Violet
October 11
She texted Casey first thing that morning but got no response. It was Sunday, the day she and Micah had planned to go to the storage unit. But now that it was happening, she didn’t think she had the balls to go through with it alone. She needed Casey to go with her but hesitated as she wondered whether Casey could be nice to Micah for a whole afternoon. Still, Violet didn’t know how to be alone with him for that long. And she had no one else to ask. Feeling desperate, she tried Casey again an hour later. She put 911 in the text this time, hoping that would get Casey’s attention. Sure enough, her phone rang almost immediately.
“Violet?” Casey’s voice sounded anxious. “What’s wrong?”
Violet paused, feeling bad that she’d worried Casey. “Well, um, nothing big.”
“Nothing big? You don’t use 911 for nothing big! That means emergency.” The tone of Casey’s voice sounded familiar. Violet had heard it a number of times, but always directed at Nicole, not her.
“I’m sorry,” Violet said. “I texted you earlier and didn’t hear back, and I was starting to get worried I wouldn’t hear back in time.”
“I was asleep,” Casey grumbled.
“Oh,” Violet said. She hadn’t considered that. She’d barely slept the night before and had been up since light first streaked the sky, trying to figure out what to wear and what to say. She would be with Micah Berg for hours. A few minutes of conversation was fine; she’d managed that already. But hours? She couldn’t be funny and smart for hours. It was impossible.
“So what was your nothing-big 911?” Casey asked. Violet could hear her covers rustling. Casey truly had just woken up, wasn’t even out of bed yet. Violet felt heartened that she hadn’t blown her off.
“Well, I’m going with Micah Berg today for this, um, well, it’s kind of a secret mission, and I wondered if maybe you’d like to go with us?” She wondered as she said it if Micah Berg would want Casey to know his suspicions about his father. Probably not, she decided. She hadn’t thought this through, thinking more of her own nerves than Micah’s needs. “I’m doing some investigation into my mother’s case. You know, on my own. And Micah said he’d go with me.”
Casey sniffed. “Well, he doesn’t have much else to do, so he might as well.” Violet could picture her pursing her lips in that way she did when she didn’t like something.
“Well, I just thought maybe you’d like to come with us? Help us out?”
There was silence, and for a moment Violet was conflicted. If Casey said yes, Micah might be mad that she was there. But if she said yes, then there would be someone else to take the pressure off being alone with him for that long. “I’d normally say yes, but I can’t today. I’ve got a lunch date.”
Violet felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. “Oh, with Eli?” she asked, even though she no longer cared. She needed to get off the phone with Casey and get back to figuring out what to wear and what to say. Maybe she could make a list of topics to discuss, questions to ask, and amusing anecdotes that she could share to keep the conversation going.
“Actually, no,” Casey said, surprising Violet. “Not with Eli. With someone I met. Someone new.” Casey was being coy.
“What about Eli?” Violet asked, feeling strangely defensive of Casey’s ex-boyfriend. Maybe because she knew what it felt like to be dumped by a Strickland sister.
“He’s around, too,” Casey said, and giggled.
“Casey!” Violet said. “You”—she realized she was talking loudly and lowered her voice lest her grandmother overhear—“you had sex with Eli.”
Casey’s tone changed. “I’m well aware of that, Violet.”
“Well, isn’t that supposed to mean something?” Violet didn’t know what it meant exactly, only what she’d seen on TV and heard whispered about in school.
Casey was quiet for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice was flat. “It doesn’t mean nearly what they tell you,” she said. “It doesn’t have to mean a thing.” There was another long pause, and Violet was just about to speak up when Casey spoke again. “Just ask your mother,” she said.
Violet sputtered as she tried to come up with something to say in response, but Casey interrupted her.
“No, Violet, I don’t mean that as a dig against her. I mean it as a compliment. I think maybe your mom had it figured out. She took control of sex. She used it to help herself. And I think maybe that’s the best thing any of us can do. I think she was onto something.”
“My mom’s in jail,” Violet said, hearing how small her voice sounded, how weak.
“She won’t stay there,” Casey said. “You watch and see.” Violet could sense her smiling as she spoke.
“You don’t know anything,” Violet said, angry at Casey for saying what she’d said, for smiling as she’d said it.
Casey started to justify her comment, but Violet hung up the phone. She didn’t have time to waste on Casey Strickland and whatever was going on with her. She needed to get to that storage unit and see what might be hidden there that could help Micah Berg and, more importantly, could help her mother.
Hours later, hot, tired, and dirty, Violet couldn’t believe she’d worried about what to wear. She’d chosen jeans and a solid-color T-shirt, which seemed understated and suited for combing through a storage unit for something they hoped they would know when they saw it. But after digging through the stacks of boxes, all they’d found of note were some rather embarrassing photos of Violet, age three, and some old letters from a guy Norah had dated right after her divorce. Micah had started to read them out loud, but Violet had silenced him with a look. She didn’t want to hear whatever that loser had had to say to her mother.
“Look for papers, notebooks, legal pads, flash drives, floppy disks—anything that could contain a list,” she’d instructed Micah when they arrived. “And look for anything with the name Lois on it.”
“Lois?” Micah asked. “Is that, like, your mom’s code name or something?”
“No. It’s her silent partner. No one can figure out who she is. I read about it online. Someone who—if we could find out who she is—could probably tell us anything we want to know about that list.”
But they’d found none of those things so far.
She stood in front of the warped mirror on top of an old vanity that her mother had shoved into the corner and stared at her grubby reflection. She wiped away a smear of dust that had blended with the sweat on her face and decided she should’ve foregone the makeup she had so carefully applied and worn athletic shorts and an old T-shirt. She glanced over at Micah, flipping through a box of things that belonged to her father, oblivious to her presence. She shouldn’t have cared at all what she looked like for him. He’d hardly noticed.
“We’ve got just those boxes left,” she said, pointing at a stack of boxes behind him. “And then we’re done.”
He looked over at the last boxes and nodded. “I’ve basically lost hope that there’s anything in here.”