Vol. 6, Chapter VIII — Anniversaries and Alleviations

I woke up a bit earlier than usual, my body missing Violet’s presence in our bed. I waited for a bit, hearing Oliver snoring away, all curled up by my legs, thinking she had just gone to the bathroom. When I saw that she was taking far too long, I got up and went looking for her, doing my best not to disturb the sleeping furball. As soon as I stepped into the corridor, I heard the clattering of metal coming from the kitchen. Stepping into the living room and looking in that direction, I saw my wife standing there, doing something. Her eyes had dark circles, made even more pronounced by how pale she looked today. Her expression was something frightful, a mixture of pain and anger.

“Hi there,” I greeted her as I stepped closer, startling her a bit. “Whatcha doing there?”

“Morning, Abby,” she said, her voice gravely and deep. She showed me the knife she was holding, one of the bigger ones we have, making her look straight out of a horror movie. “I can’t sleep because I feel like I have hot knives inside me, and that reminded me that our kitchen knives have been feeling a bit dull lately.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” I said, leaning over the counter. It looked like she was practically done with that.

“Grandma taught me.”

That still didn’t quite explain where the source of that knowledge was, and although I was still curious, I didn’t ask because Violet clearly wasn’t in the mood for talking. Kinda nostalgic in a way, but mostly pitiful.

“You should skip today,” I told her. “It’s Friday anyway, and you’ve attended school these past couple of days like this, so I think our— ”

“I’m fine, Abby,” she cut me off, giving me an annoyed look. “I know you’re worried, but as you said, it’s Friday, and I’ve gone to school the past couple of days like this, so going one more won’t kill me.”

I raised my hands in surrender, seeing that she wasn’t willing to bend right now. I could push it further, but we’d only end up arguing and likely make her feel worse once she got better and calmed down. I could practically already see her dismantle herself in apologies for having “raised her voice” with me right now.

“Morning, girls,” Papa Stan’s voice sounded from behind me, accompanied by Oliver’s nails on the hard floor. Once again, he sounded like he didn’t have much energy in him. He looked at Violet, his eyes narrowing, before her opened his mouth to speak. You look terrible today, he bluntly told her, my eyes widening a bit as I never expected that coming from him.

“Gee, thanks, Dad!” Violet hissed at him. “Thanks for telling me that! It’s not like we have mirrors or anything, right?”

He lowered his head as he scratched behind his ear. He knew he had messed up big time and that saying anything else would likely get Violet even more aggravated with him, so he stayed quiet and left for the bathroom.

Gee! What’s up with them lately?

Violet, I knew, but Papa Stan? No idea, and I’d have to wait a bit longer to be able to ask. What I knew was that I hated the mood in this house. It’s not like everything can be sunshine and rainbows all the time, but this was a bit too close to my old life.

Yeah, no. As bad as this is, it’s still somewhat better.

Here, they could vent out, and they’d always apologise later. Back in my old life, everyone but my Mum was scared to vent out, and apologies were never spoken unless directed at her.

And this was just temporary, while back then, it was the status quo.

“Babe, let’s have breakfast,” I told her softly, reaching out for one of her hands.

“Haah, yeah, let’s,” she grumbled. “Not that I feel any hunger right now.”

◊◊◊

I couldn’t think of ever feeling this disconnected from my body aside from that time I didn’t know where Abby was or even if she was still alive when her parents split up.

I almost faceplanted the cubicle door when getting up from the toilet. My legs, usually so lithe and carrying me easily over the distance, felt like lead stumps, barely able to move as I dragged my feet, my arms falling limply by my side. Even looking ahead felt like I was straining my neck.

And yet, the pain I felt all this time was but an echo in the distance. Not because the symptoms had subsided, I don’t think, nor that the medication was doing anything extra. No, it was simply due to how my mind felt like it was connected to my body by just tiny threads, like a drunken puppeteer, trying to move a broken doll hanging by spider strings.

As I left the bathroom and saw Abby’s face, I knew I was done for. Even before she spoke anything, I was already admitting defeat.

“Honey, please call our parents,” I told her, my voice sounding like it was coming from somewhere around me. “I can’t take this anymore.”

Stubbornly, recklessly, I had endured it until after we finished having lunch. I was already scripting what I was going to say to apologise to my Dad, my Abby, our friends, everyone really, since even my classmates were constantly glancing at me, as if afraid I’d drop dead at any second.

Abby guided me to the school gate once she got an answer from our parents, my arms draped over her shoulders as she walked in front. Her Dad’s car was there, but the person standing by the driver’s side wasn’t him, but her sister. She was staring at me, but I couldn’t quite make out what expression she was making until I got inside and was done putting on the seatbelt, her eyes always locked on me.

“I’m taking you to the doctor,” she told me, her voice firm as she grabbed her phone and started dialling the number. “My family uses a clinic, and my Dad is friends with the owner, so they’ll see us right away.”

I wanted to argue, tell her to just take me home and let me try and sleep this off while crying into the pillow, but I had no energy left. I just wanted the world to be done with me and leave me to my misery.

“By the way, Violet,” she said, sounding bashful. “Sorry if I’m being nosy, but… did something happen to your Dad recently? He’s been… He seems a bit sad lately.”

“…It’s my Mum’s death anniversary,” I told her, feeling like the worst person possible for having gotten mad at him this morning. “He always gets like this during this time of the year.”

“Oh… Sorry for having asked,” she told me, her voice sinking to the bottom of her throat. “And… I’m really sorry for your loss. I really can’t imagine how you two must miss her.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I breathed as I rested my forehead against the window. “As to how we miss her… I can’t really speak for him, but for me, I visit her regularly, so it’s not so bad.”

The rest of the drive to the clinic was quiet, and, fortunately, it happened as she told me. We were received right away, and in an instant, I had been checked by a doctor who ran a few exams on me. This was all just a very nasty case of combined menstrual symptoms in conjunction with sleep deprivation that they were causing, which in turn made the pain and discomfort get even worse. They did prescribe me some strong painkillers that should lull the pain enough for me to at least get some shuteye and partially recover some of my mental faculties.

“Oliver, get out of the way,” Sophie told our cat as she helped me get my shoes off once we got to my place. “Violet might trip on you by accident.”

He walked in front of us at a safe distance, zigzagging and looking behind at me until we got inside my bedroom. Even in my current state, I asked Sophie to turn around while I took off my school uniform, but I got scolded for it.

“As if you’re in condition to do that alone,” she told me, already taking off my tie. “I’m sorry, but just this once, I’m going to see you in just your underwear.”

In an instant, I was in my underwear and being tucked into my bed, Sophie making sure the pillow was fluffed up and well positioned under my head, the sheets covering me nicely, the room lighting dimmed by closing the curtains, and the temperature at a nice point by turning on the AC. She then disappeared for a minute, returning with a glass of water, my meds, and a hot water bag she tucked under the sheets, directly over my stomach. She disappeared a second time, returning with a bowl of water and a cloth that she dipped in the water and placed over my head.

Honestly? The only thing that could make it any better would be having Abby snuggled with me.

The cloth she put on my face helped with the feeling of the room spinning, the warm water over the stomach helped with the cramps, and the AC helped muffle the buzzing in my ears.

“Honestly, Violet, for all the good care you take of others, you really are horrible at taking care of yourself,” she told me in a soft, worried voice as she sat on the bed.

“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed, already starting to cry. “I didn’t mean to bother anyone with this.”

“I know, dear,” she hushed me, combing my hair with a feather-like touch and an even softer voice. “I know. Just try to get some rest, ok? I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Between her touch, the way I was tucked in, and the medication starting to take effect, I completely blacked out into a dreamless sleep.

When I woke up again, it felt like I had slept for ages, the brain fog still having a hold of my mind, but far less than before. Squinting at the alarm clock, I saw that I had slept for a little over a couple of hours. Oliver had been on top of me, him getting up being what woke me up. My foggy vision saw him stretching, his rear shamelessly in the air and towards my general direction as his front paws tried to go as far forward as possible, his clipped claws uselessly trying to grip the carpet.

“Silly cat,” I grumbled, shifting in bed.

Sophie wasn’t in the room with me, but I thought I heard her voice just outside the door, it being ajar after Oliver used his paw to make a slit for him to slither outside and see what was going on outside the room.

I hoisted myself up and stepped closer, stopping once I heard my Dad’s worried, sad voice.

“No, I really mean it,” he was telling her. “It’s at times like this where I feel like I’m just not enough to take care of Violet. She’s a girl after all, and as much as I’d like to help her in situations like this, it really is best if it’s a woman, isn’t it?”

My heart ached hearing that. Maybe he was a bit right thinking that, but he shouldn’t be guilting himself over it, especially when it’s my own stubbornness that is causing all the issues.

“Erm, I’m really sorry for your loss, Stan,” Sophie choked out. “Violet told me about Charlotte’s death anniversary… I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks, Sophie,” he told her. “Sorry if I’ve been… a bit of a downer lately. I do still miss her a bit, and this time of the year always makes me think whether or not I’ve been doing enough for our daughter, you know? So, erm, sorry if I caused you worry.”

“…Would you like to go out for a bit?” she asked him. “After my sister returns. Maybe catching some fresh air would do you good instead of just going and coming from work. We could also talk about what’s been on your mind? Or, erm, anything else, really, it doesn’t need to be just that.”

“I don’t…” he started, but his voice trailed off as he thought about it. “You know what? Ok. You don’t have any work today, do you?”

“Actually, I do,” she lamented. “I’m supposed to play tonight.”

“In that case, I’ll walk you to work,” he told her. “Walking up the hill will be a nice exercise, and we’ll have plenty of time to chat. Hell, I could even stay for a bit to hear you play.”

“Ok, you can do that if you want,” she told him with a giggle. “Mrs Fletcher would be delighted to see you there too. Erm, let me check if Violet is awake so you can check on her.”

I didn’t even have time to react, just to step away from the door so it wouldn’t hit my feet. There I was, standing in front of the two of them, Oliver not counting in this scenario, in my underwear for the brief second it took Sophie to realise it and close the door again, leaving only a small opening for us to talk about how I was.

I reported to them my current condition as I put on some clothes in a hurry, my face burning up. Once dressed, I gave them the ok to come inside.

“Are you really feeling better?” my Dad asked, cupping my face with a hand that made me feel small. “You still look a bit pale.”

“I am, yes,” I told him, placing a hand over his. “I just need some more sleep and to stop being such a stubborn mule. Erm… I’m sorry, Dad… for worrying you and having gotten mad at you this morning.”

He pulled me into a hug, being careful not to squeeze me too much as he came to know that I don’t like that when having my period. He kissed my head as he told me not to worry about it and that he was sorry for having been so tactless. Sophie stood there, holding Oliver in her arms, observing us with a complicated expression that I didn’t need to be told what it meant. It was touching and confusing for her how Dad and I could argue but then apologise and make up, something that never happened at her old household unless it was to beg for forgiveness from her Mum.

He then left to let me rest, Sophie closing the door after him. She then turned, and her face was apologetic and worried.

“Did you perhaps overhear your Dad and me talking?” she asked, slumping against the door and seemingly unable to look me in the eye, just to Oliver’s head as she nervously scratched him.

I told her that I did hear them as I moved over to lie in bed again. My lower back was screaming bloody murder at me, and while lying down didn’t solve the issue, it at least made it less noticeable.

“I’m not trying anything, I swear!” she told me. “I’m just worried about him, and I want to repay him for all the kindness and help he gave me these past two years! Violet, I really am not—”

“Sophie, please shut up,” I told her, my head splitting at the seams. “I know you’re not that kind of person, so calm down, will you?”

“…You really are ok with it?”

Ok with it? Not really. I mean, even if her intentions are pure, she’s still someone who likes my Dad romantically, so of course, it feels weird.

Still… she took really good care of me these past few hours. Frankly, ever since we made up, she’s been great towards me. And it’s true that Dad feels lonely during this time of the year, and me being so similar-looking to Mum, it might be a bit hard for him to be around me without starting to think of her.

In other words, if I want to be cynical, them going out was a necessity. If, however, I wanted to be… human, even if it weirded me out a bit, I thought that Sophie at least deserved a chance.

“I guess,” I told her, finding a strange sense of solace in those words. “Erm, have fun on your date?”

Her eyes widened as her mouth hung open, and all her blood seemed to migrate to her face.

A torrent of excuses started to flow out of her mouth, mixed in with annoying questions, like saying this wasn’t a date and then asking if it actually could be counted as one.

I, on the other hand, was wondering if it’d be too cruel to simply tell her to shut up and leave me alone.

“So, everything is ok with you in a medical sense?” Abby asked as she moved her hips over my stomach, using her warmth and bodyweight to massage the area, providing a relief that nothing else could. That was the first thing she did once she arrived home, and my Dad and Sophie left. She didn’t even bother to change out of the school uniform yet.

“Yup.”

“And you gave sis the ok to go on a date-but-not-date with Papa Stan?”

“I guess I did, yeah.”

“Hmm… You were quite busy while we were apart, huh?” she hummed, staring at a point in the wall. She then looked back at me. “Sorry about your Mum’s death anniversary. I often go with you to visit her grave, and yet, I failed to remember the date.”

I pulled her down by the shoulders, having missed hugging her. I applied a bit too much force in it, as she let out a whiny moan about something coming out if I kept squeezing her like that.

“…You know… as weird as it is… maybe, and just maybe…  having Sophie as my step-mother wouldn’t be that bad… maybe.”

Abby giggled as she raised her head just enough so the tips of our noses touched. She called me a softy.

Maybe she’s right, and I asked whose fault it was that I turned out this way if that were the case. She giggled again, professing her love for me instead of addressing my question.