All the Different Ways Page 5

  “They’ll fill you up again. You’ll see.” She gives me a big hug, and I settle on the fact that at least I have my family and her. Out of everything, Renee keeps me on level ground when shit gets bad.

  She helps me up. I brush my teeth and get my soaps and cosmetics together. As a pair, we find some yoga capris, tank tops, sports bras, and t-shirts and stuff them in my overnight bag. I grab a couple pairs of shorts for good measure then get the hell out. I avoid looking at the bed again, and shut the door.

  ***

  Renee is true to her word and makes all the necessary calls while I spend my time hiding out on either her back deck or guest bedroom. She and her husband tote their three kids around to lots of different activities, so most of my days are spent by myself making final arrangements for Anden, dealing with insurance, and deciding what to do with the house that makes my skin crawl.

  Evenings are good, though, because everyone is home and the buzz of the kids talking over each other and dinner at an actual table are comforting and distracting. I know I’m abnormally quiet, but it’s out of reflection, not sadness, and nobody seems to mind.

  My sub plans for the week are ready by Sunday night. The viewing is Wednesday with the funeral Thursday morning. Luckily, this is the last week of school and my students will be busy with exam prep and finals.

  “Renee, I’m gonna take these plans to Vista,” I announce, grabbing my keys.

  “Are you sure? You want me to go? School’s kinda creepy when it’s empty.”

  “Nah, I’m good, but thanks,” I offer her a lame-ass half smile and double check that I’ve remembered to put on a bra and that my t-shirt and capris look clean. With a quick wave, I leave. Tomorrow, I am going back to my house to sort through Anden’s stuff. I want to sell the place; I can’t stand the thought of living there anymore. I have too many memories of violence and hatred to stomach it. I don’t even want the furniture.

  The sun’s still above the horizon, painting the sky pink and orange, as I pull into the parking lot. I don’t see any other cars, so this should be quick. I take my badge and keys and trot up to the door. My body has healed up pretty well, so the stairs are simple for me today once I reach them. When I get to my room, Pierre swims to the glass of his tank and wiggles around. I grab his pellets and talk to him while he eats. Then I spend a few minutes setting up my sub with lesson plans and documents that my students will need over the next several days.

  Satisfied, I lock up and make my way back down the stairs. As I round the corner of the stairwell to go out the front doors, I slam into a hard, naked set of muscles. I suck in a huge breath and cover my mouth with my hands, stepping back against the wall.

  Cullen, just as startled as I am, shouts, “Jesus, Violet!” and yanks the earbuds from his ears. His eyes are wide with surprise but then go soft as he takes a small step closer. He puts his hands up as if he were approaching a wounded animal.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone was here,” he takes a white hand towel from the back of his gym shorts, wipes his face, and then runs it over his hair.

  He’s deliciously shirtless and obviously straight from the weight room. His torso is shiny with sweat and I want to reach out and trace all the little lines that the drops make as they fall down his body. I don’t feel worthy enough to be looking at such a work of art but somehow, little spheres of water and salt are privileged enough to trail along his skin.

  In my head, I’ve made it to the soft path of hair sneaking into his waistband when he says my name and my eyes snap up to meet his. Cullen’s let more of his beard grow in. There’s thicker hair filling in the outline of his jaw, wrapping around his chin, meeting his hairline. It’s neatly trimmed but I want to tug on it. I feel entranced; I can’t not look.

  He brings a hand up, hesitates, then moves some strands of my hair back behind my ear. I close my eyes in a slow blink. By now I’ve taken my hands from my mouth and have them tucked behind my back. It’s safer that way. I’m less likely to drag my fingertip down the middle of Cullen’s abs.

  Soft and deep he says, “Are you ok? I heard from Renee…”

  “You’ve been asking me that a lot lately.”

  “I’m worried about you. Now this unexpected accident… I’m really sorry, Violet.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Cullen.” His eyes flick down to my lower lip when I take it into my mouth for a second and then release it. I notice he takes a slow breath in, then out, and then meets my eyes again. The umber of his eyes has become darker and a brief thrill sears my chest.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  “Uh, dropping off sub plans, feeding Pierre. I’m off the rest of the week since there’s a lot to do at the house and stuff. I’m gonna sell it, I think. I don’t wanna live there anymore. Um, what are you doing?”

  “Weight room. Football conditioning starts next week after graduation. Just gearing up. You’re selling? Are you leaving…everything?” He clears his throat.

  “No, I’ll stay in town. Get an apartment or something. Just…I need somewhere new, you know? Anyway, I guess I should go then. I’m staying with Renee right now and she’ll get worried,” I slide off the wall towards the doors.

  “Wait! Dammit. Violet?” I stop and turn. Cullen comes to me, his shoes squeaking on the floor. “Do you need anything? Can I help you? Pack stuff, move stuff, comic relief, anything?”

  He looks like he wants to say more but nothing else comes out. I know how he feels; I have the same problem.

  “Thanks, Metz, that’s really great to offer. Um, how about I let you know?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, ok. Take care, Violet,” he says softly.

  I give him a little smile and make my way back to my car. I can still see his god-like frame through the glass of the front doors, watching to make sure I get to my car. Once I drive off, guilt sets in like a lead brick in my guts. Anden’s been dead for a weekend and I’m drooling over another guy? For the first time in nearly two years, I actually want the tears to come.

  ***

  I lie awake in Renee’s guest bedroom with an ominous weight on my chest. I feel like I’m suffocating under a skyscraper’s worth of rubble. I should be devastated that Anden’s dead. I should be mourning the loss of my husband, but all I feel is relief and that brings this foreboding heaviness of guilt. Renee is right—I have a shot at getting my happy back. I used to have it. Anden wasn’t always a rotten bastard. Once upon a time, we were friends and being together was fun. We went to concerts and did dumb contests at ball games. We’d try to see who could eat the hottest hot wings without water and then try not to gag when the other one would drool.

  I smile remembering those times. They were good. But then we got married and it was like Anden put me in a glass case like a collectible doll. The criticizing and the lectures started. Then those disgusting photos he would take. I couldn’t go anywhere without him, be seen by anyone but him. I swear if we hadn’t needed the money, I wouldn’t have been allowed to work. That thought sends a sharp pain through my heart because then I wouldn’t have Renee or my students…or Cullen…to make me feel like a whole person, at least through the weekdays. But, now I have Cullen on my mind and shame sets in. I swallow thickly as Anden’s voice creeps into the darkness of my mind: You’re rotten, worthless, and unworthy of anything good. It’s the last one that stings the most.

  I cover my head with the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. I bury the voice and all the crappy things I know I am.

  Cullen

  Running into Violet tonight scared the shit out of me, mostly because I thought she was going to move away. My chest constricted when she said she was selling her house. I want to help her, but I don’t know how. Now I’m just useless at home, stomping up the stairs to my room.

  The plans for the deck I want to build out back wave to me when I walk by the bulletin board hanging above my dresser. I drop my gym bag and pull the pin out of the cork holding the paper down. My dad is supposed to fly in from Seattle in a coup
le weeks to help get the project done, so I decide to call him to make sure that’s still the case. There’s only a week till school’s out and then time is mine. A bold carpentry project sounds like just what I need to keep my hands and my mind busy.

  “Hey, Dad, what’s up?” I empty my sweaty clothes and damp towel onto the floor.

  My dad’s deep voice rumbles through the line, “Hi, Cullen, how are you?”

  “I’m good, just got home from the gym. Conditioning starts in a week or so. Gotta prep.”

  He laughs, “You’re built like a bull, Son. I think you’re prepped. Who are you looking to quarterback for you this year? Jordan coming back?”

  “Nah, he had a rough off-season, got into some trouble.” I trot down the stairs to the laundry room and throw some clothes in the washer. Pouring in soap, I add, “Roarke benched him for this next season no matter his stats. He still has to practice, but he can’t play. Jordan’s parents are pissed, but there’s nothing they can do about it. They’re lucky he’s not cut totally.”

  I close the lid, start the load, and go into the hallway to lean against the smooth grey wall.

  “Dumbass.” I can just imagine Dad shaking his head in that fatherly, disappointed way. “Hope it was worth it. Who you got then?”

  “Two juniors are gonna fight for the position, but we have an in-coming sophomore, Hart, who’s phenomenal. We’ll see what conditioning does, though.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  “I usually do. Hey, I was checking to see if we’re still on for this project of mine.” My thoughts run to Violet and I get antsy.

  “End of June, right? Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “The sooner the better.” My feet leave hot prints on the hardwood floor as I pace outside the laundry room.

  “Well, don’t start without me.”

  I blow out a puff of air, “Alright, Dad. Tell Mom I miss her.”

  I hang up and run back upstairs to shower. I turn on the water and let it get hot while I grab basketball shorts and a towel. The mirror is steamed up by the time I get back in the bathroom which tells me the temperature is perfect.

  My skin reddens right after the spray hits me, and I turn into it, lowering my head so the millions of droplets can pelt my neck and run down my back. I spread my arms out to the sides and rest them on either side of the showerhead letting all of my major muscle groups soak up the heat from the water.

  I just start to relax when an image of Violet appears behind my eyes. Her startled gasp when she ran into me in the hallway tonight and the way she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. It was almost my undoing. I wonder what she would have done if I had touched more than her hair. If I had cupped her neck, stroked her cheek with my thumb, pulled that lip into my own mouth… My dick jumps in response. Down, brother. We won’t be going there.

  I push off the wall and wipe the streams of water from my face. Grabbing my cedar bourbon soap, I lather up. It’s essential I be just Violet’s friend right now. That’s what she needs, so that’s what I’ll be.

  ***

  I check in with Violet’s sub less and less with each day but I’m still watching her kids and monitoring them. The last thing she needs to worry about is if they’re screwing off during finals while she’s gone. This is the only way I can think of to help her that she won’t mind.

  Taking my room keys, badge, and sunglasses from my desk, I close and lock my classroom door for the day. The viewing is happening now, and I want to get over there to check in with Violet. I’ve changed into nicer clothes, so all I have to do is get out of the building. Apparently, though, that’s easier said than done.

  “Cullen! Hey, are you going to the funeral home?” Claire screeches behind me and for the hundredth time, I ask myself how I could have considered calling her even for one second.

  Taking a deep breath and gripping my door handle extra hard, I turn towards her and release it with a clink. She lets out a long, shrill whistle. “Wow! Don’t you look handsome?”

  “Um, thanks. Yeah, I’m heading there now.”

  “Great! Wanna carpool? I don’t really know where it is.” She’s got her back against the wall, leaning against it looking up at me. My lack of attraction to this girl is almost comical.

  “How about you just follow me…in your own car. I don’t usually do carpool-type stuff. Nothing personal.” Take a damn hint! I think.

  “Ok, Cullen, if you say so,” she whines and bats her eyelashes. I’m going to venture to guess she didn’t get it…

  Claire has to speed walk across the parking lot to keep up with me. I’m not necessarily walking faster than normal, but I’m certainly not accommodating her shorter legs and heels.

  We get to where the services are, and I practically jump out of my truck trying to get to Violet. I’ve thought about her the whole way here—how difficult it must be to have to stand in the same room as the body of your spouse, and then his family, friends, and strangers, and engage in conversations about that person. Reminisce about them, share stories… She’s got to be absolutely out of her mind by now.

  I don’t know where Claire is and I don’t really care. Never did the words “I’ll wait for you” pass out of my mouth. I get to the guest book to sign it noticing that there are a lot of students here. It makes me happy to see so much support from our kids; they really do love her and it’s easy to see why.

  “Cullen, there you are,” Claire is breathless in front of me. “You walk so fast with your long legs.”

  “I was a quarterback. I know how to scramble.”

  I look around over her head and spot Violet with Renee not far from where I am now. She’s talking to Marcus and the girl she was counseling the other day. The pull to get to her is too much to resist; it’s like gravity or magnetism or some other science shit I don’t know about from the unknown part of the universe.

  “Excuse me, Claire.” I push past her, my eyes locked on what I want.

  Violet

  I get done straightening my hair and pull just the very front up into a small clip with tiny charcoal butterflies on it. The rest of my hair is down like a curtain. I apply normal eyeliner and mascara, no need for waterproof, and a little more blush than usual since Renee mentioned something about my complexion and a cross between Casper and a pillowcase. I opt for a knee-length navy tank dress, a light pink, capped-sleeved sweater and a silver, heavy-beaded necklace for the viewing. With navy Mary Jane’s, I doubt it screams “let’s party”.

  The casket is up front by a taupe curtain and at least forty flower arrangements and planters. Soft music is playing, and I fight the urge to crank it up to something a whole lot faster and start serving cocktails. Renee is right by my side, but we are nowhere near Anden. I think she knows I am a little too unstable to be near him, so we are closer to where visitors and actual mourners are coming in. My parents and his are up front, mingling with the rest of the family. Charlotte took Hollyn home a little while ago.

  I see almost all of my Science Department, other faculty, and students at one point or another. Myah, Marcus, and even my boys from a couple years ago who started “2 Color” come to pay their respects. We exchange hugs and catch up on who’s doing what. It’s good to see them and I appreciate the distraction. I love these kids.

  I’m saying goodbye to Myah and Marcus when Cullen walks in. He has on black dress pants, a white button up shirt with black buttons, and a fitted charcoal blazer. His near-black hair is windswept to the side and held there with some kind of hair putty. He’s sexy as hell, and I almost bite my tongue midsentence. Instead, I catch my breath, release Myah from a hug, and clamp on to Renee’s wrist with my hand. She looks down at my death grip then follows my stare. He signs the guest book, completely oblivious.

  “Holy fuck,” she whispers in my ear.

  I quickly tell Myah and Marcus goodbye, then turn to Renee, panicking. “I shouldn’t want that, Renee, I’m so horrible. I gotta get out of here. I can’t talk to anyone
else, especially Cullen.”

  “Hey, ok, alright, it’s fine. He’s talking to Claire from Social Studies. I can cover for you. There’s an exit up front, but you’ll have to walk by the box…”

  I eye it quickly, then stare at the side of Renee’s face. “Shit, I can’t do that either. Dammit, Anden still has me trapped.”

  Renee jerks my hand. I stiffen.

  “Hey, Violet,” the soothing tone of Cullen’s deep voice eases my panic like whiskey. His arms extend around me and pull me into his chest. I melt into the warmth seeping through his clothes. Carefully touching his back in response, I gently press myself into the hug. He tightens his grip and just holds on. Second into second, the lines of time blur away.

  Anden’s mother calls my name, breaking the spell I’m under. Awkwardly, I let go and look down at the floor.

  “Thank you for coming, Cullen, it means a lot to me that you’re here.”

  “I’m always here…We’re friends.”

  I risk a glance in Cullen’s direction. His eyes are sparkling and there’s a little smile tugging at the corner of his full mouth.

  I smile back, then look to Renee. She nods as I put my head back down and start walking. I hear my name again, but I hold my hand up and keep going. I find the back room where my purse and keys are, exit through the florist delivery door, and get in my SUV. I lay my head on the sunbaked steering wheel and take a few deep breaths. Then, starting the engine, I turn up my music, and peel out of the parking lot to go to that god-forsaken house I own.

  I pack up my clothes, files, and some pictures until the funeral and continue after it’s over. The house is on the market, furniture and dishes included; I just want out. I am renting a really cute townhouse not too far from school in a very nice neighborhood. No more brown shag carpet, no more broken stairs. The only thing from the house that I’m taking besides my personal stuff is the hummingbird planters. They’re so symbolic of what my life should actually be that there is no way I can leave them behind or put them in storage. Now that Anden’s being laid to rest, I can start to put all the shit he’s done behind me. What won’t go behind, I’ll just bury deep enough that it can’t get out.