Page 99 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
Sighing, she stood. Drained and tired, she opened the door and headed to the kitchen. Her brain felt like mush and her heart ached. Every day he went through that. Forfifteen years. Every, single, day. And for some of it, he was alone. His father gone and his mother repulsed by him. Seduced by the magic’s compulsion and openly hating him.
When Violet stood in the kitchen, the tears fell yet again. She cried at the images burned behind her eyelids like a light that had shone too brightly. Her heart ached for his pain and torture. For the stark loneliness of it all. This burden that he’d carried by himself.
She took strawberries out and rinsed them, got a handful of almonds and put everything on a small plate. It felt as if she would never breathe through her nose again by the time she wandered back toward her bedroom, her face dry and stiff from the repeated cycle of teardrops and frantic wiping.
To her dismay, the door was open. She’d forgotten to close it behind her when she’d left. Moving swiftly, she walked inside, set the plate down first, then rested on her knees and bent to look underneath the dresser again. Thankfully, he was still there, crouched with his fuzzy ball of a body heaving. Sleeping.
Exhausted, Violet lay on her side, watching him and settling down on the thick throw rug. She closed her eyes. Sleeping on the floor wasn’t ideal, but standing up and getting in bed felt like one more challenge she was simply not willing to rise to. She’d hit her limit for the day.
* * *
In the morning,Violet woke up to an arm that felt like dead weight, and a soft creaking at her feet. Startled, she opened her eyes and lifted her head. Jasper was standing by the ottoman, all long legs and naked body as he pulled his briefs up over his narrow hips.
“Hey, you.”
He froze. Expressive gray eyes locked on hers in a weighted moment before he reached down and started separating his rumpled clothes. He didn’t speak.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting upright and groaning, rolling her shoulder and rubbing her arm to help circulate the blood.
“Getting dressed.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Why?”
He avoided her gaze while he pulled his pants from the pile. “Because that’s where I live. I tried not to wake you.”
Violet watched him move in silence. His eyes—usually soft and transparent with emotion after their continued time together—were hard and unfeeling. His demeanor was completely rigid. It was as if every internal and external wall he possessed had been drawn up to protect himself and shut her out. Everything they’d worked up to and shared together was dissolving right before her eyes, as if they were strangers again. Back at square one.
Violet stood in a panic, her chest tight. “Are you upset with me?”
He paused, finally looking at her once more. “No… Why would I be upset with you?”
“I don’t know.” Violet took a breath, self-consciously pushing her frizzy hair back from her face. “You’re being cold to me. And you hid underneath the dresser all night and you didn’t eat. You didn’t come to me when I called you. Could you hear me? Is… Is your head getting foggy again when you change? You told me last week that your ‘rat brain’ is like nonexistent now.”
Swallowing hard, she glanced over at the untouched plate of strawberries and almonds. He’d told her that things were “crystal clear” now when he changed into a mouse—that aside from not being able to speak, his mind and awareness were just as sharp as when he was human. Had something changed?
Jasper dropped his pants on the ottoman and rubbed his palms against his face, his voice muffled. “You’ve seen me. What I am. And what happens to me.”
“Yes.”
He inhaled, then exhaled a heavy breath as he stared down at his clothes. “And you don’t hate me? You’re not afraid… or disgusted?”
Violet stepped toward him, never taking her eyes from his face, but nervous as she reached to touch his hand. “I don’t. I’m not.” She slid her fingers against his palm, half afraid he’d snatch away from her touch. He didn’t. But when she wrapped her hand around his, he didn’t reciprocate.
It was only a few seconds, but it felt like forever as she waited with her heart in her throat. He glanced down, looking into her face with a softened gaze. His voice registered so quietly, even in the silence. “Why?”
Violet smiled. “Because I love you. And you’re too cute to hate.” He glanced away again, pulling one hand up to his face, but finally reciprocating and squeezing her hand with the other.
Relieved, Violet stepped toward the bed, pulling him with her as she climbed on top. He let her drag him along until they were both lying down against the soft comforter. She leaned on her side, wrapping her arms around his naked shoulders and holding him tight, nuzzling her face into his dark, messy hair.
It took a minute, but slowly, he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her even closer. “I’m sorry that I made you cry so much. I hate that.”
“I’ve cried over less,” Violet assured him. “I bit my tongue the other day and cried for at least five minutes.” She breathed in against the silky fluff atop his head. He smelled like something warm and earthy and alive: like the greenest plant that thrived in the sunlight. She could never put her finger on it, but she loved it. Jasper’s smell.
“Dad cried a lot too when he sat with me,” he said, holding her a little tighter. “I don’t want to make you suffer.”
