Violet Grey

Domestic Violence

My name is Violet Grey

Wind whips my curtains into a contortionist dance. It is quite chilly outside, I should close the window, but the sounds of traffic and stolen conversations from the pavement are the only interruption to my solitude. You see, not long ago I packed my bags, changed my name, hair color, social security number and address. I moved lock stock and barrel, from the big house in the suburbs to a studio apartment in Brooklyn, NY.

I am a brunette.

If he found me here, he would poke his finger at me and say, 

“Joyce, just what the hell are you trying to prove?” 

Then he would flash a smile and a shock of hair would fall over his green eyes, before I knew it, the treason in my heart would begin again.

My name is Violet Grey. My social security number is 085-22-4903

I start each day byt deleting somethin of Joyce's.  Two days ago I deleted her email and social networking accounts. When the computer prompt asked if I was sure I wanted to delete the account, I giggled like a school girl and clicked DELETE. Yesterday I deleted her cell phone, without even bothering to listen to any of the messages. I tossed it into the path of a city bound F train.

The ruby earrings will be deleted today. They were the gift from him to her broken arm.

“My Joyce” he said to the doctor in the emergency room, “is the clumsiest woman on the face of the earth.” I must have been clumsy. That’s why I didn’t see the door that broke my nose and why I spilled the hot coffee on my leg.  I can’t remember what I did to crack my ribs, but then memory is such a subjective thing. With taste of fear sharp is on my tongue,  I pick up the damn earrings and throw them right out the window.

I live in Brooklyn. I have two locks on my door.

Tomorrow I will delete the wedding photographs. They are last tangible evidence of us. I intent to burn them in the kitchen sink. I touch the photo on the top of the stack and remember the moment. Our reception, he was just reaching for coffee and laughing, he has a beautiful laugh. Sometimes I swear I can still hear it.

I have never been married.

There is a little park across the street from my apartment building. Every day, I sit alone on a bench near the playground and plan my new life. I like to watch the little children play. I am encouraged by their curiosity for the world.  Yesterday, a tenant from my building, a woman with whom I have exchanged smiles with in the elevator, sat next to me on the bench and bubbled, “My name is Maureen White, but everyone calls me Maury, I live in 2B, I’ve seen you in the elevator " have you noticed that we seem to come and go on the same schedule.”

It’s okay.

 I squinted at her through the glare of the sun, and for the first time, did not hesitate when I said,

“My name is Violet Grey.”

Reviews

[cest la vie]

Fact/Fiction? True an both counts..
I connected to this as I have been Joyce... I love the style this piece was written. Raw, honest, heartbreaking yet once that delete option was chosen, life was chosen..I will continue to read your writes, so please keep inking...
Lynne

[Marie Anzalone]

An intriguing notion- it really can be that easy. It is a shame, though, to have to give up everything about yourslef in order to change. The truth is, we must always sift through what we carry around, and discard what no longer fits. Some Indian tribes believe that every woman should choose her own name when she comes to a place of wisdom in her heart. I think that is what you tried to capture with your writing- some echo of that, above and beyond the escapism of leaving one's name behind to start the new life. There is power in this piece.

There were a few verb tense and POV shifts, so I would gently suggest you reread and watch for them. Doing so will strengthen the impact of the piece.

[Collect-Eye]

My fav phrase was treason in my heart.

[W.k.kortas]

The matter-of-fact tone works very well with the notion of someone who has had to deaden so much feeling--in every sense of the word--just to survive. The notion of connecting with a neighbor in the sunlight, with all of its connotations, at the end of the piece is a brilliant touch. "Elegant" may be an odd term to use to describe the piece given its subject matter, but it is an elegant piece of writing.

[Alz Alz]

LOVE IT. i love how you being with My Name is Violet Grey and how you end with it. Fantastic :)

[Emily B]

excellently written! there is much joy in deleting oneself and beginning again . . . each time we are a little taller and a little stronger than we were in the beginning.

welcome to the cafe! I look forward to reading more of your work

[LJW]

Very cool, extremely compelling with question after question raised and in the end some of them answered, but the answers given were enough.

Modern, compelling, unique, excellent use (not overuse as is often the case) of language, and an ending that is truly a beginning.

More please?

[Doctor JKC]

"The ruby earrings will be deleted today. They were the gift from him to her broken arm."
Priceless.

I recall throwing a wedding ring out the door of the 7 train and another one
into Elliot Bay in Seattle. Throwing is good and satisfying!

A teaser to a big one. I have the same thing said about certain poems/stories.
But you know it justs goes to show it is what it is and that is that.

So good!

Much love, Jack

[bob, small b. aka invs]

this is a very nice piece of writing. sort of a tip of the iceberg look at joyce/violet's life. it makes me want to know more, but as a story, it tells just enough. i'm always happy to hear or read about someone getting out of an abusive relationship. fiction or fact, i applaud the burning bridges and the new life. please post more writing. i enjoyed this very much.

bob

[Phibby Venable]

I love the way the story moves, the relief as the woman erases each thing from her life for a fresh start & also the name! from violent to violet..very fine work.