Page 3 of My Violent Valentine
“Here,” Aidan says, sounding exasperated. “It’s all written out here.”
I can only imagine the kid shoving some papers at his uncle since I don’t get any actual visuals from inside the house. A bug is one thing, installing cameras is a whole other level of logistics.
Aidan continues, “So, anyway… there were folded up pink pieces of paper in this fish bowl, and we each got to draw one to see what we’re bringing to the party besides our valentines. I drew cupcakes. So I have to bring cupcakes. And I need them to be chocolate with pink frosting because everybody likes chocolate, and I don’t want to be the loser who brings vanilla. And also Madison likes pink. Oh and there needs to be sprinkles. And we have to get them from the good bakery. If you make them, they’ll be bad, and the grocery store ones aren’t good either.”
I’m amazed this kid is such a cupcake connoisseur, but it’s clear he’s thought all this out. He must really like this girl.
“You need to bring all this on Valentine’s Day?” Uncle Martin asks.
“No, the party is on the eleventh. On Friday. Read!”
“Why not Valentine’s Day? That’s a school day, too.”
“Mrs. Schroder said kids might forget on Monday, and also that we’ll be too excitable the rest of the week. She wants to do it on Friday so we can get the wiggles out over the weekend.”
I nearly spit out my coffee as he quotes her reasoning.
“Her friends call her Maddie. I think that is so cool. She is so cool,” Aidan says, going back to waxing poetic about all the virtues of Madison.
Martin sighs. “I wouldn’t get too attached to the girls. They’ll break your heart. And they’re a liability.”
“What’s a lie-bility?” he asks, and I can almost see his nose scrunch up in confusion.
“It means they’re no good. They’ll cause trouble and pain. Stay free. Be a bachelor like your smart uncle.”
I’m pretty sure he’s referencing himself. Uncle Martin never married, so he has a housekeeper who also cooks for them. I guess he ran the numbers and figured just hiring a woman was cheaper than marrying one for free domestic servitude. And really, the math checks out.
“Well, I’m marrying her. And we’ll just see about all this,” Aidan says. And that’s the end of that conversation.
“Hurry up, you’ll miss your bus,” Martin says.
And as if by magic, I see the school bus turning the corner and coming down the street. A moment later there’s some shuffling and clattering, and a happy Aidan pops out the front door with his school bag. Baxter follows him outside, tail wagging.
Both I and the golden retriever watch as he gets on the school bus, sits down with another kid, and the bus starts to move again. Since he’s been with Uncle Martin, he’s been at a different school. Martin’s house is in a better school district. He seems to be making friends, which is an improvement from the last setup.
Oh my god, just shoot me now. I do not need to know all of these facts about this kid. But of course I’ll find a way to lurk and learn what goes down at this Valentine’s party. I need to check out this Madison kid.
When the school bus has gone past, I start up my car and stop at a local diner to have a proper breakfast: a medium rare T-bone steak, hash browns, eggs sunny-side up, and more coffee. While I wait for my food, I read an old-fashioned print newspaper. Martin isn’t the only one with this fetish. A TV suspended above the counter plays the news report from Punxsutawney. I missed the official livestream, but they’re replaying it, allowing me to learn my wintry fate. From a groundhog. Maybe I am superstitious.
Once I’ve seen the groundhog and have finished breakfast, I return to the house to find Mina still asleep. No surprise there. I leave her a note and go back upstairs.
2
MINA
I sigh when I read Brian’s note. I mean, I know a groundhog can’t actually predict the weather, but for a forest creature to tell us to abandon all hope of an early spring… it’s just too much for me right now.
There’s no sign of Brian, so I assume he’s living his life above ground right now. Usually if he’s punishing someone in the dungeon, I can hear the screams. It’s probably best that I don’t think too hard about why that doesn’t upset me as much as it probably should. I do try to protect the girls, but if they can’t gain some of their own self-preservation instincts, there’s only so much emotional energy I have available to care about that.
They all basically get an orientation on the Brian situation when they arrive now—partly to avoid another Shannon situation. But even with the safety precautions, not everyone can be saved.
Maybe I’ve grown colder, and it isn’t just the weather. Brian makes it so easy to not care. I stand completely outside the social order with him now, and the temptation to go fully wild is there every day. I don’t know if the wild will ever take me as it has taken Brian, but it’s an easy fall when you know the one person who matters to you will never judge you for anything the rest of society would.
I’m a free range kitty in more ways than one. There’s freedom in that, but also danger. How far until I don’t recognize myself at all?
I still haven’t managed to pull myself out of bed. Instead I lean over the side and slide out a sleek black box from underneath. Then I panic for a moment, thinking I’m stuck this way. But I grab the headboard bars with one hand and hoist myself back to the safety of snuggly warmth.
Sometimes I worry Brian will come in here while I’m doing this—not the acrobatics, the thing in the box. I don’t know why I keep it a secret. He won’t judge me for doing evil things, but he might judge me for divination—his groundhog fixation notwithstanding. He just seems too rational for something like this. I don’t think he’d really understand.