Sue Grafton: S is for Silence

Violet’s hair was dyed an astonishing shade of red, more orange than red and not even intended to look real. Her eyes were a clear green, and the lipstick she wore was a pinky rose shade. Violet’s lips formed two wide bands across her mouth, as flat as the selvage on a remnant of silk. Her pale skin had an undertone of gold, like fine paper in a book printed long ago. Liza’s complexion was freckled, and she tended to break out at “that time of the month.” While Violet’s hair was as silky as an ad for Breck shampoo, Liza’s ends were crinkled and split from a miscalculation with the Toni Home Permanent Kathy’d given her the week before. Kathy had read the directions wrong and fried Liza’s hair to a fare-thee-well. The strands still smelled like spoiled eggs from the lotions she’d applied.

Violet liked going out, and Liza babysat Daisy three and four times a week. Foley was gone most nights, drinking beer at the Blue Moon, which was the only bar in town. He worked construction, and at the end of the day, he needed to “wet his whistle” was how he put it. He said he wasn’t about to stay home babysitting Daisy, and Violet certainly had no intention of sitting around the house with her while Foley was out having fun. During the school year, Liza ended up doing her homework at the Sullivans’ after Daisy was in bed. Sometimes Ty came to visit, or Kathy might spend the evening so the two could read movie magazines. True Confessions magazine was preferable, but Kathy was worried about impure thoughts.

Violet smiled at Liza, their eyes connecting in the mirror until Liza looked away. (Violet preferred to smile with her lips closed because one of her front teeth was chipped where Foley’d knocked her sideways into a door.) Violet liked her. Liza knew this and it made her feel warm. Being favored by Violet was enough to make Liza trot around behind her like a stray pup.

Breast inspection complete, Violet shrugged herself back into the kimono and tied it at the waist. She took a deep drag of her cigarette, then rested it in the ashtray so she could finish putting on her face. “How’s that boyfriend of yours?”

“Fine.”

“You be careful. You know he’s not supposed to date.”

“I know. He told me and that is so unfair.”

“Unfair or not, his aunt would have a fit if she knew he was going steady, especially with someone like you.”

“Gee, thanks. What’d I do to her?”

“She thinks you’re a bad influence because your mother’s divorced.”

“She told you that?”

“More or less,” Violet said. “I ran into her at the market and she tried to pump me for information. Someone saw you with Ty and ran blabbing straight to her. Don’t ask who tattled because she was very tight-lipped. I told her she was nuts. I was polite about it, but I made sure she got the point. In the first place, I said your mother wouldn’t let you date at your age. You’re barely fourteen… how ridiculous, I said. And in the second place, you couldn’t be seeing Ty because you spent all your spare time with me. She seemed satisfied with that, though I’m sure she doesn’t like me any better than she likes you. Guess we’re not good enough for her or her precious nephew. She got all pruney around the mouth and went on to say that at his last school, some girl got herself in trouble, if you get my drift.”

“I know. He told me he felt sorry for her.”

“So he did her the big favor of screwing her. Wasn’t she the lucky one?”

“Well, it’s over now anyway.”

“I’ll say. Take it from me, you can’t trust a guy who’s hellbent on getting in your pants.”

“Even if he loves you?”

“Especially if he loves you, and worse if you love him.”

Violet picked up a wand of mascara and began to sweep her lashes, leaning into the mirror so she could see what she was doing. “I’ve got Cokes for you in the fridge and a carton of vanilla ice cream if you and Daisy want some.”

“Thanks.”

She recapped the wand and used a hand to fan her face, drying the dramatic fringe of black goo. She opened her jewelry box and selected six bracelets, thin silver circles that she slipped over her right hand one by one. She shook her wrist so they jingled together like tiny bells. On her left wrist she fastened her watch with its narrow black-cord band. Barefoot, she got up and crossed to the closet.

There was very little evidence of Foley in the room. He kept his clothes jammed in a pressed-board armoire shoved in one corner of Daisy’s room, and as Violet was fond of saying, “If he knows what’s good for him, he better not complain.” Liza watched while she hung the kimono on a hook on the inside of the closet door. She was wearing sheer white nylon underpants but hadn’t bothered with a bra. She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and leaned down to fix the straps, her breasts bobbling as she did. Then she pulled on a lavender-and-white polka-dot sundress that zipped up the back. Liza had to help her with that. The dress fit snugly, and if Violet was aware that her nipples showed as flat as coins she made no remark. Liza was self-conscious about her figure, which had begun developing when she was twelve. She wore loose cotton blouses-usually Ship’n Shore-mindful that her bra and slip straps sometimes showed through the fabric. She found this embarrassing around the boys at school. Ty was seventeen and, having transferred from another school, didn’t act stupid the way the others did, with their mouth farts and rude gestures, fists pumping at the front of their pants.

Liza said, “What time are the fireworks?”

Violet reapplied her lipstick and then rubbed her lips together to even out the color. She recapped the tube. “Whenever it gets dark. I’m guessing nine,” she said. She leaned forward, blotted her lipstick with a tissue, and then used an index finger to clean a line of color from her teeth.

“Are you and Foley coming home right afterward?”

“Nah, we’ll probably stop by the Moon.”

Liza wasn’t sure why she’d bothered to ask. It was always like that. They’d get home at 2:00 A.M. Liza, dazed and groggy, would collect her four dollars and then walk home through the dark.

Violet took the bulk of her hair, twisted it, and held it high on her head, showing the effect. “What do you think? Up or down? It’s still hotter than blue blazes.”

“Down’s better.”

Violet smiled. “Vanity over comfort. Glad I taught you something.” She dropped her hair, shaking it out so the weight of it went swinging across her back.

That was the sequence Liza remembered-beginning, middle, and end. It was like a short loop of film that ran over and over. Daisy reading her comic book, Violet naked, and then being zipped into the polka-dot sundress. Violet lifting her bright red hair and then shaking it out. The thought of Ty Eddings was wedged in there somewhere because of what happened later. The only other brief moment that stayed with her was a time jump of maybe twenty minutes. Liza was in the cramped, not-quite-clean bathroom with its moldy-smelling towels. Daisy, her fine blond hair caught up in a barrette, was taking her bath. She was sitting in a cloud of bubbles, scooping them up and draping them across her shoulders like a fine fur coat. Once Liza had Daisy bathed and in her baby doll pajamas, she’d give her the pill Violet left for her whenever she went out.

The air in the bathroom was damp and warm, and smelled like the pine-scented bubble bath Liza had squirted into the rush of running water. Liza was sitting on the toilet with the lid down, watching to make sure Daisy didn’t do something dumb, like drown or get soap in her eyes. Liza was already bored because babysitting was tedious once Violet left the house. She did it only because Violet asked, and who could turn her down? The Sullivans didn’t have a television set. The Cramers were the only family in town who owned one. Liza and Kathy watched TV almost every afternoon, though lately Kathy had been sulky, in part because of Ty and in part because of Violet. If Kathy had her way, she and Liza would spend every waking minute together. Kathy had been fun at first, but now Liza felt like she was suffocating.