Page 73 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
“It’s just information.” Jasper shrugged, then reached up and scratched his head.
“What did I tell you about moving around?”
“I can’t scratch?”
“I’m already letting you read, now you want to scratch, next you’ll ask me if you can do jumping jacks.”
Jasper laughed. “Trust me, I won’t. But seriously, I’m trying to be helpful. It’s been a month since the chest was stolen and the police are still dragging their feet.”
“No, no—I haven’t updated you. They told me they’re making inquiries and have a lead. It isn’t solid yet, but they haven’t given up. I really want Gram’s stuff back.”
“Of course you do… and that’s great news.” Jasper grinned, then cast his gaze back down toward his novel. His only condition in sitting for her was that he could read while she drew. So that’s how Violet had been sketching him for the past week and as they sat on the patio: the golden rays of light falling over him as he read, his eyes downcast. The pose had an unexpected angelic quality that she was quite pleased with.
Violet traced the compressed charcoal against the canvas, finally outlining the shape of Jasper’s form: the curve of his jaw, the lines of his head, neck and shoulders. Next, she’d add more detail to his features, flipping between smudging the canvas to create more realistic shadows, and using a fine-tipped charcoal pencil to develop the contours of his nose, eyes and mouth. She hadn’t started filling in his dark, wild, carefree hair yet. She’d save the best for last.
Jasper read and Violet sketched. There were a lot of things she enjoyed about spending time with Jasper, among them the ease of their conversation, the kind warmth of his presence, and secretly, his very cute, furry other self, curled up against the slope of her forehead when he slept on her pillow at night (he wanted to burrow underneath the blanket where it was warmer and cozier for him, but she outlawed it, terrified she’d squish him in the middle of the night).
But perhaps the best moments were like this. Where neither of them needed to talk, and simply resting in the comfort of each other’s presence was sufficient. No awkwardness, no demands on anyone’s attention, no contrived conversation.
Throughout her life, the only other person Violet had ever achieved this with was her gram. Her father, being a highly sought-after medical surgeon, was never home. Even now and for the past ten years, he’d been living in Los Angeles as a celebrity surgeon. So on the rare occasions he was home, the conversation was forced—condensed to achieve some sort of mandatory familiarity as appropriate between a father and daughter.
Conversations with Rosie were good, but sometimes ended in a lecture. Violet should try to be more stable. Violet should take her career choices more seriously. Violet should be more open to dating so that she could find someone. Rosie had done all of those things—a successful lawyer with a house in the city and the perfect girlfriend. Why couldn’t Violet?
She flicked her eyes up to her subject, considering. “Why do you think your parents only had you? Your family was prosperous, so you’d think your mom would have had more kids.”
“It’s a pattern.” Jasper stared down at his book. “If you look back through our family history, there’s been one boy born to the Laurent name per generation since the late 1800s. Never any girls. The timing coincides with the Magic Cleanse, so it’s safe to assume it’s part of the curse.”
“So your father knew about the curse, then? Had he told you or your mother?”
Jasper closed his book and met Violet’s eyes. “Yes, he knew about it. But he didn’t tell us until after I changed—after he was sure. The curse is unpredictable. The last Laurent to have it was my great-grandfather. My grandfather witnessed it in person and was traumatized by it, so when my father was a child, he knew all about the curse because his dad was really paranoid and anxious. Almost maniacal.
“But Dad never showed any signs of turning, and he hated what it had done to his father—his obsessive, overbearing behavior. So when Dad had me, he told himself he’d never mention it so that we could all lead a normal, happy life. He said he thought maybe the curse had finally broken since it had skipped both him and his father. He was wrong, though… obviously.”
Violet laid her sketchpad against her thighs, enthralled. “Do you know anything about the surrounding circumstances of the curse? Like who specifically cast it and why?”
Jasper shook his head. “Other than it being an Ainsworth, no. There was a lot going on back then. Textbooks falsely paint my family as a group of pioneering settlers who founded this town and made it better. They don’t talk about the indigenous people who were already here—the ones who lived off the land and explicitly believed in its energy and wielding its powers. Some of them conformed to the new edicts imposed by my ancestors. But some fought hard and lost. I’ve given this a lot of thought in my solitude. They say an Ainsworth cursed my family as she burned, but I don’t know. What if it’s the Earth and magic itself cursing us for disregarding its people and ravaging the land?”
Violet huffed a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Jas, that’s pretty deep stuff.”
He smiled. “You started it.”
“Alright, well, I’m finishing it. Did you go get your groceries yesterday?”
“Yes, I did.”
“How was that?”
Leaning back in the wicker chair, Jasper folded his arms. “I went as soon as the store opened, so it wasn’t bad. Freddie looked like he was going to lay an egg when he saw me.”
Violet shook her head. “Did you talk to him?”
“I hadn’t planned to, but he opened up a new lane for me as soon as I walked up so I didn’t need to wait.” Jasper frowned. “Why are you so worried about Freddie talking to me lately?”
“I’m not worried—I’m just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m interested in his therapy progress? I want to make sure he’s being nice to you.”
“He was never mean to me. It was alwaysyouhe had something against. He probably liked you, Vi. As soon as you came back, he was making comments about your hips.”
Violet rolled her eyes, a confession on the tip of her tongue. But it wasn’t her business to disclose.
