Where the Violets Grow

Chapter 12- Strawberry Jam

Of course it would start raining...

I stare in agitation as raindrops shimmy their way down the windshield. I've always hated the rain. The glass is dotted red, green and gold from the glow of taillights and city fluorescence. Tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel, my stomach suddenly heaves an

utterly feral growl.

Oh. Right. Food is a thing...

I try to remember what time I last ate something of substance, and the most recent instance I can conjure from memory is a bagel.. two days ago.

One drawback of being a detective— save for the painfully obvious example sitting his happy ass in the Commissioner's office with his stupid mustache— is that you end up surviving off the bare minimum. Coffee, cigarettes, and instant noodles.

I need to learn how to cook... I think irritably to myself as I pull into a tiny 24-Hour mini mart. I try not to grimace as my stomach begins to gnaw on itself.

I rush through the downpour and shake the residual watery pestilence off of my jacket before I enter the store. There are two people inside apart from me. The clerk who looks maybe sixteen, freckled face pricked with acne and glasses perched crookedly on his nose. I give a friendly wave and he rolls his eyes in return.

Whatever.

The only other person in the store that I can see is the top of a bob of light blonde hair way in the back.

"Settle down, detective," I mutter to myself. "You're just buying noodles."

I grab a basket and amble around the store, tossing in a few bricks of ramen and looking for other items requiring minimal effort for sustenance. Losing my mother at a young age and having a father who was either working or locked up in his home office meant inheriting the culinary skills of a wet blanket. The best I could ever do without burning the house down is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Oh... that sounds heavenly.

My brain instantly gives me a swift boot in the ass toward the bread aisle.

I walk to the very back of the store, stopping briefly to pluck a cheap bottle of wine to wash down the bitter frustration of my promotion being rejected. Every time I get closer to freedom he has to be right there to squash it, like some bullshit reverse-Men-In-Black cockroach nightmare.

I walk around the corner and grab a loaf of bread off the shelf. I shuffle sideways and examine my options for peanutbutter and stop short of the jams.

There is a girl with long light-blonde hair standing in the middle of the aisle, staring at the jelly jars as if shes trying to decide if she should cut the red wire or the blue one. Her hair and clothes are still dripping slightly, the hems of her pants and her shoes are absolutely sopping wet. She has a stupid, blank expression on her face like she hasn't slept in years. I stand by and wait patiently, but she shows no sign of making a decision or a movement any time soon.

A few minutes go by and my patience runs thinner and thinner.

"Strawberry," I say.

She goes rigid, and turns to look at me.

"Huh?" she says dumbly.

It's only when she is facing me that I can see that she is very young, probably early twenties. Not only that, but she is actually very pretty. She has dark grey eyes like stormclouds. She also has dark circles under those stormy eyes, and bruises on her other cheek and temple that were just starting to yellow.

For some reason, that makes my heart skip about four beats. Suddenly I feel awkward and nervous.

"I— You just..." Why am I stuttering?

"It looked like you were having a hard time deciding which one to buy... so.. Strawberry."

She looks at me like I just kicked over her sand castle.

"Or grape!" I say hurriedly while ducking my eyes down."s**t, I didn't realize how much was riding on it."

Then I hear something weird.

Did she just laugh?

I look at her and she is covering her mouth and looking towards the floor, and she looks like shes about to cry.

"I, uhm.. er- sorry. I'll leave you alone."

I feel something tug at my jacket, and I look down. A tiny, doll-like hand is clutching the edge of my sleeve like a child. I follow the path from the frail wrist to the dainty crazy blonde jam-crisis girl.

She is smiling.

She is looking at me.

"I'm sorry," she says. "You just caught me off guard. I forgot..." her eyes seem faraway again for a moment, then she focuses back on me. "I just couldn't decide. Thank you for your suggestion. I love strawberry." She smiles again and for some reason, my chest feels tight again. It's like before but, different..

Earth to Vivian, she's waiting for you to answer!

I blink and realize she had just said something, and I have no idea what it was.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask her. I try to act like I don't notice how it sounds like my tongue was doing yoga while I said it.

What the f**k is wrong with me?

Jam Girl smiles again. "I said, did you want strawberry too?"

That's when I realize she is holding out a jar of jam to me, another one clutched to her chest with a loaf of bread.

"Oh. Uhm.. yeah. Thank you." I put it in my basket and we stand awkwardly for what feels like a million years.

"Uhm.. well.. I better..." I say

"Yes. I.. me too.." she says, looking down and tucking a lock of hair behind her reddening ear.

She bites her bottom lip.

My chest tightens again and I have to get as far from this weird-ass woman right now.

I step around her and practically run to the front counter.

I pay for my pitiful loot and dash out to my car. I forgot to put up my hood and get drenched in the accelerated downpour. Rain drips under my shirt and down my back— sparking immediate rage which only fuels my frustration and confusion with what just transpired. I grip the steering wheel with both hands as my heart jackhammers in my chest.

What.

The.

Hell.

Was.

That.

I lean forward to press my head against the steering wheel and focus on steadying my breathing.

I've busted corrupt politicians, I have interrogated murderers..

I've lived with my father.

Yet nobody, nobody, has ever thrown me off like that woman just did. I've always prided myself on my tact and professionalism, even in the middle of dangerous situations I am always calm and collected.

She was just buying jam!

I think back to the bruises on her face, wondering what happened. Her long blonde hair plastered to her face and neck. Her stormy grey eyes.

The way she bit her lip.

"What the f**k is wrong with you!?" I shout at myself as I try to beat the image out of my head.

I lean my head back with my eyes closed until the image fades away. When I can hear over my own heartbeat again, I reach for the ignition.

I need to go home...

The sound of the door dinging stops me.

Don't look up.

Jam Girl is standing outside the store looking up at the pouring rain.

Drive away.

She stuffs her small bag of grocery goods into her jacket, wraps it a little tighter around herself and starts to walk east. Alone. In the dark. In the rain.

Don't even think about it.

Drive away.

I stare as her tiny figure begins to disappear into the night.

"Goddamn it..." I mutter.

Then I jump out of the car and sprint towards her.