Violet Bk 01

I know, I know. Everyone else is out there posting their Summer Lovin stories, and here I am with one set at Christmas (and very much Christmas-themed). What can I say? The muses tell me what to write, and I write.

As the title suggests, this is the first in what I hope will be a series, although the other parts aren't written yet. It's also a slow-burn story, because those are my favorite. You know that there's plenty of other stories out there if you want something different.

Note: The main characters in this story are flawed. They've had some shit done to them and they've done some things that they regret. There's a lot of adulting in this story - Dan and Violet are single parents. No one here has an 8" cock or gigantic breasts or can fuck in 23 positions all night. Dan isn't some alpha man out to dominate women. If you need those things in your story, please do read something else. It's unrealistic enough in other ways because, y'know, it's a fantasy.

As always, if you read, I'd appreciate votes, comments, feedback, or thoughts. I'd also appreciate it if the world was filled with more love, for all of us.

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1.

They advertised this place as being 84 degrees, even in the dead of winter. Well, it was 84 in here, 12 outside, and minus a billion in my heart, I thought, taking another sip of my oversized (but underboozed) tropical-ish drink. It felt tropical, at least, assuming the tropics were filled with the scent of chlorine, the sound of shrieking children, and enough pasty-white skin to blind you through your thickest shades.

Enough of that pasty-white skin was mine (though I saved onlookers from blinding with my thick all-over body hair, assuming anyone ever wanted to look). Some of the shrieking children were mine, too, in that I answered when they called me Uncle Danny and that I took them on waterslides and to the arcades and gave their moms and dads some necessary quiet times back in the "cabin."

My own offspring were a thousand miles away, enjoying (I hoped) a Floridian Christmas with their mom and her family. We'd agreed to alternate the big holidays - rather, she'd offered and I'd accepted in a heartbeat - knowing that it, and the entirety of the divorce settlement, were fairer than I deserved. Thanksgiving had been rather muted - just Millie, Adam, and me in my Divorced Dad's Special Apartment. I'd cooked turkey and the trimmings, but we were still just four months into this whole officially being divorced thing and I don't think anyone was really feeling it.

Christmas, though, had been a big deal in my family for years. Even after Kit moved up to Minneapolis and TJ and Megan had decamped for the coasts (west and east, respectively), they still found a way to bring their growing broods to the Dells for the Mitchell family Christmas. It had started when Mom and Dad were still with us as a way to do something special and get away somewhere just a few hours from home, and now that they were gone, it made even more sense. We'd rent a four bedroom suite, decorated to look like a cabin, and put everyone on some sleeping surface somewhere. The only rule was that couples shared a bed. We'd play and swim and eat and drink and exchange gifts and spend way too much money. The only year we didn't was 2020, for obvious reasons.

And now I'd gone and smashed a big Liz and Millie and Adam-sized hole in it. Oh sure, everyone else pretended like they were having fun, but I knew -

"You're doing it again, little brother." I had been so lost in my thoughts that I'd missed Kit flopping down in the chair next to me. I'd tried to tell her that she didn't "flop," and she told me that at seven months pregnant, flopping was considered graceful.

"Huh? I'm doing what?"

"You're trying to drain the entire waterpark of holiday spirit. I don't know if that means you're not drinking enough or you're drinking too much, but you've got a little black cloud hovering over your head."

I took another drink from my souvenir cup. "I think these are mostly sugar water. You could probably drink them safely."

"Then switch to beer. They can't fuck that up." Kit turned to me and took my hand in hers. "Look. I know you miss your kids. I miss 'em, too. And I know you feel responsible for why Liz and you broke up -"

"Because I am responsible, Kit."

She paused, waiting for me to make it clear that I was listening. "You're responsible for your part, Dan. And I'm proud of the work you've done to own that, and to make changes, but it took two to tango."

I shook my head. "I was a total asshole to her, Kit. That's why she left."

"You were maybe like 64% asshole. The problem was that the two of you never should have gotten married in the first place."

"Maybe not, but..."

"Maybe? C'mon, you know it's true. I'd just gotten married to Dylan. TJ and Keith had been engaged for two years and while they were slow-rolling it, we all knew that was more about the laws at the time than any actual commitment. Megan and Jay were three years in and on kid number two. Three of your college friends had gotten married in nine months."

"Four."

"That's right! How could I have forgotten Doug? So everyone you knew, even Dumbass Doug, was getting married. You'd been up more aisles than an usher at Wrigley. And you liked Liz a lot."

"I loved her, Kit. Gimme some credit."

"Yeah. Yeah you did. And she loved you. But being in love, and being surrounded by wedding fever, isn't why you got married when you shouldn't have."

"It's not?"

"No. Because even then, you and Liz knew you couldn't go the distance."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Kit. You're busy retconning history to try to make me feel better."

"What happened at my wedding, Dan?"

"What do you mean? Lots of things happened."

"What happened when Liz caught the bouquet?"

"I don't remember." I did. I'd been horrified.

"Yeah you do."

"She ... said she had to go to the bathroom."

"She puked in a garbage can and screamed 'No' as loud as she could."

"It was the third one she'd caught in a row. It had become a joke."

"She didn't sound like she was laughing to me."

Now I got defensive. "Well if she didn't want to marry me so fuckin' much, why'd she say yes?"

That got me a look from a mom a few feet away trying to get floaties on a toddler, as antsy to get into the water as I was to get away from this conversation. I mumbled an apology, glared at Kit, and stalked away. Or stalked as much as one can in flip-flops.

2.

Kit had been right about one thing. It was indeed easier to get drunk on beer than on the cocktails they were serving. And I could float right up to a bar and get me another one, charge it to the room, and not think about the cost. The best part about that was that I was drunk. The worst part about that is that I always got horny when I was drunk. Horny guy surrounded by mostly-naked people who can sneak off with his wife is a happy guy. Horny guy surrounded by mostly-naked people when he's alone is hoping he's not being a creep and staring at the asses of the college-aged women who are in the bar area wearing something that's only slightly more concealing than a thong.

Or at least not staring too obviously. But Jesus fuck, that chick in the yellow...

"Doesn't do much for me, but I can appreciate it aesthetically."

"TJ! Shit. You scared me. Come to yell at me for being a perv?"

"No sir." He laughed. "You're single. She's at least 21, assuming they carded her. I mean, her dad is probably around here somewhere, and maybe even her boyfriend..."

"Or girlfriend," I pointed out.

"Exactly." He clapped me on the shoulder. "My open-minded brother, accepting of all people. Except himself."

"Now don't you start. Kit already tried to pull this shit with me earlier."

"I'm not going to start anything. I just wanted a drink." He paused. "You might want to apologize to her later, though."

"I'm still pissed at her. Besides, she's a big girl. She can take it."

Now TJ roared out laughing. This got people to look. Unlike me, who had a body that screamed "dad," TJ had a body that screamed "ride me like a stallion." How we had the same parents, I have no idea.

"If our seven-month-pregnant sister hears that you called her a 'big girl,' she's going to drown you in the lazy river."

I turned redder than the lifeguard's uniforms.

"I could be persuaded not to tell her." TJ took a sip of his beer.

I just nodded.

"Take Lulu to the paint-your-own pottery thing for us."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "You and Keith must be the least-artistic gay men in the world. You're both sure you are, right?"

He just winked.

"I think if I go there one more time, they'll have me teach a class, but I'll be happy to. I'll even see if any of Megan's or Kit's kids want to go, too."

"You're a good man, Charlie Brown." TJ turned to go. "You should also hear Kit out."

3.

I avoided the rest of my family until dinner. I was too drunk to play with the kids, and I was in no mood for a serious conversation with any of the adults. Deciding that being in the pool area was just making me feel more alone, I went for a walk through the resort. If you'd ever like some seasonal discontinuity, visit a place like this in the winter. One person will be wearing a wet bikini, the next will be dressed for an attempt at the peak of K2, and the third will be in PJs. Of course, that third person may be four years old. I'd just thrown on some dry shorts and a t-shirt to go with my "don't bother me" earbuds. I grabbed myself a cup of coffee (I had a date for the pottery place later, after all) and tried to lose myself in my music. And in the things I'd been working on with my therapist.

Kit could spin any story she'd like, but Liz had told me she wanted a divorce while I was yelling at her. Again. I'd been doing a lot of that. In my head, I wasn't angry with her, I was angry with her boss or the world or something, but I was yelling at her. She wasn't listening to me. If she'd only listen to me - if everyone would only just listen to me!

It didn't really matter why I was yelling at her. I was being an asshole to her, and had more times than she could count. So she left, and it was my fault.

I'd been working on anger with my therapist. Focusing on identifying what I could control and what I couldn't control, what I could influence and what I couldn't. I could control my actions. I couldn't control my emotions. I could influence my department at work, I couldn't influence Congress, or if I could, it would be in a very small way. Things like that. Recognize the anger for what it was, express it in healthier ways.

Our parents had been yellers - dad, especially. Kit moved away at 18 and managed to not pick it up. TJ was about as temperamentally inclined to yell as I was to fly. And Megan - well, Megan had been a hellion until she met Jay. Jay's family was the sweetest group of people that had ever been born, and after they got together, it was like she'd joined a cult. But the best kind of cult, one filled with laughter and love and support.

I'd been the one to take after dad. Not when I was happy - when I was happy, I wouldn't have yelled at you for cutting me off and splashing muddy water on my new suit. But when I was stressed, or anxious, or tired, I couldn't stop myself. Everything had to be fixed Now, Dammit!, and I was the only one who knew how to fix it.

And I was getting better, anger-wise. I was a depressed fucker, that's for sure, but the rate and volume of my yelling had gone down a lot. As I walked, I realized I owed Kit an apology for snapping at her earlier. I didn't agree with her, but I could have walked away without getting angry with her like I did. Not my best day. But not my worst. My therapist would tell me that I should be happy I was making progress. I was not going to find it easy being happy today.

4.

I found myself in one of the myriad gift shops. Because what's a trip to a massive waterpark without something with their logo on it, right? Right. I'd always thought so, anyway. One of the things Santa had always brought for Millie and Adam had always come from the resort, and even though they weren't here and even though they wouldn't get it until after New Year's, I had to find them something.

Unfortunately, gift shops don't have a rack of gifts that say "I miss you so much I can't see straight and I love you like crazy and I know your mom is an amazing mom and that she's doing fun things with you but I wish I could do fun things with you too and don't feel bad 'cause your parents got divorced" and also have a logo embossed on them. Trust me, I looked. Ultimately, I settled on hoodies - tie-dyed for Millie, red and white for Adam - because everyone can always use a hoodie. Not the most inspiring gifts, perhaps, but I think I saw them as a way to give my kids hugs.

As I was searching the store for the magic gift, I kept looking up to see the same woman's face. I recognized her. In and of itself, that wasn't unusual - sometimes you just ended up tracking the same families throughout your stay and you'd see the same people over and over. In this case, though, I realized that she was the mom who'd overheard my conversation with Kit by the pool. I knew I owed Kit an apology, but I wasn't sure what to say to a complete stranger other than "Sorry." On the other hand, I'd been in this store for a long time (too long, really), and she'd been in here almost as long as I'd been. Was she watching me? That was weird. Had I bothered her so much that she was following me?

Pre-therapy Dan would have gotten angry, probably even snapped at her, especially on a day when he was feeling emotional. But I wasn't in the mood for that. I decided that if she had an issue with me that she wanted to raise further, she could. If not, then odds were that she had no interest in talking to me and us being in the store the same amount of time was a coincidence. Either way, there wasn't anything for me to do, so I made my purchases and headed for the exit.

I hadn't made it very far when I heard someone running behind me. Sure enough, it was the woman from the store. I just turned to wait for her, pulling my earbuds out and putting them back in their case. When she was a few feet from me, she stopped, but now that she'd gone to some trouble to follow me and get my attention, she didn't seemingly have anything to say. What she did do - and that I found slightly unnerving - was just look at me. Her cheeks were slightly reddened, but she didn't look at the floor or look chagrined.

So I took the opportunity to look back at her. She was a couple of inches shorter than my 5' 10", with dark hair that framed her face but didn't reach her shoulders. Like me, she wore glasses, and like me, it looked like she probably had a doctor who'd told her to lose a little weight, but her cover-up was fairly shapeless. I found her face to be interesting, maybe cute, but that depended on what she wanted. Not that it was really relevant.

The silence lasted for an awkwardly-long time, although I'm sure it wasn't longer than twenty seconds. Finally, she spoke. Her voice was soft. "My name is Violet."

"I'm Dan." I could do introductions.

"I saw you by the pool earlier."

"Uh-huh. And in the store."

"Yes. You spent a long time shopping."

I shrugged. "Trying to find the right gifts."

I had no idea where this conversation was going. I didn't know whether to warm to her, or not. If she wanted me to warm to her. If she wanted to yell at me or hit me. I figured I'd give it a little longer - it wasn't time for dinner yet - but just a little.

"For your kids." She paused. "I heard. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too."

"How old are they?"

"Millie's almost 10. Adam just turned 8."

"My Alex is almost 2. Twenty one months."

I remembered when we told the ages in months. When did that stop? Somewhere around 2, I thought.

"He the one with the floaties?"

"Yeah. He wants to swim without them."

"He will. One day."

Violet paused again. I decided, for what it was worth, that she was cute. There was a spark in her eyes that came out when she was asking questions and brought her to life.

"I have a couple more questions I'd like to ask you. They may seem like I'm interrogating you, but there's really one question I want to ask, and the others are lead-ups to it, to see if I should bother asking the question. Is that okay?"

"Well, I guess it depends on the questions." She had me intrigued. "I can always choose not to answer."

I grinned at her. She smiled back. She had a nice smile.

"First question. How long are you here for?"

"We'll be here until the 26th, so three more days. My brother and his husband and their daughter actually have to leave late on the 25th to catch a flight, but I'll be here until Tuesday."

"Good. We're here that long, too. Alex and me and my sister's family. Okay. Second question. Assuming you traveled here, where'd you come in from?"

"My family's moved all over, but I'm from the Chicago area. Western suburbs."

Violet smiled again.

"Naperville here."

"That's not far from me."

"Good." She took a deep breath, then muttered something to herself that sounded like "...can do this."

5.

"So what did she ask you?" We'd trundled the families out in the cold to a family Italian place so that we could get away from resort food, and while the kids were busy with phones and crayons and tomato sauce (not all at the same time - I hoped), I'd told my siblings and their spouses about my encounter with Violet.

"She wanted to know if I was free for lunch tomorrow." I couldn't help but smile, though I was as anxious as I could be. I hadn't been on a date since I started going out with Liz back in college, and I'd fucked that relationship up royally in the end.

"No!" All three of my siblings shouted at once, followed by an echo from the younger ones at the table that took a while to calm down.

"You said yes, I hope," Megan said, once semi-order had been restored. Actual order was a bridge too far with this group.

I nodded. "I asked her why she asked me first, though. She told me she'd tell me at lunch."

"Why not you?" Megan asked.

I just gave her a look.

She glared at me and grabbed my hand - the one holding a fork spun with strands of spaghetti. "Stop it. You stop treating my brother like that. You're a good - hey! Look at me - you're a good guy who's had some days you regret. Well, so have I."

Megan pointed at her kids, then over to her husband. "You know what I was like when I was younger. I was as much of a b-word to you as to anyone. Yes," she said, looking at me and our siblings. "I said 'b-word.' Little pitchers have big ears.

"Look, Dan. You and I learned from an expert. From a couple of them, really. And if I could get this guy here to see that there was someone inside all my BS that was worth loving, and we could have those tomato-covered beasties, then you can too. Got it?"

I nodded. Then I looked at Jay. "Will you marry me too?"

Megan smacked me for that one while Kit and TJ, who'd been trying to hold it together since "b-word," utterly lost it. Jay got down on one knee and opened up a dinner roll and an old man at the next table gave a loud Harrumph, so then TJ kissed his husband and the kids cheered and we ended up getting the rest of the meal to go.

When we got back to the resort, I found myself quite expertly maneuvered into taking my sisters to the bar for some "sister bonding time." When I pointed out that Kit couldn't drink and that I was not a sister, I was told to shut up and go anyway.

6.

The "bar" ended up being the candy and frozen yogurt place, but the sweetness ended when Kit and Megan sat me down in a corner where I couldn't escape without climbing over one of them. I figured I'd get the first task out of the way without prompting and see if it earned me any goodwill.