‘She has cancer and is going back in for chemo and it’s not exactly fun times at Ridgemont High if you know what I mean. Feels like she’s been sick forever, which I suppose is not a bad thing as we were told she will always have it.’
‘Oh wow, Violet, I didn’t know. I’m really sorry to hear that. That must be so tough.’ A whole new person is taking shape here.
‘We celebrated her 45th birthday last week tho, which was incredible. She got told she was dying when she was 34, so you do the math.’
‘How is the rest of your family doing?’ I ask, genuinely curious. I’m ashamed to realize that I never thought of Violet, or any of them, having another side to themselves, beyond their ardour for Ted.
‘Well, it’s just me really. No dad or sibs. There was a couple of Mum’s girlfriends but they’ve been out of the picture for a while.’
‘I’ve no dad or sibs either,’ I write.
I picture Violet in her Adelaide bedroom, drawing what she needs out of the squabbling, thirsty squealing and gossip on the forum. She has a mum that’s less than ten years older than me.
‘Hey, look, I don’t know how you feel about this but maybe we could Skype?’ I type.
Violet goes silent for whole minutes. Perhaps in asking about going on Skype, I have crossed a Tedette boundary that I didn’t even know was there.
‘Right on,’ she eventually writes back. ‘Soz, forgot my password there for a second.’
We connect on Skype, and finally I see Violet face to face, or as face to face as I will ever see her. It becomes quicklyapparent that the profile photo she uses on Facebook was taken several years ago. She must be close to twenty stone. Her entire body fills the screen. And she appears to be in her twenties, and not a teenager, as she led us to believe? From what I can see over her shoulder, the room is bare, nondescript, white. It could be anywhere in the world, any kind of life.
‘So that’s you.’ She appraises me with a shy smile.
‘This is me.’ I shrug. ‘You all right?’
‘Huh. Yeah.’ We both realize that this is a bit weird: two strangers talking together who have little in common but an appreciation for another stranger.
Violet starts absentmindedly tugging at a single hair, only stopping when it comes free from her scalp. ‘I guess. I just feel so sad for Ted, you know?’
‘Sad?’
‘Well, he’s always gonna have these vultures who are just all about the power and the money and the fame.’
I find myself nodding strenuously. ‘I’m not sure I’m all that thrilled about Ted Levy becoming this famous,’ I admit to Violet.
‘Me too! I don’t think it will work in his life. It’s not who he is. He never wanted to be famous. Ever. I know for a fact that the idea of fame scares the shit out of him.’
‘I believe you could be right, Violet.’
‘Anyway, what’s your story? Facey says you’re in London. That’s cool.’
Violet is familiar with Essie Marie, the blank slate. Maybe she could stand to know a little more about me.
‘Well, I’m Irish, grew up in Dublin but moved to London as soon as I humanly could, in my twenties. So I suppose I’m almost more British than Irish at this rate!’
‘Whoa, are you in your forties or what?’
‘No, no. Thirty-seven.’
‘What you do for work, Grandma?’
I haven’t the heart to tell her that I am a code jockey, the professional equivalent of licking toilets. ‘Therapeutic services,’ I lie, making sure to sound vague enough so that it could mean anything.
‘Do you live alone?’
‘I live here with my husband.’ I picture Johnny walking into the flat from his night out at this moment, seeing me Skype with Violet. Well, it would shake shit up around here.
‘Oooohh, there’s a husband, is there?’ Violet coos. ‘That’s cool.’
