Page 37 of Love & Other Disasters

“Sure there is, otherwise you’d not be locked in our childhood bedroom crying.” Violet reached up and ran her fingers along the top of the door frame, but a key wasn’t there. She moved to the bathroom and did the same. Here she found what she was looking for.

“Why did you do that?” Jill asked from her bed when Violet opened the door.

“Because we have to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You hate my boyfriend, and you’re being mean and not eating.” She rolled, turning her back to her sister. Their childhood bedroom cast in shadow by the light fading outside. At this point only their twin beds and dresser remained.

“Jill, I’m starving because that stuff is burned.”

“Geoff is eating it.”

“Maybe he’s so used to eating charred food that he doesn’t know any better. Or he’s a giant freak. I don’t know what else to say about that.”

“Oh my god.” Jill rolled out of the old twin bed and stood. “You’re such a hypocrite. You get all mad at me for bringing Geoff without telling anyone, then you do the same thing. Only with some perfect looking Ken doll of a man; just to what? Prove to me how much better you are than me?”

“This might be hard for you to believe,” Violet said slowly, still reeling from the verbal punch, “but whatever is going on with J.P. has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh sure, all you want to do is show me up. You don’t care about me. Only Geoff does.”

“This has nothing to do with me, and everything with your insecurities. You want me to be alone so you can feel better about yourself. And you need to ask yourself why am I the one who came to check on you, while he’s still eating.”

“What has happened to you? You used to be so nice… and now…”

Violet turned and walked out the front door, she needed a minute alone to gain composure and not lose her mind before getting J.P. out of her parents’ house for good.

J.P. helped Mrs. Murphy load the dishwasher to keep himself occupied so he didn’t punch that dumbass in the dining room. And rinsing off plates kept his hands busy enough. Violet’s dad stood at the counter next to him making a sandwich and offered to leave the ingredients out for J.P. He declined. Otherwise, he’d performed the task in silence. The front door opened and closed. Which sister left?

“He’s still eating,” Mrs. Murphy whispered, coming into the kitchen. “How is he still eating?”

He was higher than a kite was how, but J.P. kept that information to himself. “I’m going to check on Violet,” he said, drying his hands on a kitchen towel and returning it to the stove handle.

Family photos lined the hall, younger versions of Violet and Jill smiled back. He didn’t take the time to study them, instead moving down the hall to find her. Sniffling sounds emanated from a room off the hallway.

“Violet?” he asked at the darkened doorway.

“No,” the sniffling cried. A shadow moved, standing up and coming toward him. “Why hasn’t he come to find me? You’re looking for Violet.”

He couldn’t answer that. It wasn’t fair to her to venture a guess. Violet was the one who’d gone out the door. He hoped she didn’t leave. She wouldn’t leave him here alone, would she? After the stunt he pulled showing up here, he’d deserve it. The purpose of tonight was to talk to her outside of work, not insert himself into her family dinner. J.P. backed into the hallway.

“You’ll need to ask him.”

Jill came at him and threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around his waist, sobbing. He tried to pry her arms from around him, but she had an impressive clinging ability.

“It’ll be all right,” he said, trying to comfort in the most platonic way possible. “You need to talk to him, not me. I need to find—”

“Violet, I know,” she cried. “It’s always all about Violet.”

Wow. Somehow after witnessing Jill in action this evening, he doubted that statement. The sisters were different in every way; not only in physical attributes. Jill was blonde, blue eyes, and stick thin, while Violet had chestnut locks, brown eyes, and curves that made him behave in stupid ways; but they were also opposite personalities. Violet with her usual calm reserve, could flare up in temper when it meant something to her. Jill seemed to run on high energy and drama 24-7.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend,” Geoff yelled. The dipshit had arrived, barreling down the hallway, face red and sweaty, possibly on the downhill side of his high.

“Look,” J.P. raised his hands, “I’m trying to find Violet, and she latched herself to me upset that you didn’t come looking for her sooner.” He pushed Jill’s shoulder, trying to dislodge her, but she’d clamped onto him for dear life.

“Right,” he spat, “You have one sister, you can’t have mine, too, pretty boy.”

“Jill, please let go. Geoff’s here now.” He grasped her shoulders and pushed her off of him. She relented and stepped back, still crying.

“Right,” he stepped forward pushing an index finger into J.P.’s chest, “just stay away from her.”

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