Page 64 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
Violet almost always wore her wristwatch, but not today. It was nice, being unaware of time passing. But it did, slinking by peacefully with Violet in a kind of trance as she scraped her pencil across the page, both in long, sweeping movements and short, clipped strokes—creating shadows and hard outlines. Capturing the details of the scene before her. Sometimes, she’d notice the boisterous caw of a crow overhead, or the soft, melodic whistling of a bird she couldn’t identify in a nearby tree.
When the sun was positioned more in the west than east, Violet finally roused from her engrossed state. Jasper had been so quiet, the atmosphere so comfortable, that she’d allowed herself to become completely absorbed. She looked down at him and he’d turned over on his side, facing her hip with his eyes closed.
Her gram had left her. But then, another person had immediately returned by way of some strange, cosmic exchange. Why was life like this? This constant push and pull of death and life: doors closing and then opening, chapters ending and then beginning anew. It always seemed to happen this way, as if the world needed to maintain some divine balance.
She’d spent more than a decade worried about this person, wondering whether or not he was thriving, while simultaneously dreading the inevitable call from Gram someday to tell her that he was no more: the hope of reuniting with him replaced by the pain and promise that she would never see him again.
But he was here. Right now. Sleeping peacefully beside her.
Violet had the urge to lift her hand from the blanket and trace his hairline—just a delicate sweep of her fingertips against his skin and the heavy curl of his wonderfully dark hair. However, knowing better and recalling his established boundary to the forefront of her mind, she didn’t.
When Jasper's eyes lazily opened, Violet froze, her body tensing as if he’d somehow sensed her incriminating thoughts. His gaze met hers before he reached between them, timidly sliding his hand over hers against the blanket. Understanding, she turned her palm up. He laced his fingers within hers, then pulled her hand closer so that Violet’s knuckles brushed and rested against his nose and mouth. He breathed in deeply, then out in a sleepy sigh. He closed his eyes, but kept her hand pressed against his skin.
Violet’s pulse thumped throughout her body, the cool breeze whisking past her no match for the heat rushing up her neck and to her cheeks. When she gripped Jasper’s hand a little tighter, he gently squeezed her hand in response.
“Isn’t this normally your sleeping and recovery time?” she asked.
“Mm,” he breathed, his eyes closed. “But it’s okay.”
Violet nodded. “I was thinking, this is… Well. It’s my first Christmas without Gram.”
Jasper opened his eyes, but he didn’t speak so Violet went on. “Simone wants to have a little gathering of people. A holiday brunch, early in the day. Maybe I’ll ask René to come—I think he likes Simone, although Simone is convinced he’s some kind of narcissist because he’s ‘too good looking.’ She also wants to invite Freddie, even though I’m not sure I’m finished despising him. But anyway, she wants to meet you, too. Plus, your birthday is coming soon…”
Jasper remained still beside her, staring at her hip. Violet took a nervous breath.
“Everyone knows you’re sick, so you don’t have to do this. I just thought… well, you know me and René, and Freddie… that doesn’t help—but Simone is lovely.”
“René isn’t a narcissist,” he said, his lips and breath tickling the back of Violet’s hand. He lifted his face slightly to watch her. “Actually, he’s really sensitive to other people. Did he tell you he was homeless when I hired him?”
Violet drew back. “No. Not at all.”
Jasper closed his eyes again. “He grew up in a single-family household with his mother, little brother and two little sisters. His dad died when he was a kid. I guess the apartment was small, so he moved out with the intention to work and send money back to them, but things didn’t go so well and he ended up on the streets. If he wasn’t so busy representing me, he’d do well to write and sell his own memoir. I think he’s ashamed of it, though, so he probably won’t.”
“Oh wow. I had no clue.”
“I think that’s why he does all that stuff—wears high-end clothes and speaks in that flowery, uppity manner. I think he’s trying to compensate for his past. Distance himself from it as much as possible. He said he did things he’s not proud of to get by.”
Violet blinked, processing. “He didn’t mention anything—I mean, I guess he wouldn’t since we don’t know each other very well.”
“Well, he was too busy telling youmysecrets. And he can’t talk about it, anyway. Not really. It’s messy now since his success is tied up in my books. But I don’t script him when he does speaking engagements and appearances.
“He just reads the books, talks to me about them and does his own thing. I don’t police him because I don’t necessarily care about the attention and awards. I just like writing and researching. But René is naturally good at public speaking, and people like him. I let him have all the profits for speaking engagements, while I keep the money for the books—well, that’s how itshouldbe. He insists on giving me thirty percent for appearances. He says he doesn’t feel right taking it all since he wouldn’t be making the money if it weren’t for me. I just put that money back into the town or some charity somewhere.”
Her heart warm, Violet leaned toward him, just a little. She let go of his hand, then softly slid her index finger between his eyebrows and down the straight path of his nose. “For someone who’s stayed inside a house for the past fifteen years, you do quite a bit of good in this world.”
He shifted away and looked up at her with suspicion. “Are you petting me because you’re thinking about how I’m a rat?”
“Uh, no, I was not. And you are not a rat—”
“Not at this moment, but I will be. Later.”
Violet paused, then flicked his forehead with her finger.
“Ow—”
“Nobody was thinking about that, you silly man.”
Jasper pouted, his palm pressed to his forehead as he lay on his back. “Youshouldbe thinking about it. I’m cursed, Violet. Don’t ever forget that.”
