Chapters of Violet

A semi self-reflectve, fictional short story.

Part 1

The bright, blinding lights that shone high above made Violet squint, causing her eyelashes to clump together. She was concentrating on a tall man standing a few feet away from her, listening to his melodious voice.

            “I'm your dear brother from now on, and all our family is gone. Boy, kiss your brand-new uncle Tran.” With a nod from a man wearing headphones and holding a clipboard, she ran shyly towards her tall father with her short, floppy hair and jumped into his arms to plant a small kiss on his left cheek.

            The man smiled, “This kid is okay. He is our entree to the USA.” He emphasized and trailed on the last note.

            “CUT!” Someone yelled and her father put Violet down onto the black stage. He bent down to her level, “Good job sweetie!” and gave her a kiss on the head.

            “Thank you, Mr. Geminus for auditioning your daughter for the role of Tam. She was great! What a splendid idea for father and daughter to be in the same Broadway show.” A medium-height man wearing a black shirt got off his directing chair and came up to Violet’s dad and gave him a pat on the back.

            “Thanks Mike, she’s a talented dancer as well,” her dad beamed. 

            “That’s great! How old did you say she was again?”

            “Five,” he replied and Mike nodded.

            Violet smiled slightly as the director gave her a high five and led her to the side of the stage, where other shorthaired girls and boys were standing. Her dad gave her a wink as another Tam stepped forward and the director yelled action.

            She saw her reflection in a nearby mirror, and noticed with her milky brown eyes that her cheeks were flushed, her short hair stayed neatly out of her sight and that her shoulders were pulled back, straightening her back and lengthening her neck.

            “You were good out there,” a voice startled Violet from behind and she tore her eyes away from the mirror to face a rosy-cheeked, tall girl. She had the same Tam haircut required for the young-boy role.

            Violet gave her a slight nod, “Thanks…” She shifted slightly onto her right foot and re-crossed her arms.

            “The name’s Valerie Ceter,” the girl held out her hand confidently with her other hand on her hips. Violet took it cautiously and shook it. “What’s your name?” Valerie asked when Violet didn’t introduce herself.

            “Violet,” she replied quietly, staring at the ground. She noticed Valerie’s bright green toenail paint. “Did you go yet?” She pointed at the big stage.

            “Yeah, I was the second one up.” Valerie replied, looked at the singing man on stage and back at Violet. “Is that your dad?” she whispered.

            Violet nodded hard with a big smile on her face. “He has the leading role.” She couldn’t help but brag a little.

            “That’s so cool, you’re so lucky. You must tell everyone that!” Valerie said.

            Violet frowned a little, “Not everyone.” She thought about it a little and said, “Actually, I hardly tell anyone…” She trailed off and Valerie didn’t seem to hear her since the director had called back all the Tams. They organized themselves into a straight line back on stage.

“Thank you everyone for auditioning for Miss Saigon,” the director announced to the auditioning children and their parents. My dad stood behind me proudly, with a hand on my shoulder. “We will be announcing who got the part after lunch.” Everyone left the stage with their coats and went out for a quick meal. They ate a sandwich lunch, delivered by the cast and were back on the black stage again within an hour.

            “Again, I thank you all for putting your time into the audition today. Each and every one of you is very talented. Now to announce the new Tam.” He looked down at his clipboard. “Melina Nguyen!” A big round of applause burst from the stage, and a baby-looking, shorthaired girl stepped forward and bowed.

            “It was worth a try,” Violet’s dad chuckled and clapped his hands together. Her dad went off to talk to the rest of the cast members, as Violet wandered off and saw Valerie again.

            “I didn’t want it the part anyways,” Valerie said with a nod. “The dressing rooms are so small! I said I wanted a bigger room like a star’s. That’s why I didn’t get the part.” She smiled a silly smile. “Why didn’t you get the part?”

            “I think I looked too old.” Violet replied with a sigh and shrugged. 

***

“But mother, I don’t want to go!” It was a Saturday morning. The sun was rising outside, but it was too early to be awake on a weekend morning.

“Darling, we’ve been doing this every weekend for five years already, we both know that you’re going to wind up getting up and being late for dance class.” Violet’s mom sat on her bed and stroked her daughter’s medium-length, dark hair.

Violet sighed into her pillow, “Fine.” She tugged the blanket from her bed and pointed her flexed toes to let her mom pull up her black tights.

“Breakfast in five, come on now.”

            By the time they got there, Violet was ten minutes late again, and she ran into the building that had a sign that read “Broadway’s Dance Center.” She clumsily put her jazz shoes on and slipped into the flow of class with the rest of the ten year olds. The music pumped and made the air vibrate in the room.

            “One, two, three, four. Two, two, three, four…” Her teacher was yelling the counting beats above the loud music. They were in a line to the side of the room, and were taking turns doing a short warm up routine to the other side, across the black flooring.

            “Good leg work Violet, straighten those arms Lynette!” Twice through the routine, Violet looked at herself in the mirror and admired her perfect posture. She did a quick turn and used her reflection for spotting. When she turned back around, instead of seeing her own reflection, she saw Valerie looking back at her. Caught off guard, Violet stumbled a bit, loosing her footing.

            “Concentrate!” Her teacher warned.

            Violet was panting and she stepped back into the flow with the other girls and looked back at the mirror. Valerie was gone, and all she saw was her own confused face.

After going to her following tap and ballet classes, Violet headed to lunch by herself. In line, she tiptoed to see what other girls her age were buying. When it got to her, she too, ordered a toasted cream cheese bagel, paying the cashier with the money her mom gave her.

            “Violet!” She was looking around for a quiet place to sit when she saw her two friends Carry and Shawna waving at her, already sitting on the ground with an open cup of cream cheese. Violet just waved back, but didn’t join them, instead, venturing upstairs to sit in front of a dance room. She silently watched the tall, older girls dance to upbeat music, as she chewed on her bagel. After lunch, she returned to her class of hip-hop and ended the day with triple threat.

            That night at home, her dad was back early from his show and noticed Violet’s small tap shoes sitting by her bag.

            “Violet, your mother tells me that you don’t want to dance,” he asked her as she was doing her homework.

            She looked up from writing, “I didn’t say that.”

            “I’m just asking, I’ve seen you dance before, and I just wanted you to know that you have a very good beat when you tap dance.” He sat down in the chair besides her.

            Violet just shrugged, “I don’t know.”

            Her dad put a hand on her shoulder. “You should be proud.”

***

Violet turned the TV on in the living room and sat down on the couch with Valerie. She handed her the remote.

“Lets turn on some music and make a dance routine!” Valerie said excitedly and changed the speakers on to play some Pink. “You’re always better at choreographing than I am.”

“Okay,” Violet replied and started moving the furniture. She was only good at choreographing from observing other dancers on Saturdays. She pushed back the two couches and moved aside the coffee table.

“Lets start off with some leg stretches,” Valerie suggested and they both sat down on the rug of the living room.

They had the music blasted, hair down, and tank tops on when Violet’s mom came marching down the stairs with a hand on the phone. “Violet, turn that music down! I am trying to use the phone!” Her long black hair was in a loose braid as she put the phone back up to her ears.

Violet wiped her forehead with her hand and turned the black volume knob to the left. “Want to take a break? I’ll go get you a towel.”

Valerie was out of breath and nodded. “I’ll meet you back in your room.” She helped herself to a glass of juice in the kitchen in the next room while Violet went upstairs for a towel to wipe her head.

“Yes, everything’s signed already…” Violet’s mom’s voice came drifting out of a room around the corner. The curiosity in Violet overwhelmed her and she quietly stood by the half opened door.

There was a silent moment when her mom was listening to the voice on the other line. “Of course not, his show is over. The Broadway contract was a good ten years or so, and plus, he’s been offered jobs in Hollywood.”

Violet raised an eyebrow, but lost interest quickly before she heard her name. “Violet? Oh, I’m still working on that. I don’t know how to tell her, who knows how she will feel about California.” She couldn’t help herself and before she knew it, barged into the room.

“What about California?” Violet asked with a confused look on her face. Her towel was dangling from her shoulders.

“Violet…Let me call you back,” her mom hung up the phone. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I was going to tell you sooner or later.” She took a deep breath and put the phone down on the table. “Violet, we’re moving to California this summer.”

She didn’t say anything at first, but when she found feeling of her tongue again, she started. “We’re…moving? But…we can’t be moving, mom,” Violet was shocked.

“I know how this must sound like to you, but it’s for our good. Your father has got a new job, and California is just a more convenient place to live.”

“Dad won’t be on Broadway anymore?” she asked, surprisingly sad.

“No more. Like I said, he has new job offers in Hollywood. This is good news for us all.” Violet’s mom tried comforting her, but she walked out of the room.

Trudging to her room, Violet, with a tear-stricken face, went to tell Valerie the news. Her mom came out of her room and stopped by Violet’s half opened door.

“Valerie, I’m moving away.” There was a moment of silence in the room.

“We’ll see each other again one day,” that was all Valerie said.

Her mom, who was paused at the door, sighed.

 

Part II

White, clean walls and salty, seaside breezes filled Rivers Middle School. The sound of flip-flops instead of squeaky, closed sneakers echoed throughout the wide hallways. Walking alone, Violet noticed that jeans were tighter, shirts were more revealing, and shorts were in. No one was wearing plain t-shirts, baggy jeans or heavy jackets. The weather was lighter, the people talked differently, and nearly everyone was tan. Violet’s pale white skin stuck out like a sore thumb and made her blend into the walls, she hated being different.

            “I want everyone to feel at home in this classroom, no one is to be left out. If someone needs help in this classroom, we should all be here for each other.” She went on saying. “I want each and every one of you to find a study buddy so that we each have a secure partner.” The class looked around, some people were already nodding and making eye contact with their future partner. Violet, however, only had a look of worry on her face. “Now go ahead.”

            Everyone around her stood up and swerved around her to meet up with partner, already knowing where they were going. Violet on the other hand, remained in her seat and looked around the room aimlessly, not looking for anyone in particular. No one even looked at her.

            “Will you be my study buddy?” Startled, Violet looked around her, expecting to be just overhearing someone else’s conversation and was surprised to see a hazel-eyed, smiling girl.

            Violet’s face broke into a wide smile, “Of course.” She wrote her phone number on a sheet of paper and handed it to the girl, who was doing the same.

            “My name is Sammy. Sammy Salvator,” she shook Violet’s hand.

            “Nice to meet you, I’m Violet Geminus. I just moved here,” she added in the end, after a slight hesitation.

            “From where?”

            “New York.”

            “I’ve only been to New York once in the spring. What’s snow feel like?” Sammy’s intrigued voice was music to Violet’s ear. Little did she know she was staring at her future best friend.

            Violet went off to her art class. Strips of old newspapers sat in plates next to bowls filled with sticky paste. The class was making wolf masks in honor of Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles play. Violet watched as sticky little fingers fidgeted with balloons and paper. Halfway layering her balloon, Violet felt proud for working so fast, but then noticed a girl across from her, who had already started her third layering of paper mache.

            Neatly laid beside her, was an organized plan of her wolf mask. Little notes were scribbled here and there followed by arrows. The girl, as if noticing she were being watched, suddenly looked up, startling Violet, who looked away quickly. She got back to work, when a chair scraped against the floor and someone walked beside her.

            “If you use the bigger newspaper pieces, you’ll get done a lot faster, you know?” The girl previously sitting across from Violet was standing beside her and pointing to the small pieces of paper on the balloon.

            Violet reached for a bigger piece of paper, dipped it into the goopy paste and stuck it on, covering the last section of her balloon. She looked up, “I’m done!”

            “Not really, you still have four more layers to go, I’m Kit by the way.” The girl had sun bleached blonde hair and a freckled face. “Where are you from? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

            “I’m Violet,” she replied, thinking that Kit reminded her a whole lot of Valerie. “I’m from New York,” she stated for the second time today.

            “New York huh? So you’re the city type girl. Cali is more of the laid back type, more surfers, beaches and pools”

            “I don’t know how to swim,” Violet said quietly, looking around to make sure nobody heard her confession.

            “Now that wont do, you’ll have to learn if you want to fit in,” Kit said with a smirk and flipped aside her blonde hair. She walked back to the other side of the table to start working again.

            Afterschool, Violet hopped in her mom’s BMW and buckled her seatbelt for the short ride home.

            “How was school?” Her mom asked as she pulled out of the crowded school parking lot. “Did you make any new friends?”

              She just nodded and looked out the window. She had to admit, Newport Beach, California was indeed beautiful. The roads were clean and wide, the cars were all polished, new and shiny, green trees were everywhere, and the dark blue-watered beaches weren’t bad either.

            “Your aunt would like you to join the swim team,” Violet’s mom said after a while of silence.

            Violet looked back at her mom, “But why?” she asked, confused.

            “Swimming is a popular sport here, plus it’ll give you something to do, you know, good for exercise and school.”

            “Do I have to?” She was starting to whine.

            “Your aunt has done so much for us, honey. She let us stay at her house when we just moved here. She took our family in when we needed help the most. The least you can do to thank her is to give it a try.”

Violet remained silent for quiet some time. “Fine, okay.” She finally replied and decided she had no other choice.

            Her mom pulled into the large driveway and turned the key to the car. “You go on inside while I go pick Jimmy up from school, I’ll be home in half an hour.” She said and opened the garage with a button. Violet nodded, picked up her backpack and went inside the blue and white house.

                               ***

            “Come on Violet, go, GO!” Kit’s voice came booming through the crowd’s cheer. The pool deck was filled with screaming and yelling supporters.

            Violet was in the pool, fourth lane, swimming backstroke. Her lungs were working hard and pumping air into her tired system. She was breathing hard and her muscles were aching, almost numb from the hundred-meter sprint. The water was no longer cold against her fingers, but warm and heavy. She did her second flip turn and through her goggles, she could see another girl swimming ahead of her in next lane.

            As she turned, and resurfaced, she could see Sammy standing at the edge of the pool, mouthing words she couldn’t make out. All she could hear was her own breathing and the watery sound of when her hands hit the water.

            With one lap more to go, Violet pushed harder and sped up for the hardest sprint home. Slowly, she passed the girl next to her and left her behind in the bubbles. With one more sneak look back underwater, she touched the wall mat that tapped in her time and looked up.

            “…and we have our unofficial winner in lane number four, Violet Geminus from Oceanside High School,” a deep, rumbling voice from the speakers boomed out into the cheering crowd.

            A combination of relief, excitement and exhaustion ran through Violet as she panted for air with a smile on her face. She pulled herself out of the pool and gave a big hug to all her teammates who were standing by her lane.

            “Good job Violet!”

            “Go Violet!”

            “Nice race Geminus!”

            Violet nodded her gratefulness to everyone and grabbed her towel to dry off. She took her cap and goggles off and shook her hair around.

            “Oh my god,” Sammy ran up to Violet with an excited face. “You were amazing! Congratulations!” It was hard to tell who was more out of breath, Sammy or Violet.

            “Thanks Sammy,” Violet gave her a big hug, in her towel.

            “I’m so proud of you!” Her heart filled with warmth as her friend beamed at her.

            “My little Geminus,” a voice bellowed from a table near by. She looked past Sammy and saw her smiling couch. Violet said a quick “be right back,” to her best friend and ran to the coach’s table.

            “Great job out there Geminus,” a big-boned man gave her a high five. “You broke your personal record. 1:00:12.”

            “I dropped five seconds Steve!” Violet gasped and clapped her hands together. “I’m so close to breaking a minute! Just another twelfth of a second to go!”

            “Great, great job. Your practice has paid off, you might qualify for CIF this year,” Steve said, and checked his stopwatch again. There was another race going on with Oceanside swimmers, so it was hard for him to multitask. “Now go warm down Champ!”

            With a nod, Violet ran off to the warm up and warm down area. She jumped in for a relaxing swim in the cool water. After doing four laps, she looked up when she touched the wall and saw Kit looking down at her.

            “Did you hear me cheering for you?” She asked with a big smile.

            “I told you before, I can’t hear anything when I’m racing!” Violet laughed, getting out from the pool again.

            “I bet you’re lying, I was yelling. No. I was screaming!” Kit laughed back. “Just pretend you heard me."

            "Alright," she smiled. "I'll pretend." 

 

Part III

Mrs. Geminus patted Violet on the head. “I’m so proud of you darling. Remember when we first moved here, you could hardly float!” She laughed, her long black hair slightly bouncing on her shoulders. Violet remembered her pale, white, weak self just a few years back.

Now she was tan, strong, and had lighter brown hair, bleached by the sun and chlorine water. She had made the varsity water polo team and swim team as a freshman. She was a one of the best athletes at her high school even. She felt proud of herself too, but something was missing still.

Violet remembered Valerie from elementary school, how different her life was now. It was queer how similar Valerie and Kit were, and realized how lucky in a way they were. They were both so free, not limited from being so shy. She sighed, but focused on her success.

“Mom, can you do me a favor?” Violet asked, suddenly inspired.

“Of course, anything for you,” she replied as she turned on the stove.

“Do you think you can call my old school in New York and ask them for Valerie’s contact information?” She wanted to reconnect with her old friend.

“Valerie?” Her mom’s voice was filled with surprise. After a while, she sounded like she remembered and said slowly, “I think you might have mentioned her a couple times before, sure,” Mrs. Geminus poured some oil into a heating pan.

“Thanks so much,” Violet said, and she went to her room. Upon closing the door, Valerie went to her desk and pulled out a notebook with her doodles and grabbed a pen from her drawer. Whenever she had nothing better to do, Violet picked up the habit of drawing things. Her middle school wolf mask was sitting above her closet, gathering dust.

She mindlessly continued her drawing in her English class the next day when the teacher was mumbling on about Greek Mythology.

Violet had laid her head down on her desk, still scratching her black, inky pen along side of her notebook paper. Every few minutes or so, she would jot down a few bullet points for notes.

“Besides all the Zeus, does anybody else know any other Gods and Goddesses?” The teacher sat on his desk and crossed his arms.

“What about Artemis, Mr. Harley?” Someone in the class suggested.

“Excellent,” Mr. Harley replied and clapped his hands together in relief that some students were actually paying attention. “Artemis is a very interesting one, she being the Goddess of the Hunt and Moon. She was a self-made goddess, when she crawled onto her father, Zeus’ lap and asked him to support her plan to be a huntress goddess. Artemis also had a twin brother, Apollo and even helped his birth.” He paused and Violet shifted herself to an upright position, now listening and wondering how so many things can make one person.

“She had two sides to her. Artemis was sweet and loving, but she had a cold, and unforgiving side as well. She turned Actaeon into a stag and set her hounds on him at one point. But enough about Artemis, let us talk about Circe.”

Violet had laid her head down again and counted the time remaining in class. The clock seemed to tick but every minute forward was like going two minutes back. The class dragged on, and by lunchtime, she had filled up her paper with small doodles, making one big collage.

***

            “Oh, you’ll like my house,” Violet said as Kit walked besides her to her car. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen my room yet even though we’ve known each other for three years!”

            “Or maybe, someone just didn’t want me over,” Kit joked and smiled. Violet laughed back and unlocked the door to her black mustang. They both got in and she started the car, emitting a purring sound into the air. Violet pulled out of the parking lot and drove towards her home.

            “You’ll like my mom too, many of my friends do,” Violet continued as Kit played with the radio dial.

            “I hope she likes me too,” Kit said and settled on a rock station.

            “Don’t worry, you’re great with people! She’s a writer, didn’t you say you wanted to be a writer too at one point?” Violet asked, stopping for red.

            “That’s awesome, what kind of writer? I want to be a journalist one day.” She replied.

            “She’s an author, so a bit different, but it involves writing!”

            “Hmm…author? I think I wanted to do that when I was in middle school, but then I found out you don’t get to talk to people as much. I think a writer would suit you better,” Kit smiled, “In a good way, of course.”

            “You know, I’ve thought about it before, but I might want to go into art.” Violet replied and pulled onto her street.

            Kit immediately smiled, “I can imagine that.” They drove into the wide driveway and she took her keys out. “Wow, you live here?” She stared at the beautiful, blue and white house.

            Violet nodded, “Its nothing, really,” she said, being humble. They both got out of the car and opened the dark wooded front door.

            “Mom?” Violet called out as soon as she walked in. There was no answer and she put her bag on the couch in the living room. “You can just put your things down over here.” Kit followed in pursuit and dropped her books onto the white couch.

            “Mom, are you home?” Violet called out again. Silence. She shrugged and turned to her friend. “I guess she’s not home right now. We can do something else and I’ll introduce you when she gets back,” she told Kit.

            “Sounds good to me,” she replied. “Lets go see you room!”

            Violet led Kit upstairs and turned a corner. Her white door was closed when they reached it. She turned the knob and flicked the light switch. Kit smiled immediately. There was a big bed in the middle of the room, with an extremely intricately designed green and white blanket on it along with five blue and white pillows. Her walls were painted light blue and on the ceiling, there were tiny, medium and large, glow-in-the-dark stars.

            “Violet, I love your room! It’s so…you!” Kit exclaimed as she turn in circles, noticing a large vanity with jewelry, make-up, and different kinds of sprays on it. There were water polo and swim pictures stuck to the vanity mirror. “Look, its us!” Kit pointed to a buddy picture they took at school on picture day.

            “I’m glad you like it,” Violet said happily and sat on her bed.

            Kit walked around the spacious room and noticed the four, mirror-sliding closet. She pulled it open, making a big sliding sound.

            The garage door sound filled the house and Violet jumped off her bed. “That would be my mom, I’ll be right back,” she said and ran downstairs.

            There was a second buzzing sound as the garage door closed and a door opened. Her mom was carrying her handbag and set it down on the bar table, not noticing Violet coming down the stairs.

            “Hi mom,” Violet said, making her mom jump.

            She looked worried and slowly said, “Violet.”

            Immediately, Violet felt something was wrong. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

            Her mom just stared at her, as if trying to see through her to the other side. “I called your old school in New York.” She stated, turning away from her confused daughter.

            “Okay, thanks, and…?” Violet said, not seeing the problem.

            Her mom struggled to find her voice again. “There is no record of a Valerie Ceter.”

            If Violet was confused before, she was now bewildered. “What?” She asked, disbelieving. “But…are you sure? Maybe she was under a different name?”

            Her mom shook her head. “They tried everything, every different name possible for Valerie and came up with nothing. There was never record of a Ceter family. No signatures, no contact information, no registration.”

            Violet stood in her confusion. “How is this possible? She was at our house when I said good-bye! I told her I was moving to California.”

            She shook her head, her long black hair swaying back and forth. “There was no one there, sweetie.” She sighed and continued, “I made a call to Rivers Middle School and Oceanside High School.”

            “Why would you call them? Obviously they wouldn’t have Valerie’s number.” She replied, placing her hands on her hips.

            “I didn’t call for Valerie. I called for Sammy and Kit. I asked for their information.” Her mom’s voice started to shake a little.

            “But…I already have their number,” Violet said slowly, not quite understanding where this conversation was going.

            “You don’t understand Violet. You said there was a Valerie when there wasn’t. Now you say there’s a Sammy and a Kit. I had to check!”

            It hit her all of a sudden. “You don’t believe that Sammy and Kit exist either?!” Violet was completely outraged. She could feel the anger seeping through her. “You think I’m crazy?”

            Her mom put her hand to her mouth and shook her head. “They have no information on Kit Eadem…but they did have a record for Sammy.”

            Violet was shocked into silence. She didn’t know what to say, ideas were shooting across her mind, none of them making sense. “But- I-She. Kit is real! You’re making me sound insane!” She yelled, “I can prove it! She’s upstairs!” Violet never ran so fast before in her life and sprinted up, taking three steps at a time until she reached her door. She ran into her room.

            “Kit! Come quick!” Violet bursted out and suddenly realized her room was completely silent. Kit was not there. “Kit, stop messing with me. I need you!” Her eyes were tearing up from disbelief and denial. It felt like her life was crashing all around her, her memories, friends and family were all crumbling. Her legs gave out under her and she spent the minutes kneeling on the ground in her room. The line between reality and fantasy blurred.

 

Part IV

Days started passing like colorless shadows, events stuck together, not clear of what came first. The emptiness in Violet numbed her emotions and the cold air at the doctor’s office wasn’t helping much either.

A strong-built man, wearing a white lab coat that had a “Dr. Nuntius,” tag, stood in front of them. He was holding a clipboard and a pen in his hand. The smell of rubber, metal and hand sanitizer filled the room giving it a plastic chill along with a deafening silence.

Dr. Nuntius cleared his throat and closed the door. He shuffled around his papers and sat down in a chair, facing Violet and her mom. He cleared his throat again, “I’m sorry to say that your daughter has a mild case of Dissociative Identity Disorder.”

There was a moment of silence to let the news sink in before Mrs. Geminus realized she didn’t know what it was. “What exactly is that, Doctor?” She asked.

“It’s a psychiatric disorder in which a person displays multiple distinct identities or personalities, in other words, alter egos. In the past, its been called Multiple Personality Disorder.” He replied slowly, making sure Violet’s mom could understand clearly.

“Multiple Personality Disorder…”She repeated to herself, as if saying it would make her understand and discover the cure to it. “I don’t quite understand.”

Dr. Nuntius pulled his chair closer to the two and put his clipboard down in his lap. “You have said that Violet has been hallucinating? Two girls, I believe,” he flipped over his paper, and tilted his head for a better look. “Valerie Ceter and Kit Eadem?”

 Her mom nodded sadly.

“Then I believe, since she has a mild case, that Valerie and Kit are, if I’m not mistaken, projections of herself. In other words, Valerie and Kit are Violet. She is seeing herself.” He looked directly into Mrs. Geminus’s eyes. “The usual case of Dissociative Identity Disorder involves the patient themselves, being the alter egos. Violet’s case, on the other hand, is a little different, she is them, but at the same time, sees them as individuals too. Everything Valerie and Kit did, Violet actually did.”

Violet looked up for the first time. “How can I be three people at one time?”

Her mom and doctor looked at each other and gave her a sympathetic look. Mrs. Geminus put a hand on her shoulder. “Is it treatable? Can we cure it?” She asked, deep, troubled-worry lines appeared on her smooth forehead.

“Unfortunately, there is no direct solution. Her problem is not the simplest “common cold,” to treat. We do, however, have a number of techniques to attempt to suppress the worst of the symptoms.” He looked down at the clipboard again, adjusting his glasses.

“What are our options?” Mrs. Geminus asked. She was ready to jump into anything that would have a chance in helping her daughter.

“Well, first we have psychotherapy, which is a type of therapy we use for disorders similar to Violet’s. I suggest individual therapy as opposed to family therapy. It will be much more beneficial on her recovery.” Violet’s mom listened intently.

“Second, we will have to put her on antipsychotics for the hallucinations. It will be a small dose every day, and will not be a major problem for her everyday functions.” Dr. Nuntius stated.

Mrs. Geminus nodded slowly and put a hand to her mouth to contain emotional outbursts. The horrible thought came over her and she struggled to find words. “Will she- do you think- is she going to have to go to a…”

Dr. Nuntius seemed to understand her fragmented sentences. “Usually, yes, but in this case, Violet will not need to go to a psychiatric hospital. She will do just fine at home since she is not a threat to herself or anyone else.”

Violet’s mom breathed a loud sigh of relief and looked over at her daughter. Violet had looked back down at her lap and was sitting quietly, without making a sound.

“I would suggest she stay at home, give her some rest. Every once in a while let her take a walk in the backyard, around the neighborhood. We wouldn’t want to keep her locked up in a room, that will only make things worse.” After she nodded, Dr. Nuntius got up and pulled a paper out of a drawer. The scribbling of the pen on paper was the only sound in the room.

“Here is the antipsychotic prescription. Take it twice a day, no more than three,” he instructed. “Take this card too,” he handed her a small, white business card. “It’s the therapist where Violet will be spending most of her time at. I’ll give them a call and set up some appointments.”

Mrs. Geminus stood up with Violet by her side, and tucked the papers into her small, black purse. “Thank you, Dr. Nuntius.” She managed a barely passable smile.

“Call in if you need anything, and I do mean anything,” he replied kindly. He closed the door behind him as they exited.

                ***

On the plain, wooden table, there was color everywhere. Dark navy blue, aqua green, faded cream, yellow, orange and bright red paints were splattered everywhere. Paint buckets were left open, giving the air a new, chemical-like smell. Paintbrushes of all different kinds of sizes lay sprawled out, some dried, some sitting in glass bottles of water.

The backyard didn’t look like a pool styled relaxing area anymore, instead, it looked like a half-finished project without any hint of organization. The water in the rock pool trickled peacefully in the bright, green tree’s shade.

Violet sat in the garden chair with a big brush in hand. Her arm was lifted to the colorful canvas, which was set on an easel. She was painting the multicolored reflections of the transparent, green and white bottles in front of her.

“She’s good.” Mr. Geminus stood by the screen door that looked out to the spacious backyard. His arms were crossed as he stood by his wife.

“She’s better than good,” Mrs. Geminus stated. “Sometimes I wonder if there was anything we could have done to prevent this. Dr. Nuntuis explained that sometimes stress triggers it.”

He shook his head, “No, don’t think like that. Look what it’s made us realize, we can’t force a life onto her, she needs to decide herself.” He watched as Jimmy ran around on the green grass with their young golden retriever. Once in a while, he would go peak at his sister’s artwork.

Mr. Geminus opened the door and stepped into the backyard. He walked towards Violet and the golden-maned dog came running up to him. He patted him on the head. “Good boy, Miles.” Miles ran off again to join Jimmy’s fetching game. Mr. Geminus pulled up a chair besides the painting Violet.

“Hey honey,” he said softly, watching as she made a gracious stroke of dark green.

“Hi dad,” she replied and put her brush down. “Does this look right to you?” She pointed at the white shine on her painted glass bottles.

“Hmm…” he focused on her picture, “I think, it’s perfect.” He smiled.

Violet’s face lit up with a smirk, “Thanks dad.”

“Say, why don’t you paint your reflection on the bottles?” He pointed to the still life in front of them. “When you lean in like this, you can see yourself on the bottles,” he noted.

Violet bent in, and sure enough, she saw her own brown eyes and olive skin in the reflection. She sat back in her chair again. “Well, because I keep moving around, my reflection doesn’t stay the same when I paint.”

Her dad didn’t reply for some time and sat in his chair. After a silence, he said, “You know, when I’m acting, I’m playing a different character. I speak someone else’s words, feel other’s emotions and look different. But at the end of everyday, when I take off the make up, and talk without script, I remember that I am nobody else except for me. We may always look different, even our reflections. Not every photo taken is the same, but it doesn’t mean we become different people.”

Violet listened intently and fiddled with her paintbrush. When she didn’t say anything, her dad continued. “Look at the bottle, what do you see? Look carefully.”

She bent forwards again, tucking her long black hair behind her ears. She saw the same milky brown eyes she’d seen for her whole seventeen years. Her eyebrows were dark and curved, like her mother’s. Then she saw Valerie’s rosy cheeks and Kit’s pink lips. “I see…myself.” She replied after a long thought.

“Exactly,” he said, leaning in a little, to look at her reflection with her. “You see Violet, the shy, quiet, and intelligent one. My daughter.”

“But I also see Valerie, the dancer, the outgoing one, and Kit, the athlete, people-loving, fun one.” Violet couldn’t help but saying. She tore her eyes away from the bottle and stared at her painting.

“We all have a little bit of someone else in us, Violet. It’s okay if it doesn’t all make sense to you right now. That’s what life is sometimes: a journey to find and understand ourselves. Why do you think I love acting? Why do you think your mom loves writing?”

Violet looked up at her dad and remembered the happiness in his eyes when he was on stage or in a scene. Her mom had gone days without leaving a room because of multiple stories. She nodded, understanding her dad’s message. “But dancing and swimming hasn’t made me understand myself,” she realized.

            “Because those weren’t your own choices, were they?” Her dad folded his hands together.

            “No, they weren’t. But what if I can never find that road meant for me? What if I can never find who I am?” She asked, thinking of the worst.

            “Honey, I think you’ve already found your road,” he said, looking at her beautiful, reflection painting. She too, looked up at the canvas and noted that she felt better than she had ever felt before. She had put so much care into the delicate shades of green light shining through the different-colored bottles and shadows that she realized she had just painted her emotions.

***

            It was just a small rumbling at first, but then it got louder, and soon, it grew into a loud roar. The mail truck slowly rolled up the block and stopped every few seconds to drop off some papers in each black box. It roared back to life as it pushed further up the hill, finally reaching the ivy covered black mailbox. The mailman grabbed a bundle of letters and placed them inside. He got back into the car and drove off again, leaving an echo of rumbling throughout the neighborhood.

            Violet heard the loud noise of the engine and ran outside with no shoes on. She pulled open the box and grabbed the handful of envelopes sitting inside, waiting to be ripped open. She shuffled the white papers around until she found the one she had been looking for. She dropped the other letters on the ground from nervousness and tore open the one cream envelope that remained in her hands.

Office of Admissions

March 22, 2011

Dear Violet,

            Congratulations! You have been accepted to Pratt Institute as a New Freshmen in the Bachelor of Fine Arts program in Interior Design for the Fall 2011 semester! We hope you will join out exceptional community of artists, designers, architects, and writers…”

Without reading the rest of the letter, Violet let out a scream of happiness and ran back inside her house. She skipped into the living room and found her mom sitting on the couch, with her laptop propped up.

“Mom,” she said, her voice was shaking with excitement. She thrust the letter into her mom’s lap. Mrs. Geminus gave her daughter a curious look and picked up the face down paper. Violet watched as her mom’s eyes moved from left to right, scanning the document. Slowly, a smile appeared on her face. The next moment, Mrs. Geminus was up, off the couch and giving Violet a big hug.

“Congratulations Violet, I am so proud of you!” She took a step back from the hug and looked at her beaming daughter. “I can’t believe it, I’m so happy for you!”

Violet laughed and nodded, “The only problem is that it’s a little pricey.”

Mrs. Geminus shook her head, “Didn’t you read the whole thing?” She picked up the paper from the couch and pointed at the words “…scholarship of $11,000 a year…”

Violet’s eyes grew wide, “That a lot of money!” she exclaimed and leapt into the air, yelling with joy.

“We need to celebrate!” Her mom announced, already grabbing the phone from across the room. She dialed some buttons. “I’m calling your dad, then your aunt, then Sammy’s mom, then your grandparents…” And so on and so on.

Violet just smiled widely. She picked up the letter her mom had put on the couch and placed it on the fridge with a magnet. She jumped around and skipped outside to the breezy and sunny backyard. She twirled around in circles and skipped around while Miles wagged his tail and barked in excitement with her.

 

Part V

(Conversation #0012.2009. Recorded previously.)

            Dr. Sana: How are you feeling, Violet? -No response-

            Dr: Violet, will you look at me? -No movement-

            Dr: -Sighs- Can you tell me what your name is? -Shrugs-

            Dr: Is your name Valerie?

            Violet: Possibly.

            Dr: Are you Violet Geminus?

            Violet: Only sometimes.

            Dr: Tell me, what’s on your mind? Go on, tell me what your thinking. Help me out.

            Violet: I thought…they were my friends. I thought…they were…real.

            Dr: But they are real, they are you. Do you understand?

            Violet: I don’t know, whom are you asking? Valerie, Kit or Violet?

                        (End of recording.)

(Conversation #0072.2010)

            Dr. Sana: I heard you and your family went to Chicago for Christmas this year. How was that?           

            Violet: It was okay, I guess. A lot of family members were there.

            Dr: Were you glad to see them?

            Violet: Some kept staring at me like I was some kind of circus freak.

            Dr: I think they’re just worried about you. You’re lucky to have such a caring family.

            Violet: Well, I don’t feel lucky. I want everybody to stop treating me like this. I’m not sick.

            Dr: You have to earn that trust first. Give it some time, and do your best to stay on track of things, like your diet and activities you do. What do you like to do on your own time?

            Violet: -Pause- I like to draw.

            Dr: Good, art therapy is very therapeutic for almost about anyone. Are you drawing daily?

            Violet: Yes, everyday after lunch. It makes me feel better, I don’t know why.

            Dr: Art is a form of self-expression, it’s like writing, or singing even. �"Pause- Do me a favor and keep up the drawing will you? Try some paint, charcoal and clay even.

            Violet: Yeah, I think I’ll try that.

                        (End of recording.)

(Conversation #0124.2011)

            Violet: I think I found out what I need to do.

            Dr. Sana: And what is that exactly?

            Violet: I need to go back to New York…to find myself.

            Dr: When you say, “find myself,” what do you mean?

            Violet: To be honest, I don’t think I know myself completely yet. I want to go back to where I spent my childhood. I want to see if there are parts of me that were left behind.

            Dr: -Nods- It seems like to me that you have taken the reins to your own life. You’re in charge now.

            Violet: It’s a good feeling.

            (End of recording.)