Page 29 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
Jasper grinned. “How did that go?”
“It tasted like feet.”
He laughed. “That’s because you need to blend it. Gloria used to make some for me, but she’d blend it with orange blossoms and lemongrass. Did you sleep, at least?”
“I did. My breath was like dirty socks the next morning but I slept well.”
“I’m not sure the end justifies the means.”
“What about teaching art at the local kindergarten? I used to do that in college once a month and I loved it. It wouldn’t pay the bills, if anything at all. How could I make that sustainable?”
Jasper leaned back, his arms still folded across his black sweater. Something about him looked a bit neater lately. He appeared slightly less like an active member of the dust bunny community. “Hm, I remember you were really good at sketching and painting… but anything in the arts is difficult to break into and make a sustainable living—unless you’re very high-level. It could take a while to make headway.”
“I know. I’d still like to do that in some capacity, though. Okay, let’s table that. What else? Knowing what you know about me, what can you see me doing?” She met his eyes, and for once, he didn’t glance away.
“I think… you can do anything you want, Vi.”
She pursed her lips. “That’s nice and very ‘after school special’ feeling, but I need something more tangible. More specific?”
“But it’s the truth. I think whatever you try, you can do it well. When you make up your mind about something, you do it. It’s an amazing quality about you. If you want to do the art masterpiece classes and paint, I think you’ll do it and make it work. If you decide to take over Gloria’s business dealings and learn more about plants and herbs, you’ll accomplish that, too. It’s just who you are.”
Violet sat, processing. “Huh. In the end, I liked that speech very much. Honestly, that’s the way I’ve always seen Gram—ambitious and free-spirited. Taking control of her own life and doing whatsheloved. If I embody even a small bit of that, I’m glad.”
Jasper shrugged. “You embody all of it. You’re a lot like her in the way you think and live, but you’re young and Gloria was much older. Give yourself some time and try not to stress. You’ll get to where you want to be.”
He turned away, focusing on his laptop. But the warmth of his words quietly swelled in Violet’s chest. Jasper was always like this: saying what she needed to hear. Giving her broader perspective when her own vision had narrowed and tunneled. She placed her laptop on the coffee table in front of her, then stood and stretched. “If my sister could hear you, she would not be pleased.”
His eyes flicked over to her. “Why? I wouldnotwant to upset Rosie.”
“Because she already thinks I have you placed on a pedestal. And then you say encouraging and sweet things to me, and it just raises the bar higher and higher.”
“Why would someone like me be on anyone’s pedestal? That makes no sense.”
She walked over to the desk, standing at his side while he typed on his computer. As usual, there were emptied shells of various seeds on a napkin, as well as raisins and a dried-out apple core. Sometimes there were shriveled-up orange peels, blackened banana peels or cherry pits and stems. Always snacking…
“Why wouldn’t you be?” Violet looked down at him, examining his features up close: the dark, curly mess of hair, matching eyebrows and very straight nose. Jasper wasn’t glamorous. Not at all model-like or chiseled in the sense of society’s conventional beauty standards (no Chris by any means).
But something… something about him whispered soft. Safe. Steady and reliable in the way of a thing you loved. A favorite cozy hoodie or blanket. The one with that rare element of subtle perfection that you adored, and every time you touched or held it, a spark glimmered in your heart.
And something unknowable quietly buzzed around him with warm energy—like electricity. He naturally radiated an imperceptible air, even though physically, he always seemed to be shrinking away. Trying to, at least. Constantly hiding and isolating himself on his own dreary island.
Without thinking, she reached down, gently fluttering her fingers within the wild, floppy curls at the back of his head. In truth, she’d always wanted to do this. Jasper’s hair was its own entity, like the waves of a dark-chocolate ocean swirling and crashing into each other. Beautiful and chaotic.
She softly threaded her fingers within the silky strands just along his hairline at the back of his neck. “Should I make lunch for us again today? You didn’t eat much, but you enjoyed it the last time, right?”
He stopped typing and glanced up at her with his gray eyes widened. His demeanor stiffened, completely frozen for only a moment as they watched each other in the dim light. Jasper always kept the house shadowy with curtains drawn, as if direct light and sunshine would cause him bodily harm. Slowly, he stood, shifting himself away to create space between them. Violet blinked, surprised by his movement. “You okay?”
“Don’t—please don’t do that.”
“Do what? What did I do?”
“I think you should go for today.”
Violet drew back, blinking. “But I just got here. What—”
“I apologize. I’m not feeling well, suddenly.” He lowered his head, taking a breath. “I would appreciate it if you left for today. Thank you for the groceries.”
Violet stared blankly, feeling like her throat was clogged. Her chest was tight.What just happened?
