All the Different Ways

by R. J. Lee

  Cullen looks at the floor, “It’s no big deal. You need to eat something and go to bed.”

  He moves like he’s going to leave, and I panic. My foot flings out and against his knee, “Stay! Please, stay a minute?” My foot scorches, even on top of his pant leg.

  “Weren’t you pissed off enough to, like, decapitate me about an hour ago?”

  He leans forward to rest both elbows on his thighs and puts his chin on his hand. I settle my leg back into the chair and take a bite of food. It’s the best meal I’ve ever had.

  “Yes, but I don’t have the energy to be mad anymore. Now I’m just sad and pathetic.”

  Cullen eyes me warily. “Violet.”

  “I know. Eat my soup,” I take another bite of the soothing deliciousness. The ache behind my eyes is beginning to subside finally.

  Cullen tugs on the lanyard that’s still around his neck and draws out his whistle. I knew it was in his hoodie somewhere. I still haven’t gotten a chance to pull on it, bring him towards me, lean in. My heart speeds and I hiccup. Cullen stops rolling and unrolling the ribbon to glance my way with his eyebrows raised. I just shrug and take another bite quietly. He goes back to his tinkering.

  Following the last silent bites of my meal, I get up to throw my container away and put my spoon in the sink. Cullen is back to looking at the photos on my wall with his arms crossed. I want so badly to reach out and wrap my arms around his middle, rest my head between his shoulder blades, and breathe in his scent.

  He turns around to see me staring, “What?”

  “I went to the cemetery today,” I blurt out, “before I ended up at our pond. That’s where I went, why I was too distracted to remember my phone.”

  “Did you take care of what you needed to?”

  He tucks his hands into the pouch of his hoodie.

  “Yes, and I won’t be going back.” He starts to say something, but I continue. “I don’t have a reason to. My memories, my life, is you. That’s what I wanted it to be anyway.” I lift and drop my shoulders in defeat. I take a purposeful breath. “If all I can keep is the short time I had with you, then ok, I guess. I’ll treasure that and learn to be satisfied with it. It’s all my fault anyway, and you probably despise me on some level. I’m so, so sorry I let you down. I would have let me walk away, too.” My voice cracks, and I wipe my eye with my sleeve.

  I feel so small and wretched standing here under his gaze. I can’t imagine what he thinks of me and the disappointment I’ve caused him.

  “I’m hurt, Violet, but I don’t despise you.” Cullen’s voice sounds like coarse-grit sandpaper on wood. “I understand why you didn’t want to tell anyone else about what he did. I even understand why you avoided talking about that asshole regardless. But I thought you trusted me. I wanted you to. It seemed like you did.”

  “I do trust you, Cullen. I couldn’t have done any of the things with you that I did if there wasn’t any trust. I just wanted that disgusting part of me to go away. I thought if I buried it, it would just disappear. But I was wrong.”

  “Wrong because it didn’t disappear? I know that’s what haunted you—the nightmares, the times you’d zone out on me.”

  I shake my head, “I was wrong to hide. I should have told you, but I let shame and fear talk me out of it.”

  Backing against the counter for support, my head droops and I put my hands in my front pocket. We’re both just standing in repose—me in the kitchen, he in the middle ground between here and the living room. Cullen is the first to break the silence.

  “Let’s get you upstairs. It’s late and we both have to work tomorrow. I have semi-finals.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” I push away from the surface and slide my feet along the linoleum to the carpet.

  “Enough apologizing for today, ok?”

  “Ok,” I agree as I start to trudge up the stairs. I realize that Cullen is following me and almost fall down the steps turning around. He automatically holds out his arm to save me from tumbling. Always my rescuer.

  “Are you actually making sure I go to bed?” I ask incredulously.

  “No,” he hesitates. “I’m going to use the bathroom then leave.”

  I pause, wondering if he’ll pick up on what I’m going to hint at, “Look, we both have to get up in the morning and it’s late.”

  He sighs, “Are you suggesting I stay? Sleep on the couch or the floor with one of your fifteen pillows?”

  I shrug, a bit dazed that he got it and a little intrigued with what he’s going to do next. I leave him in thought and continue to creep up the stairs.

  After a brief pause, Cullen relents, “Alright, I’ll get my bag.”

  The first time Cullen stays will be in sadness, is my only thought.

  When my pajamas are on and my face and teeth are clean, I relinquish the bathroom to Cullen. After only five minutes, he comes out. I’m already tucked in on one side of my bed, forcing myself to stay awake. I see him standing in the doorway, and I think it must be the first time I’ve ever seen him awkward around me. I hate it.

  “So,” he waits.

  I flip the covers behind me back to reveal the sheet.

  “Get in.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Violet.”

  “Cullen, we’re both exhausted. Will you please just get in the fucking bed?” My tone is muffled by the pillow my face is stuffed into and my eyes are almost completely shut.

  Cullen closes my bedroom door and clears his throat as he comes closer to the bed. “Yes, ma’am” is all he says before climbing in. I roll back on my side fully, and the light goes out. It’s dark and uncharacteristically quiet for the two of us in bed together. I ache for the giggling, teasing, the sighs and breathing.

  I think about how much I don’t like the space between us, but then it’s suddenly gone. I’m sliding a short way across the mattress by the power of one of Cullen’s arms until my back is pressed into his chest and his legs are tangled in mine. He draws my head up under his chin and my hair ruffles with each of his breaths. I swallow thickly and have no choice but to clutch his arms around me and hold on tight until morning. It’s either a step towards forgiveness or our complete undoing.

  “Cullen?” I whisper.

  “Yeah?”

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “You weren’t in any of the lumberyards around town. Our pond was the next logical place.” He squeezes me tighter. “Get some sleep, 2 Color.”

  Fresh cut wood. Our pond.

  “Goodnight, Metz.”

  Cullen

  The soup brings color that’s not bright red back into her face. Other than the shininess of her lips from being chapped and the puffiness of her eyes from rivers of tears, Violet is starting to look a little healthier. My heart is a little less broken over what I’ve done to her. No, not really.

  She gets up to rinse her spoon and I follow, but only as far as the pictures on her wall. I’m wasting time because I don’t want to leave. I know I want to move forward, I just don’t know how. I can’t believe I’ve let us be apart this long, and I’m afraid I’m too late.

  “I went to the cemetery today,” she blurts out.

  Huh? Her admission catches me off guard. She’s still talking, but I’m stuck at “cemetery”. She visited the douchebag? That’s where she biked first? Why wouldn’t she get a ride? Never mind, I know why. I wasn’t there for her.

  “Did you take care of what you needed to?”

  The question slices my tongue as I ask it and sounds harsh as it falls into the space between us. I just need to know, though. I need to know if the past is really done for her. If she can finally walk away.

  She tells me she won’t be going back there, and the python coiled around my chest eases up. I can breathe in relief again.

  I’m going to pull my hands from my front pocket, shake out the pins and needles that are starting up from holding them in fists for so long, but just as soon as the unbelievable pressure around my ribcage
slackens, the bones there audibly crack with her next words. “I’m so, so sorry I let you down. I would have let me walk away, too.”

  It takes all I have not to stumble back against the picture frames, fall to my knees. A tear rolls down her cheek and she wipes it with her sleeve. It leaves another red mark and I can hardly look at her because of it. I have to swallow over and over to get through the conversation. I did this to her, plays in my mind on repeat.

  Fucking tears.

  I convince her to go to bed and follow her up the stairs so I can splash some water on my face. She invites me to stay. I say yes.

  She takes her turn in the bathroom then I take mine. When I walk out, she’s tucked into bed, looking at me from her pillow. She looks like a tiny, sorrowful angel. I should go to the couch or sleep on the floor at best. She’s got a million pillows; it would be easy. If I was decent, I would go straight to either one of those two places.

  “Will you please just get in the fucking bed?”

  I guess I’m not decent because there isn’t anything I want more than to wrap my arms around her, pull her in close, kiss away the misery, and rewind this whole nightmare. And even though I know I can’t do any of those things, I’m still getting in that fucking bed.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  My body is hot, and I’m sweating in my basketball shorts. The sheets are unbelievably cool and should bring relief, but they don’t. Time ticks away—Violet on her side, me on mine. She’s curled into herself. I hate it.

  I take my arm and pull her across the abyss of the mattress. I need her beside me where she fits best. Her hair tickles my nose when I breathe. Her breasts press on my arm when she breathes. Neither one is fair. Both are perfect.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Violet

  “What the hell happened to you yesterday?” Renee storms into my room before the first bell.

  I look up from placing labs at each station, “Oh, hey, thanks for coming to look for me. I’m fine,” I wink at her.

  She crosses her arms just inside my doorway. “Whatever, crazy. I knew Thor would find you.”

  Shaking my head, I continue with the papers. “Oh, hush! I went to the cemetery, actually, and then ended up at the wetlands. I just forgot to take my phone is all.”

  “Oh, well that’s not so bad, I guess. What happened at the cemetery? Did you scream and jump and piss on his grave?” Renee chuckles at her own imagery she just created. I can’t hide my grin either.

  “You’re going to Hell, you know that right?” I wipe off the toner residue from my handouts on my jeans. Luckily, it’s casual Friday and with semi-finals tonight, we all get to show our school pride and wear Raptors gear. Honestly though, I would have dressed down anyway. There’s no way I could have managed a dress or heels today. “No, I actually made my peace and decided that it was for sure my one and only time going. It was good, you know? Then I rode over to the pond where Cullen and I used to go together and sat in complete misery until it got dark and he had to take me home because everyone thought I was lost.”

  I sit on the lab table nearest to Renee so we can talk without having to shout and I’m not tempted to run around my room. I feel like taking things slow today.

  “Wait, what do you mean ‘you rode’? You did all that on your bike? Girl, you are crazy. That’s over ten miles one way!”

  “Yeah, well, I felt like I was gonna die by the time he found me and I kept fighting with him. My head hurt so bad. Unbelievable. So, he got me some soup and took me home and we talked and he ended up staying until this morning.” My feet are swinging under the table.

  “You fought? He stayed? I’m getting whiplash here.”

  “Yes and yes. Can you believe that he actually tried to boss me around and demand that I get in his truck so he could get me home?”

  “What did you do?”

  “I basically gave him a ‘fuck you’ but then he just picked me up and threw me in it anyway.”

  “Huh. Imagine that. So, he stayed last night? Did you…”

  “No! God, no, Renee. We talked some things through but we just slept. I don’t even know where we stand now, but I did get to apologize again—better this time—so I hope that helps him heal.”

  Renee comes and takes my hands, “What about you?”

  I smile sadly, “What about me?”

  “You have to have hope that you’ll heal, too, and all of this will work out. You love him.”

  “It’s not enough if he doesn’t love me, too. And you know how I feel about hope, Renee, so that has nothing to do with it.”

  “Ok, honey,” she moves towards the door. “I’m gonna think long and hard on that one, I promise. In the meantime, let the excitement of the day soak into your skin, huh? You look worn out.”

  “Gee, thanks, Renee,” I give her a quick hug. “Go make ‘em write good.”

  She laughs at our ongoing joke as her boots click down the hallway.

  ***

  I’d rather be blindfolded in a bull riding contest than at this game tonight, but I’m here anyway because it’s important to Cullen. I’m also afraid if the Raptors lose, it’s probably going to be my fault for exhausting the O.C. with my late night rescue.

  He didn’t ask me to come here. Hell, he left this morning before I was barely awake. Freshly showered with that goddamn, supernatural soap of his trailing behind, I followed him like a hound on a fox down the stairs to the front door.

  “Thank you for helping me last night even though I gave you shit for it.”

  “I’ve been handling your shit for years.” I try to smile but the pangs of sadness are still too raw. He sighs and pulls my robe tighter across my shoulder, “You’re welcome.”

  I watch his hand streak through his hair before it falls. I wish it would pull me in close. I stare at his long fingers until he speaks again.

  “I’m sorry, Violet,” Cullen nearly whispers. His eyes are shiny.

  My throat constricts, “For staying?”

  “No. For letting you go. I’m so sorry. I should have been more understanding. I said you could tell me anything, and I’d always be here for you. Now, I’m—“

  He glances past me, over my head, and it hurts more than if he’d just left. I can’t stand that he struggles simply to look at me.

  I grit my teeth, push him to continue, “You what, Cullen?

  When his eyes meet mine again, I nearly crack in half. “I made myself into a liar.”

  His admission makes me jump. It’s so simple, so awful, I don’t know what to say. He shakes his head as if disgusted and clears his throat.

  Catching me off-guard, Cullen quickly steps into me and brushes the top of my head with his lips. He chokes out, “I’ll see you later, ok?”

  “Mmm hmm.” There’s no trusting my voice. I can feel his distress disturbing the air around us. He turns away, walks to his truck, and gets in. Then, he’s gone.

  After traveling forty-five minutes north to our opponent’s stadium, I sneak into the bleachers on the visitor’s side. It’s colder tonight than last night, and I’m grateful I’m wearing my black fleece pants, Sherpa-lined boots, and thick coat over my Raptors sweatshirt. Another benefit to my gear besides being warm is that I’m relatively camouflaged, low key, and can just watch the game as a silent cornerstone.

  The Raptors rush the field, followed by the coaching staff. My heart races when Cullen jogs onto the grass in his khakis and team pullover. He reaches the bench and paces in front of the guys, adjusting his headset while holding a clipboard. The players seem jumpy; some of them are hopping up and down on the sideline, bouncing their legs while sitting on the bench, or doing high knees to warmup. But he’s not looking at any of them—he’s scanning the crowd. Is he looking for me? Why?

  I feel like I’m going to be a distraction so I try to shrink down in my seat, but his eyes zero in on me almost immediately. A fire lights in my belly but I have to stop the easy smile spreading across my face. I have to halt this train wreck of feelings. I don�
�t get to do this anymore. I lost him. Cullen isn’t mine.

  Elliot steps in front of him, then the game starts. The crowds for both teams go nuts and I’m swallowed up in the fanfare of waving banners, giant posters, and Claire’s cheerleaders making pyramids.

  We’ve played these guys before, but it was on our turf and the team was fresh. The season was young and not yet battle-scarred. I watch in earnest, nervous for those on the field, and push Cullen to my own sidelines.

  After some hard struggles, Boone gets a breakaway run in the first but stops short of the goal line when a two hundred fifty pound lineman pummels him into the ground. We continue to drive but come up short and have to kick a field goal. Our defense holds off their offense, and the first quarter ends with the three to nothing score. We rattle the bleachers with our boot stomping and screams. High fives and chest bumps make their way down our sideline.

  By halftime, there’s a mud path worn in front of our team’s bench and Cullen’s to blame. We might be back here next season planting new grass for these guys. None of the regular plays seem to be working; we’re getting stopped almost every time. It’s still 3-0, our favor, but guilt for keeping Cullen up so late last night creeps up my spine. I have to have played some role in this.

  I take out my phone, not sure if Cullen will see a message before coming back out of the locker room, but it’s worth a try.

  Me: Hey, Handsome. You might not want to hear from me,

  but I wanted to say anyway that you’ve got this. I believe in

  you.

  I mute my phone and put it away. I don’t want to know if he responds with “Leave me alone” until after the game and I can suffer by myself at home.

  Our boys come back out after the break with renewed motivation. Hart throws a touchdown with five minutes left in the quarter with some whacked out play that left the defense standing around confused as hell. The bench goes wild and so do the bleachers. Hart actually thumps Cullen on the back in passing, and Cullen smacks him back with his clipboard. They exchange some words that have both guys smiling. The stands are quaking with shoes and boots pounding and jumping.