S Is for Silence

you.”
    “Just tell me what happened. Look, I’m sorry about Violet, but I don’t understand what went on that night. Were you in the house or not?”
    “Kind of.”
    “Meaning what? Somewhere in the neighborhood?”
    “Don’t be a shit or I won’t say another word.”
    “Sorry. I forgot myself. Please go on.”
    There was a pause and then, reluctantly, she said, “Ty came to the house. He parked his truck in the alley and we necked. I was less than twenty feet away so if anything had happened, I’d have been right there. Violet knew he was coming over because we talked about it and she said it was fine.”
    “Good. That helps. How long was he there?”
    “A while. When I finally came in, the bedrooms were dark. I looked in Daisy’s room and knew she was okay. I never thought to check their bedroom. He was probably there if he said he was. Afterwards, I couldn’t admit I was irresponsible so I made up a story about the time. Next thing I knew, this deputy was pressing me for answers so what was I supposed to do? By then, I’d painted myself into a corner and I had to stick to my guns.”
    “Got it.”
    “Good. So now you know.”
    There was a moment wherein she was thinking that the subject was closed and I was thinking we were finally going to get some place. I had a theory and I was gingerly feeling my way. “You went to live with your dad in Colorado, didn’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “I hear that arrangement didn’t work out so hot.”
    “It was short-lived. A failed experiment, but such is life.” She crossed to the kitchen faucet where she dampened a sponge so she could wipe down the counter. Preoccupied, she scooped a few crumbs into her palm and tossed them into the sink.
    “Is this painful to talk about?”
    She smiled briefly. “I don’t know. I’ve never had occasion to talk about it.”
    “The first time we met, do you remember what you said?”
    “About what?” She moved her decorating tips aside, wiping under them as well.
    “Losing Violet and Ty. You said, ‘You play the hand you’re dealt. There’s no point in dwelling on it afterwards.’”
    “I must have been waxing philosophical. It doesn’t sound like me.”
    “Did you get pregnant?”
    Her eyes sought mine. “Yes.”
    “From that night?”
    “First and last time with the guy and boom.”
    “What happened to the baby?”
    “I put her up for adoption. Would you like to see a picture?”
    “Please.”
    She set the sponge aside and reached for the heart-shaped locket, pulling it out from under the bib of her apron. She opened it and leaned forward, holding it so I could see. There was a black-and-white photograph of Violet. She flipped the inner rim, revealing a second frame hidden behind the first. In it there was a photo of a newborn. The baby looked frail and wizened, not one of the worst I’d ever seen but certainly not the best. Liza looked down, her expression wistful and proud. “She was so tiny. I couldn’t believe it when I saw her, how delicate she was. Know what Violet said when she gave me this? She said, ‘That’s for your true love. I predict within a year you’ll know exactly who it is.’ And so I did.”
    “Did you get to hold her?”
    “For a while. The nurse advised against it, but I knew it was the only time I’d ever get to spend with her. I was fourteen years old and my father wouldn’t consider my doing anything else. I should have stayed with my mom. Despite her problems, she was a good egg and would have found a way to make it work.”
    “You have no idea where the baby is?”
    “Probably in Colorado. A few years ago, I wrote her a letter and left it with the agency so if she ever wants to reach me, she’ll have my name and address.”
    “Ty never knew?”
    “I’d have told him, I think, if I’d ever heard from him.”
    “I talked to him.”
    “I know. He called me right afterward and said you’d given him my name and number.”
    “Only your married name. He looked up your phone number on his own, which I think should count in his favor. He said he wrote to you. Did he tell you that as well?”
    She nodded. “His mom probably intercepted his mail. Or maybe the letters reached my mom and she never sent them on.”
    “Or maybe she sent them to your father’s house and he decided not to let you know.”
    “That would fit. What a shit-heel he was. I’ve scarcely spoken to him since. I’m sure he thought he was doing what was best. God save us from the people who