I want to cry. I never want to go back there again. People will talk about this. Not forever, but it’ll feel like it. I’ll have to sit classes with my head hung low and people will assume they know more about me than they ever will. I’ll have to act like I’m ashamed of my past.
But I’m not. I never will be. It’s part of me and it always will be. Maybe things would’ve been different if I’d had a supportive family, or if I’d found a different job sooner, but the fact is, my life panned out this way for a reason. Why should I have to be the one who is ashamed? Why shouldn’t the people who are talking about me like they have a claim to who I am be the ones blushing to themselves now, thinking about how callously they tried to tear down someone they don’t even know?
I sit up and force myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. I’m not wasting another tear on this. These emotions should be fuelling me to write. To write something that’s going to blow everyone in my class out of the water. Something raw and emotional to show that what sets me apart isn’t my past. It’s my talent. When I submit my piece for the university magazine, not one person is going to make fun of me.
But before then, I have some scores to settle. My hands are shaking as I pick up my phone. I don’t have many of my classmates on social media, but I’m sure the ones I do have will spread the word. I take a deep breath as I focus the camera on myself and go live. A few nosy people begin watching right away. I see Oliver’s name pop up at the bottom of my screen. He’s watching too.
“I just want to get a few things straight,” I say firmly. “I know there are some things being said about me around uni. I know a particular photo is doing the rounds. Fine. I don’t care at this point. I don’t even care who found it and told people about it. But you should know, all of you who were laughing at me, joking about it, getting some mileage out of my past...I’m not fucking ashamed. I refuse to be ashamed of the job that kept me off the streets when I was eighteen. I’m not ashamed of the fact that I worked in that industry because it’s not a shameful act. And I’m not ashamed that I made more in tips than any of you will ever make at your bar jobs now. No disrespect to you either, because that’s an honest living. However we choose to keep ourselves should be our business and our business alone.”
I keep thinking that maybe my rant is over, but now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop. The amount of people watching this is growing. The pressure is on, but maybe this is the perfect time to show people what I’m made of.
“The industry I worked in wouldn’t survive without people paying into it. So before you judge me, how about you take a step back and ask yourself what you’d do without people like me in the world? Those of you that frequent strip clubs and watch porn and follow nude models on social media. And if you think it’s funny to laugh at me because I’m plus-sized and in an industry that celebrates thin bodies, then just know that plenty of men were throwing money at my feet. So if you think I’m ugly, that’s fine. I like who I am, and so do plenty of other people. You can show your friends those pictures of me all you like and you can laugh because I don’t look the same as you. But this body paid for me to get to university. It paid for me to eat and have a bed to sleep in. It paid for me to start working toward a life where I don’t have to strip to earn my keep and I can do what I’m best at; writing. And now that I’ve got this far, it’s going to be me reaping the rewards. So keep laughing. When I fill my spot in the student magazine, there won’t be a bead of sweat on my forehead because I worked my ass off for this. Good luck to the rest of you who seem more concerned with my life than getting on with your own and making something of yourselves. I think I’m the real winner here.”
I switch off the camera and take a deep breath. My phone is pinging with notifications, but I switch it off right away. I don’t need to hear any more. I’ve said my bit.
Now it’s time to take a deep breath and move the hell on.
Chapter Thirteen
Oliver
I headed home straight after leaving the lecture. I didn’t want to chase Willow down if she wanted a chance to be alone. Then, after seeing her live video, I know I made the right decision. She needs space to process this whole mess.
But it’s been twenty-four hours since then and I’ve spent every single one of those hours awake, wondering what my next move is. I don’t know whether to give her even more space or to go to her and comfort her. For a moment, I considered sending her flowers to cheer her up, but I immediately decided against it. I don’t think she’s the sort of person who has much use for flowers. I think she’d see them as a waste of money and an empty gesture after the embarrassment she went through. She doesn’t want flowers, she wants an apology.
I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be apologizing. Violet certainly should be, but I didn’t tell a soul about the photographs. I hope Willow knows that, but given our rocky start, I’m not sure how much she trusts me. I can’t blame her for that, but now I have no idea how to approach this.
I feel sleep deprived and alone. None of my friends are talking to me, though the only person I really want to speak to is Willow. Even my siblings have been eerily quiet and I don’t want to break the silence with more of my problems. I got myself into this...I need to be mature and sort it out for myself.
I pick up my phone and begin to type. I don’t know how to speak to Willow, so maybe I should just address the world and see what happens. I want her to know that I had no part in what happened. I want her to know that I support her and I’m not afraid to admit it aloud. Still, I’m scared to message her and get no response, so maybe this has to be the happy medium.
I just want to speak up about the events that have happened recently at uni, I begin. I don’t know exactly what happened or why, and I’m not mentioning any names at the risk of spreading more bullshit. All I’m going to say is that whoever thought it was okay to make our classmate uncomfortable by spreading that image of her should be ashamed of themselves. As she mentioned in her video, she herself has no reason to feel embarrassed. However, for someone to deliberately spread around those pictures with the intent of hurting her is disgusting. I’ve always felt like our course is an inclusive and friendly bunch of people, but this seems to suggest otherwise.
Whoever it was who shared the image around, put yourself in the other person’s shoes. Consider how you’d feel if it happened to you. And then when you’re feeling suitably sorry, go and make a real apology to her. You owe her that much.
To the classmate involved...I’m sorry that this happened to you and I hope you know that I’ve got your back no matter what. You deserve so much better than this, and I hope I can somehow make it up to you.
I take a deep breath before I press send. I know that it won’t be popular with some of my classmates, but I’m past caring. Willow deserves to know that she’s got someone who cares about her, even when it seems like she’s alone. I think of the things she told me about her father and it makes the whole thing sting more. How could anyone want to hurt her when she’s done nothing wrong? How can everyone be so blind to how their laughter hurts, to how it affects someone who hasn’t felt love in so long?
That ends now. I take a deep breath and stand up, pacing my room. I’m working up the courage to go over and see her. I know she’s not working today so I can bet she’s sitting in her apartment, mulling this whole thing over. She’s probably not thinking of me - after all she has much more on her mind than whatever this thing between us is - but I can’t get her out of my head. I want her to know that. I want her to know that she’s my one and only focus now.
I hear the buzzer of my flat go off and I jump. Surely it can’t be Willow? The thought that it could be excites me, but I push that thought away as I head to answer it. She’s not the kind of girl to come running when she doesn’t need to. I answer the buzzer.
“Oliver? Can you let me in?”
Violet. I should’ve known. I grit my teeth.
“I don’t think so.”
“It w
as me…I’m the reason that the image spread around.”
“I was already ninety percent sure of that fact, Violet.”
“Oliver...please let me explain.”
“I’m not the one you owe an explanation to,” I say, grabbing my keys. “We’re going over to see Willow. You can make your excuses to her.”
Before she can protest, I’m already heading downstairs to meet her. When I step out into the street, she doesn’t look like herself. She’s wearing no makeup and she’s in her scruffiest sweatpants. Her hair’s a mess and she’s not wearing the radiant smile she usually has. I guess these past few weeks have been rough on her.
“Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes. I’m not going to feel sorry for you,” I scold her, heading off in the direction of Willow’s flat without waiting for Violet. She scurries to keep up with me.
“I only showed one person, I swear.”
“Yeah? And that person just had to be Hugo didn’t it? The kind of guy who’d use that image for his own mileage. Honestly, Violet, what were you thinking?”
“I...I wasn’t thinking,” Violet mutters. “Well, I guess I was thinking about how to get back at you. That’s why I’ve been sleeping...hanging out with Hugo in the first place.” She pauses, her short legs struggling to keep up with my stride. “Are you...are you angry with me?”
“Yes, Violet, I’m angry with you. And at this point, I think my anger with you surpasses any anger you feel for me. But we all make mistakes. That’s why we’re going to fix yours.” I sigh. “Especially since I can’t fix what I did to you.”
Violet seems small to me now as she shoves her hands into her pockets. “You know...you made it pretty clear all along that you didn’t feel the same as me. I just didn’t want to admit that to myself. And I know that you didn’t have a clue that I wanted you differently...all our friends say how clueless you are all the time.”
I manage a small smile. “Yep. That’s me.”
Violet chews her lip, wavering between a smile and the verge of tears. “I am sorry. I really am.”
“I know you are.”
“I want Willow to know that too. Do you think...do you think she’ll be angry with me?”
I sigh, kicking a can out of my way as I walk. “Maybe at first. But you’re lucky, actually. Because Willow is the most forgiving person I’ve ever met. And I’m not sure you deserve that forgiveness, but she’ll give it to you anyway.”
“I can see why you like her.”
I feel my cheeks heat up. “Yeah, I do. But I don’t know if this whole thing has messed it up...we’ve had a bumpy start to our relationship.”
“Relationship?”
Damn it. For a writer, I always seem to use the wrong words. I rake a hand through my hair. “Not relationship...but whatever we share. You know what I mean. Things keep getting in the way.”
“You mean I keep getting in the way.”
I press my lips together to stop myself from agreeing with her. Violet sniffs.
“Well, you don’t need to worry about that anymore. I’ll stay out of your way.”
There’s an aching inside my chest. I want to tell her that we can move past all this. I want to tell her that we can be friends again. But I’m not sure that’s true yet. Time will tell. I want her back in my life, but not if it costs me Willow. This whole thing has made me realise I’m actually willing to sacrifice quite a lot if it means that I get my shot with her.
We’re quiet until we reach Willow’s flat. I can see Violet glancing around at Willow’s neighborhood, taking it in the way I did when I first came here. Realizing that Willow’s world differs from ours. Seeing this place, maybe Violet can begin to understand why what she did was so harsh. Willow worked so hard to get to this point and now that’s been thrown back in her face. But if Violet’s ready to make a real apology, I hope that Willow’s ready to accept it too. Then we can put all of this behind us.
“Are you ready?” I ask Violet. She clasps her hands together in front of her and nods nervously. I can tell she’d rather be anywhere else, somewhere far away from me and especially for Willow. But this is needed.
I ring Willow’s phone.
Willow
I jump as my phone rings beside me and I see that it’s Oliver. I allow myself a small smile. I’ve been wondering how long it would take him to come to me. I just saw his post about what happened and it erased any doubts I had left about him. I know now that I don’t need to be quite so cautious about him.
I pick up the phone and answer.
“Hey,” I say gently.
“Hi,” he says tentatively. He seems nervous. “I’m outside...and there’s someone else here who wants to talk to you.”
I frown. It’s not like I get many visitors here. I head for the door.
“I’m coming to let you in.”
When I open the door for Oliver and smile at him, he looks relieved. But my smile fades when I see who he’s brought with him. I press my lips together.
“Hi, Violet. Would you like to come in?” I ask. She shifts from foot to foot. It feels like she’d rather be anywhere else.
“Sure, if you don’t mind.”
“Shall I make a round of tea?” I ask as they both step inside. I’m trying to ignore the obvious awkwardness in the air. Oliver clears his throat.
“How about I make it? You two can talk.”
I suddenly know why she’s here. She’s not here to mend the broken bridges she made with me and Oliver. She’s here to tell me that she showed Hugo the pictures. I sigh. Now that I’ve had some time to process the whole thing, it seems obvious that this is down to her.
“Okay. Violet, why don’t we go in my room?”
I don’t watch her as she enters the flat. I don’t want to see her looking around, judging this life I’ve built, making assumptions on the limited information she has about me. Still, a blush rests on my cheeks as I lead her to the bedroom.
I shut the door behind us and she sits on the edge of my bed, her face red. My own cheeks heat a little as I remember what happened between Oliver and me here the other day. Now his ex is sitting on my bed and I’m praying that this conversation will be quick and easy.
“I...I have to confess something,” Violet says, unable to meet my eyes. “I showed the photo to Hugo. I didn’t know that he’d show anyone else...I guess I was trying to get back at you because...well, you have what I want.”
I fold my arms across my chest, feeling uncomfortable. I find that I’m not angry at her. More than anything, I feel sorry for her. Unrequited feelings suck. Plus, she’s made an idiot of herself. It suddenly doesn’t feel like I’m the one who has suffered here.
“I’m sorry that I did it,” she adds, almost as an afterthought. “I wasn’t always like this, you know. I used to be nice. Or at least I thought I was. This thing has made me feel so...so bitter.” She glances at me quickly before looking away again. “And I guess some part of me thought that I was better than you. More deserving of the things I wanted.” She shakes her head to herself, looking pained. “I’m definitely not as nice as I thought.”
“Look...I get it. I knew from the second we showed up at that party why you didn’t like me,” I tell her. “I mean...I’m sure we have some things in common, given that we share a university course...and an interest in Oliver. I think we could’ve been friends. But you sort of threw that idea in my face.”
She hangs her head. “I know.”
“I get it. Honestly, I do. But this has just turned into a mess now. And you hurt me with what you did.”
She nods, still not looking at me. I don’t want to make her feel guilty for this. I’m just trying to be honest about what this has done to me. But where’s the sense in holding onto this forever? At the end of the day, I have to move on. I have to find peace when my life has been so full of pain.
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t start again.”
Violet looks up at me, her eyes swimming with tears.
“Huh?”
>
I shrug. “You’re Oliver’s best friend for a reason. I don’t want to stand in the way of that. I can forgive the past. I’m alright with putting everything behind us. What do you think?”
Violet stares at me for a long while. I don’t think she can figure out what I want, but that’s the thing. I don’t want anything. I’ve got everything I need. I just want to live a perfectly ordinary, perfectly boring life. No more drama. No more arguing over ridiculous things. And more importantly, I want Oliver to be happy. If that means having Violet in his life, then I want her here.
“I don’t think I can do it,” Violet chokes out. She stands up. “I really appreciate you saying that...but I can’t be around either of you right now. It just...it hurts seeing him with someone else. And...I never hated you. I hated myself for not being able to let go of him. I hated myself for not being enough for him.” She laughs to herself. “Look at me. I came here to apologise and I’m making this about me.” She sniffs, wiping her eyes. I pick up my tissue box from my bedside table and offer her one. She takes one with a grateful smile and blots her eyes delicately.
“Thanks...and I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks, blowing her nose noisily. I shrug uncomfortably.
“I just...I don’t want to make this worse than it already is. And I can see you’re sorry. Getting some balance back would be good.”
“You’re not wrong,” Violet snuffles. “Which is why I’m going to go.”
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