by Nicole Casey
I wish my only sins were eating the forbidden fruit, I mused. Although that is kind of what I did, isn’t it?
As the hot mist began to obstruct my personal scrutiny, I turned away but not before I caught the difference I felt in my soul so intensely.
There it was, in the depth of my once guileless blue eyes. I could see a wisdom there, a knowledge which I never imagined I would have ever acquired.
And with it, an unmistakable melancholy.
I pushed the morose thoughts from my mind and focused on scrubbing my body, scouring myself with my loofah as if I was trying to shed my old skin.
By the time I had finished, my flesh was fresh and smelling of vanilla and cocoa butter as if I had managed to become a new person in the twenty minutes I had spent crying in the shower.
I wrapped a thick, black terrycloth towel around my curvy frame, using another to make a turban for my dripping locks.
Making my way to the kitchen across my condo, I paused, cocking my head to the side.
Was someone knocking on the door?
I couldn’t make sense of it as it wasn’t even seven o’clock in the morning.
Yet as I stood, frozen, the gentle tap came again.
I sprinted into the bedroom to grab a velvet robe, draping it over myself as I hurried back toward the front door, tying the sash hastily.
“Who is it?” I called, my heart racing slightly.
“It’s me, Vyolet. Let me in.”
I blinked at the sound of Maya’s voice, throwing open the door to stare at her in dismay.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my face growing unnaturally pale.
My sister peered at me from the threshold, her green eyes narrowing as she folded her arms across her ample chest.
From behind her, Yvette emerged and I swallowed the lump of panic in my throat.
“Is it Dad? Mom?” I croaked and my siblings shook their heads in unison.
“No,” Yvette said flatly. “It’s you.”
A new feeling of distress overcame me and I backed up slowly as they entered my condo without invitation.
“I don’t understand,” I murmured but it was a lie of course.
We were triplets. Our bond was stronger than the closest of sisters whether or not I liked it.
In that moment, I did not like it one bit.
“We know, Vy,” Maya sighed, flopping onto the suede sofa and tucking her dirty boots underneath her buttocks. “We need to hear it from you.”
I tried to hide my annoyance and maintain a look of innocence upon my face but I failed on both accounts.
“Maya, your shoes…” I murmured but they were having none of my subject change. They had come with a purpose and they were not leaving until they got what they came for: information.
“Vyolet, you need to tell us everything,” Yvette told me sternly. “You can’t avoid us forever.”
I gazed at the women in my living room, a small, sardonic smile crossing over my face.
They want to know everything, I laughed to myself. I wouldn’t even know where to start.
If I was to tell them everything, they would never believe it anyway.
How could they? It would go against everything they knew about their lily-white puritan sister.
The expression on their faces was identical and something told me that they knew it all anyway.
Or at least they believed they did.
I sighed heavily and collapsed into the armchair, burying my head in my hands.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I whispered, my voice catching in my throat. It was as if the reality had finally caught up with me. Despite my painstaking attempts to keep the fantasy hidden, it was staring me in the face and no amount of hovering beneath the covers or scrubbing with pumice would alleviate the trouble I was in.
I slowly raised my head and sank back against the soft material of the chair, exhaling.
“Vyolet, let us help you,” Maya begged, seeing the expression of defeat on my face.
I shook my head and chuckled mirthlessly.
“You can’t help me,” I replied. “It’s already gone too far. I have crossed a line and there is no going back, not ever.”
They stared at me expectantly and I knew that I had to spit out the words.
The story needed to be told, no matter what the consequences now.
“Well,” I started, closing my eyes. “I guess you already know how it all started.”
“We know,” Maya sighed. “But you don’t know the entire story either.”
I looked at her sharply.
“What do you mean?” I demanded. “What don’t I know?”
Maya and Yvette exchanged a look and I felt a sweeping sense of dread float over me.
“You’ve been lied to, Vyolet.”
“I already know that!” I snapped, my face flushing red with anger. “I’ve been trying to come to terms with that for months.”
But Maya shook her head sadly.
“No, Vy,” she breathed. “It’s not what you think.”
She paused and stared at me, naked pain in her eyes.
“It was me who lied to you, not him.”
The words whirled around me like a snowstorm and I looked at my sister without understanding.
“What?” I whispered. “What are you saying?”
Maya lowered her green eyes in shame.
“Just what I said. Everything you think you know is a lie.”
The world seemed to slow as I gazed at my sisters.
My mind shifted to another time, a moment where betrayal was an abstract thought and I was confident in my every move.
Had there ever been such an era in my life?
Closing my eyes, I sank back into the chair and tried to let the memories overtake me far away from the living room where my life seemed to be falling apart once more.
1
Evan
Five months ago
I took another sip of cold coffee and choked it down my windpipe, despite my overwhelming urge to spit it all over the computer screen.
When did I pour that? I wondered, my face puckered into a look of disgust as I glanced at the time on my Rolex.
It was later than I had realized and I grimaced, my back tensing slightly.
There were never enough hours in the day, even when I began my days in the office at seven and often didn’t return home until eight or nine o’clock at night.
It doesn’t help that you are so easily preoccupied with issues not work related, I mused, chuckling to myself.
I reasoned that it kept me from becoming the mass of stress which so many of my peers appeared to be.
Not to say that I didn’t have my fair share of tension, but I prided myself on knowing how to counteract such anxieties better than most.
These uptight suits think golf and scotch is the way to go but there is something much, much better for stress, I thought, rolling my tongue over my teeth as I thought about things which should not enter my mind at work.
The intercom beeped on the desk, the receptionist’s voice calling out to me in her nasally, clipped tone.
I started slightly as if she had read my dirty ideas telepathically.
“Mr. Collier, Sandra Rimes is on line four. She says it’s urgent that she speak with you.”
I glanced at the phone on my desk, my brow furrowing slightly.
“Who?” I asked, my mind still consumed with the daunting task of organizing the taxes before Harry came looking for them later.
Every quarter the accountant and I played the same game. Harry would ask me to have the receipts properly filed and ready for his perusal and I inevitably forgot until the last moment.
This quarter was no different and I knew he would appear in my office anytime to stare at me reprovingly while I shrugged and smiled sheepishly, floundering to get the job done under his watchful eye.
I rather enjoyed our routine but I got the sense that Harry was losing interest in our dance which is why the
COO and CEO had posted an internal memo ordering everyone to get their papers together by the end of business that day.
Harry was not known for his easy-going demeanor or sense of humor.
“Sandra Rimes,” Kathleen repeated.
“I have no idea who that is, Kathy. Take a message and I’ll call her back in a couple hours,” I replied exasperated, ending the conversation between us. I had already made it very clear that I did not wish to be interrupted that morning.
In one ear and out the other with that woman, I thought with annoyance.
I couldn’t afford any distractions under the best of circumstances. When I was on a deadline, diversions were costly.
My hand hovered over the mouse as I scanned the computer, trying to recall what files I had allotted for what.
I need a personal assistant, I thought, shaking my head at the mess I had made.
Sometimes I marveled at the capacity I had to be such an excellent programmer when I had absolutely no sense of structure.
I assumed that I merely had selective left and right brain tendencies. Depending on my needs, either side would rear its head and get me through whichever pinch in I would find myself.
“You’re a quintessential Gemini,” Jocelyn always said and I, in turn, would roll my eyes and laugh.
“My left brain doesn’t believe in astrology,” I would quip in return and we would laugh as if I hadn’t made the same stupid joke a hundred times before.
My cell phone rang and I was tempted to ignore it but my eyes automatically flittered to the iPhone 7 screen.
I half expected it to be Jocelyn since she had abruptly popped into my mind for no reason but the screen did not identify my sister as the caller.
I scowled when I saw it was a private number.
In this day and age, who answers private calls?
I dismissed the call and tried to focus on the task at hand but Kathy buzzed again.
“Mr. Collier, Sandra Rimes insists that she speaks with you. She’s calling from the Department of Child Services in Minnesott Beach.”
Suddenly I found it very difficult to breathe.
“What?” I asked dumbly even though I had heard her with perfect clarity. “Why?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Collier but I suggest you take the call.”
Under normal circumstances, I would have told Kathleen what she could do with her helpful suggestions but it was not a time to combat the receptionist.
On the table, my cell began to vibrate again.
I registered that it was a private caller as I snatched up the receiver of the landline and punched in line four.
Inexplicably, beads of sweat formed on my forehead and my mouth turned dry.
“Evan Collier,” I said, my voice not betraying a note of the uneasiness seizing my gut.
“Mr. Collier, this is Sandra Rimes from the Department of Child and Family Services in Minnesott Beach,” the woman started crisply, her tone as even as mine. “Have the police been in contact with you?”
I gulped, trying to smooth the rasp from the throat.
“Why would the police be in contact?” I asked by my voice was barely above a whisper. “What happened?”
There was a slight pause and I watched as my cell began to ring again.
Dread embraced me.
“Can you hold a moment, Ms. Rimes?” I breathed, snatching up the iPhone before she could respond.
“Evan Collier.”
“Mr. Collier, this is Detective Aaron Chisholm of the Minnesott Beach Police Department. I am afraid I have some terrible news. It’s about your sister.”
I could see black and red spots dancing before my eyes as I envisioned my sister the last time I had seen her, dark hair in a boyish cut, twinkling brown eyes and laughing at some ridiculous Disney movie I had chosen for Alexa.
“She’s only six, Evan! The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a little mature for her, don’t you think?” Jocelyn chuckled.
“Oh, I don’t know. She likes it just fine, don’t you Alex?” I replied, eyeing my niece affectionately.
“I like the goat!” Alexa agreed and Jocelyn only laughed harder.
“I am holding you personally responsible for all her therapy bills when she’s older,” my sister informed me and I shrugged.
“That’s what uncles are for,” I joked.
How was I supposed to know that Disney made movies that dark? What did I know about raising kids?
“Mr. Collier, are you there, sir?” the detective asked in my ear. I forced myself back to the present and took a deep breath.
“Yes. What happened?”
“There has been a car accident, sir. Your sister Jocelyn and brother-in-law Charlie were hit by a drunk driver. They died at the scene.”
My head began to spin even though I had been expecting the words.
“Where is Alex?” I gasped, leaning back against the high back leather chair.
Suddenly I remembered Sandra Rimes on the office line.
“Your niece was not with them. She is being held at the Department of Family Services. We understand that you are the next of kin and we will need you to come to North Carolina to identify the bodies and take custody of Alexandra.”
“Alexa,” I intoned flatly. “I will be out on the next flight.”
I ended the call, a strange feeling of numb overtaking my body as I sat staring at the blinking light on line four.
My little sister was dead. Charlie was dead. Alex was alone.
“Mr. Collier, Sandra Rimes is still waiting.”
I didn’t respond. How could I when I had no words to speak?
“Mr. Collier?”
Kathleen was beginning to sound irritated.
“I heard you!” I roared and I heard her gasp at my tone.
I snatched up the receiver again and punched the blinking line.
“I just heard,” I told the waiting social worker. “What do you need me to do?”
“When you get here, we will explain everything to you. When can you come?” Sandra Rimes asked gently.
“I am leaving Seattle tonight,” I said. “Is Alexa with you?”
I did not feel myself speaking but I heard the words through the receiver and I knew I was saying them as if someone else had taken over my body.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Collier. Unfortunately, she is not with me but she is safe at the police station. If you are unable to come for her tonight, she will be placed in a foster home overnight.”
“No!” I barked with much more intensity than I had intended. “I will be there tonight. Tell her I am coming.”
I slammed the phone onto the cradle and leaped from my chair, grabbing my keys and wallet from the top drawer of my desk before flying into the main part of the office.
Weaving through the cubicles, I could not shake the sensation that I was not really there, especially when people I saw people talking to me but their words made no sense to my ears.
It was as if I had fallen into another dimension, a parallel universe where my body existed but my mind was far away.
That’s because this is a nightmare. You’re going to wake up any minute and laugh shakily. Jocelyn will be alive and Alex will still have her parents.
Someone grabbed my arm and I turned to stare at my boss blankly.
“Are you deaf? I’ve been calling your name for two whole minutes!” Andy barked. I didn’t reply, continuing to stare through him as if he wasn’t there.
“Where the hell are you going? It’s tax time, Evan. You can’t leave until Harry gets all the paperwork he needs.”
I gaped at him as if he had sprouted a second head.
“Unless you’re going for coffee. In which case you can get me a venti cap with soy milk,” he continued. “Oh, and a scone.”
I stared at him for a long moment, a floodgate of bitterness sweeping through me as I thought of the countless hours I had spent working for the cocky CEO.
How many times did I stay in Seattle to finish a
project when Jocelyn had asked me to come home for Thanksgiving? How many birthdays did I miss? How many times did I promise Alex I would go and got stuck with a mountain of work?
It was too late to make it up to Jocelyn and Charlie. There would be no more family dinners where we would remember mom and dad dancing in the kitchen at the house on Seafarer Road. There would be no more trips to the cottage at Nags Head where Jocelyn and I had spent our summers in childhood.
Suddenly, I began to laugh and Andy stepped back, a half-smile on his face as if he was missing the joke.
“What’s so funny?” Andy asked, folding his arms across his chest.
To my horror, I couldn’t stop laughing and peals of hysteria escaped me as I looked at his smug face.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as Andy grew uncomfortable, glancing around at our co-workers as if seeking assistance.
Everyone appeared as ill-at-ease as he looked but it only fueled my temporary psychosis.
“Okay, Evan,” Andy called after a full minute of my hiccuping laughter. “I don’t get the joke.”
As quickly as it had come on, the fit of giggles ceased and my mouth fell into a firm line, my jaw tensing as I ground my teeth together so tightly, I was sure they would crack.
I stuffed down the insurmountable desire to clock Andy in the jaw, knowing that my emotions were reigning my mental state in that moment.
But I did not stop myself from saying what was on my mind and had been for many years.
“The joke is you can take this job and stick it,” I muttered, spinning to leave him staring at me open-mouthed. “I’m going home.”
2
Vyolet
I knew my sisters felt differently but I enjoyed Sunday dinner at our parents’ house.
While the meals were a tradition, it was far and few between that all of us would find ourselves together at one table, Maya citing some spiritual retreat or Yvette being weighed down on some taxing case which seeped into her weekend.
I always made the time to drive out to Minnesott Beach, no matter the weather.
A small part of me worried about my parents.
