flash with a memory, and I can tell it’s a good one by the softness in her features. I swallow roughly and shake my head to clear it. “Yeah.” I don’t know what I’m agreeing to. She could have asked me to take her to the moon, and I’d look into buying a spaceship.
There’s a gate keeping the outside world off my driveway. A press on the touchscreen opens the iron security bars. I cruise the car into its spot in the two-vehicle bay. Before I have time to exit the car and open the door for her, Violet meets me at the entrance to my house.
Rocky yelps from the other side of the door. His nails scratch against the wood furiously trying to escape.
“I’m warning you now; this dog lives for attention.”
Violet clasps her hands together. “I’m getting that from the whimpering on the other side of this door.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I say drily, fitting the key into the lock and twisting the knob open.
A flurry of black fur bursts through the door. Then something strange happens. Rocky loves all people, yes, but I’m the leader of the pack. He always runs to me ahead of anything or anyone else. But this time he dashes right for Violet, putting his paws on her knees, tail wagging uncontrollably. Using her body for balance, he hops up and down in an ill-conceived effort to get closer to Violet.
I feel your pain.
“Rocky, you sweet boy,” Violet crows. She stoops down to collect my squirming dog into her arms. The dog has no shame, licking whatever patches of Violet’s skin aren’t covered by her clothes. She loves it, giggling as his tongue travels the length of her neck. Really? Rocky’s getting more of her than I am tonight.
I’m pathetic. Jealous of a dog.
