Violet (6 page)

By the time I reach the meadow, David is already
there. His dark form is silhouetted against the brightness of our
moons, and I am once again struck by him. No, certainly someone
like him would never care for someone like me. It would serve me to
simply remove those thoughts from my mind, but every time I look at
him, I remember how it felt when he touched me.

Hearing my approach, David turns to greet me. He
smiles and begins to walk toward me. When we have closed the gap,
he motions to our surroundings and says, “How advantageous, that
we’ve both come to the same clearing in the same meadow on the same
night. Guess it was meant to be.” He winks. Though I’d love to joke
around with him all night, I’m here on a mission.

“David, I need your help.”

His expression turns serious. “What’s wrong,
Violet? Are you all right?”

“Yes, it’s just that… Well, I guess I’m going to
need you to use those spectacular computer skills you’re always
talking about.”

He tilts his head and looks at me skeptically.
“Violet, what’s this about? What do you want me to do?”

I’ve prepared myself for the shock on his face
when I say, “I need you to investigate my father.”

David is apprehensive to say the least. “You
might learn some things that you wish you hadn’t. You won’t be able
to un-see it, Violet. It will never be the same.”

I know that this is true; I often wish that I
didn’t know the truth about what happened on Earth. I can’t feel
that anyone on Cerno deserves what we have because of the methods
our ancestors used to get it. Despite these feelings, I cannot rest
until I know the truth about what happened to me. David senses my
determination and relents.

“If you want me to investigate your accident, I
need you to tell me everything you know about it. I know you told
me it was an accident involving a vehicle. What else?”

I pause for a moment to gather my thoughts. I’ve
made my father tell me how it happened so many times that I can
recite it as if I actually remember.

“It was early in the seasons, just before I saw
my seventh rotation. My father had taken me to Eligo to show me my
mother’s favorite place. She died when I was young. On the way back
to Summus, he was startled by an animal in the road, and turned the
wheel sharply. Our vehicle turned over several times. My father was
unharmed, but I had sustained a severe head injury. I slept,
comatose, for almost two full rotations. Everyone lost hope. They
told my father that it was time that he began to mourn me, but he
would not give up. Then one day, without any signal, I awoke. That
is where my memories begin. I remember that when I opened my eyes,
my father was leaning over me, though I did not know who he was. I
did not remember anything, not even my own name. The dreams began
that night, and I have seldom passed a night without one
since.”

When I finish speaking, David is silent for
several moments. I can almost see him thinking. I remain silent,
too. This must be his decision. I cannot make it for him. He does
not owe me anything, and if he refused, I could not hold it against
him.

“Violet, are you sure you want me to do
this?”

I formulate my words carefully as I respond to
David. “I feel that my father is hiding something pertaining to my
accident. I have attempted to discuss it with him, but I can tell
he is being evasive. I have no choice but to find the information
without his help. Will you help me?”

David nods his head in assent and says, “Meet me
here tomorrow night. If I haven’t found it by then, it doesn’t
exist.”

Since I asked David to investigate my father,
I’ve been able to think of nothing else. The time seems to crawl
by, and I am left to pass the hours with my thoughts. What kind of
person enlists a friend to investigate her own father? I tell
myself that he left me no other option. He is hiding something from
me, and I must find out what it is. Then again, he probably has his
reasons for what he has done. Everything I know about him tells me
that he always has my best interests at heart. He never does
anything without thinking of me. He passed two rotations in a chair
at my bedside waiting for me to wake up, never losing hope. He
still has not given up on recovering my memories. He moved us to
Eligo so I could live a more fulfilled life. Why am I questioning
him now? What do I suspect him of?

Despite the overwhelming feeling that what I am
doing is wrong, the deception that I sense outweighs the loyalty
that I feel for my father. I keep thinking of David’s words. What
if I do learn something and wish I hadn’t? What will I do? How can
I go on living the same life with my father that I have lived for
the past months? Surely he will sense that something has changed.
If he found out what I have done, what would he think? What would
my mother think?

All the hours that I’ve spent postulating have
been for naught; every question has been left unanswered. I do not
know what David has found or if it will change the way I feel about
my father, but I can no longer sit idly by and do nothing. I need
to take control. I haven’t made a decision for myself since I woke
from my sleep, and that will end today. It’s time to meet David in
the meadow. I do not say goodbye to my father when I leave. I am
tired of looking into his eyes and being unsure of what I see
there.

When I arrive, I see David waiting in the
clearing. This time when he sees me, he does not smile. He does not
say hello. When I reach the place where he stands, neither of us
speaks. He sits down on the grass and opens the flap on his bag. I
sit down beside him. Finally, when I feel that I can take the
silence no longer, he speaks.

“Violet, I want to give you one last chance to
back out. I can burn all of this; you’ll never know what it said
and I promise I’ll never breathe a word of it.”

“David—”

“Violet, I don’t think you should read
this.”

Now I am more nervous than ever. So it has
happened. David has found something that he knows will change
everything. I will not be able to live the same life. I will not be
able to look at my father again without knowing what David will
show me.

“It’s too late. I can’t stop now. Tell me what
you know.”

David looks at me and I have never seen so much
sadness manifest in a face. He knows that what he is going to tell
me will hurt me. I can still back out. I have one more moment
before he begins to speak. I let it pass. I can’t live with the
secrets anymore.

“Violet, you didn’t have a car accident.”

I am too stunned to speak. What does he mean? I
slept for two rotations! I can’t remember a thing about my life!
How can it be that there was no accident?

David sees all of these questions on my face. I
can see him struggling to find words for what he will say next.

“Violet, you died.”

There are no words that can describe the emotion
I feel. His words repeat over and over and over again in my mind
and I cannot stop hearing them. I cannot escape them.

“No, David. No, no, no. I’m alive, David. I’m
alive; I didn’t die! What are you saying? Why are you saying this?
David!”

David pulls what looks to be a scan from a news
announcement out of his bag. There is a large photo accompanying
the article, and David points to the photo.

“Isn’t that you, Violet?”

My eyes are drawn to the photo. My father with
his arm around me. A younger version of both of us, but it is
indeed us. My father’s pallid complexion and short haircut are as
they were before his retirement. Now my eyes move upward toward the
headline.
Claro Scientist and Daughter Killed in Accidental
Explosion.

Killed. Killed. Yes, it says killed. It says
that I am dead. It says that my father is dead. And yet we are not.
We are alive. What does this mean?

“Yes… Yes, that is me. That is my father.” I
cannot feel any of my limbs. My entire body is numb. I’m dead?

“But that’s not your name.”

What? I hadn’t looked at the text of the
article, but now I follow David’s finger to a line located in the
first paragraph.
Violet Price.

“No, no, that’s not my last name. My name’s
Massassi.”

Some time ago, when I woke from my comatose
state, I looked at my father, but I did not recognize him. I knew
nothing about myself; my mind was a blank slate. I had vague
knowledge that I was in a hospital bed. I knew basic things like
how to tie my shoes or how to walk, but I didn’t have any of the
knowledge that I needed to understand my identity. I looked slowly
around the room. I looked at my hands, at my legs beneath the stark
white sheet. I looked at my reflection in the mirror across the
room. I didn’t even recognize myself. Nothing about the way I
looked struck a chord with me. It was as if I was looking at a
stranger for the first time. Gradually, I turned to look at the man
standing next to my bed. My father looked at me with kind eyes full
of tears. He smiled; he hugged me tentatively but tightly. I could
feel how much he was holding back, how much he wanted to embrace
me. I was glad that he held back. I did not know this man; I felt
uneasy. He pulled back and held me at arm’s length with his hands
on my shoulders. He was still smiling; he was still crying. I
looked back at him, unsure.

Finally, he said, “Violet.”

I was dumbstruck. This man was a stranger. I had
no idea why I was in the hospital. I had no idea why he was crying.
I had no idea what I should say. So I said, “Is that my name?”

Immediately, his face fell. He stopped smiling,
the happy tears stopped flowing, and all of the color drained from
his face. “Violet, you don’t know who you are?”

“No.” I knew what was coming next, and I didn’t
want to answer. I didn’t want to take away the elation he’d felt
when he saw me open my eyes. I dreaded what he would say.

“Violet, do you know who I am?”

I paused. I didn’t want to hurt him. I looked
down at my hands in my lap. “No.”

It was as if I had struck him. He looked
shocked. He looked dismayed. Soon, the alarm on his face turned to
despair.

“I’m your father.” I did not respond. I did not
look up at him.

He dropped into the chair beside my bed and his
face fell into his hands. His shoulders shook with silent sobs. I
had broken this man, and I didn’t even know him.

As he cried, I looked back into the mirror. I
noted the likenesses in our appearances. Dark hair, fair skin, the
same blue eyes, the same facial structure. Yes, this man could be
my father.

After a while, his shoulders stopped shaking. He
began breathing evenly, trying to compose himself. He stood up,
returned to my bedside, and held out his hand. I shook it.

“Hello. Your name is Violet Massassi. I am your
father. It’s nice to meet you. I am going to help you remember. But
until then, I am going to teach you everything you need to know
about yourself.”

And he did.

But now, as I sit next to David in the meadow, I
am overwhelmed with the impression that my father told me lies.
This says that my name was Violet Price. This says that I died with
my father in a fiery explosion at my father’s lab in Summus. This
doesn’t say anything about a car accident. The story about visiting
Eligo, seeing my mother’s favorite place, spending the day in
remembrance of her; was that all a lie?

“Violet.” David’s voice permeates my jumbled
thoughts.

“Violet, this article says that your name was
Violet Price. You and your father were killed in a chance explosion
at your father’s lab. Everyone, the public, the government, your
old friends, everyone thinks you’re dead, but you’re not. You live
in a remote area of Eligo. You have a new name. You go to a new
academy. Your father has changed his appearance.”

Yes, all of these things are true. I had not
thought it suspicious when my father changed his appearance; I
thought he was just enjoying his retirement. But David is right.
This cannot be coincidence.

“Violet, do you know what all of this
means?”

Yes, I know what it means, but I don’t want to
say it. I won’t say it. I won’t say that my father, my only family,
the only person I could trust, has lied to me. We are supposed to
be dead, and my father never told me why. My father never told me
what we’re hiding from. My father never even told me my real name.
What else has he kept from me in the name of protection? What other
lies has he encouraged me to believe? In how many ways has he
exploited my injury, my loss of memory? I don’t know him at all,
and I certainly don’t trust him.

“You’re fugitives, Violet. Your father, either
alone or working with some other agency, has faked your deaths. We
don’t know why you’re hiding, and we don’t know who you’re running
from, but if your father went to these lengths to disappear, you
can be sure that something very dangerous is going on.”

At this moment, it hits me. What have I done?
Whatever my father did, though I don’t agree with his deceptive
methods, he did it to protect us. I have exposed our whereabouts
and our true identities to David, and perhaps anyone that David
interacted with while doing his research.

“David, I’ve got to tell my father what I’ve
done.”

As if reading my mind, David reaches out to
grasp my hand in both of his. “Violet, you can trust me. I won’t
tell anyone what I’ve found. I’ll burn all of this research. No one
will ever know.” He pauses. “I don’t want you to tell your father
about this.”

I pull my hand from his grip. “Why?”

David breaks eye contact. He sighs; he runs his
fingers through his hair. He gets up and walks to the edge of the
clearing. I get to my feet and follow him. Standing less than an
arm’s length behind him, I say, “David, why don’t you want me to
tell my father what I know?”