Viola’s sad eyes flashed across my mind again.
She was such a great girl. She deserved happiness, in whatever form that came.
Moreover, Lucas Elliot had just gone up quite a bit in my estimation.
“I shouldn’t meddle,” I murmured. “I definitely shouldn’t meddle.”
Meddling was bad.
Oh crap.
“I’m totally going to meddle.”
Fifteen
A shade of angry purple had bled through the sky above Alnster, causing it to weep torrentially. Rain pounded off the road outside, and the sea rumbled its displeasure, foaming and discontent.
The damp brought such a chill, I’d lit the fire in the bookstore.
I’d woken up to the rain, and it hadn’t let up in its ferocity. Viola had braved it to join Caro and me at the store, but no one else had ventured near Much Ado About Books.
Somehow it was one of the most perfect days I’d spent in England. Caro was curled up on the armchair by the fire with a copy of The Handmaid’s Tale, while Viola lay sprawled on a faux fur blanket I’d brought down from upstairs. She lay on her side, elbow bent, head in her palm, flicking through the pages of Wuthering Heights.
I was on the other armchair, my feet tucked up under me. Still determined to make my way through every Shakespearean play during my stay in England, I was rereading Hamlet.
“I’m just going to say it.” Viola slammed Wuthering Heights closed. “Everyone in this book is unlikable. How am I supposed to care about this romance when I don’t like the main bloody characters?”
I grinned. “Maybe because you’re reading it as if it’s a romance when it’s not.”
She frowned. “I’ve seen the movie. It’s definitely a romance.”
Laughing, I lifted my legs off the counter and turned toward Viola. “Movies and TV adaptations always angle it like an epic romance, thus the misconception that the novel is a romance. If you try to read it like it’s a romance, you’ll hate it. Wuthering Heights is a book about not-very-nice people doing some not-very-nice things. It’s not about two people who are in love. It’s about two people who are obsessed with each other to the point of utter destruction. It’s gothic and surreal and addictive once you let go of the idea it’s a romance. It’s a love story. There’s a difference.”
Viola thought about this and then nodded. “Okay, maybe I’ll give it another shot. Another time, though. I’m in the mood for something a little more romantic.”
Indeed.
In fiction or in real life?
“Missing that from your life, are you?”
At my question Caro lowered her book to hear Viola’s answer. Viola sighed and sat up, curling her arms around her knees as she drew them toward her chest. “I dumped my boyfriend two weeks before the end of semester.” Her upper lip curled into a sneer. “Noah. He plays for the basketball team. He was cheating on me with one of the bloody cheerleaders.”
“I’m sorry, Vi,” Caro offered gently.
“Yeah, me too. He’s a complete moron.” I frowned at her self-conscious wince. “You’re one of a kind, Viola. Smart, funny, loyal, kind, witty, and although it’s not important, you’ve got the type of stunning beauty that stops people in their tracks.”
Caro nodded. “What she said.”
Viola smirked. “Well, when you put it like that, I sound fantastic.” She glanced between us, her expression somewhat sheepish. “If you want the truth, I think I needed the comedown Noah’s cheating gave me.” At my glower, Vi explained, “Caro will tell you that it hasn’t always been easy growing up in a small village the daughter of a white woman and a black man. Don’t get me wrong, most people are fine. They don’t see my dad’s skin color or mine. But there are some—and I hate to say it—of an older generation, who made it clear they didn’t approve of us.” Her eyes flashed angrily. “It wasn’t just the feud that divided folks here thirty years ago. It was a white girl bringing a black man home.”
I shook my head in despair of such blatant ignorance. “I’m sorry, Viola.”
She shrugged but I knew she was hiding her real feelings behind indifference. “It wasn’t awful growing up here. It’s just I think I was made to feel different when I might not have if I grew up in the city. I was glad to leave and go to Newcastle at eighteen. And when I got there . . .” She laughed, sounding embarrassed. “Well, when I got there, aye, I found myself quite popular. Boys asked me out, girls wanted to be friends. Mam and Dad had always raised me to believe in myself, to like what I saw when I looked in the mirror, so it’s not like I didn’t already have confidence or that I didn’t like myself . . . but with all the attention I received, I got arrogant. Knew I was smart. Knew I was pretty.
“Noah cheating on me brought me down to earth a little, and I think I needed it.”
I gaped at her.
Viola’s brows puckered. “What?”
Taking a minute, I was determined to find the words without lecturing her. My indignation, however, won out. “Did you tear other people down or make them feel inferior to you?”
She looked rankled. “Of course not.”
“Then why on earth do you think you needed to be brought low by Noah’s cheating? Viola, you’re allowed to be confident and to think that you’re smart and pretty and deserving of the best. Unfortunately, we live in a society where we tell our kids to be confident and successful and then as soon as they are, we tell them to shut up about it and be humble. Especially women. Guys can get away with cockiness until the end of time, but if a woman is cocky, she’s arrogant and superior.
“Even worse, women are just as likely as men to condemn a confident woman for not being modest enough. The only way we can change that attitude is to change it among ourselves. If you’re successful at something, celebrate that success. If you know you’re smart, then demand that other people treat you as someone of intelligence. If you look in the mirror and you like what you see, then halle-fucking-lujah!” I exclaimed. “Believe me, I spent way too much of my youth, and still do, picking apart my appearance instead of being grateful for what I have. Grateful that all my limbs are intact and that my body is healthy.” I leaned toward Viola, who was wide-eyed as she listened to me. “Do not ever apologize for liking who you are. It’s a beautiful mindset. And that asshole who cheated on you doesn’t deserve to come in touching distance of your life.”
Silence settled over the three of us as Viola stared at me in shock.
It was Caro who broke it with a sudden burst of clapping.