Page 9 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
Sighing, she placed the new grocery bag against the door. But she lost her breath when it whipped open as she bent down, scaring her half to death.
“Ohgood God.” Her heart in her throat, she lurched upright. Violet blinked, palm flat against her chest as she stared at the man peeking through the cracked door.
It was Jasper, for certain. He was the same, but different. Not Jasper as a boy, but Jasper as a man. Taller, with squared features rather than soft, rounded ones. And those big gray eyes. He’d grown into them a little. But not entirely.
“Youscaredme,” Violet breathed, her heart pounding.
“Sorry… Hello.”
“Hi…”
Time—that fuzzy, indiscernible thing—stood still. She took him in. His cheeks were shallow, pale, but he wasn’t a Boogeyman like Freddie had said. He did look a bit… something. Not akin to a monster. Perhaps a human that lived his life among the dust bunnies underneath a bookshelf. Like maybe before running to the door, he’d set his book down, rolled out from under the shelf and hastily fluffed out his hair—the color of it dark but warm, like black coffee or chocolate.
He looked like that.
Violet swallowed. “I… You—”
“Listen, you don’t need to keep doing this.”
She blinked, drawing back a little. His voice had changed, too. A smooth, warm tone. Assured. Not the animated squeak of a little boy or the breathy rasp of a sick person. “Wh-What?”
“Gloria put you up to this, I know. But you don’t need to do it. I can manage, so please don’t feel obligated to take this on?”
He stared, awaiting her response. Violet swallowed and settled her shoulders to knock herself out of whatever had come over her. “Jasper Oliver Laurent.”
He winced as if she’d cursed him. “Yes?”
“We haven’t seen each other in almostfifteen years.” She paused, wide-eyed, letting that truth sink in.
Taking a breath, he reached his hand up, mussing his hair. She half expected a puff of dust to swirl up as a result of his action. “It-It’s been a long while.”
“Would it be okay if we had tea together? Maybe caught up a little?”
Jasper bit the inside of his bottom lip, a subtle movement, but Violet noticed it nonetheless. It was at least one trait he’d carried forward from his boyish days. “I… Hm…”
“Yes?”
He’d looked away, but his anxious gray eyes flicked back to her. He inhaled another deep breath. “Well, okay. Alright. Just for a short time… I’m sick, Violet.”
“Are you contagious?”
“In some intrinsic ways. Potentially.”
“What does that mean?”
He shrugged. Nothing.
Violet shook her head. “Are you tired? Will I get sick if I come in and have tea with you?”
“Well, no… and no.”
“Okay…” The nervousness Violet felt in this moment slowly morphed into something else. She repressed a laugh, marveling at the awkwardness between them. Life was interesting in this way. The same two people who were once so close—sharing significant time, space and affection together—could later transform into complete strangers.
He took a deep breath, dropping his shoulders as he leaned down to grab the grocery bag from in between them. “Sorry. Okay, please come in.”
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Violet said, stepping over the threshold. “Thank you for having me.”
The light inside was dim, the curtains drawn closed in the adjacent great room. Even still, it was easily apparent that the house was a mess. Jasper didn’t need to live underneath a bookshelf to be among the dust bunnies. The house itself was filled with them.
