by Julie Olivia
“Oh, come on, Violet,” Asher says. “Don’t be shy. Who’s the dude?”
“There is no dude,” I say, laughing with too much eagerness to be the least bit convincing. “Do you think I have time for anything outside of work? Seriously.”
“You have time for Lily,” Mom comments oh so helpfully.
“Maybe I’m a lesbian,” I say, giving an exaggerated shrug. “Has anyone thought of that?”
My mom places her hand on my shoulder. “Honey, we will accept you either way.”
I groan. “I only have time for this movie. No worries. I’m not going anywhere conspicuous.”
“So, who is he?” Asher asks. “Who ya got a little crush on?” he teases, his eyebrows wiggling at me. He’s trying to embarrass me, and it will not work. I curl my bottom lip in with determination.
“No crushes,” I say.
“Oh, I’ve seen her,” Mom says, joining in on making me as miserable as humanly possible. “She’s in love.”
Love.
What a strong word. Goose bumps run down my spine, the memories of Keaton making me breakfast, calling me “baby”, and texting me little “Good mornings” all too invasive. This isn’t love. It’s me living out a teenage fantasy. This is a fling, and I’m accustomed to flings. They’re fun until they’re not. It happens a lot in my industry. Just because I moved back home doesn’t change the type of relationships I put myself in.
Except I’ve never felt my heart drop like it does around Keaton. It’s always been that way. He’s always been different from any other man. When relationships start to fail, it’s weird how my mind always defaults to Maybe it wouldn’t be like this if it were Keaton. Call it an obsession after all these years, but my heart belongs to him. It always has…so maybe it is love.
“We’re going off the rails now,” I say, raising my hands in the air.
“Come on, don’t be shy,” Mom says.
“Stop, please.”
“Is it Lily?” Asher asks.
“Yes, it’s Lily. Mystery solved five minutes ago. Now leave me alone.”
The stairs behind the couch creak, and I groan as my dad calls down, “Someone in love down there?”
“No!” I yell.
“Don’t tell me your mom has finally left me,” he says, faux disappointment in his tone.
“You silly man.” Mom climbs the stairs, attempting to take two at a time, sending drops of coffee flinging from her cup. He shields himself from her weak, playful punches with his arms, and they fall into a fit of laughter.
Love—there it is. It’s how they joke together. It’s how they can kiss and play even after all these years. What else is love? It’s Keaton’s dimple when he laughs. It’s how passionate he is about his work. It’s how perfectly he makes omelets—and I promise you, I’ve never eaten an omelet that good before in my life.
My phone buzzes on the side table next to me and I wonder if it’s him, saying something, anything, but when I pick it up, it’s an email from Sean and Dean. There’s no greeting or signature. They don’t type that way, just one-sentence responses. The only indication it’s them replying is the email address and the verbiage.
Yes. Gr8 edit. Contract tmrw.
Perfect. I sign away my soul tomorrow.
Asher looks over my shoulder as I continue to stare at it.
“You submitted it?” he asks.
“Are you mad?”
“No,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”
There’s silence followed by a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry we got upset,” he says. “We were just…shocked, I guess.”
“You don’t have to apologize for Keaton,” I say.
Asher pauses. I shouldn’t have mentioned Keaton so quickly. I know my brother. I can see the gears turning. He knows I care about Keaton. He must know after my stupid outburst.
“You know…I see how he is around you,” Asher says. Oh no, here we go. “He’s not normally like that. I’ve asked him to be nicer, I swear.”
Okay, never mind. Asher seems to have no clue. For once, I’m happy Keaton gives me the cold shoulder when we’re in a crowd. All the times he ignored me weren’t for nothing after all. He’s always known how to handle situations.
I should have discussed the changes to the movie with him beforehand. He probably would have given me decent advice—in other words, he would have stopped me from changing it—but would that have been the best anyway? Then I wouldn’t have a signed contract coming tomorrow, nothing to show for my hard work…my immoral hard work.
I shrug, following his lead. “It’s alright. He’s not that mean.”
“He’s not a bad guy.”
“I know he’s not,” I say. “It’s Keaton, for Christ’s sake. Mom would adopt him if she could.”
“Well of course she would. He’s the best. But I don’t know…maybe it’s because you’re my annoying younger sister.”
I gasp, and Asher grins.
I shove him. “Jerk.”
“Whatever. Come on,” he says. “Let’s watch marathon runners and feel bad about ourselves.”
“Hang on—don’t you run marathons?”
“Hush, I’m trying to be a decent brother.”
I smile. “Don’t worry about that. You are.”
I wake up the next morning on the couch, drool coating part of the cushion and sunlight beaming in through the windows. Mom must have already opened the blinds for the day, which means I’ve definitely overslept.
I check the time on my phone: ten o’clock. Much later than my usual morning routine—I try to avoid getting into the double digits—but Asher and I stayed up late watching documentary after documentary. I don’t even remember him leaving.
I flip through my notifications, seeing more group texts with the camping crew. There’s nonsense talk about some movie coming out soon, a pesky thing the twins did, and Joey’s overall love of sports, which doesn’t get much reaction aside from Asher.
Weirdly enough, right below that group text is another group I haven’t seen before. It’s between me, Kayla, and Lily.
Kayla: I need a girls day ASAP.
Lily: You know I don’t do nails.
Kayla: I was hoping Violet did.
This was around eight o’clock, and only fifteen minutes ago was there a follow-up.
Kayla: Okay, for real. Violet. Nails. Today.
A girls day? I don’t know the last time I had one of those, if ever. When I was little. my mom and I would garden together, but I never had much of a green thumb. Plus, our nails would get dirtier rather than painted. However, I quickly type out a response.
Violet: Give me some time to shower and I’m on my way.
Kayla: Good. I hope you guys are up for walking. This puppy poops fifty times a morning, and if I listen to one more true crime podcast, I’ll be too scared to ever walk him again.
Lily: We’ll protect you.
I drive the short distance to Kayla’s house, donning a small backpack as opposed to my crossbody purse to prepare for our adventure. I’m not sure what I expected, but a walk around the block definitely wasn’t it.
“Who do you think I am?” Kayla asks when she sees me in running shorts and a racerback tank.
“Clearly not a long walk kind of person?” I say.
“I do Pilates, and that’s where I draw the line.”
Lily laughs. She’s also dressed like Kayla in simple white shorts and a branded t-shirt, Lily’s from our old high school since she still teaches there and Kayla’s with Joey’s company logo.
The dachshund puppy is bounding around, much more excitable than Kayla, though she at least tries to keep up with him. I’m satisfied with the brisk pace. It’ll be the most exercise I’ve gotten since leaving California.
We discuss everything from the dog’s chewing habits to Lily’s excitement that school will be out soon and then deciding what facemasks Kayla has for us—assuming the puppy hasn’t gotten into them yet. She hasn’t checked.
; “How’re you, Violet?” Lily asks. “I feel like you haven’t talked much.”
I’ve kept quiet, but for good reason. I don’t feel much like discussing my current predicament. Keaton, the shitty movie…it’s all something I’d like to ignore on this sacred girls day.
“Just life,” I say. “Nothing exciting.”
“Movie going good?” Kayla asks. “Haven’t heard about that in a while.”
Of course. Why wouldn’t they read my mind and know I don’t want to talk about it?
“It’s alright,” I say.
“You sound like Eeyore,” Lily says, stopping at the street corner as we wait for a car to pass.
She leans forward, trying to meet my gaze, and I laugh. “What?”
“What’s going on?” she asks.
I almost lie again, but it seems like the lies are catching up to me nowadays. So, instead, I tell them everything—at least, the stuff relating to the film. The original idea, how Dean and Sean didn’t like that, and how I changed it into some warped version of how I even view this town.
“I just…I feel like I sold out,” I admit. It’s the first time I’ve put it into words, but that’s exactly what I did. I sold out.
They’re both quiet with just the patter of our shoes hitting concrete until Kayla exhales with a very nonchalant shrug.
“Well, you don’t have to do anything they say.”
I laugh. “Thanks. My problems are solved.”
“No need to be a jerk,” she snaps, curling her lip. “I’m serious. You funded yourself before—why not do it again?”
“I don’t have the money,” I say. “I only have a little bit in savings. It’s expensive to do it all on your own.”
“Yeah, so?”
I laugh again, unable to figure out how to form a counterargument.
“It’s not that simple,” I say.
“Yes, it is,” she states matter-of-factly. Her tone doesn’t waver. Her expression is blank, as if this is the most obvious answer in the world.
“I wouldn’t be able to eat or have a roof over my head,” I say.
“Don’t you have one now?” she asks.
“I mean, yes, but I can’t live with my parents.”
“Why not?”
“Because—”
“Not even for a year?” Kayla asks, deadpan and unbothered even as she bags the puppy’s poo. “They’d probably love to have you in town for a while after you’ve been away for so long.”
“I know we would,” Lily chimes in.
“I can’t,” I say again. “I already sent my proposal.”
“Did you sign a contract?” Kayla asks.
“No, not yet.”
“Then quit. Do what you want. Make your movie. It’s hard, but what isn’t?” she says. “You know what I’ve done since high school?”
“Um…”
“Busted my ass. You think Joey runs his company? Hell no. It’s me. I do the paperwork. I figure out the taxes. I kept my body tight while raising two hellions—after birthing said hellions. I look like this, run a fucking business, and love the shit out of my family. Is it easy? No. Do I do it? Yes, because I love it. So, do you love this?”
I can’t think of a proper response. To say she unloaded a can of whoop-ass on me and my self-pity would be an understatement.
“Yeah,” I stammer out. “I love this.”
“Then just do it.”
I look to Lily, who sheepishly smiles back. “I mean, I’m not gonna say it like that, but yeah, I agree. If you can do it, do it.”
I exhale, leaning over to rest my palms on my knees, catching my breath and feeling like I ran a few miles even though we can’t have walked more than one. “Didn’t exactly expect a pep talk today.”
“Well, you needed one. You were depressing me.” Kayla groans. “Joey told me about your weirdness with Keaton yesterday.”
I halt in my tracks, heels catching on the sidewalk and almost sending me tripping forward.
“What weirdness?” I ask.
“Oh, please,” she croons. Even Lily laughs in response.
I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“We all know about you and Keaton.”
I suddenly get lightheaded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Girl, give it up. My kid is a menace, but he isn’t a dummy. He saw you sneak into the bathroom with someone at our party, and I figured it was Keaton. Sure wasn’t your brother, and Joey would get a stiletto up his ass if he cheated on me.”
I knew that kid was trouble.
“So, you should probably resolve that too while you’re at it,” Kayla says, curling the leash around her wrist. Why do I feel like that leash right now?
“Spitting all kinds of truth today, aren’t we?” I say, putting my hands on my hips and exhaling.
“I’m feeling feisty,” she says. “Plus, I just picked up poop for the third time this morning alone. This bugger is lucky he’s so darn adorable. Ugh, I need to wash my hands.”
I didn’t notice we’ve made it around the block and back to Kayla’s house. She and the puppy run up the perfectly manicured lawn, complete with stone steps into the garage entrance.
“She’s right,” Lily tells me. “Nothing worth having isn’t work. Isn’t that how it goes?”
“Pretty much,” I mumble.
I pull out my phone as Lily crosses toward the house and schedule a calendar event with Dean and Sean. This time it’s happening on my terms.
Twenty
Keaton
Asher and I spend most of the day in my living room, him grading papers and me trying to parse through everything in my mind.
We order pizza because I’m too braindead to make any food. I don’t want to get up from the recliner, and I can’t even tell him why. Even so, it’s like he just knows. He doesn’t leave my house, just keeps supplying beer and junk food. There’s no reason for it, but he’s intuitive like that. It’s not until I close my eyes and think of Violet leaving that I feel the urge to say anything.
“I love your sister,” I blurt out.
He pauses mid-scratch on the paper, his pen drooping to the side. “Didn’t expect to hear that.” He sets down his pen. “Wait a second—you love her?”
“Yeah.”
He scratches his head. “I didn’t know you loved her.”
“I would say I’m sorry, but…geez, I’m not, Asher.” He says nothing, and I almost expect a fist to careen toward my face any second.
Instead he tilts his head and lets out a small “Huh.”
“What?” I ask.
“Just figured she was the one who had a crush on you,” he says. “She always has. I didn’t expect… Well, I guess it doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head, a slow smile spreading over his face, something I definitely didn’t expect as a reaction. “So…you’ve just been sitting on this? When were you gonna tell me?”
I shrug, tossing my head side to side. “Now?”
He laughs, and relief rushes over me. “Have you told her?”
“Well, I mean, not that I love her,” I say. “But I’m not gonna lie…we’ve definitely had a thing going on—”
His hand shoots up in protest, waving back and forth to emphasize his point. “No, I don’t need to know anything else. Thank you.”
I laugh and he joins in, both of us laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation and out of pure awkwardness.
“But seriously?” he asks, lowering his hand back to the armrest. “You love her, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, nodding. “I think so.”
He barks out a laugh. “You better know so.”
“I do, I do.”
He exhales, twisting his lips to the side as if considering before shrugging and picking up his red pen again, letting it hover over the paper in front of him.
I tense. He is no doubt contemplating the fifty ways he could kill me in my sleep. He knows where I live. We’re here, for God’s sake. He’s quiet…too quiet.
“What do you mean?” he says. “You’re both adults.”
I laugh. “You punched the last kid who liked her.”
His face hardens. “Who, Peter? Yeah, because he said he was gonna screw her in the back of his car. Said that to my face. You’d punch the guy too.”
I chuckle. Then laugh. Then full-on roll out into a fit of laughter. “You’re kidding. That’s why you punched him?”
“What?” he asks, laughing back. “Do you think I didn’t want my sister to date anyone?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. This all feels…anticlimactic.”
“I mean, do you want me to do the older brother thing? Yell a bit?”
I chuckle. “It might make me feel better.”
“Alright,” he says, twisting back toward me. His face contorts into something resembling a bear rearing back to maul its victim. His brows furrow, his lips curl back into a snarl—he even extends an index finger like a scolding parent, angry and disappointed.
“Fuck you,” he says, sharp and harsh. “I’ll kill you if you hurt her.”
It all happened so fast I didn’t realize I flattened myself against the recliner, gripping the armrests as my heart races.
His face relaxes, and he sniffs and gives another shrug.
“Wow, that was good,” I say.
He smirks, grabbing his water off the side table and chugging some down before settling in his chair once again. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, man.”
We go back to our tasks, me picking up the remote and feeling satisfied. That could have gone a lot worse, and I feel much better having that off my chest. He didn’t punch Peter because he wanted to date Violet; it was because he was an asshole. I want to kick myself for thinking otherwise for over a decade.
Asher clears his throat. “But seriously,” he says, still looking at the paper and facing away from me. The position is almost sinister, like any second he’ll turn around with his fluffy white cat and quizzical brow. “You’re my best friend, but shit yeah, I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you hurt her. She’s my sister.”
I nod in understanding even though he can’t see me. “I’ll make this right.”