Christmas morning was bleak and devoid of color. The ground was wet and muddy from the snow the day before, which had melted overnight. It was depressing on an already melancholy day.
Clara had purchased hot chocolate that morning from the Café she worked at and brought it home, along with healthy foods for breakfast.
We had never tried hot chocolate.
She gave me my cup once I sat down at the dining table, sipping warily. It was creamy and chocolaty, warm, like a hug.
"I love this," I stated.
Clara sipped from hers, and her eyes went wide. She took another sip.
We sat silently at the table, enjoying our beverages, both sharing knowing looks, wanting to say something, debating if we should or not.
Clara opened her mouth, "one year ago."
I nodded and swallowed.
"Maybe," I started, thinking, "maybe we should do something. It could keep our minds off things."
She put her cup down, "maybe," and stood.
She went to the kitchen drawer and pulled out something small.
"Here," she smiled softly and handed me a piece of gum. "It's watermelon," she said and took one for herself.
I stared at the silver wrapping, remembering the taste, remembering Ethel, and opened it, placing the green rectangle in my mouth.
"I love watermelon," Clara said and put the pack of gum back in the drawer.
I smiled as the taste spread across my tongue. I remember Ethel giving us watermelon flavored gum on Christmas nights, a gift she'd say, and then hug us.
It didn't matter how late it was, she always found a way to get them to us.
Clara stood in the kitchen, almost warily, her hands on the counter as she looked down.
"Violet," she looked at me. "I want to tell you something."
I watched as she walked across and sat down. She looked nervous, her mouth opening and closing, but no sound came.
I grabbed her hand, hoping to comfort her.
"The officer," she started and glanced at me before looking down again. "The one that was here a month ago... He came into the Café two weeks back, and," she stopped, and I feared the worst.
"He asked me on a date."
"What did you say?" I watched as worry crossed her face.
"I said no, but he keeps pursuing. He knows where I work, I want to quit," she stood, her nerves on edge.
"Clara-"
"I don't know what to do. What if he-" she grabbed her arms and squeezed, "what if he..." tears sprang to her eyes.
I watched as her face contorted, the memories resurfacing all at once.
"Clara, it's okay. Let's sit down."
She breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm down.
"Maybe you could give him a chance," I suggested.
She shook her head aggressively. "They're all the same, Violet."
I thought about Dominic, he was gentle, he took care of me. "Not all."
She looked at me, "you can't trust him, Violet. You never know." She stood, "you never know."
I looked away, knowing she was right, but some small part of me wanted to trust him, knew that he could be trusted, but still, I realized, I stayed guarded.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Touch Her
Romansa"What did he - Where did he touch you?" His voice had hardened, mad. I swallowed and looked down. "You son of a-" He walked off the porch, angrily running his hands through his hair. "What did he look like? I'm swear I'm gonna kill him. Tell me what...
