The Voice in My Head

by Dana L. Davis

  “‘Violet.’” Alfred reads from the page with visibly shaking hands. “‘Please don’t tell Indigo or Michelle but—’” he leans forward and whispers “‘—you’re my favorite sister.’”

  She smiles, seemingly enjoying Alfred’s letter.

  He goes on, “‘I know I’m your favorite brother. But you don’t have any other brothers. So yeah. But even so, I wanted my letter to be your favorite letter. So I thought a lot about what to say. I was gonna do a bunch of remember whens. Like, remember when you, me and Indi snuck onto the Amtrak downtown and ended up in Portland and Mom and Dad had to drive four hours to pick us up?’”

  I remember that. We were only ten and Alfred eight. Mom and Dad almost got arrested.

  “‘But then I thought...nah. Remember whens aren’t all that interesting.’” Alfred pauses, fumbles with the paper. It falls onto the floor. “Sorry everybody. Shit.”

  “Oooh, he said shit!” Brandon says to his dad.

  “Now you just said shit, idiot,” Nam replies.

  “Be quiet,” Drew scolds. “Both of you.”

  Mom, Dad and Michelle murmur things like, “That’s okay, Alfred,” or “Take your time. You’re fine.”

  Alfred flips his cap forward. “‘So I settled in on this. Five important dates I want you to promise me you’ll be there for. In ghostly form or whatever they call it when you’re dead.’” He clears his throat. “‘Number one. The day I graduate from high school. Because Mom and Dad seem to think that’ll never happen.’”

  Mom lays her head on Dad’s shoulder, wipes her eyes with a handkerchief.

  Alfred continues reading. “‘I want you there to whisper in their ears, “I told you he could do it.” Number two. When I get married. I want you to be my best ghost. Sort of like a best man but way cooler.’”

  Violet no longer looks like she’s enjoying Alfred’s letter. In fact, she appears downright miserable. She wipes tears as they flow freely.

  “‘When I get my first job because Michelle says, “That’ll be the day.” So I want you there to say, “Yep, what a day it is, F-R. F-R.”’”

  Dad looks over at me and I mouth, “For real, for real.”

  Dad rolls his eyes.

  Alfred flips his Seahawks cap backward and then forward again. “‘Number four. When I have a kid, because Mom says that’ll be my sweet karma and she can’t wait to see how bad the kid will be. I want you there to be his or her guardian angel. In case the kid turns out like me. And lastly, I want you to be there when I die, so your face is the first face I see when I get to the other side.’” I’ve never seen Alfred cry, at least not before this very moment. He slides off his Seahawks cap and hands it to Violet. “It’s my favorite.” He cries. “I want you to have it.”

  Violet takes the cap and places it on her head. Alfred leans forward and the two embrace, crying onto one another’s shoulders.

  I look over at Mom and Dad. Mom’s head is in her hands. Dad is rubbing her back. I hate to interrupt such a moment, but it’s now or I’ll have to sit through more sad letters. And I really don’t wanna endure Michelle wailing through hers with another Category 5 cry.

  I jump up. The La-Z-Boy squeaks. “I’m going next!”

  Everyone seems startled at my burst of enthusiasm, but no one objects. I step in front of the group as Alfred returns to the couch. Violet fiddles with her bottle of medicine, doesn’t look up at me.

  I stare down at my stained boots in an effort to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes, clutching Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland tightly in my hand, my letter to Violet stuffed inside. I clear my throat and start softly. “I have lots to say but never speak. Knowledge is the thing I eat. Inside me adventures you will find. Quests and treasures of every kind. For all those that wish to visit me. Your hands are the ultimate key.” I turn to Violet and ask kindly, “What am I?”

  She blinks, confused. “I’m sorry?”

  “It’s a riddle,” I reply. “What am I?”

  “Indigo, what is this?” Michelle interrupts, annoyed.

  “Hey.” I point to her. “It is not your turn.”

  Michelle sits back with a loud, exasperated sigh.

  Violet definitely seems intrigued; she flips Alfred’s Seahawks cap backward. When Alfred did that, it made him look deranged; somehow Violet makes the movement seem delicate. “Can you say it again?”

  “Sure.” I start. “I have lots to say but never speak. Knowledge is the thing I eat. Inside me adventures you will find. Quests and treasures of every kind. For all those that wish to visit me. Your hands are the ultimate key.”

  “Something that has lots to say but...can’t speak.” Violet smiles. Like really smiles. She’s enjoying this?

  “Words on a page,” Alfred pipes in.

  Violet’s eyes brighten. “A book!”

  “Yes!” I hand her the volume I’m holding. She takes it, stares at the cover.

  “How—” she takes another deep breath “—did you find this?”

  “Closet. Top shelf.”

  She glides her fingers across the cover. “It was my favorite.”

  “What book is it?” Brandon asks.

  Violet holds up the old and weathered copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

  “Remember what we always talked about as kids?” I ask. “About going down the rabbit hole in search of another way to be. A magical land where the rules were undefined.”

  “A new life to be led.” She nods. “Where the rules were, there were no rules.”

  “Exactly! That being said. I have another riddle.” I mistakenly make eye contact with Michelle. If looks could kill. Yikes! I turn back to Violet, whose eyes are not menacing and murderous but alive with wonder. In fact, she looks more alive than she has in months. She is enjoying this!

  “What’s the riddle?” she asks breathlessly.

  “Roses are red,” I state. “Violets are blue. For the rest of the riddle, turn to page sixty-two.”

  Violet sits up tall in her wheelchair, flips open the book and turns the pages in her temperate, Violet way. On page sixty-two, a sheet of notebook paper folded in half falls out onto her lap. She looks up at me.

  “Read it,” I instruct her.

  I stare at her as she picks up the letter, noticing she did exactly the thing I wanted her to do. She placed the bottle of death medicine on her lap. Good girl, Violet. Goooood girl.

  She reads, “‘Some people don’t believe me. Some people want to meet me. Some people claim to be me. Who am I?’”

  “Ohh. I know, I know!”

  “Don’t interrupt,” I say reflexively.

  Michelle crosses her arms and huffs loudly. “Nobody was interrupting you, Indigo.”

  “Right. Sorry.” I turn to Violet. “Do you know who it is?”

  She adjusts her cannula. Her own nervous tic.

  “Is it a ghost?” Alfred asks.

  “Nobody claims to be a ghost,” Drew offers.

  “A ghost would,” Alfred replies.

  I shake my head. “No. It’s not a ghost.”

  “God?” Violet says to herself. Then she beams. “It’s God.”

  “Yes!” I kneel at her side and place my hand on her lap, strategically over the bottle of medicine.

  “Flip over the page, Vee.”

  She does. Grins. “Another riddle?”

  “How many riddles are we gonna have here, Indigo?” Michelle asks.

  “It’s okay,” Violet almost sings. “I like it.”

  I decide sticking my tongue out at Michelle and saying Ha! There! is a bad idea. Instead, I stand and take the paper from Violet’s hands. “I’ll read the last one.” I’m using the sheet of paper to cover up the fact that I am now holding Violet’s medicine. I swallow. “For the next riddle.” I move dramatically toward the large window in the den while reading
. “‘There was a window cleaner who was cleaning a window on the twenty-fifth floor of a skyscraper. He suddenly slips and falls. He has no safety equipment and nothing to soften his fall, but he is not hurt at all. How do you account for that?’” I stop in front of the window.

  Drew scratches his head.

  The boys exchange confused looks and shrug.

  Michelle glares.

  Jedidiah nods his head knowingly as if one of his Spirit guides told him the answer already.

  Mom and Dad sit there looking perplexed like...now what is Indigo up to? But Violet is all lit up, eyes brighter than ever.

  “Give up?” I ask.

  Violet shrugs. “How...did he not hurt himself?”

  I push open the window and cold air rushes inside the house.

  “Indigo, what are you doing?” Michelle exclaims. “Whatever game you’re playing, we’ve all had enough of it.”

  “The reason the construction worker didn’t get hurt,” I declare, “is because he was inside. Get it?”

  Violet laughs. “I do!”

  My eyes bulge. Like...she laughed.

  Mom and Dad seem in awe as well because they stare at Violet as if seeing her for the first time in a long time, then turn to one another and exchange befuddled looks.

  “I have only one more riddle.”

  Violet smiles, and I take a mental picture of her in this moment. Almost like the Violet I’ve known my whole life. Full of wonder, smiling, happy, excited about life and what it has to offer. I know what I’m about to do will wipe the smile right off her face. I’m about to do it anyway.

  I clear my throat. “‘Roses are red. Violets are not blue. I’m just doing—’” I take a page out of the Jedidiah Barnabas book of life and inhale and exhale dramatically “‘—what God told me to.’” I drop the letter and hold up the bottle of Violet’s medicine. I twist off the cap and dump it all out the window.

  chapter seven

  The room erupts into chaos. Michelle stands, shrieking expletives. Brandon and Nam cling to Drew, crying. Alfred just keeps saying, “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” over and over while spinning around in circles, pulling at his short strands of hair. Mom is... I dunno what Mom is doing. A cross between a scream and a cry—a high-pitched drone and wail that makes her sound like a baby orca. Dad is shouting at the top of his lungs for everyone to “Sit down!” Drew is trying to calm the boys and Pastor Jedidiah is frantically lighting his sticks of wood.

  “Take deep breaths!” he hollers over the roar.

  I cover my ears with my hands as Michelle storms forward.

  “You think you have the right?” she bellows. “You selfish little b—!”

  “Michelle!” Mom steps forward. “You better watch your mouth in my home! You are out of line!”

  Michelle spins around. “Are you freakin’ kidding me? I’m not the one with the problem here.”

  Dad rushes forward and moves between Michelle and me. “Michelle, you let Mom and me handle this.”

  “You and Mom have let Indigo be a hot ass mess all these years. Why should today be any different?”

  Brandon and Nam are wailing so loud, I can feel their screams resonating throughout my entire body.

  Drew stands, enraged. “You are all upsetting the boys! They’ll be traumatized after this.”

  “Those terrorists?” Mom shouts at Drew.

  “This is a sign—” Alfred’s still spinning around in circles “—that medicine is a bad omen. We gonna need an exorcist up in here. This family needs to be exorcised!”

  Jedidiah exhales. “If everyone could please center and try to push out all the bad air. Follow me. Deep breath in.”

  “I’m sick of breathing!” Michelle points at me. “Indigo, I’m gonna kill you!” She lurches forward but Dad blocks her, grabbing her hands and pinning them carefully to her side.

  “You are pregnant. Calm yourself, Michelle!” Dad yells. “You hear me?”

  “Guys...please!” Violet’s weak and warbled voice pierces through the roar of the Phillips family dysfunction.

  Though it’s the softest voice in the room, everyone quiets—instantly. Even Brandon and Nam promptly mute and turn their full attention to Vee. But she’s not looking at any of them. Her eyes are dead set on me, wide with disbelief, tears streaming down her face.

  “Why...?” She delicately wipes tears away. “How... could you?”

  “Exactly!” Michelle exclaims. “It’s not like we can retrieve it. It’s a jungle out there. The yard is an absolute disaster—”

  “Hey!” Mom cocks her head to the side, offended.

  “Mom, I’m sayin’.” Michelle shrugs. “You shoulda never fired the gardener. And it’ll take days to get a new prescription. You remember all the red tape we had to go through to get that prescription filled.”

  I move around Dad and Michelle and rush to Violet’s side, kneeling in front of her. “Please believe me, sis. I would never hurt you. I only did it to get your attention. To wake you up. So you would listen to me. Last night, I think I heard the voice of God. At least, he says he’s God. In truth, I don’t know whose voice I’m hearing. But it is a voice. I am hearing a voice.”

  “Indigo, stop lying.” Michelle crosses her arms across her chest. “You told me you weren’t hearing a voice anymore.”

  “Anymore?” Mom cuts in. “You mean to tell me you knew she was hearing a voice and you didn’t think to tell your father and me about it?”

  “Sh-she’s mental!” Michelle stutters.

  “I’m not!” I stand, defending myself. “I’m hearing a voice. Inside my head.” I pound on the top of my head, which probably isn’t helping my cause in any way whatsoever and certainly isn’t helping my concussion. Ouch. “It’s saying things to me.”

  “Is it telling you to kill people?” Drew asks.

  “No, Drew. Why would I listen to a voice that’s telling me to murder people?”

  He breathes a sigh of relief and wraps his arms protectively around Brandon and Nam. “Oh, okay, good.”

  “It’s telling me that Violet can live. I believe it and I can explain if you—”

  “Guys.” Michelle places a hand on her belly as if her being pregnant matters at this moment. “Indigo is suicidal and demented. Why are we listening to her?”

  “Stop trying to tell everybody what to do, Michelle!” I say pointedly. “You’re not the leader of this family.”

  Michelle places a hand on her hip. “And neither are you.”

  “I think we should let Indigo talk,” Alfred suggests.

  “I second that.” Dad looks over at Mom.

  “Indigo’s done a lot of things that really don’t make much sense...” Mom starts.

  “Gee, thanks, Mom,” I mumble.

  “But she wouldn’t do this for no reason,” Mom adds. “She wouldn’t toss medicine out a window and make up a voice in her head. At least I hope not. Something’s going on. I wanna hear it.”

  Jedidiah steps forward in a cloud of sacred wood smoke. “I think the energy in the room is guiding us to all listen with our ears and let our hearts be receptive to Indigo.” He nods at me. “Please. Proceed.”

  And so I do. Explaining all about the climb. Of course I leave out the part about me wanting to kill myself. Everyone listens intently. I wring my hands together. “So...believe me or not. But I was up on top of that building last night and I swear somebody spoke to me. It’s been speaking to me all day. It’s saying that Violet can live.” I turn back to Violet. “You know me, Vee. I would never lie to you. That’s not something we do. We always tell the truth.” I look over at Mom and Dad, who both have eyebrows raised in disbelief. “I mean, at least to each other.” I turn back to Violet. “The voice says that you can live. I believe it.”

  “How do I live,” she starts, “when I’m dying?”

 
“The voice is very specific. It says to get you to the Wire Pass Trailhead. Get you to agree to travel to Coyote Buttes. If you can make a trek across the open desert to the rock formation called the Wave, you will live.”

  “Where’s this at?” Mom interrupts. “What’s the Wave?”

  Michelle scoffs. “Mama, stop entertaining this. It’s probably something she made up! There is no Wave.”

  “There is. I’ve heard of it before,” Violet declares.

  “Me too.” Alfred whips out his phone and fiddles with it for a few seconds. When the screen loads, he holds it up for Mom to see. “There. That’s the Wave.”

  “Well...” Mom nods. “It’s certainly beautiful.”

  “Drew?” Michelle moves to Drew and takes his arm in her hand. “Please back me up here.”

  Drew runs a hand through his long strands of hair. “Michelle’s right, guys.” He looks at Michelle. “What else...should I say?”

  “Just forget it, Drew.” She sighs.

  “Listen,” I plead. “I know this sounds a bit out there. But what have we got to lose? What if there’s some sort of magical healing waters there or something? Anything is possible.”

  “No.” Michelle steps forward. “Anything is not possible. Humans can’t sprout wings. Prince can’t make another album. Dogs and cats can’t have a dog-cat baby.”

  “They can’t?” Brandon asks, pushing his glasses up onto his nose.

  “No, son.” Drew gives Brandon a concerned look.

  “Anything is not possible.” Michelle shrugs. “So, guess what? Your statement is a fallacy. False.”

  “False is defined as something not true,” I reply. “You have no firm evidence that dogs and cats can’t have a dat or a cog. And Prince just released a new song. Vevo much, Michelle?”

  Alfred holds up his phone. “I-C-Y-M-I and not to be a total buzzkill, but I just read an article that says people die making this hike.”

  “Let me see that!” Mom takes the phone from Alfred. Reads on the screen. “Oh, dear God.”

  “Not to mention, Violet can’t hike,” Dad adds.

  “Maybe you’re hearing the voice of the devil,” Nam offers.