Page 63 of Imperfect Cadence

“I’m sure if you were ever in the same position, you’d figure it out. You’re incredibly smart and resilient, and probably would have done a way better job than me.” I flashed her a reassuring smile and I received a small one in return.

“I think I’m just trying to say that I get it now. I don’t think I really did before, just how hard your life has been, and I really don’t mean to be making things harder. I don’t remember Mom and Dad at all, so I don’t miss them in the same way. I mean, I miss the idea of them, but I don’t know anything about them. But you probably miss them, right?”

If only that were a straightforward question to answer. It sounded terrible, but my feelings toward my dad were closer to Violet’s than they should be. Did I miss him as a person? Not particularly. We were never close, and my memories of him were fuzzy at best. But part of me wished with all my heart that they were still alive. That Violet could have been raised by two loving parents who knew what they were doing. Maybe I could have still been happily married to him.

But if the accident hadn’t happened, I never would have had Violet in my life either. I didn’t even know she existed until they died, and she was four. We probably wouldn’t have any relationship with each other at all. I would never have known what an incredible person she’d grow into.

The conflict must have been evident on my face and Violet surprised me by coming over and placing her tiny hand on my back. The unexpected reversal of roles, with her comforting me, threw me off guard.

“It’s okay, you know, to miss them,” Violet said gently. “I’m smart enough to know that you can feel more than one emotion at the same time. Missing them doesn’t mean you wish you’d never had to raise me or anything like that. It’s okay to want something, even if having it would mean giving up all the other good things in your life.”

Damn, forget pushing Vi to be a lawyer. This incredible young woman had future psychologist written all over her.

My eyes drifted back up to the poster of Colt, and a lump formed in my throat. While she may have been off-base thinking my conflicted feelings were solely about our parents, her insight still resonated. I’d never stop yearning for Colt, wishing we’d never spent a single day apart, even if it meant Violet never coming into the picture. Perhaps it was time to accept that both those feelings could coexist, and it didn’t make me a terrible person.

I turned my attention back to Violet, who was crouching beside me, still rubbing soothing circles on my back. Her expression radiated acceptance and understanding. It would be so easy to end the conversation here, to let her believe my outburst had only been about my fear of losing her, just like I’d lost them. But, I wanted this to be a bonding moment for us.

Violet had proven this morning that she could handle a lot more than I gave her credit for. Of course she could; like me, she’d also been forced to grow up way before her time. And even if she claimed her desire to go to the movies with a boy was purely platonic, it wouldn’t be long before she started experiencing first crushes, dates, and relationship issues. The last thing I wanted was for my history to become a trigger that caused me to hold her back from having normal teenage experiences, heartbreak included. Having someone other than Remy who could call me on my bullshit might actually be helpful.

“Vi, I really appreciate you being so understanding. But there’s some other stuff I feel like I have to share with you, if you’re willing to listen. It might help you to understand me a little better. I know I can be a little closed off sometimes, and I don’t ever want you to wonder if it has something to do with you. Because it doesn’t,” I made sure to emphasize.

Violet smiled at me then, her dimples appearing and transforming her whole face back into the happy kid I usually saw. “Of course you can talk to me. We may have a bit of an unusual sibling relationship, but I’m still your sister. I can keep a secret if you need someone to spill your guts to,” she playfully nudged my shoulder.

“Okay, um, so obviously yelling at you wasn’t cool. And part of it is because I miss our parents, but that’s not the whole reason. Honestly, it’s probably only a tiny part of it.” I took a deep breath. This would be the first time I’d let the darkness rise to the surface in years. “Last night, I received some pretty devastating news that I haven’t even begun to process. And I realized there’s a lot I’ve been holding in, to the point the pressure built and built, and I couldn’t contain it anymore.”

“What news did you get?” she asked softly.

“My husband told me he never wants to see me again.”

“Your what?” she screeched.

So I started from the beginning. I shared the PG version of mine and Colt’s love story, carefully omitting a few crucial details. Obviously, I didn’t disclose who Colt really was; I simply referred to him as a boy I went to school with. I glossed over the messy reality of our breakup and how tumultuous it had been. I refused to heap any sense of guilt or responsibility for my happiness on her young shoulders. Instead, I told her we broke up because of the distance between us, and I didn’t attempt to reconcile until later because I was focused on raising her. I conveniently left out my numerous attempts to reach out to him over the years or the restraining order. Instead, I explained that I had recently tried to reconnect, only to receive a letter last night stating he never wanted to see me again.

“Wow,” she breathed when I finished. “I’m really sorry, Gray. You still love him, don’t you?”

“With everything I am,” I confirmed.

“Well, that at least explains why you won’t ever let me set you up with one of my friend’s moms.”

“Sure, we’ll pretend that’s the only reason,” I joked, rolling my eyes. I was grateful for the momentary lightness amidst the heaviness that surrounded us. “Not because they’re all in their mid-forties, divorced, or alcoholics.”

∞∞∞

2 days ago

As I navigated the deserted, winding road to pick up Violet from band practice, I heard it. The faint sounds emanating from the old radio in my truck barely reached my ears, but there was one name I could always recognize, even in a daze.

Colton Ray.

I cranked up the volume, catching the tail end of an interview with Colt discussing his latest album.

“…speculation regarding the title of the new album. Can you shed any light on its meaning?”

“Obviously this is some of the most vulnerable work I’ve ever put out. The subject matter of these songs is deeply personal and I don’t feel comfortable going into detail about it. I’d rather let the music speak for itself.”

“So there is a deeper meaning to “Imperfect Cadence” than simply a musical term?”

“I think anyone familiar with my work knows I don’t write lyrics with the literal definition of words in mind. So yes, “Imperfect Cadence” is a metaphor. Clearly I’m not talking about some unfinished harmonies on my sheet music. But like I said, this metaphor is personal. It’s not just my story and I’m not going to comment on it further.”

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