Violets Are Blue

Chapter 2: Violet

I woke up from the sun hitting my face. The pain from last week has gone down a bit, just enough for me to at least smile and go on with my life. I guess time heals all wounds, but more time was needed for mine. They were still open, still fresh. Despite this the time around the world didn’t stop for me. Hell it never stops at all. School was today, and I needed to be there.
I freshened myself up with with a nice shower, and put on the school uniform. A nice white buttoned up shirt, a black cardigan sweater, with a red skirt to matching with
my, darker shade of red, shoes. I curled my hair and sprayed it with chemicals for moisturization.
I walked to school. Usually my father would take me but that’s changed. The ride was really the only time I spent with my father on a daily basis. I couldn’t allow myself to get a ride from Abigail. Being helped by her would be an act of desperation to me.
Either way I would always try my best to arrive on time, with or without a ride.
My school was George washington academy, a private school I go to. I’m
considered one of the smartest here, I’m trying my best to be like my father. I want to be a lawyer just like him, and the best way to get a good start is to be class valedictorian. I
was doing good so far, having nothing but straight “A’s”.
Once in class I was remaining quiet. It was obvious the awkwardness around me was heavy. Everyone knew my father had died. Even my friends were quiet. They had no idea how to console me. It wasn’t their fault. No one is prepared for death. It is as
unexpected as it is saddening.
“I’m sorry to hear about you father.” One of my friends said, “If there’s anything I can help you with just let me know.”
I never understood why someone would apologize for something they had no control over. They didn’t kill him, they didn’t even know him. So why feel guilty when
they can’t even comprehend the pain that I feel.
I know they didn’t care, they just needed a reason to remind themselves that they are humans who care about others. That they are sympathetic, that they truly do care
about my feelings. Maybe they did and maybe they didn’t, I didn’t care either way. They couldn’t help me at this moment.
“Thank you.” Was all I said, and she left on her merry way.
Another friend asked if I was ok. This time I forced a smile. It was the only way I can show people I was OK, because I damn sure couldn’t have told them. I lied and
said I’m fine.
The rest of class was the same. Just like I said, time goes on even if you need it to stop. It won’t. It keeps on going and it expects you to drag yourself to keep up with it,
even if you’re not up for the task. Sometimes people never catch up and get left behind.
I hope this doesn’t happen to me. It won’t happen to me.
“Will Violet Jefferson please report to the counselor's office.” The intercom
chimed throughout the school. I hoped they weren’t calling me to console me too. So they can feel better about themselves, dancing around me while I crawl everywhere I
needed to go. That’s how I felt. Everyone around me is running side by side with time, and I’m over her walking, now crawling, trying my best to catch time so it can heal these
wound.
I walked into the office. I was greeted by my counselor, Miss. Maple. She was a frail middle aged lady, with short jet black hair, opposite to her pale skin. She was wearing a simple brown dress. She peered at my soul with her pitied hazel eyes. She
wanted to console me but didn’t.
“Please sit.” She told me. I sat. She sat down as well. “I called you here to talk about a wonderful opportunity.”
“What kind of opportunity.” I said.
“Last year you told me you wanted to be a lawyer, like your father.” The silence was loud. It was screaming in my head. I know she regretted mentioning my father. She
still kept a smile on her face.
“That’s correct ma’am.” I replied.
“Well I have a chance to offer you an internship to a lawyer at the Lady Justice law firm in downtown after your sixteenth birthday.”
For the first time in a long time a smile appeared on my face, this time not by choice. “You mean. I’ll be interning at my father’s place of work?” I said enthusiastically.
“That is correct, but it will require you to join all Pre-AP classes.”
I know I could blow through those classes with ease. I happily accepted the intern in return for taking the classes. I was given the name of the lawyer, although this won’t be for another six or so months.
“You can change your mind if you want, and the internship is yours as long as you keep your grades up, and never do any illegal or otherwise criminal activity.”
I thought about my mother. She would never include me in criminal activity, but the -changing my mind part- stuck to me. I know my mother will get me. I hope Miss
Maple will help me keep the internship even if I have to change schools, then again despite my mother being somewhat far away I would still find ways to come here.
“I understand.” I said.
After school I took two busses to the deep south side of the city. It was where my mother stayed. I know I’ve reached my destination when you start to see broken homes,
cracked or otherwise pothole filled streets. The men wearing huge chains, sagging their pants, and their guns openly hanging from their waists.
None of this ever bothered me. I’ve grown used to it over the years. They never messed with a fiteen year old girl, even by their standards that would be unethical.
There was also a very obvious prostitution problem within this area. They were
seen on every corner. The cops could do something about it but they were numerous. I never understood how someone could stoop so low in their lives. How money hungry,
shallow, or even drug addled must they be to give up their temples for the weird and perverted. Give them just the right price and you own them.
This place is usually overlooked or plainly ignored. How sad. I wondered how the people lived here, then again the people who made the decision to live here are just as low as they are. This place is a beacon for sin, lust, greed, murder. I know a young lady
such as myself shouldn’t be here, but someone I loved was here.
Once at the bus stop I walked to my mother’s shelter. Again it was not a shelter, it was an abandoned house that she and other people stayed in. I could always tell it was where she stayed. Of all the house this was the most indecent. The roof was falling
in, and had holes that were covered by sheets, that were kept atop by bricks. The light brown brick wall was cracked and stained with graffiti. Usually of gangs rivaling against
each other. The grass was uncut and horrendous.The only nice thing about the entire ruin was the well kept door and two white oak benches on the porch.
My mother was sitting on the steps. She was still wearing the same clothes since the last time I saw her. I felt so bad. I spent a week quietly mourning my father within the solitude of my room that I never wondered how she felt. She didn’t seem phased by
his death, but something told me she felt it.
“Hi, mama.” I said, with a smile on my face. It was so nice to see her.
“Hey baby-girl.” She said back, “You got mama some money?” That was always the first words she would send to my ears. Everytime. Of course I gave her some of my money. I would always help her when I can. I never asked what she used it for. I always
assumed she used it to by food. I would hope she bought food with it. I would hope I’m not supplying her with drug money. But then who is?
She snatched the money with her claws as if she needed it to live. To breath.
She stuffed the little money I gave into her bra.
“So how you been baby?” She said. She never looked me in the eyes. She kept her body in the same position. Slouched and limp. I never knew if she was high everytime I came see her. She’s been so emotionally numb for so long that it was her
expression no matter what.
“I recently got an internship at daddy’s old firm.” I told her proudly.
My mother didn’t change her expression. She just looked at me. Not in my eyes but past me. “That’s good baby-girl.” She said, faintly making a smile. “You do good, so
you can make enough to take care of me and you.”
“I will.” I said. I sat next to her and leaned my head on her shoulder. I always wondered why she never took care of herself. Of course the drugs incapacitated her will to better her life. Still. I wish she had a reason to quit. Unfortunately I wasn’t that reason.
Not everything can be perfect. Then again it was never perfect in the first place.
“So how will you get me?” I asked my mother.
Her face became serious. “Don’t worry about it baby girl. Just know I got a plan to get you, baby-girl.”
“But how?” I asked. I couldn’t help it. “How can you you regain custody of me when,” I paused trying to find a better word to use. “Like them.” I pointed to the other people like her. They all seemed to be strung out. Men and women. Showing no
thoughts or emotion just staring into space, most likely hallucinating. I wondered how far gone they were. I know some addicts usually laugh and enjoy the dizzying chemicals
they put in their bodies. Some just need it to live.
“I said,” My mother said in an annoying tone, as if her tongue was stiff. “I have a plan. Don’t you ever doubt me baby-girl. Just don’t let the white bitch know anything.”
White bitch is what she called Abigail.
She always told me she had a plan to get me. She says something always
happen that puts her one step back. Usually I didn’t care as much, but since my father died and I’m stuck with Abigail it’s become more important than ever.
“Go on home,” My mother told me. It was getting a little late. “Before that white bitch come and try to find you. The last thing we need is another dead white girl.”
I wondered if she meant that, but I didn’t think about it too much.

I arrived home near dinner time. Once I walked into the door, Abigail was standing in front of the stair case. She had a stern look.
“Where have you been?” She asked.
“None of your damn business.” I hissed back. The last thing I wanted or even needed was her parenting. She never tried to be a mother in the past, so why now.
“Violet please.” Abigail had sympathy in her eyes. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Well I don't want your help.” I said. My tongue was becoming sharp. “I never even wanted you here in the first place but you just had to pop up between my parents, and ruin my mother’s life.”
“Violet you know I never did that.” She replied.
“Just shut the hell up.” I said. I stomped my way up the stairs, making sure she heard me slam the door.
I couldn’t help but be this way to her. How dare she acts like none of this is her fault? She caused all of this. That miserable bitch just needs to stay out of my life, just as much as I’m trying to push her out of it. I never had the heart to tell Abigail how I felt
about her. At least not until my father left me with her. Alone.
Later on that night, there was a knock on my door. Quickly catching on to the new rituals I opened the door. There was a plate of food on my floor. Spaghetti. I took it.