Page 45 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
“Yeah, after he called the ambulance,” Rose confirmed. “He was panicked. Why wouldn’t he be alright? Was something wrong when you got there?”
Violet shook her head, which was a terrible, terrible idea. “Ah—no. Ouch. Everything was fine, I just feel a little woozy. Confused.”
“The doctor said that’s to be expected. You’ve been out for about thirty minutes. Let me call your friend and let him know you’re awake so he’s not freaking out anymore.” Rose stood, pulling her smartphone from the pocket of her blazer, then walked into the hallway just outside the room.
Violet sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. She stared up at the ceiling, her mind thick and heavy like a dense fog.
“What in God’s name is going on?”
* * *
Violet was releasedand sent home the following morning with firm instructions to take it easy over the next week. Rose helped her into bed, then drew the curtains and provided her with a cold, damp compress and a big glass of water. When Violet was settled and warm underneath the quilt, she smiled.
“Do you think a mild concussion is a good enough excuse to get me out of planning a ‘Holiday Splash’ pool party?”
Rose giggled, but frowned as she finished folding the basket of clean, cold laundry that Violet had abandoned the day before. “When we’re excited about a mild concussion because it can get us out of work, maybe it’s officially time to look for a new job.”
“Oh? You told me to stay the course before.”
“Well, stay the course but in a different car? You can change jobs. Why are we having a pool party in December? Is this for a bunch of teenagers?”
“No. Professional adults.”
“There’s no way I’d let anyone in my law firm see me in a situation requiring anything less than business casual,” Rose snarked. “What a nightmare.”
“Thank you for validating my concerns.”
“Are your crazy bosses wanting to do this?”
“It sure as heck isn’t me.”
“Gosh,” Rose said, shaking her head. “Why can’t they just do things normally? They have seventy-five employees, but they’re always trying to do these weird events like they used to do when your company was smaller. What did they try to have you do over the summer? Something about a sidewalk barbecue?”
Violet grinned. “Oh right. They wanted me to rent plastic tables and chairs for a ‘parking lot picnic’ in the middle of a heat wave. That really stressed me out, talking them out of that.”
“Legally, they don’t even own the building where your office space is. It’s a commercial property with a restaurant next door. What were they thinking?”
“I’ve been working for them for three years and I still have no clue. It’s a mystery.”
“They set you up for failure with half-baked, outlandish ideas and then get mad at you when things don’t work out. You need a new job. Or… what if you took this painting thing more seriously on the side? See if you can make it profitable so you can get the heck out of there.”
“Wow, you’ve changed your tune,” Violet said.
“Well, that’s because before, there was no other option. You were talking about quitting your good-paying job to ‘find yourself,’ like some college drop-out backpacking through Europe and living off Daddy’s trust fund. But painting is tangible. And you’re amazing at it, Vi. You have a unique point of view and solid taste.”
Violet pursed her lips, doubting. “I’m rusty. And nobody wants to buy my sketches—”
“Be positive. You have an eye for subtle details, and it makes your drawings feel alive. If you did it more intentionally, with serious practice, I bet you could sell some pieces.”
“I don’t know. I was going to focus on creating an art masterpiece course for the local elementary school. Maybe pitch it to them?”
“Well, do that too. Yuck. Small children.”
They both fell silent, looking at each other in a pause.
“Did you hear that?” Rose asked.
“Maybe someone knocked? Go see…”
