by Belle Aurora
I simply nodded because I did love him, absolutely.
“It was a hard week after that. I felt a lot of guilt. I felt like I took advantage of you. I struggled with my mental health and tried to wean myself off of you. I made a decision and wrote that stupid fucking song in a single night. Convinced myself it had to be done though. Because I loved you so much that I needed to save you from yourself. I needed to force you away, so you could see how much better life was without me. I knew with enough time you would see that I wasn’t worth shit. And maybe one day, you’d thank me for it. I wanted you to feel abandoned. I wanted you to hurt so much that you’d hate me. I needed you to hate me as much as I hated myself. Maybe then you’d stay gone.
“I punished myself with drugs. I didn’t want to live without you. I wanted to die. But you came to my rescue over and over again. You continued to love me and support me and show me that you weren’t going anywhere. I still don’t feel secure in this relationship. I am so scared that you’ll wake up one day and realize I’m not worth the trouble because that’s the way I feel about myself.”
My heart stuttered. The more he spoke, the more he revealed parts of himself still unknown to me.
I’d never seen Connor as ashamed of himself as when he revealed, “You taught me to man up, take responsibility for my actions. You taught me that love wasn’t a bad or scary thing. You taught me how to believe in somebody. To love somebody. The only embarrassing thing about this situation is to have it pointed out just how badly I treated you. That woman had a timeline, an actual legit timeline of all the fucked-up things I did to you. That is embarrassing, baby. And I’m sorry.” He let out a shaky breath. “So fucking sorry.”
It was too much to take it. I couldn’t process. I only asked one thing, “You’re not breaking up with me, then?”
“What?” Connor went from shocked to outraged in under a second. “No!”
My feet slid closer and for some stupid reason, I disclosed, “I’m not breaking up with you either.”
Connor stood, hid his smile and responded an amused sounding, “That’s good.”
I shuffled closer and when we were toe-to-toe, I looked up at him as he snaked his arms around my waist. “I love you,” I whispered.
His body impossibly close, Connor lowered his lips to mine and spoke against them. “I love you more, baby.”
No. Not possible.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t argue around my husband’s tongue and hoped he could feel the way I felt when I scratched at his back with my nails. We kissed a long time before Connor pulled back and said, “Wanna fuck?”
It didn’t take long to think about it. “I would like that, yes.”
A squeak left me as Connor fell back on the sofa, taking me with him.
It was late. 2:11am to be precise. I was tired but couldn’t sleep.
Not yet anyways.
I glanced down at the open laptop screen and hesitated.
My eyes lost focus and only when Connor kneaded my bare hip, did I come back down to earth. Drowsily, he asked, “Done?”
I lovingly brushed a stray hair off of his forehead. “Soon.”
My heart lurched as I wrote the short sentence. Finger hovering, I found the courage to hit the Post button, closed my laptop and set it on the nightstand. And for the first night since the Becky incident, I slept soundly in the arms of the man I loved.
The Violet Dame posted:
I can only be who I am.
#NotAshamed #IAmMe
Connor let me sleep in the next morning. He left our bed so quietly that I hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t there until I woke up by myself close to 11:00 a.m. then stretched and made my way downstairs in search of my husband.
I found him in the kitchen, on the phone, looking into the fridge. “No, she hasn’t seen it yet. She’s not even awake yet.”
My feet froze mid-step. Immediately, my chest squeezed in fear of what else had happened while I slept.
He was dressed in a pair of black basketball shorts, socks and nothing more, and I watched as a slight pause set in then he let out a tentative, “She needs rest, man. I’ll show her later.” Another pause then a stern, “She’s overwhelmed as it is. I don’t know how she’ll take it. Leave it alone, Noe.” A short silence followed and then he uttered, “Alright. Talk later, man.”
Jesus.
What now?
I cleared my throat lightly and he spun around, a sad smile pulling at his lips as his gaze settled on me. The fridge closed on its own with a light slam. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, coming my way. When he got close enough, he wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in a warm, safe, cocoon of his love and devotion. Resting my head against his chest, I closed my eyes and took it all in, knowing I would need this feeling to get me through whatever it was he was going to show me. I snuffled out a laugh when he rocked me from side-to-side and told me lovingly, “You look like shit.”
I’d seen my reflection in the mirror I passed in the hallway.
He wasn’t wrong.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as he held me still.
My voice was still sleepy. “No.”
“Are you going to eat what I cook you anyways?” he asked, knowing his wife.
“Yeah,” I responded drowsily and smiled softly when I felt Connor’s body shaking against mine as he laughed silently.
What? Food gave me joy, okay?
In no time at all, Connor whipped up eggs and bacon with avocado on toast for the both of us and he watched me closely as I ate small, controlled bites. My stomach had been a bundle of nerves the last few days and it was hard to swallow because of it. The anxiety-induced nausea never gave pause, never left me. I squeezed my eyes shut and took in a deep breath as another stabbing pain hit my belly.
When my eyes fluttered open again, I found Connor frowning, his eyes searching my face. He attempted to hide it, covering his concern with a light sounding, “How did you sleep?” My brows lowered as he casually asked, “Have you been online this morning?”
Wow. He actually thought he was being slick. “No.”
“Good.” Relief lit his features. “Okay. Alright.”
My eyes narrowed. “What are you hiding?”
He picked up his glass of water and answered between sips. “Nothing.”
It was time to let him know the ruse was up. “I heard you on the phone with Noah this earlier.”
“Oh.” He put down his glass. He didn’t speak for a while. I waited patiently and when his shoulders fell, he confessed self-consciously, “I just wanted you to have a normal, drama-free morning, that’s all.”
My face softened. Connor Clash was the best husband in the world, hands down.
I pushed my plate aside and watched him closely. The words were more feeling than statement. “Connor, you can’t protect me from everything.” He went to speak but I held up my hand to let him know that I wasn’t scolding him. “But I appreciate the sentiment.” Taking a deep breath, I responded through an exhale. “I’m slowly coming to realize that I’m stronger than I thought and with you by my side, there’s nothing I can’t overcome. And, yes, people are going to judge us but, sweetheart, they don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through. Whatever they think they can throw at us is nothing compared to what we’ve done to ourselves.”
Connor lowered his face in shame. I stood, walking around the island, placing gentle fingers under his chin, and lifting his face to look at me. A small smile touched my lips.
“What could they possibly do to us that we haven’t yet struggled through? We’ve been through it all, fought through it all and I would do it all over again to be here, right next to you. I have experienced more of life in the past year than I have in all my existence. And although not every experience was a good one, I’m grateful for them all.” I shook my head lightly. “They can’t break us. Not unless we let them.”
The silence that passed between us wasn’t awkward or
tense. In fact, it was mildly comforting. It washed over the both of us like a balm, smoothing away Connor’s rough edges for a solid moment.
“I am so in love with you,” Connor’s hands came up to cup my cheeks. His voice was thick, his gaze intense. “How’d you get so smart?”
I shrugged offhandedly then rolled my eyes. “I’ve been through some shit.”
Connor’s chuckle warmed me from the inside out and when he dipped his head and kissed my smiling lips, I found I no longer cared what Becky Amour had to say about me. She could take her opinion and shove it.
We weren’t in high school anymore. I wasn’t afraid anymore.
I was successful. I had friends. I was living my best life.
I was The Violet Dame. It was time I started to act like it.
A wolf didn’t concern herself with the opinions of sheep.
“Okay,” I pulled back slightly and said, “What is it this time? I’m ready.”
The next few minutes saw me sitting on the sofa with Connor’s laptop in front of me. He sat next to me, leant forward and typed in the hashtag #IAmMe. I watched the social media platform fill with posts. But Connor searched through them, finding the one he was after then clicking on it.
My brows furrowed in confusion as Noah showed up on screen. With music playing in the background, he sat back and said nothing. Just waved at the screen before snapping his fingers. A photo appeared on screen of Noah posing for a magazine cover. He looked gorgeous wearing black denim and a ripped tee, screaming into a microphone. Underneath the image appeared the word ‘Me’. Ten seconds passed and Noah emerged again. When he clicked his fingers a second time, another image filled the screen. This one, I didn’t recognize but knew immediately who it was.
Noah stood there, a gangly, pimple-faced teen with braces. He wore baggy stone-washed denim and a green hyper-color tee. His hair was combed over at the side. Under the photo came two more words. ‘Also me.’
When the image faded and went back to Noah sitting behind his computer screen, he winced at how bad the photo was and held up a piece of cardboard. On it, in bold black lettering, was the hashtag #IAmMe.
The screen minimized, and Connor clicked on another post. This time, Cherry took up the screen, fully made up in her Vixens get-up. Leather. Teased hair. Made up to the nines.
She held up a piece of paper. It said ‘Me’.
When she snapped her fingers, a choked sound left me. On screen was Cherry, no make-up, hair braided, wearing the pretty sundress that her mom had bought her, with pink glossy lips. She smiled sweetly, blew a kiss to the screen and then held up another piece of paper. ‘Also me’, it said. When she held up another piece of paper, her sweetness dissipated and she flipped the monitor the bird.
#IAmMe
Lee. Beth. Hell. Ettie. Pearl. One after the other, they put themselves out there, revealing photographs of themselves in their most awkward teen stages.
But then came Connor.
I recognized the room as his in-home studio. Left Turn played in the background as Connor lit up on screen. He looked into the monitor and snapped his fingers.
A photograph of Connor taken from a magazine shoot came up on the monitor. He wore fitted black jeans and his signature hi-top Vans but had on no shirt, revealing his beautifully sculpted body and, much to my dismay, the fly of his pants was open and gaping, revealing a small tuft of neatly trimmed hair that trailed down into his crotch.
It was hot.
Hot enough to make me shuffle in place.
A single word lit up. ‘Me’.
When Connor appeared again, he licked his lips seductively and winked. I couldn’t help but snicker. He was ridiculous. Then he clicked his fingers again and the photo that appeared had me both tearing up and barking out a laugh.
Connor must have been about seventeen years old. He was standing next to his Aunt Kim, dressed with a bright smile, wearing a white dress shirt, slacks, and a tie, all of which swam on him. His hair was slightly too long, leaving it lightly curled and his cheeks were rosy. They posed together as he held out a corsage.
‘Also me’.
My heart melted. Through tears, I asked a shaky, “You took your aunt to prom?”
He blinked at me before pointing to his image on screen. “Look at me! Who would’ve accepted a date with that doofus?”
In awe and head-over-heels in love with this man, I revealed a sober and sincere, “I would have.”
Connor didn’t respond, just squeezed my knee.
“When did you do this?” I probed, stunned. Amazed. Dumbfounded.
“This morning.”
More and more people added to the hashtag. The numbers grew into the hundreds of thousands. My faith in humanity restored, I felt the tears trailing my cheeks yet somehow couldn’t stop smiling.
I continued to watch person after person reveal themselves in a pure and humorous way. I continued to watch support flood in from celebrities and the public alike. I watched as people made a stand against bullying.
I watched as they stood for kindness.
“Are you okay?”
Sniffling, I swiped away at stray tears and swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
Everything was okay, just like Connor said it would be.
My smile stretched and grew, wobbly as it was.
In fact, everything was great.
Chapter Forty
Put Your Head on my Shoulder.
Emmy
I knew the day would come but when it did, I found I wasn’t prepared for it. I assumed I would be. But then, how does one prepare for such a thing?
She wasn’t even gone yet and somehow, I felt loss all the way through me, seeping into my bones, crushing my heart.
I stood in the open doorway, my gaze passing over the fragile, almost unrecognizable woman in the hospital bed. My arms crossed over my stomach, I wondered how this could have happened so quickly as I hugged myself tighter. I’d just seen her the day before yesterday.
The nurse in the room kept a close eye on nanna. I didn’t miss the way her lips pulled back. Nor did I miss the way her eyes softened as they landed on me. Her voice was reassuring, motherly, and it almost broke me. “You don’t have to stand there, honey. Come in.”
My eyes resting on the woman who’d raised me, I took a single step inside and asked, “How long?”
The nurse took pity on me. “Not long.”
Oh wow. I didn’t expect that to hurt so much.
My face crumbled.
I wondered if I should tell Connor that I changed my mind and no longer wanted to be alone. But as the nurse approached me, my lips quivered, and I found myself asking, “What do I do?”
She gently took my hands in hers and squeezed. “Talk to her. She’s not gone yet. It’ll bring her comfort in her final hours.”
I nodded through the blurry sting of tears and quietly approached nanna. I moved a chair to the edge of the bed and thought about everything this woman had done for me. She sacrificed everything to raise me. She went back to work as a middle-aged woman with very little work experience. Made sure I was educated. Never held me back. Always encouraged me to do the best I could with what I had. She was affectionate and loving.
She was, and remained to be, my hero.
Faye Aldrich was a saint unsanctified.
And somehow, sitting by her didn’t feel close enough.
The nurse watched me gently climb in next to nanna, take her hand in mine and lean my head against hers. I didn’t know what to say to her. How do you thank somebody for being everything you needed and more?
Lost for words, I remained quiet a long while, hoping my touch would be enough to relate how I felt about her. I was losing her. And nothing had ever felt so tragic than living in a world without my nanna.
In the silence of the room, my quiet voice cracked, “Put your head on my shoulder…”
I sang to her until I couldn’t sing anymore. I held her in my ar
ms as she took her final breath and the tears took over, my body shaking in silent sobs.
Grief washed over me, and I mourned.
Chapter Forty-One
We are the champions.
Emmy
“I wasn’t snooping,” I exclaimed way too loudly as I saw Connor standing in the open doorway, watching me go through his sound files.
They were good.
No. Good was too weak a word.
They were moving and heartfelt, and inspirational.
We had returned from touring two months ago and during the tour, I found that my love of The Vixens increased tenfold. Watching them headline for the first time was now in my top-five experiences of all time. I couldn’t have been prouder of my girls and when Micah and Amber announced that the label was ready for them to tour the US… well, I can’t say I was surprised.
In fact, I think what I actually said in the heat of the moment was, “About fucking time!”
So, when we arrived home and life had started to become normal again, I couldn’t help but notice Connor had started to wake in the middle of the night and lock himself into his studio. And then it wasn’t just at night. It was at all times of the day, sometimes for hours.
In a weak moment, I almost thought he was cheating on me.
Worst five minutes of my life.
Every time I would ask what he was doing in there, he would shut down and sometimes get a little defensive. That was when I realized he wasn’t going to tell me.
Part of me said to leave it alone.
The other part of me told me to wait until he was in the shower then make a run for it, gathering whatever information I could in that time.
And as Connor stood in the doorway, wet and wearing nothing but a towel, I think we all knew which part won out.
“Babe,” I whispered in awe. “This is amazing.”