Jessica Sorensen: The Probability of Violet and Luke

“Since she talked to the detective on the phone,” I say, sitting down beside on a barstool beside him, my eyelids so heavy I can barely keep them open. I drove straight here, barely making stops to put gas in the truck and I’m ready to crash, sleep off the last day.

“Did it… Was it…” He struggles, nervously glancing around at the kitchen area, which is decorated with art, probably Trevor’s. “Was it about Mira?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him with a shrug. “She won’t talk about it, whatever it is. But the detective I talked to briefly said it might be best if I took her somewhere away from Laramie for a while.” I lower my head onto the countertop, the coldness of the surface feeling good against my warm skin. “Jesus, I have no idea what to do. She’s scaring me…”

My father puts his hand on my back and I jump, but don’t shove it off. “Go get some rest and then I’ll help you talk to her in the morning. I’ll help you, Luke… I’m here for you…”

There are a million things I want to say at that moment, some rude and some nice, but all I say is, “Thanks.” Because I’m tired.

Then I get off the stool and go up to the guest room, ready to collapse in the bed. But instead I find Violet standing by the window, staring out at the street with her arms folded across her chest. I let out a nervous breath and cross the room to her, hesitating before I wrap my arms around her.

She doesn’t fight me, doing the opposite and leaning against me, as if I’m the only thing that’s holding her up. “They found evidence that might help the arrest with your mom,” she says quietly. “But they have to find her first.”

“Wait a minute? Find her?” I slant to the side to look her in the eyes. “She’s not at the house?”

She shakes her head, refusing to make eye contact with me. “And the landlord and neighbors said she hasn’t been there for a while.”

My arms tighten around her, worried that she’s suddenly going to push away and run, like she did a couple of months ago. “We’ll find her,” I promised. “No matter what it takes.” I kiss the back of her head and she nuzzles into me. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“There’s more.” Her voice sounds so hollow, the moonlight reflecting the pain in her eyes, so overwhelming, almost as if the pain possesses her. It’s a look that’ll haunt me forever. “It’s about Preston and my parents… well, my mother anyway.”

“Okay.” I have no idea where this is going, but I prepare myself for something extremely bad, because of how she reacted in the car and the look on her face right now.

“Apparently that’s not even Preston’s real name… and he had all these pictures of me and my family in this little room under the house that I’d always thought he kept drugs in…. and he might have been somehow connected to my mother’s drug dealer back when she was doing drugs because he lived in the same area… something I didn’t know until now...” A tear slips from her eye and she doesn’t bother wiping it away. “Which not only means that my mother wasn’t who I’ve been thinking she was my entire life, but that Preston might have something to do with their deaths… the detective said it’s more likely that it’s coincidental and that he’s more of a stalker than a murderer…. But fuck… what if he is… what if he had something to do with it… “ Another tear and then another. “All that time I spent with him… those things I did… God, I think I’m going to be sick.” That’s when she starts to cry, tears pouring out of her eyes as her legs give out on her.

Tears burn at my own eyes. Jesus, life is so unfair. So cruel. To put one person through this much. Holding her weight for her, I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the bed. I can’t even think of anything to say because there are no words that exist for moments like these. Honestly, I can’t even believe it’s possible. How can one girl’s world be so shattered. So broken. So painful. I want to take all of it for her—I would in a heart beat if I could. But instead I have to lie here with her in my arms and listen to her break apart, just like I did a couple of months ago when we found out about my mother. And eventually, my own eyes start to water.

“How can they be sure?” I ask, fighting to keep balance in my voice. “The police, I mean. They’re going to find out if he had anything to do with it or not, right?”

“Yeah.” She buries her face in my chest. “What if he is… what if I let him touch me the way that he did and that whole time he took they’re lives...” Her hands find the bottom of my shirt and she grips tightly. “I can’t deal with anymore of this…” She sucks in a breath, then another. “Pain. I’m so sick of having no one… of having every relationship ruined.”

My arms tighten around her and I hold her with every part of me. “No matter what happens, I’m going to be here for you.”

She presses her face closer to my chest, balling herself up against me. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.” It’s hard to hear her through the crying, but the soft utter of the words are enough that a few tears escape my eyes. I want to wipe them away so she can’t see me falling apart, but I don’t want to let her go either.

“I promise.” I mean it more than I’ve meant anything. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you.”

I want to tell her right there that I love her, but know it’s in no way the right time. So instead try to show her, holding her and letting her cry, vowing to myself to try and find a way to take some of her pain away, no matter what it takes.