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The children were out of the house. Well, they weren’t really children anymore were they? That makes a big difference. They weren’t away at school or visiting a friend. They were in their own homes with their own families. And Violet… Well, Violet was alone.
She supposed she could go visit them, have some tea and biscuits, go play with her grandchildren. But then she would be right back where she was. On her own, in a big empty house. And when she was alone, she thought silly things. Did silly things. Such as hold a seance and use a ouija board all by herself.
But she couldn’t help herself. She was lonely and all she wanted to do was talk to him . Violet knew it was ridiculous. That wasn’t how their magic worked. You can’t summon the dead. You can’t do anything with the dead. It was just that at times like these… when she was all alone… She just needed him.
She knew she had to figure out a way to deal. So Violet had recently taken on pottery. Using the pottery wheel was monotonous, she didn’t have to think too hard, but she had to be focused or else she would make the ugliest thing known to man. So this helped. It helped her not think about what her next phase in life needed to be, helped her not think about how everyone was up and leaving her and how this was something she should have seen coming. She could always count on as her fingers molded the wet clay, she would lose track of thoughts and time.
It was meditative in a way. It relaxed her in a way that she had never experienced before. Or at least not since… well, not since he died. Oh, they were wonderful together. She didn’t have to think when she was with him, and yet he made her think about everything. It was magical. Even their magic meshed together, making them powerful beyond comparison. Everyone saw it. Everyone needed it. And it was why he wasn’t there anymore .
And so Violet shunned magic. Forbade it from her house, forbade it from her children. Except last night. Where it didn’t work. Just one more thing to be disappointed in.
So here she was, trying to drown her sorrows in pottery. Violet wasn’t much of an artist. It was just that when she made something, small things, plates and bowls, she felt better inside. It was therapeutic and yet evasive at the same time. Violet was releasing tension and grief, something she couldn’t shake, even after all this time.
Her mind often wandered to Edmund; as her thoughts normally did. Their love was an easy sort of love. Everyone always said they were made for each other. Their alliance would make the most powerful of witches. That wasn’t why they did it. They were crazy for each other, even if it wasn’t always easy. But just like the clay spinning to mold into something beautiful, they had to push, pull, turn too.
They had loved each other and it was worth it.
She lost track of time and likened herself to becoming one with her art.
“That’s beautiful,” a voice said from behind her.
Violet jumped in surprise, her hand smashing into the bowl shape she had just gotten upright.
“It was ,” she scowled, fully expecting her eldest behind her, ready to scold him. She slowly turned around and stiffened, looking back at Edmund.
“Bollocks!” Edmund gasped. “Sorry, Vi. I didn’t mean to scare you!”
Violet felt the blood draining from her face. What was going on? What was she looking at? Was she losing her mind?
“It wasn’t going to go to any museum,” was all she could whisper, staring at him like he was a circus monkey on stilts. When Edmund waved his hand in front of her face, Violet took it between hers and finally shook her head, “I promise it’s fine, sweetheart. See?” If this was just a hallucination, she might as well roll with it, right? Besides, what if it was real? What if her spell had worked?
Violet tugged at his hand, pulling him to touch her (what could only be called avant garde) bowl now.
“That feels nice,” Edmund nodded and smirked as he rubbed his hand in Violet’s.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
Edmund furrowed his brow. “I just said good night to the children and… I wanted to see my wife.”
Violet let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding, “And I wanted to see you.” Her eyes started to water. He had spoken of their children like… like they were children. This was her Edmund. Just as he was before. She pulled herself up, wanting to crash into his arms, but he looked down at the wheel, “Can I give it a try?”
Violet paused, trying to pull herself together. “Of course,” Violet choked stepping away from the small stool. “You’re in luck. I’m a good teacher after all.”
“Oh,” Edmund said, his lips turning up into a filthy smirk, “don’t I know it, baby.”
“Shush. Sit,” Violet ignored his expression, not knowing what to make of herself, feeling awkward and excited at the same time. She motioned towards the stool.
Edmund smiled and obliged. Violet pulled up another stool and placed it behind Edmund. Sitting down, she pressed a small kiss on the back of his neck.
“Now, now. There’s time for that. You keep doing that, and we will end up making something else, my sweet.”
“... Making what?” Violet asked, pulled out of her brooding by his confusing words, but placed her hands over Edmund’s. She pulled their hands to lay on the clay and started to spin the wheel.
“Uh… love?” Edmund replied, pretty lamely.
Violet sputtered and actually laughed with delight. “... Please… please never say that again.”
Edmund grinned, amused and happy at her reaction. When his hands felt the clay rippling through his fingers, he laughed along with her, the feeling foreign to him. She had missed that beautiful sound and Violet wanted to hear more of it.
They sat quietly for a moment just being present in that moment. Their breathing becoming one.
Without realizing, she intertwined her fingers with Edmund’s and scooted closer to him. She wiggled and spread her legs further apart so she could press more of Edmund between them, needing to be closer, needing more.
She heard a small sigh and a release of breath coming from her husband, as Edmund leaned back in her arms.
The connection between the two of them was as if time had never passed. Perhaps it didn’t at all, at least not for Edmund. Nothing could come between them. Not here. Not in this space.
Violet trailed her wet fingertips up Edmund’s arms as if re-learning his body at the same time pressing her lips softly to Edmund’s neck. Edmund didn’t object this time, instead, a soft moan escaped.
That moan was a calling to Violet, a siren’s song, and her tongue licked and sucked up that neck without intention. She just acted. She had no more thoughts about her spell. No more thoughts about whether or not this was an illusion she created in her constantly grieving mind. It was only her and Edmund.
“Violet,” Edmund moaned. The sensations were almost too much to handle, but there was no way Violet was stopping this moment between them. Who knew how long they had together? How much time the spell was going to last for?
And so she continued without preamble. Edmund pushed his hands into the clay, once again smashing whatever thing they were pretending to make. Edmund leaned back and brought his hands up to her head, squeezing and pulling her closer as Violet licked up by his ear and nipped.
Violet moved her hands from Edmund’s arms to his chest and undid a few buttons on his plaid short-sleeved shirt. Violet’s other hand moved up Edmund’s shirt, tugging so she could touch his bare stomach. He was just so beautiful, like a Greek sculpture. She wanted to kiss every inch of him, not leaving any spot untouched. Violet needed to feel his skin, needed as much of him as she could possibly take in this stolen moment.
She undid the rest of Edmund’s buttons and Edmund laid his head back on Violet’s shoulder; Violet pressed his lips on Edmund’s temple, itching to touch her lips on Edmund’s. Violet’s hands moved all over Edmund’s chest, slicking it with wet clay and slowly made their way to the front of Edmund’s pants. She rubbed his hand softly over the now prominent bulge, and Edmund moaned, “God, touch me, Violet.”
She wanted to worship Edmund the way he deserved to be worshiped. The way she would have had he been here . The intrusive thought gave her pause, her body stiffening as the years without him flashed before her eyes.
“Violet? Love?” he croaked, turning his head.
“This isn’t real,” her voice cracked as she tried not to sob.
Edmund whipped his head around, confused. “Darling, why are you crying?”
“You left me and this isn’t real. As much as I want this to be real,” she bawled, emotions completely taking over her. Violet hated this weird roller coaster ride where she was shocked, sad, horny, and then back to being sad. This wasn’t how she wanted to spend what little time she was sure had with him.
“Wa-.. I’m here. I’m right here,” he insisted. Edmund waved his hands then pulled hers to grasp his face. “I would never leave you, my darling love.”
Only he did, he had. Violet had to go through the life they wanted alone. She had built this all without him and yet around him. But this Edmund didn’t know that. This Edmund only knew the here and the now.
So, Violet did what she always did. She pulled herself together, wiped her tears, and put on a smile. “I love you.”
She touched her forehead to Edmund’s and removed the clay carefully from her hands. He breathed out and slowly spun his stool around. His lips met Violet’s finally, and they kissed for a long moment; their tongues circling as if in a dance.
“I love you too,” came his whispered reply as he pulled away.
Violet knew before it happened. Knew before she couldn’t even feel his arms around her.
She knew, but she couldn’t open her eyes to see the truth anyway.