Violet is Blue (Hothouse series) (2 page)

I laughed although I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Patrick. What are you doing up here?”

“I came up to tell you I was here in the office, and that Hannah and Mark had gone out to a showing.”

“You scared the crap out of me.”

“I guess I should’ve waited until you came down again.” He gave me a lop-sided grin that made my belly clench just a little.

“You think?”

I wasn’t angry at him. Patrick was a good guy. He worked for my mom and step-dad and was at the house almost every day. So I’d known him for at least year now. I liked him being around, especially when my parents were gone. Not that I didn’t like being home alone, I did most days, but sometimes, I liked knowing there was someone downstairs that would help me if I needed it. Patrick was a stand-up guy, and in didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes.

My mom would kill me if she knew I’d harbored a few fantasies about Patrick. The guy was tall and lean, and wore the shit out of his suit. And his eyes were bluer than the sky sometimes and when he looked at me through the lens of his thick black-rimmed glasses, I swore they lit up just a little.

Even though he was six years older than me, I was eighteen now, so I figured I could fantasize about him all I wanted. He was fair game when I masturbated.

“I checked in the office when I first got home. I didn’t see you.”

He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. He seemed a little nervous. “Oh, I must’ve been in the bathroom.”

We walked down the stairs together.

“How was school?”

“Okay. My history teacher threw a fit in class today. Ivy thought Napoleon was a type of ice cream.”

Patrick laughed. “Well, she’s not the brightest bulb on the tree.”

I slapped his arm. “Hey. I thought you were a nice guy.”

“I am a nice guy.” He grinned. “So you glad it’s almost over?”

“Yeah, only thirty three more days.”

“Then what’s the plan?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What about NYU?”

I shrugged. I had yet to tell my mom that I didn’t want to go. “We’ll see.”

Patrick adjusted his glasses. “I won’t keep you any longer from your run.”

“Thanks Pat. I’ll see you later.”

After my run, I felt a little better. My mind was definitely clearer even if my thighs and shins ached from pushing myself so hard. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, cracked it and chugged half of it down. I wiped at my mouth, then drained the rest.

“Have a good run?”

Startled, I spun around to see Mark behind me, munching on an orange.

“Good. How was the showing?”

He frowned. “How did you know we had one?”

“Pat told me.  He was doing up some paper work when I came home from school.”

“Really?  I thought he left when we did.”

“He was probably trying to impress the boss with his diligence.  You know what a slave driver the boss is.”

He snickered. “Yeah, your mother can be quite the tyrant.”

My mom entered just as he finished his sentence. She was smiling. “You better not be talking about me.”

Mark shrugged. “See what I mean?”

I laughed. I liked how Mark and my mom could joke around with each other one minute and be loving the next. I liked that Mark’s eyes always lit up when my mom walked into the room. It made me happy that my mom had found love again after my dad had died. And that I had found another adult I could depend on. Mark had once told me he’d always be there for me no matter what. And I believed him. He was fiercely loyal like that I noticed.

That made me think about Jordan. Maybe I would find something better, a relationship that was based on something other than high school standards, high school ideals.  I wanted a guy who made my heart race. A guy who could make me feel everything.  All Jordan had ever really made me feel was frustrated and bored.

My mom handed me a red envelope.  “This was left for you in the mail box.”

My name was scrawled across it in neat flowing handwriting.

“Is that from Jordan?” Mark asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe. Except this isn't really his style.”

“Maybe he's changing?”

I shook my head. “Doubtful. I know how much you liked him, but I don't foresee a fancy little garden wedding in the future.”

“That's okay.  I don't want to give you away, anyhow.” He put an arm around me and pulled me in to kiss my on the top of my head. It was something my dad had always done. “You’re all mine.”

I gave him a smile and pulled away gently. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I wasn’t comfortable with his actions. It was the first time he’d done that, and it made my stomach clench a little.

“I’m going to go do some homework.”

I ran up the stairs to my room. Once inside, I shut the door and sat on my bed. I fingered the envelope, almost dreading opening it. I really hated that Jordan wouldn’t let go. It wasn’t endearing to me, it was stubborn and selfish.

Finally, I opened it and slid out the single piece of paper and read the words written on it.

The Nymph that undoes me, is fair and unkind;

No less than a wonder by Nature designed.

She's the grief of my heart, the joy of my eye ;

And the cause of a flame that never can die !

Her mouth, from whence wit still obligingly flows,

Has the beautiful blush, and the smell, of the rose.

Love and Destiny both attend on her will;

She wounds with a look; with a frown, she can kill!

The desperate Lover can hope no redress;

Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excess!

In Violet they meet; so unhappy am I!

Who sees her must love; and who loves her must die!

I knew the poem was a famous one, I just didn’t know who wrote it. There was no way Jordan or any other guy could write something like that. It was both beautiful and creepy, and it gave me a bit of uneasy feeling. This was probably not the result the sender was hoping for. It was the last line that made me queasy, that and the fact he put my name in the poem.

Someone knocked at my door. Then it opened and my mom peeked in.  “Everything all right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She sat on the bed beside me. “Was it from Jordan?”

“I don’t know. It’s unsigned. But I don’t think so.”

“A secret admirer maybe?” She smiled and nudged me in the side.

I shrugged. “It’s weird.”

“No it’s exciting.” My mom wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Maybe there’s some romantic boy out there too shy to reveal himself.”

“Yeah, Mom, that’s creepy, not romantic.”

“You girls are so jaded now.” She sighed, then stood up.

When she was gone, I lie back on my bed and read the poem again.  Maybe this was romantic. Maybe this was a gesture from some guy hopelessly in love with me. If only.

I shook my head and let the paper fall from my fingers. I wished I had my phone so I could call Dahlia and Ivy about it. Unfortunately I busted it and it was in getting repaired. I could use the landline, but decided I’d tell them tomorrow.

Tonight I was just going to chillax and forget about boys and love and relationships. I was going to grab all the junk food I could find in the house, and watch season two of Sherlock.  Tonight was all about my fake boyfriend Sherlock Holmes and his adorable love interest John Watson.

––––––––

S
aturdays were all about shopping and parties. I slept in and didn’t go for a run, so I’d have plenty of energy for both. Dahlia was a champion shopper with her black Amex and parents who made a lot of money, and it took almost everything I had to keep up with her.

After three hours, me, Dahlia and Ivy each had four shopping bags a piece and needed a break.

“Let's get a Cappuccino,” Dahlia suggested.

Ivy smirked. “You just wanna drool over the yummy counter guy.”

“Yeah so?”

“Are you going to talk to him this time?”

“I might.”

Ivy and I both knew Dahlia wasn’t going to. Despite all her bravado, she was actually quite shy when it came to guys.  That was probably from years of considering herself chubby in middle school and thinking she was less then. Now that she got all toned, and her boobs had ballooned, she had a bit more self-esteem. Well, as much as any teenage girl did nowadays.

Ivy gave Dahlia a look. “You better, or I'm going to tell him that you want to...” She made a fist and put it up to her mouth, made like she was giving a BJ.

“Yeah and?” Dahlia said deadpan. This made us all laugh.

“I have to pick up my cellphone first,” I said.

“Fine, if we have to,” Dahlia made a face. I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the cellular store which was just around the corner.

It was empty when we entered, so I went up to the main counter and dinged the little bell there.

I leaned on the counter as I waited. Dahlia and Ivy played with all the phones and tablets on a nearby table. After another minute, someone came out from the back room. To my shock it was Devon. I hadn’t’ known he worked here. If I had I wouldn’t have brought my phone here.

Ivy made a gagging sound in her throat. Then she and Dahlia huddled together and giggled.

“Need something?” he asked me.

“Ah, I’m here to get my phone.” I unfolded my sales receipt and slid it across the counter to him.

Without taking it, he turned and went into the back room.

I looked over my shoulder at my friends. Ivy made a goofy face, and we all starting laughing again.

When Devon returned, he set my phone down on the counter in front of me. “There you go.”

I picked it up but frowned. “You didn’t take the sheet, how do you know this is even mine?”

He smiled, and my belly did a bit of a flip flop.  “Oh I could tell.”

Rolling my eyes, I slid the phone into my purse, then turned to leave.

“Nice pictures by the way. I especially like the ones poolside.”

When we were out of the store, Dahlia said, “What a freak! He totally pawed through your phone, V.”

Ivy shivered and made a face. “He’s so gross.”

“He’s not that bad,” I said.

Both Dahlia and Ivy gave me a look, but they didn’t say anything, not until we had all grabbed cappuccinos and were sitting at a table to drink them.

I scrolled through my pictures, wondering which ones Devon was referring to.

Ivy snatched the phone from me. “Let me see what he jerked off to.”

“Ivy don’t be sick,” I said.

“Well it’s probably true.” Her thumb was busy flipping, then she nodded. “Bet it was this one.”

She turned it around to show me and Dahlia. The picture was of me in a bikini, on a deck chair near the pool, blowing a kiss to the camera. The one cup of my suit was barely covering my right breast.

Dahlia nodded. “Oh yeah, definitely. Shit, I’d rub one off to that picture.” She burst into laughter.

I plucked the phone from Ivy’s fingers. “Don’t make me vomit, I’m trying to enjoy this cappuccino.”

“I have a class with him.  He's so wack.  He must be high all the time,” Ivy said.

“I heard he shoots up every morning.”

I shook my head. “No way.  He does not do dope.”

“How would you know?” Ivy poked me in the arm.

“I just do.”

“Whatever.  Something must be wrong with him.  Why would anyone poke so many holes in themselves?  Save for the one in his tongue...” Dahlia stuck out her tongue and wriggled it up and down.  “I don't get the rest.”

“Me either,” Ivy agreed.  “Tattoos I get. They are sexy, but the piercings.” She scrunched up her face. 

Dahlia narrowed her eyes at me. “Hey, didn't you use to hang out with him?”

“No.”

Chewing on her straw, Ivy nodded. “Yeah, you did.”

“Okay, I spent a few days with him one summer.  It was a long time ago.”

It was a long time ago. It had been the summer before high school, and only a few months after my dad had died in the car accident. My mother had been really worried about me, and rightly so. I had been going through bouts of depression and anger. During my depressed days, I would hide under my bed covers and not come out for a few days. I’d only get up to pee and maybe grab a drink from the kitchen. I didn’t eat on those days. I’d lost nearly fifteen pounds during those months. Which made me look like a skeleton since I already had a small frame.

During my angry tirades, I would run out of the house and wander the streets until all hours of the night. One time I ended up at some rundown movie theatre in a part of town I rarely ventured into, and that was where I saw Devon. We both went to the same middle school, so I’d known who he was.

He’d been working there and he had given me free admission to see the movie Kick-Ass. I hadn’t really wanted to see it, but he promised me it would numb my mind because it looked like I needed it. And it did. I came back the next day and saw another movie. He got me free popcorn and soda that time. Then on the third day, he had sat beside me in the theatre and held my hand.

After the movie, he’d led me upstairs into the projection booth and we made out. He wasn’t pierced then or tattooed. He did have longish black hair though and those intense eyes. And his lips were full and soft and gentle with me. It was as if he’d known what I needed to feel better, even if it was just for an hour.

Once he’d kissed me thoroughly, he’d pulled back and looked me in the eyes. He’d lifted his hand and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. I’d thought he would want more, push me for some grope-age, but he didn’t.  I’d left shortly after that and never returned to the theatre.  I’d asked my mom to get me into therapy the next day.

I played with my hair near my ear, remembering his touch.

“Have you heard from Jordan?”  Dahlia was smiling at the counter guy around the straw in my mouth.

Startled, I dropped my hand and fidgeted with the napkin on the table. “No.  I got this weird little poem in the mail though.  I'm not sure if it's from him.”

“If it's sweet and romantic, probably not.”

“What did it say?” Ivy asked, still thumbing through my photo album on my phone.

“I don’t know, just about a nymph’s beauty and love and death.”