Mom was frowning, distracted. A fly was buzzing at the ceiling.

At a window, another fly. (Or was it the same fly?) (Or were there more than two flies in the room?)

Mom fell silent as if she’d run out of words, and was exhausted. Miriam took up the task explaining to me with twitchy smiles that no matter if Lionel was at home or not I would not be returning home—“Not for a while, Violet.”

Instead, “arrangements were being made” for me to live with my aunt Irma and my uncle Oscar Allyn in Port Oriskany, which was eighty miles away.

I heard these words, carefully spoken by Miriam. But I did not really absorb them for I was waiting for Mom to refute them, and to look at me.

Oh no, Violet. Of course—you are coming home with us. Right now!

These words I wanted so badly to hear, it would seem to me afterward that my mother had actually spoken them in a trembling voice.

Instead Miriam was saying evasively: “Daddy is very upset, Violet. You know how he can get. Right now, it’s pretty extreme. He says he doesn’t want you back home—he doesn’t want to see your face. He can’t get over how you ‘went outside the family’—didn’t tell him about Jerr and Lionel. And claimed you didn’t feel ‘safe’ at home. Police had a warrant to come into the house. They’ve been questioning all of us! Even Mom! We’re hoping Daddy will change his mind—in a while. You know, if Jerr and Lionel don’t get sent away . . .”

Sent away. I might have surmised that my brothers were likely to be incarcerated yet it had not exactly occurred to me that they would be sent away.

“Oh, God”—Mom gave a little cry of pain. She couldn’t remain here in this terrible place, she said. Couldn’t breathe here. She would wait for Miriam out in the car.

This was something that one of us might’ve said, as children. Rick, or Les, or Katie, or me. I don’t like it here, I’ll wait out in the car.

It was not something an adult would say. It was not something our mother would say. Yet Mom said these words in a hurt, petulant voice, and turned, and walked out of the room, unsteady on her feet but with determination.

I followed limping to the door. Helplessly stared after her. I’d been taken by surprise and had not the strength to call after her—Mom! Mommy . . .

“Violet!”—Miriam spoke sharply. “You haven’t been listening.”

“I—I have been . . . I have been listening . . .”