Violet rants, “There was this bunch of kids just hangin’ and all of a sudden one of ‘em wearing a hoodie comes out of the pack. A hoodie, in summer? He pulled out a gun and fires shots: bam, bam, into the door! I’m hollerin’ and we’re racing away. Am I bleeding anywhere?”
She feels her sides, again. No sticky red patches. No burning anywhere, but still…
“Turn around,” says Nikki. Violet spins around. Only sweaty wrinkles.
“He was trying to kill you or scare you?” asks Bess.
“I don’t care which. I’m out of this city.”
“Don’t you have in-laws on the south side?” asks Harold.
“Blacks aren’t welcome on that side of town.”
“Landlords are worse there, too,” Bess says, a pained expression showing in the folds of her face.
“Try and slow your breathing,” Nikki instructs Violet.
Violet speeds up. “My sewing bag. Please. The kids’ stuff. You two can have the rest. Harold, basketball court. Find Dominic. I’ll get the other two at camp. Meet you at the park.” Harold whisks himself away, mumbling something about travel money.
The women begin packing. They are all trying to calm themselves with the work at hand. After a few minutes, Violet flies over to the wall where poster board and wood frame pieces are leaning. She pulls out a rectangle frame with backing and carries it back to one of the tables and sets it down.
From her calico pieces, Violet cuts out figures and crazy-glues them to the cotton board. She places the collage carefully in the frame, turns it around and pushes down the support brads. Then she hands Bess a fabric picture of a calico mother gathering a child in her arms. “This is for you.”
“Violet, you don’t have to. Thank you.”
Violet gives Nikki a stack of leather purses and tells her to take whichever she wants and to sell the rest. “I asked the DA about witness protection,” Nikki acknowledges. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s alright! I started it.” Violet is trying to catch her breath. “I only pulled the shop together because… you two loved me when you didn’t have to.”
Nikki looks around the still-life shop: the Ebony faces on the wall, the design magazines scattered around, the silent Singers, and unfinished projects—Barbie doll clothes, kufis, and sun-dust dashiki patterns. Is it chaos awaiting order or order beckoning chaos?
“Do what you want with the shop,” Violet says. All know the Women’s Business Loan will fall through next.
“We can’t do this without you,” Nikki pleads.
To that, Violet answers, “I just catch hold of a color and follow it out into fabric.” To Bess, she says, “Malik—he promised to give things a try—tell him: I see a collage. The poet on a golden day, planting cedar trees by his enchanted river.”
Bess gives the instruction, “I know what you want. Just go and be safe. Make and mend.”
“Get your kids,” says Nikki.
Crows ghost-tap down East Chambers. The shop curtains blink shut and Violet takes flight.
