Acts of Violet(103)
A few minutes ago, I was this close to launching into a rant, spewing everything I’d pent up over the last decade … but what’s the point? She knows she was shitty. Better to tell her something she doesn’t know. So I do. “For so much of my life, people acted like I must be dying of envy having a famous sister. I denied it, because it was mostly untrue, but it was a little bit true. Just not in the way you’d think. I envied how instantly you found your purpose in life, how early it came to you. And how much you loved it.”
“You could’ve become a doctor if you really wanted to.” She dabs at my tears with her sleeve.
“That’s the thing, though. I only said I wanted to be a doctor because every immigrant parent wants their kid to become a doctor. It would’ve made Mom and Dad proud. But it’s not what I really wanted. I didn’t know what that was. My unplanned pregnancy wasn’t an excuse not to pursue my dream. I was kinda relieved I could stay in the suburbs and live a more low-key life.”
“Which is the last thing I wanted.” Hands on hips, she narrows her eyes. “Okay. You wanna know the real reason I left? You want the truth?”
“Why even ask that? Is anybody really gonna say, ‘Actually, no. Jack Nicholson was right: I can’t handle the truth. More lies, please!’ Yes, of course I want the truth.”
“Okay, but you can’t get mad…”
“I totally can, you’re not the boss of me, but tell me anyway.”
“I wanted to beat Houdini.”
“At what?”
“At being a magic legend.” She looks out at the night sky behind me. “Maybe he’ll still be considered the greatest escape artist, but nobody will ever top my vanishing act. That’s gotta put me up there, right? Keep people talking, make sure they don’t forget me? Then again, maybe that’s what Adelaide Herrmann thought, and people forgot her.”
“I think Adelaide Herrmann cared more about the magic itself or she wouldn’t have started a new act in her seventies after that warehouse fire destroyed all her props.”
“You know about Adelaide?” Her mouth opens wide, surprised and impressed, which makes me stand taller.
“A little birdie named Quinn told me about her. And nobody is gonna forget you or Adelaide if she has anything to do with it.”
We sigh in unison.
“I wish you cared more about magic,” she says.
“Me, too.”
Violet gives me a bittersweet smile. “I think we both got it wrong. I was too frivolous with my magic, too showy and obsessed. You were too oblivious of your magic because you were busy taking care of others. My magic made me greedy, and it made others greedy, until I was drained and lost. Ignoring your magic put limitations on your life. Like, you never wanted to talk about what happened in the tunnels.”
“I still don’t love talking about it. Because I still can’t explain it.”
“Something impossible and wonderful happened. Why can’t that be enough? Why be tormented by it when you can enjoy how fucking cool it is? Maybe you can logic away all the weird shit that’s ever happened to you or maybe you are actually extraordinary in ways you can’t begin to comprehend.”
“The thought of that freaks me out. It’s always been easier to dismiss it.”
“But when you dismissed it, you were dismissing me. You pushed me away.”
“You pushed me away first!” With that petulant you-started-it response out of the way, I remind myself that I’m an adult. “You shut me out when you stopped telling me how your magic tricks were done. And all because I told Mom and Dad about what that teacher did to you. No good deed—”
“Hang on, just stop.” Palm in the air, she jerks her head like she’s trying to remove something rattling around inside it. “You think I was punishing you for telling Mom and Dad about that monster who beat on me?”
“Yeah…” I stretch out the syllable like I’m explaining something obvious. “That’s why you wouldn’t share any more of your magic secrets, which, for the record, was the part of your magic I enjoyed the most.”
“Sasha, you dummy. I wasn’t punishing you. You were sweet and innocent, and you shouldn’t have had to see what that asshole did to me. I was grateful you got me away from him.” Her tears run freely, and she doesn’t wipe them away. I let mine flow unimpeded, too. “I stopped telling you my ‘magic secrets’ as a way to thank you. I thought, maybe if I could convince you any of it was real, it would … I don’t know, undo some of that darker shit somehow.”
It dawns on me that our entwined lives have been like one of those optical illusions where you can see two completely different images in the same picture. “Yeah, it didn’t undo anything,” I say. “It just added to my resentment and kept me firmly in my pragmatic bubble. If it couldn’t be explained and I couldn’t figure it out, I didn’t want any part of it.”
“At the same time, closing yourself off to things you couldn’t explain created these invisible borders you refused to cross. But you finally did cross, and now you’re here.”
And now that I’m here, an inner tug tells me it’s time to go.
“I don’t suppose I’ll see you at any future Thanksgivings.” It’s meant to come out jokey but sounds a little heartbroken.