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violet

One Year Later

“Are you packed already? That was fast.”

“Yeah, because I’m not bringing that much with me,” I say with a great amount of trepidation.

“I know you’re probably nervous about going to a new school in a new state, but I promise that you’re going to love VCU.”

I’ve lost a year of my life to shock and sadness since my mother passed away from what doctors say was a ruptured brain aneurysm. Since that horrible Christmas Eve, I’ve taken a year off of college to grieve and then put our house on the market so I could sell it to settle my mother’s debts. To make things even more difficult, because I can’t financially support myself, I’ve been forced to uproot my entire life and move across the country to live with a total stranger.

My father…Steven.

My parents met when they were freshmen at Valencia City University, a small private liberal arts college in Valencia City, Nevada. When my mom became pregnant with me, she had no choice but to move back home to Pennsylvania to live with Grandma and raise me. My father, on the other hand, stayed in Nevada and has built his life here.

While in school, my father joined a fraternity and one of his frat brothers is the current president of the university. Now that President Harmon (who my dad simply calls Bob) has learned about my situation, the school has offered me a full-ride if I want to finish my degree. Even though I don’t want to go to school there, I couldn’t say no because I need the scholarship if I want to finish school. Although my mom never regretted giving birth to me, graduating from college was the one thing she wasn’t able to accomplish, which explains why earning a college degree was my mom’s biggest dream for me.

Your education is important, Violet. It will open so many doors for you, she said countless times.

“It’s just that I was doing so well at my old school,” I tell my father, foolishly holding on to some hope that he’ll do the right thing and help me move back to Pennsylvania and finish college there. “They made accommodations for me there.”

In high school, I was diagnosed with an executive functioning disorder which some people think is just double talk for “a disorganized mess”. It’s an actual issue though, that makes it difficult for me to study in a way that’s productive and stay on top of my assignments.

“And you’ll do great at VCU too. It’s really one of the country’s best-kept secrets. It’s a baby Ivy League school without the high price tag.”

I try not rolling my eyes at his repeated description of his beloved alma mater. It’s all he can talk about since the school extended the scholarship to me, avoiding any discussion of my learning challenges.

“I just wish you would move into a dormitory. Your mom lived in Palm West. I was in East.”

Which is exactly why I don’t want to live there. Doesn’t he get it? I’m already afraid that I’ll feel her presence all over campus. Living off campus in an apartment with an old high school classmate from back home will at least give me some sense of separation.

“Kennedy needs a roommate, and she’s the only person who I’ll know when I start there. It will help me adjust,” I tell him.

“Well, it’s fantastic Bob was able to also give you a cash housing stipend to live where you want. In our day, we had to live in campus housing. There were no choices.”

Every time my father discusses all the things that President Harmon has done for me, he says it proudly, as if he’s the one actually footing the bill.

Actually, sir, you probably owe me eighteen years’ worth of damn child support.

I offer him a stunted smile in response, not really giving a damn about how things were in the day. Hell, back in his day, he was busy getting girls pregnant and leaving them to fend for themselves.

The awkward silence between us grows, and he fills it with more questions.

“What do you want to do about your things from the house?” he asks.

“I’ll keep them in storage if that’s okay with you?”

“Uh, sure,” he says with some hesitance, I assume because he doesn’t want to take on any extra financial responsibilities for me.

“Just until I graduate,” I assure him. “And then I’ll pay you back, of course.”

“It’s fine, Violet,” he says, but I’m uncertain if he’s really okay with it or if he’s just saying that because he feels like he should. And why would I know? I don’t know this man at all. “You don’t have to pay me for anything. I’m your father.”

Uh, not even close, dude.

“Okay, thanks.”

My father lives about thirty minutes from campus. Close enough that I could certainly commute to school if I wanted to, but the one thing we agreed on is that I need to live near campus instead of at home with him. He claims it’s so I can get the full VCU experience, but I know better. He doesn’t need his new daughter living here and cramping his style, and I certainly don’t want to be here either.

I was willing to take an Uber to my new apartment that I’ll share with my friend, Kennedy, but he wouldn’t hear of it and is driving me there instead.

“Will you come home for Christmas?” he asks after we’ve been driving silently on a long stretch of Nevada highway for fifteen minutes.

Home?

I have no home.

It died a year ago.

“Can we play it by ear? I don’t want to leave Kennedy alone on Christmas if she doesn’t have plans.”

“Oh, right, sure.” He sounds disappointed. “We can play it by ear.”

I play with the strap of my handbag for five minutes before I ask him a question.

“Well, what do you usually do for Christmas?”

He turns his head to stare at me for a moment. I’m not sure what he’s thinking.

“I cook dinner. Have some friends over. Although this year it will probably be a super small gathering.”

“You cook?”

“Yeah, I don’t have the time to cook every day, but I’m a pretty fair cook for holidays and special occasions.”

“Oh.”

Before the car becomes too loaded with our mutual silence, we arrive at Kennedy’s apartment complex. Nevada is so different. The highways are freshly paved, with no potholes to be seen, unlike the streets of my hometown in Pennsylvania. The complex features several small apartment buildings covered in tan stucco with terra cotta hued roofs, surrounded by sandy colored dirt and a few strategically planted cactus plants.

It’s nothing like home.

And I start to long for my childhood bedroom, my refuge, more with each passing moment.

I ring Kennedy’s doorbell while my father unpacks the trunk.

“Hi,” she answers the door cordially in a pink halter top and cutoff jean shorts. “Welcome to Valencia City Village.”

“Hi.”

She and my father shake hands after he brings my suitcases into the living room, giving her apartment a quick once over. The furnishings are sparse but the apartment is clean, and it seems to satisfy his Johnny-come-lately sense of parental concern. I’m just glad it’s not dripping in Christmas decorations. In fact, there’s not one piece of nauseating yuletide joy to be found anywhere inside the apartment.

This should work fine.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it,” he says to me as he stands at the front door.

“Thanks for driving me, Steven,” I say, making sure to stand a few feet away in case he thinks I’m actually going to give him a hug goodbye. I’m not.

“No problem. Call me if you need anything.”

“Yep.”

After he leaves, Kennedy shows me to my bedroom. It’s smaller than my room back home, but that’s to be expected.

“You and your dad don’t get along, huh?” she asks.

“We don’t know each other well,” I say, not wanting to get into a full-blown discussion about my fucked up family dynamics.

“That’s why you call him by his first name?”

“It feels too weird calling him dad. We literally just met a few months ago.”

“Say no more. I bet you want a drink then.”

“Um, no, actually, I don’t really drink much.”

“Oh, is it a religious thing?”

Kennedy and I knew of each other in high school and we’d say hello to each other in the hallways, but we didn’t know each other well. Our friend crowds were like two ships passing in the night. She was part of the beautiful people clique, and I was a part of the nerds. And not the nerds who were smart and ran for student office but the kind who liked to remain under the radar, minding our business and earning our A’s (or in my case B’s and C’s). But our town is relatively small and word about my mom’s death spread fast, so when my neighbors learned I was going to move here to attend school, more than one person suggested (basically commanded) that I get in contact with Kennedy. I did, we chatted, and now we’re roommates–at least on a trial basis.

“No, I had two drinks at prom and accidentally told Keisha Holder that her boyfriend shoved his tongue down Ashley Reyes’s throat in gym class.”

“Oh, snap!” Kennedy chuckles. “I remember hearing about that.”

“And do you remember both Keisha and Ashley harassing me for two weeks straight afterwards?”

“I knew Ashley did but Keisha too?”

“She sure did,” I assure her. I was terrified and pledged to the universe or whoever was up there listening that I wouldn’t drink again if he or she would just get her to stop.

“But those two are still dating to this day.”

“Exactly, so I opened my big mouth for nothing.”

“Do you ever see anyone from high school?” Kennedy asks. “I haven’t been back home in a long time. I spend my holidays and summers here.”

“No, I haven’t lived in Pennsylvania in a year, since my mom died.”

“Oh, okay.”

“But there is someone I’m seeing back home.”

“Like a long distance kind of thing?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s that working out?” she asks skeptically.

“It’s been cool so far. Elijah was there for me when my mom passed and I wasn’t just going to dump him because I was moving here.”

“Um, that’s kind of a very good reason to break up with someone.”

“College is just a moment in time. When I finish, I’ll go back east, where I belong and Elijah and I can pick up where we left off.”

“Oh,” she says doubtfully.

“Is there any specific reason you never visit home?” I ask her.

“Not really,” she replies, but a look in her eyes tells me that there may be something that she’s holding back. Something that is probably none of my business, so I just leave it there.

“I guess I’ll unpack tonight and maybe order in tonight? Any good sandwich spots around here?”

“Uh, no, and there’ll be no unpacking tonight,” Kennedy says with firm resolution.

“Why?”

“It’s Santa Fest this weekend and we’re going.”

“Santa Fest?”

A ball forms in the pit of my stomach. I realize what time of year it is, but I don’t want to attend anything over-the-top Christmas-y. It all reminds me of last year and it’s just too painful. It’s part of the reason why I moved in with Kennedy now instead of after the holidays. While the commercialism of the holiday makes it really difficult to ignore, I just want to pretend it isn’t happening if at all possible.

“It’s a Valencia City tradition. There will be local bands playing, lots of food, and, of course, there’s the exhibition game.”

“What kind of game? I’m not really a big sports person.”

Kennedy stares a hole through my head like I don’t have any brains in between my ears.

“A hockey game. You realize where you’ve transferred to, right? The VCU Suns are legendary. Everybody who’s anybody will be at that game and so will we.”

“I sense that attendance for you is mission focused?”

Kennedy throws her head back in laughter and I shake my head in disbelief at how beautiful she still is even when she snorts through her nose.

“I remember you being smart in high school. Nothing’s changed.”

“Who’s the target?” I ask her.

“This guy named Ray.”

I can’t imagine that there’s a man on this planet who wouldn’t take notice of Kennedy, so I wonder if there’s any backstory to this.

“Any history with him?”

“We’re circling each other a little, maybe trying to figure the other out before taking a leap. He’s on the football team and has a real shot at the pros. I think he’s being careful about all his decisions, but that’s one of the things that I like about him.”

“I remember my mom telling me once that if a woman really wants to meet someone that she should go to that place alone so that it feels safe for the man to approach her. Maybe if you go to the game alone, it will be the perfect time for him to share a moment alone with you.”

“That’s a real delightful story, and a nice try, but I’m afraid that’s not an option. You’re rolling with me and that’s it. I don’t attend school activities alone because there’s safety in numbers and all of that good shit. You understand, right?”

I plop my butt on the floor of my new room and stare at my suitcase full of clothes. Suddenly, I wish I’d packed a little more thoughtfully instead of only throwing in whatever was clean.

“I guess I can unpack tomorrow.”

“That’s the spirit! Okay, we’re going to head out in an hour,” she announces, as if she’s a camp counselor in charge of an upcoming nature hike. “Oh, and Violet, be sure to dress in layers.”

“But it’s a hundred degrees outside.”

She sighs like I’m the most hopeless person she’s ever met.

“Not at the rink, girl. Not at the rink.”