Page 4 of Loving Violet
Esteban laughs. “Well, what can I say? Thank God she didn’t pay attention to me when I tried.”
“Yeah. If I'm being honest, I never saw the appeal. I’ve always known she was a mess, even when we were in middle school. Just focus on the beer and the company. Forget about her,” Noah says to me.
I nod, taking their advice to heart. "You're right. Here's to leaving the past where it belongs," I say, raising my beer in a toast.
We clink our bottles together, and I push thoughts of Megan aside. The lively buzz of conversations and laughter fills the air, accompanied by the strumming of a guitar from the live band on stage. Tonight is about unwinding and having a good time, and I’m not going to let anything—or anyone—ruin it.
Chapter 3
Violet
To summarizeHoney Springs in one word, it would be ‘heavenly’.
It's like a small town from a Hallmark movie, and I love it.
Slowly driving through the streets, I notice all of the quaint little shops lining the main street, each with charming, hand-painted signs and flower boxes bursting with colorful blooms. At the only red light in this part of town, I can see people strolling along the sidewalks, stopping to chat with one another, giving the town a friendly, close-knit feel. Children ride their bikes and elderly couples sit on benches along the flower-covered sidewalks, enjoying the day. The majestic mountains in the background provide a stunning contrast to the cozy, lively town. I lower my windows so I can smell the clean mountain air, which carries the scent of pine trees and blooming wildflowers. It feels fresh, even invigorating, filling me with a sense of peace and belonging.
Honey Springs truly is a picture-perfect town, and I already feel at home here.
As I pass through the town square, I see a charming park nestled in the center of town. Parents are walking their dogs while children run and play on the playground. I glance at my son in the rearview mirror and say, "Adrian, look! There’s a cute park here."
"Bruh, it looks great, but don’t you think I’m too old to play in some dumb park?" he replies.
"First of all, it isnota dumb park, you don’t have to be so rude. Secondly, you're only eleven. Why would you think you're too old? And by the way, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me ‘bruh’?" I ask, a bit surprised and annoyed.
"Because I’ll be twelve very soon. Besides, going to the park alone isn’t cool—unless you let me have a puppy. If I had one, I’d walk and play with him all the time," he says with a hopeful look that is pointed to the boy who is walking his dog. I can only imagine that he sees himself in this park walking his own puppy.
I internally groan. His eyes and that cute dimple make itreallyhard to tell him no.
Adrian has been asking for a puppy for a long time, but his dad is allergic, so we couldn’t have one. I guess that’s something we can consider now. Sighing, I answer him. "Let’s make a deal. When we get our own house, we can have a puppy, and only if you’re doing well in school."
"For real, Mom?" Adrian's eyes light up with excitement.
"Yes, baby. But remember, it's when we buy a house, not now. You know that we’ll be living in a tiny apartment at Aunt Josy's, so I don’t want to bother her with a dog on her property."
"Okay, Mom, I understand," Adrian says, his excitement tempered by a sense of responsibility.
As we continue driving through the charming streets of Honey Springs, I feel a renewed sense of hope and determination. I know that everything will be okay. We are moving at the perfect time because Adrian will start school next week, and I will start my new job as well. After ten years of staying at home, I can finally do something other than cook, clean, and take care of my son.
I can meet new people and learn how to be Violet again.
Taylor never wanted me to work. He was doing very well with his business, and we had a big house and fancy cars, so there was never a financial need for me to work. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate my life; it’s just that most days I felt trapped in a golden cage.
While Adrian was a baby, I was too occupied with caring for him to even consider returning to work. But once he started school, a newfound sense of freedom settled in, leaving me with ample time on my hands. I took it upon myself to maintain our home meticulously, ensuring that every corner was spotless, that every surface gleamed with cleanliness.
Despite the satisfaction of having a beautiful house, I wanted more—a sense of purpose beyond being just a wife and a mother.
Desperate to reclaim control over my life and shed the extra weight from my pregnancy, I turned to Taylor’s home gym. Tucked away in a corner of our spacious home, the gym became my sanctuary, a place where I could focus solely on me as I sweated out my daily frustrations with my now ex-husband.
The rhythmic sound of my footsteps on the treadmill, and the metallic clink of weights comforted me in my otherwise lonely life. Working out became more than just a means to lose weight; it became my escape, my solace amidst the looming depression.
With each drop of sweat, I felt a new sense of strength and determination coursing through my veins. As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, I saw how my body transformed, shedding not only pounds, but also the doubts and insecurities that had plagued me for so long.
However, during my fitness journey, my physical transformation came with the harsh reality of Taylor's words. His comments, once mild, morphed into hurtful words that pierced my self-esteem. "Oh, look at you, you're losing some weight, you trying to look good for someone?" he'd say with a hint of condescension.
As the pounds melted away, his remarks grew sharper and more hurtful.
"Are you sure you're doing your workouts right? I don’t see any changes," he'd sneer, his words laced with disdain.
