Scorched Turf

by Lilah Grey

  I filled a cup with what I assumed was alcoholic punch and handed it to Violet, filling my own cup moments later. I nearly spat it out when I tasted it. Hawaiian Punch and nothing else. Where was I?

  “Should I go over there?” Violet asked, nodding to the only well-dressed man in the room: Dr Collins. And as he was a rare specimen around these parts, he was surrounded by a large group of females.

  “Just wait,” I said. “You don’t want to go over there when he’s surrounded. You’ll blend in.”

  “But what if he doesn’t see me?”

  “I thought that dress wasn’t for Dr. Collins.”

  Violet looked at me over her cup of punch and shrugged. “It might be. Maybe a little.”

  Progress.

  “Don’t worry, there’s no way he’s not going to notice you here. You stand out.”

  Violet’s eyes shot wide open.

  “Oh no, not like that. You look amazing. Everyone else…” I said, scanning the room of unflattering—colorful, to say he least—outfits most people had on. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  Dr. Collins poked his head out of the circle of ladies and made eye contact with me. He waved and then broke through the ring without so much as a glance back at the drooping faces that followed him.

  “He’s coming now,” I said, taking a sip from my drink, which I promptly spat back into the cup. I’d completely forgotten how terrible it was.

  Dr. Collins brushed Violet aside, passing her without so much as a glance. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she turned away, setting her cup on the table.

  What the what?

  “Corinne,” Dr. Collins said. “What a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t aware that you were coming.”

  He’s so lucky that he has a British accent.

  What was it about British accents that made even the most mundane words seem elegant? I could listen to an instruction manual for taking apart a toilet if it was read to me in a British accent. I wasn’t about to fall for his British verbal sorcery, though. Nobody puts Violet in the corner. Nobody.

  “Violet dragged me here,” I said blandly.

  Dr. Collins eyes lit up. “Violet?” He scanned the room. “Is she here?”

  “Yeah, you just bulldozed right over her,” I said, nodding behind him.

  Violet’s demeanor shifted as she watched Dr. Collins stumble adorably through a greeting.

  “I uh—well—” Dr. Collins cleared his throat as the ran a hand through his hair. “Good to see you, Violet.” He thrust out his hand. Violet stared at it, smiling, and after a brief moment, she shook it.

  “Good to see you, too.”

  Violet bit down on her lip and glanced at me surreptitiously.

  “I don’t know!” I mouthed. And then “Are you okay?”

  Violet glanced at Dr. Collins and then back at me, nodding as she tried to hold back the smile that was bursting to show itself. Calm and composed.

  My work here is done.

  I hovered around in the background for a while, munching on pretzels, keeping a protective eye on Violet as I eavesdropped on some of the strangest conversations I’d ever heard. Violet was happy; her entire body seemed to glow. And Dr. Collins wasn’t shy at taking notice when Violet turned, revealing her dress’s sexy open back. Damn she looked good.

  When I was finally sure that Violet didn’t need my support anymore, I slipped away. As I left the party, I felt a slight, uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach, but I decided it was just the Hawaiian Punch.

  Violet knew what she was doing.

  43

  Corinne

  Calder Returns to the Boys in Red?

  Photo - James Calder and Pete Baker high-fiving as they exit Liverpool F.C.’s London offices.

  LONDON - Months after his abrupt departure from the New York Stars, has James “The Flame” Calder found a new club? A source close to the process, requesting to remain anonymous, commented that Calder’s search has concluded.

  “He’s had offers on the table from the beginning [of his departure],” our source told us. “He’s been mulling over the offers, checking the teams out, really trying to find the best fit for him. I think we should see an announcement very soon. I’m so excited. This is huge.”

  We’ve reached out to James’s agent for comment, but he declined to substantiate our source’s claim.

  “I don’t know who your source is, but he’s completely wrong. The process is just beginning, and no decision has been made. Nothing will change until a contract is signed.”

  I scrolled through the rest of the article, trying to glean more information, but the rest was fluff and speculation about some of his other meetings.

  I closed my laptop and leaned back against my headboard. My phone buzzed, and I found a picture from Chloe, followed by a text message.

  Chloe: Me and Jack in Taos! Skiing! Weeeeeeeee! :) Miss you.

  So Chloe and Jack were a thing now. Officially, at least. After that night in James apartment, it was only a matter of time.

  Corinne: Miss you too. See you in a few weeks. DON’T break a leg.

  Chloe: I AM THE GODDESS OF THE SLOPES

  Corinne: You’ve never been skiing…

  Chloe: THE POWDER FEARS ME

  Corinne: Okay, well I hope the goddess remembers that the draft is coming up and that her bones aren’t made of steel…

  Chloe: :)))))

  I was kind of jealous. I’d spent winter break at home, watching the rest of my team and friends post snapshots of their amazing vacations. Beaches and palm trees, snowcapped mountains and gorgeous European cities. I was stuck in my childhood home, glued to my computer screen, living vicariously through everyone on social media, wishing I was anywhere but here.

  When I wasn’t pining for parts unknown, I’d lost myself in Netflix marathon after Netflix marathon; I’d watched so much that I was pretty sure Netflix was considering cutting me off.

  After monitoring your viewing habits, staff here at Netflix have grown concerned about your well-being. Are you alright?

  With the draft looming just around the corner, I wanted to disappear in other people’s lives and dramas so I didn’t have to face my own painful reality.

  My eyes drifted from my laptop to the poster hanging on my closet door: James in his red Liverpool F.C. uniform. He was so young then, barely out of high school. He’d hardly aged since then. I tried to remember his scent, the softness of his lips, the weight of his hand as he dragged it along my body.

  I still couldn’t believe we were done. I should’ve been more forceful, stopping James in that weight room. We’d be spending this break together; there wouldn’t be an entire ocean separating us.

  Tears welled in my eyes. He just gave up. He didn’t even want to try and make things work. We could’ve made things work, but James made the decision for both of us. He didn’t even think about asking me if it was what I wanted.

  I flung off my sheets and stomped over to my closet door, ripping off the poster that had been hanging there for a better part of a decade. With each tear of the poster, I felt the same tear in my heart.

  I broke down on the carpet, the tattered remains of the poster sticking to my legs.

  “Are you alright?” my mother asked as she peeked into my room.

  I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand.

  “Yes, fine,” I said, sniffling.

  Genuine concern flickered on her face, but only for a brief moment. “I’m heading to your father’s—” She paused. “To Ian’s office. I thought I’d surprise him with dinner. There’s Chinese food on the counter.” I could feel her gaze drag down my face. “And a letter.”

  When I heard the front door slam shut, I pulled myself to my feet and went downstairs.

  On the kitchen table there was a letter addressed to me from James. My heart raced as I dragged my finger along his name. I held the letter up in the air, inspecting it from various angles as though I were assessing its authenticity.

  I
slid a finger under the seal and broke it along the seam, pulling out a single sheet of white paper on which I recognized James’s handwriting.

  Corinne,

  I don’t even know how to begin.

  I’ve started this letter hundreds of times, each version ending the same: crumpled up in the bottom of a trash can. I try to put into words what I’m feeling, but each time I come up short. Nothing fits. Nothing can describe the emotional rollercoaster I’m on; that I’ve been on since I lost you.

  I lost you.

  I’ve stared at those three words for ten minutes now. I considered crumpling the letter, adding it to the growing pile beneath this desk but I stopped myself. I can’t let this go. I can’t let you go.

  I lost you, Corinne, and it’s tearing me apart.

  I don’t know what else to do but pull out a blank sheet of paper and bleed.

  I know I’ve made countless mistakes throughout my life, but I’d repeat each one again and again because all those mistakes led me to you.

  If those wonderful months together were all we were destined to have, I can accept that. It won’t fix me, but I can accept it.

  I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you, directly and indirectly. You don’t deserve any of it. It was a mistake to leave you, but at the time I thought it was for the best. You have such a bright future ahead of you, and I didn’t want to see it crumble because of my mistake.

  I should’ve consulted you; you’re my partner.

  Were my partner.

  That hurt to write. I can’t…

  I love you, Corinne. You’ve left a mark on me, a mark so deeply embedded inside me, in my marrow, that I’ll never be able to rid myself of it. And I don’t want to. I’ll carry it around proudly.

  I’m yours, forever, whether you want me or not.

  Yours always,

  James

  Sections of the letter were difficult to read because my hands refused to stop trembling, and much of the ink was smudged by tears, both James and mine.

  My heart hammered as I clung to the island, trying to balance myself while my head spun, stars and static dotting my vision. I needed to breathe, but my throat had constricted into a pinhole.

  Why now? Where was he when I needed him the most?

  The letter dropped to the floor, sliding under the island as I stumbled to the sink. I splashed cold water over my face, trying to gain some semblance of control. After a few moments, I could breathe again.

  No.

  I wasn’t going to let James do this to me again. If he wanted to be with me, then why was he off searching for a team in Europe? Why isn’t he here?

  That letter was nothing but empty words. A promise he’d never keep. If he truly meant what was in that letter, he’d be here and not running around Europe.

  But he’s not.

  I went back upstairs and slid underneath the covers. I stared at the empty space on my closet door; it matched the empty space that had opened up inside me. I wished that James had cheated on me because I knew from experience that kind of pain hurt much less than what I felt right now. Eventually, my body just went numb and I fell asleep.

  I woke up in the middle of the night with a singular urge; I had no idea where it came from, but it consumed me. I didn’t think; I just moved.

  I left my bedroom and entered my mother’s. It was empty, and I began tearing it apart. Clothes and papers and files scattered across the ground. They were there; I knew it.

  I emptied every box and opened every drawer; nothing was left untouched. I’d checked under the mattress and bathroom sinks; every shelf was bare, their contents strewn across the floor, but still, I couldn’t find them. My breath was ragged from exertion.

  I smashed vases and lamps, not because I thought they might be shoved inside, but out of frustration. I was frustrated about James, about losing in the second round, about everything that happened. I was frustrated that he had spun another lie, and I fell for it. I fucking fell for it.

  He never loved me.

  I grabbed one last vase and flung it across the room; it shattered against the wall and knocked a framed picture of James and me off the wall.

  I laughed because I didn’t know what else to do. My entire body shook as I laughed, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. I was mess, completely and absolutely. I choked and sputtered as I looked around at Hurricane Corinne’s destruction. My life was spinning out of control, and it felt like there was nothing I could do about it.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  The question swirled in my head as I tried to clean up the mess. I refolded all the clothes, made the bed, replaced everything I’d dumped out onto the floor, and swept up the shattered remains of the lamps and vases I’d destroyed.

  Blood beaded on my fingertip after I pricked it on a shard of glass, but rather than covering it with a Band-Aid, I continued to work. Broken glass from the picture I knocked off the wall poured into the bottom of the trash bin like grains of sand in an hourglass. I watched them fall. When I looked at the picture the frame held, I laughed. I was no more than fifteen years old, thin and gangly with my hair pinned down with a bright pink headband. My hand hovered behind James as he wrapped an arm around me, beaming at the camera.

  I remembered that day and could feel that tangle of nerves knotting in my stomach.

  My lip trembled as I fought back more tears, closing my eyes in an attempt to stop them. I took in a deep breath and then exhaled, looking at the picture one last time before I hung it back up. As I was adjusting it on the wall, I noticed the top left corner peeling.

  When I peeled the picture out of the broken frame, anger rose inside me. Hidden behind the picture were his letters. My letters—the ones James had written and that my mom had hidden from me.

  No. Stolen from me.

  Blood from my cut smeared across the yellowing envelopes as I clutched them in my hand and left the room. I grabbed my backpack and shoved the few belongings I’d brought home for the break and left the house still wearing my pajamas.

  44

  Corinne

  Violet’s laughter ripped me from a deep dream.

  As I wiped my eyes, still red and sore and dry from last night, I heard another, deeper laugh that I didn’t recognize. I grabbed my phone—it was past 10:00 a.m. already. I’d never slept in this late before, not even on vacation.

  There was a long slew of texts and voicemails from my mother, but I didn’t read or listen to a single one.

  Another laugh and then Violet’s voice.

  Violet never brought another person home, male or female. Books, as many as she could carry, sure, but another person? Nope.

  I flung off my sheets and crept to the door, opening it just wide enough to peek through. They were in the kitchen, just out of my view. Their voices were nothing more than whispers now. I knew Violet would turn bright red when I walked around the corner; she had no idea I was here. I wasn’t supposed to be back until next week, and she was asleep when I came home.

  I walked out of my room and toward the kitchen.

  “Holy shit!” I clapped my hand over my mouth when I saw Violet straddling Dr. Collins, who was wearing nothing but tight, white briefs, as they made out in the middle of the kitchen.

  “I—Uh—” I mumbled, frozen in place as Dr. Collins fell backward out of his chair, sending Violet to the floor along with him.

  “Corinne! What the hell?” Violet screamed, her hands covering her chest. “It’s not what you think.”

  My lips made a farting noise as I sputtered. Holy hell. What in the world had I walked in on? I needed to retreat…

  “I’m going to grab this banana,” I said, snagging it from the bowl on the counter before I backpedaled out of the kitchen.

  Dr. Collins was still on the floor, using a chair and the kitchen table as a shield. I felt both of their eyes on me as I walked back into my room. I sat on my bed, stunned. Not much later, I heard a soft knock on my door.

  “Come in,” I said.r />
  Violet, now fully clothed, opened the door. She sat down next to me and folded her hands in her lap. I waited for her to speak, but she seemed content with just sitting there.

  “Dr. Collins?” I said, finally, turning to Violet.

  Her cheeks were bright red. “I know…” she groaned.

  “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just… I’m surprised. Congrats,” I said, bumping my shoulder into her.

  “Philip was mortified when—”

  “Philip?” I sputtered, trying hard not to laugh. “His name is Phil Collins?” This was too much for me…

  “Yes,” Violet said, crossing her arms. “Phil. Collins.”

  After a few moments, I finally caught my breath.

  “Why are you back so early, anyway? You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  With the shock of finding Dr. Collins and Violet making out in the kitchen, I’d completely forgotten about what had happened.

  I sighed. “It was a last minute sort of thing. A long story but I’ll tell you about it later. You need to tell me exactly how you and—” I nearly said Phil Collins. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I held back. “Dr. Collins… happened.”

  Violet brightened up immediately, vibrating with positive energy.

  “It all started at the party,” she began, detailing not only what happened at the party but everything that had led to that point. The meetings in his office. The emails they exchanged. Everything.

  Violet, like me, never thought something would happen between them, but during the party, Dr. Collins had mentioned that now that the semester ended, his visiting professorship was over. He was no longer a university employee.

  “So I pulled him out of the party and into his office.”

  “You did not,” I said in disbelief.

  “Yup.” Violet beamed.

  “Wow.”

  My stomach grumbled; the banana I’d picked up from the kitchen remained uneaten beside me. I picked it up, peeled it, and took a bite.

  “He makes me so happy,” Violet said, unprompted.

  I knew the feeling; but as much as I knew that feeling, I knew its opposite. I’d been feeling it for a while now, and I hoped that Violet wouldn’t have to endure it.