Page 71 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
He turned his head away and toward the hearth, his shoulders rising and falling in a still moment. “Violet, I love you, too… Ever since we were six years old and we played in the sandbox together, I’ve loved you. But I feelguiltyand ashamed. Who am I to love you? This cursed, mutant person who can’t offer you anything. I can’t even properly sit with you after your house has been broken into. I just… I feel like my love is useless to you.”
For once, Violet didn’t have any words. Well, she had them—lots of them. She could easily counter his insecurities, try to reassure him and give him some idea of hownotuseless his love was. How his kindness and thoughtfulness always warmed her heart, or how even when they were apart, he was still giving her joy through his books—taking her on thrilling adventures to foreign countries, sweeping landscapes and dense cities through the eyes of brave, shrewd heroines.
But listening to him, to this… she didn’t think any of her words would truly reach him. Words weren’t what Jasper needed. He had words and he knew them well. And anything she said at this moment would be like trying to put a bandage on an infected organ deep inside him. So she sat without saying a word, her heart in her throat.
Eventually, he looked up at her. “Vi? Are you listening?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but she blinked and tears came cascading down. Quietly, she reached over and grabbed a tissue from the small end table. She sniffed, her voice muffled and stuffy. “Why did you love me starting with the sandbox? What did I do?”
“You let me have the purple cup, and I thought ‘Ah, I love her,’ and it just kind of spiraled from there.”
The laughter bubbled from up from deep inside Violet, and she let it overtake her, sitting back and losing her breath to it. Jasper laughed, too, the sound filling the quiet room filtered in silvery, overcast sunlight. They sat comfortably in the stillness after that, catching their breath. When Violet looked over, she realized that the twine had been cut from the soft pine tree. It stood full and majestic, rich in green and shadows just beside the window. The boxes of Gram’s ornaments were neatly stacked by the fireplace, too.
“You’ve been busy this morning,” Violet said. In a cautious movement, she crawled her hand toward Jasper, eyeing his neck and shoulders set above the couch cushions. She lifted her hand, then used one finger to caress the gentle curve at the back of his neck, ever so lightly. When he didn’t flinch or shift away, she flipped her hand and grazed his skin with the backs of her fingers, following the natural symmetry of his upper spine.
“Breakfast should almost be ready,” he said, matching her quiet. “After you eat, should we decorate the tree?”
“Will you eat with me? Just a little? I have some macadamia nuts and dried cherries in the pantry. There’s havarti in the fridge, too.”
“I can. That would be nice.”
“Perfect.”
They should have moved then, but neither of them did. Violet sat under the quilt, happily brushing her fingers up and down the delicate space of his spine—just underneath his thick hairline. He didn’t object. Eventually, he even closed his eyes.
31
Two Weeks Later
[Janet: Is everything ready for the dinner tomorrow night?]
Violet scowled.Everything like what? We show up, we eat. The end.She typed out a message.
[Yes, I called the restaurant yesterday to reconfirm our reservation.]
[Janet: And that’s it?]
[Yes. Unless you had something else in mind?]
The moment Violet hit send, she realized the mistake she’d made.
[Janet: Should we do gift baskets? What about a raffle? Could we put that together before tomorrow night? You can go and buy gift cards.]
“Ugh.”
“What?” Jasper looked up from his book, worry coloring his face.
Violet dropped her hands and her phone at her side. “We’ve been planning this holiday party for the staff for three weeks, and the day before it takes place, my boss wants to put together a raffle and gift basket.”
Jasper tilted his head. “So… do the raffle and gift basket? You’re not busy—”
“That’s not the point. Why do I need to run around, executing their harebrained schemes at the last minute when I could have taken care of this weeks ago? And every time they do this, I deliver. So it just gives them more cause to spring things on me again later. Over and over… I get tired of being at their beck and call.”
“Hm,” Jasper considered. “You’re inadvertently punished for doing good work. I read an article about that with teachers. You know, the rate of burnout for skilled, quality educators is very high—and fast. Administration loads them up with challenging students because they’re ‘good at handling the tough ones.’ It’s stressful, though, so then the teachers end up quitting and switching careers entirely. One former teacher that they interviewed is an investment banker now. She’d been a kindergarten teacher before.”
“That’s a big jump,” Violet said. “Like your life was full of color, smiles, fruit snacks and paper crafts, then totally black-and-white. Drab.”
“Speaking of color…” Jasper said, turning himself on the floor so that he sat facing Violet’s row of finished canvases. The fully decorated tree shimmered at his side, bright baubles shining in the soft lighting of the room. “Are you going to try selling some of these?”
