Living Violet

by Jaime Reed

  “Thank you, Mrs. Petrovsky.”

  “You’re welcome, Samara. And please call me Angie.” At the door, she looked over her shoulder and smiled. Stopping in mid-turn, Angie pulled a clear sandwich bag from her purse and unraveled the top.

  “Oh yes, Caleb told me to give you this. He said you would know what it means.” She placed the money in my hand and with a small grin, left me to my sentimental and starry-eyed daze. God help me, I had the love bug in the worst way. Smiling down at the four quarters inside my palm, it was nice to know I was in good company.

  32

  I was released from the hospital two days later.

  Grandpa had everyone sweating bullets, so the staff almost threw a parade when all members of the Marshall family left the property. Grandpa insisted that we stay at his house until we fully recovered, and Mom didn’t have the strength to argue with him. I could tell the extra security and having a man around made her feel safe, even if it was her father. I slept in Mom’s old room and she took the guest room up the hall. My new roommate drained every ounce of energy I owned, leaving me too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

  Mom must have sent out a press release announcing my recovery, because the Marshall residence turned into Grand Central Station the next morning. Police, doctors, and relatives I hadn’t seen in years dropped by to check on me. I didn’t feel like getting dressed for visitors, so I stayed in the frilly white nightgown Mom had loaned me.

  The police grilled me on the incident with Mr. Ross. I kept my answers vague and straight to the point, not giving an inch of rope. Even after I had disclosed my life story, the officers didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. They just kept staring at me like I was lunch. That’s when it occurred to me that they were under the mojo, so I had to sic Grandpa on them.

  My man problems didn’t end there. As soon as John Law left the premises, Mia and Dougie rushed into the room and hopped on the bed. I got the same reaction as the rest of the visitors: that look of unease and confusion, followed by the unanimous question, “When did you get contacts?” There was no good explanation for that question. No doubt it would come up often, so now was as good as any to rehearse that lie.

  The more we talked, the more uncomfortable things became, especially with Dougie finding any reason to touch me. I enjoyed the attention; however, the look in his eyes was not one would give a friend. When he tried to kiss me, I pushed him off the bed.

  Knowing what his deal was, I felt nauseous. Dougie was like a brother to me, and just the sight of him in swim trunks triggered my gag reflex. Mia and I were tight, but not tight enough for her to have Dougie all over me. Even now, she took the offensive and served me the glare of homicide. At that point, I decided to cut the meeting short.

  Dougie seemed reluctant to leave, but Mia’s hard yank on his arm got him moving. At the door, she shot me a parting scowl of confusion and female rivalry.

  I hated keeping Mia and Dougie in the dark, but things like these were kept quiet for a reason. Nadine told me that this secret was only revealed to those closest to us. There was no one closer to me than Mia, but she would have to wait a while to learn the truth.

  Plopping back on the bed, I covered my head in my hands. I didn’t know how much more I could take. I needed to get a handle on this thing before I lost every friend I had.

  That afternoon, Dad and the kids paid me a visit. Not wanting to disrupt the peace, Grandpa stayed in his study and polished his guns until Dad left.

  Dad was unusually quiet and just held me, which I appreciated. Recounting the event to the police and family had taken its toll on me, and it was refreshing that Dad didn’t press the issue. He was just glad his baby girl was safe. Though his presence gave me peace, I felt that awkward vibe from him that I had gotten from the other male visitors, and I wondered if I’d ever be normal around guys again. He apologized for threatening Caleb, but I could tell the entreaty was just for my benefit.

  I was surprised to learn that the twins weren’t dragged to the house by gunpoint. They showed genuine concern, and dare I say, fear that their big sis had been so close to death. I knew the affection wouldn’t last, but I counted my blessings and welcomed their hugs and wet kisses.

  The spirit in me enjoyed their company as well, proving Nadine’s view on children to be true. Their boundless energy was potent and cased their skin like an aura. Aside from the usual marathon of questions, Kyle and Kenya were well behaved. They only managed to break two of Grandpa’s antique vases and tracked dirt on the marble foyer.

  Once everyone had left and the house was quiet, I wandered around the estate, mainly avoiding the in-house nurse who kept hounding me. Mom was still on the mend, so she took a nap in the guest room, and God only knew where Grandpa had disappeared to.

  I only visited this house once when I was ten and not much seemed to have changed. It was a miniature castle that spoke of champagne wishes and caviar dreams. It had a traditional design with a spiral staircase and oil portraits of ancestors lining the main hallway. I almost fainted on sight of the last portrait at the end of the corridor.

  I recognized the gown and pose, but not the reason for its existence. I had to commend Mom; she kept her correspondence with Grandpa under wraps. My junior-prom picture had been used to render the masterpiece of me in flowing green gossamer. Appraising the brushstrokes and clarity, I realized that he would now have to alter the eye color.

  Mr. Marshall had hinted that he kept tabs on me, but I didn’t realize to what extent. Grandpa’s compassion was showing, a sight that I wasn’t quite ready for. Maybe there was a silver lining in all this. Maybe one day Grandpa and I could share the same breathing space without gagging. Only time would tell on that score.

  Around sunset, I wandered to the backyard and breathed in the crisp tang of cut grass. The one thing I hated about ailments was the confinement. My inner chi demanded sunshine, clean air, and quiet. The yard was a two-acre stretch of Eden, adorned with dogwood and lilies. Surrounded by God’s crayon box, I lay across the marble bench and watched the night make its debut.

  The quiet solitude of the day called up memories of Nadine. I learned so much about her, more than she could’ve ever shared, more than what I could’ve discerned in years of conversation. She wasn’t as pessimistic as she let on and she had a flair for romance. She loved this time of day.

  Much like her, I slowly became more in tune with the things around me, examining life through a poet’s eye. I could hear her voice, and identify with her philosophy on the world. This revelry brought a sentiment that I would’ve never entertained, so I knew at once belonged to her.

  What happened to all the fireflies? I haven’t seen one since I was a little girl, and until this point, they never entered my mind. What else went overlooked along this troubled path of maturity? What other long-forgotten memories lie in wait to be revisited? Have they all died out? Or has the endless procession of time and circumstance allowed them to abandon me? Are fireflies magical creatures that can only capture the eyes of children, the most observant of mankind? Or is it some chimerical entity whose existence depends on one’s belief in it?

  How I wish for the days of the firefly; for that childlike wonder and to follow without question, to lie in a field of warm twilight in the company of a drifting galaxy at my fingertips.

  Those days are gone, I’m afraid. Like a second language, if not put into practice, it fades away. Perhaps, unexpectedly, I will see that fickle light again. And with it, all that is pure and once good in humanity will resurface. That brilliant but ever so delicate light will ward me from the uncertainty of shadows, and I will be once again ignorant of the evil that lives there.

  “Well, at least it doesn’t rhyme,” I told myself, then swallowed the sob in my throat.

  “I hope you’re thinking about me,” a familiar voice called from behind.

  My head turned and found Caleb leaning against a tree, wearing a week’s worth of stubble and a huge grin on his face. Judging by the rip
ped T-shirt and leaves in his hair, he had resorted to breaking and entering to see me. My chest hummed with activity at the thought of my knight scaling the walls in search of his maiden fair. I don’t know what thrilled me more, the sight of him, or the slushy in his hand.

  Reaching out like a needy toddler, I bounced in my seat. “Please tell me that’s for me.”

  He pulled the cup behind his back. “Maybe.”

  “Don’t play with me. I’m a girl possessed.”

  “I’ll say.” He handed me the cup and watched me guzzle the frozen goodness. “Easy now—you’ll get brain freeze.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  His smile dropped as he lifted my chin to face him. He stared into my eyes, regarding the new life behind them. “Extraordinary,” he whispered. “Absolutely extraordinary.”

  I snatched away from him. “Don’t you start. The last thing I want is everyone treating me like a sideshow freak.”

  “I’m sorry, but you gotta admit, it’s freaky as hell. I mean, I’ve never known anyone to acquire a sentient being. We’re just born with it. How do you feel?”

  I gave him room to sit. “Hungry.”

  “I figured as much, but the slushy’s not gonna cut it. I guess I’ll have to train you on feeding.”

  “You don’t have to. I know how to do it.”

  “You do?”

  I tapped my forehead proudly. “I know what Nadine knows.”

  He nodded and kissed the top of my head. “Have you named your spirit yet?”

  I winced. “Um, no. I haven’t even acknowledged it yet, and you’re talking about naming it?”

  “The sooner you identify with it, the easier it will be to tame it.”

  I stared sideways at him. Caleb had a ton of nerve trying to school me, when he dealt with the same issue less than a month ago. Not having the strength to fuss him out, I kept my mouth busy with strawberry-flavored ice.

  After a moment, he asked, “Did your mom tell you what happened?”

  “Yeah, I heard about the arrest. That must’ve been fun.”

  “Time of my life,” he said. “Haden is out of the hospital, cussing mad for missing out on the action. But I can tell he’s grieving. Brodie and Michael are taking care of Dad’s funeral arrangements.”

  The mention of his father lanced a blade through my heart. How could he even look at me after what I did? I had succeeded in not thinking about Mr. Ross and his past for a full three hours, praying that those memories would pass away with his energy.

  Hesitantly, I touched Caleb’s arm. “I’m sorry, Caleb. This must be hard for you. I don’t know how I could handle it if my dad died.”

  Caleb’s lips pulled into a tight line. The sudden drain of color in his face became as clear as the restrained anger fueling his next words. “My father died five years ago in a hospital room in Paris. I’ve already grieved for that loss, and I don’t feel anything now but disgust. That ... thing killed my friend and it would’ve done the same to you, and I wasn’t strong enough to do anything about it. I don’t blame you, so stop feeling guilty. You and your mom are safe, and my brothers and I can move on with our lives. I should be thanking you. But I won’t.” He attempted a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m here for you. Whatever you’re going through, I’ve been there.”

  I stared out to the dimming garden as that night replayed in my head. “The whole thing was insane. I didn’t have control over my body, like I stepped outside of myself.”

  He caressed my hand. “Now do you see why I don’t like to fight? The spirit takes over and your control is gone. You can never lose it, Sam. You have to be aware of yourself at all times.”

  Whether it was the brain freeze or the onslaught of information, I developed a headache. “I know, and I appreciate that. Right now, I just need time.” Standing up, I moved to a more secluded area of the garden. The moon spied through the blossoms overhead; nocturnal life chirped and buzzed around us.

  Caleb followed me, his movements careful and unhurried. It was hard to explain how one sense can mimic another. It took an exceptional mind to understand how animals can smell fear, how the deaf can see sound, or how I was now able to relate to the skill. But Caleb’s anxiety wafted off his body like a dense cloud of funk.

  The extrasensory was unnecessary; his disheveled clothes and the bags under his eyes told it all. Cake Boy was worried sick. I sat in a soft patch of grass and waited for him to join me.

  He remained standing. “You’re tired. You need rest.”

  I felt the void of his retreat immediately. Before he could take another step, I pulled him back. “I don’t want you to go. In fact, you’re the only one I need with me now.”

  With feline grace, he crawled along the grass, stalking closer with eyes zeroing in on my every move. His nearness had me inching back until my head struck a tree. He hovered over me with his weight resting on his elbows.

  His fingers brushed against my lips. “Have I ever told you how pretty you are?”

  “No. That would involve, you know, romance.”

  “Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he whispered against my neck. Lips and tongue dragged along my throat. His stubble scraped against my skin. He was goading me on purpose. I was in a delicate state and vulnerable to his advances, or at least that was my excuse for pinning him to the ground. The new position got his attention.

  He stared up at me with his hands on my waist as I straddled his hips. “You’re hungry. I can feel it.”

  “Starving.” I wagged my eyebrows.

  The look in his eyes told me we weren’t on the same page. He sat up until we were face-to-face. “You can use me for now. I’ll talk you through it.”

  All humor fell away when I saw the determined look on his face. “I can’t feed from you.”

  “Why not? I’m human. My energy is as good as anyone else’s.”

  “I don’t know. What if I go too far, or what if you pass out? I mean, what about that recognition thing, does that apply to us now? And what if—” A finger to my lips silenced me.

  “This is a new experience. And the only way to learn is through trial and error. I’ll make sure you don’t take too much. But you need to feed. It’s better you do it now than wait. It will only get worse, and I don’t want you starving your spirit like I did.” He extended his bare arm to me. “Start here and work your way up.”

  “Caleb,” I objected.

  “I’m right here.” His other hand held my cheek.

  Turning my head, my lips touched his hand, kissing the palm and each finger.

  “What do you feel?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Close your eyes and feel me around you. You’ll sense it without touching me.”

  I closed my eyes and pulled my lips away, barely grazing the hair on his forearm. Then I felt it, the lightning bolts of energy, the palpable zing of living. Inhaling slowly, I felt the wave of warmth pass my lips, tickling my throat, the lining of my windpipe and lungs. The rush inflated and shattered in fragments of electricity, each with its own distinct sensation, all delicious, all inexplicably potent to the extent of agony.

  Only then did I know what Caleb meant when he described feeding to me. Everything was invested in this force, condensed within its own galactic province; space without distance, direction without aim, rotation without an axis. The senses jumbled in a calculated disorder, the sequence of coincidence and fate rooting down to the tiniest particle. It tasted like music. It smelled like sunrise.

  The knowledge only underlined the limitation of man’s true potential. This insight was never meant for human consumption; therefore, it could never be vocalized. Key elements would get lost in translation and lose their meaning. Somewhere in the outskirts of my buzz, just beyond the haze, I heard Caleb’s voice.

  Firm arms held me close, warm breath lapped at my face; soft lips soothed my aching skin.

  “I can’t leave without doing this,” he rasped as his mouth captured mine.


  Instantly, I felt the spark, that gigawatt jolt of delirium. Our inner beings grappled together, giving, and taking like two mutts fighting over a bone. The tug-of-war continued without forfeit or triumph. As the two spirits went at each other, Caleb and I partook in a make-out session of that of legend. We came together with a violent urgency that had eluded us for too long.

  Caleb may have an arrogant streak, but when it came to kisses, it was warranted. Mr. Baker had mad skills! No clinking teeth, no sloppy spit, no weird lizard tongue, but the gentle assertion that made it clear who was running the show. I welcomed each silent profession of love, drinking in his joy, and inhaling the scent of sugar cookies on his breath.

  Slowly, his lips drifted to my cheeks and forehead. “Sam.”

  “Hmm?”

  “How do you feel?”

  Wallowing in the high, I allowed reality to return to my body, its weight forcing me to rely on Caleb for support. I collapsed against his chest and nestled my head against his shoulder. I never knew he had it in him, but he branded me, ultimately ruining all interest in anyone but him. It was just me and my other half in the garden under moonlight and a swell of lightning bugs. Before sleep took over, I whispered, “I feel joy.”

  I woke up the next morning having no idea how I had returned to bed. All I knew was the heady glow of fulfillment that claimed my body. Though my stomach rumbled for earthly sustenance, my spiritual hunger was sated, for the time being.

  Stretched across the pillows, I thought of Caleb and our close encounter. I had fed from him, consumed his life, and attained knowledge that he could never reveal himself, a naked truth that exceeded all other intimacies. Though the amount was small, I caught a glimpse into his inner sanctum. That sneak preview banished all jealousy for the women in his past. They could never reach his soul, his heart.

  This feeling was definitely the drug of choice, and the thoughts of feeding again excited my roommate. Its presence hummed and vibrated under my skin, scraping the posterior lobe, much like a puppy that couldn’t wait to go outside. This was something I had to get used to, and there was no time like the present to get the ball rolling.