After a poorly acted “Issy, I’m so sorry” scene, Issy forgave Lonnie. Lonnie never really forgave Lilly for calling her a “screwing trollop.”
The roommates met in the kitchen the Saturday before graduation. Lonnie and Issy were each getting ready for work. Carly was ecstatic after passing her elective history course. She had taken it for an easy A and then struggled with it all semester. Jane was preparing to go to Henry’s parents’ house for the weekend. They had gone to Jane’s parents’ the prior weekend, and all the roommates were expecting an engagement announcement.
Lilly noticed all were present, so she seized the opportunity for her own announcement.
“I’ll be leaving here after we take state boards in July.” Lilly scrambled eggs as she spoke.
“Now that you’re a rich nurse, you’ll probably get a luxury apartment right?” Issy said.
“No. That’s not what I mean. I’m leaving Jamestown. I’ve written to the World Council of Churches, and I’ve heard back from them. I’m going to Buffalo to speak with someone today. I’m going to Thailand.”
“Thailand?” Carly and Jane repeated.
“Yes, Thailand. I’m going to work in a refugee camp on the Thai-Cambodian border.” She looked up from her frying pan. “It’s no big deal. It’s something I want to do. I’ll only be there a year.” She decided to josh them a little. “Actually, I need to waste a little time. You see, I’m only twenty-one, and I’ve already had my first divorce, so I’m way ahead of schedule. I’ll come back more statistically correct.”
Jane said tentatively, “Are you serious? Isn’t it scary?”
“I’m serious, and scared, and going.”
Lilly saw Lonnie’s smirk and returned a hard stare, telling her silently, “I haven’t forgotten, I’ll get you before I go.”
Driving to Buffalo, Lilly relived the day Lonnie had succeeded in wounding her. She had had an awful day working on the mental health unit. The first class the next morning would bring a comprehensive nursing exam that would make up half her mark.
The textbook and the notebook were open to the appropriate pages, but the words were meaningless. Lilly kept seeing the wild eyes of the man who had attacked her. She didn’t immediately hear the knock on her bedroom door.
“Lilly?” Lonnie whispered urgently as she kept knocking.
Lilly jumped up and opened the door, already wired.
Lonnie rushed in. “He’s downstairs! Your husband … or ex.”
“What?” Lilly recoiled. “What?”
“He said his name is Tony della Robbia. He’s really tall, dark hair, mustache. He wants to talk to you.”
“Tony’s here! He’s here?” Lilly squeaked, sprinting to her closet, then stopping. She turned and opened her dresser, then stopped. “OK, OK, go tell him I’ll be right down. I’m a wreck!” Lilly said as she saw herself in the mirror.
“Don’t worry. Change your shirt and brush your hair. I’ll make him coffee,” Lonnie said kindly.
Lilly descended the stairs gingerly, filled with expectation. She walked around the downstairs in mounting confusion. Lonnie came up the basement stairs carrying her laundry.
“Lonnie?” Lilly asked.
Lonnie sat down and smiled cruelly. “April Fools’.”
Lilly froze. She fought the urge to slap Lonnie.
The other roommates knew something had happened between them, but Lilly was too proud to relate the events and, therefore, admit how desperately she hoped for reconciliation.
Lilly guided her motorcycle to Buffalo trying to forget April Fools’ Day and concentrate on this interview. The thing that gnawed at her was how did Lonnie know that Tony was tall or that he had a mustache? She reasoned he could have grown a mustache so that factoid was inconsequential. But as much as she searched her memory for any mention of Mutt and Jeff jokes or talking about basketball, she always came up empty.
***************************
22. July 1976
The roommates planned a party for the last weekend they were to be roommates. It was a combined goodbye, Bicentennial Fourth of July, Lilly’s birthday, Jane’s engagement, and summer blowout party.
Carly was moving to a two-bedroom townhouse with another nurse. Jane would remain in the house to live cheaply through the summer. Although she had a job as a legal secretary, she was preparing for her wedding. Issy was staying in the house, working at Dunkin’ Donuts. Lilly was worried that Issy was beginning to show a desperate look.
Lilly and Carly had taken state boards in Buffalo that Thursday and Friday, and then Carly had dropped Lilly at Little Valley. Lilly had hoped to say goodbye to Adam th ere.
Lilly and Adam spent their last day together walking the farm. The rolling hills were covered with vines that were all pregnant with unripened fruit. The land had a satiated beauty. From the highest hill, where Adam planned to build, Lilly could not see a single field gone fallow. Every acre seemed to be working, supporting grapes, houses, or dairy farms. The beauty lost some of its comeliness to her. It was too much.
Adam drove her back to Jamestown early Saturday. He had already mourned his unrequited love. For him, her imminent departure was a relief.
Lilly immediately started to gear up for the party. She had sold her motorcycle and amplifiers to one of the other members of her band. Her money had been deposited in a bank with the bankbook safely in Eileen’s care. Her textbooks, winter clothing, and keyboards were packed and stored in Issy’s parents’ basement. Lilly had given all her personal items to Issy.
This was the first weekend in eighteen months on which Lilly had not played in a band. She had avoided alcohol since her indiscretion with Gary. While she sometimes had imagined herself drunk and crazy, she had not been able to bring herself to be either when the time came. She spent her time at parties watching, not unlike the way she passed the time in bars. From this removed distance, she engineered Lonnie’s disgrace.
After returning from Little Valley, Lilly spoke with Lonnie’s “true love” boyfriend in the Army. He called to say he was coming home on leave and was getting a ride from Philadelphia so didn’t know when he would arrive. Lilly never relayed the message.
During the party Lonnie was flirting with a man. Lilly waited until they had consumed sufficient alcohol to cloud their judgment. It was very late and the party was petering out.
Lilly called Lonnie into the kitchen, “Your army boyfriend called. He’s on his way here,” she said with a false slur, feigning inebriation
Lonnie started but then looked at Lilly skeptically. “When? I didn’t hear the phone ring.”
Lilly swayed, then slurred, “I got it on the first ring.”
Lonnie smirked. “You’re really pathetic.” She returned to her companion.
Lilly was up early, waiting on the porch, hoping the GI would arrive before the other fellow left or she had to leave for Buffalo. Issy was driving her to Buffalo and was anxious to leave, but Lilly sent her to get gas. Before she returned, the soldier arrived. Lilly told him she had delivered his message and then sent him to Lonnie’s room. Issy returned, and they walked out to the car. But Lilly ran back in and heard yelling from Lonnie’s room. Lilly waited for a pause and yelled loudly, “Lonnie I’m going now. April Fools’.”
Issy drove her to Buffalo oblivious to the bedlam Lilly had left in her wake.
**************************
23. July 1976
Tony sat on his terrace, drinking in the sunset over the ocean. This was his final night here and until two weeks before, he had never appreciated the spectacular view. His apartment stood empty. Rather than move all the second-hand furniture back to New York, he had tried to give it away and had then thrown away what was left.
He had completed his studies at Stanford. He never felt at home in California. The desperate loneliness of his first few months was long gone, replaced by friends, work, and school, but he had no ties to bind him here.
He planned to return to New York. His company had sent
him on frequent business trips, and they had often included New York. He hadn’t told his parents about these trips if they were midweek, finding that business often filled the short time there.
On one of these trips, when Wednesday stretched until Friday, he had spent the evenings walking around Manhattan. He found Little Italy remarkably unchanged. Other neighborhoods were on the brink of being rediscovered or were amid the urban blight that marked the mid-seventies. The early signs of gentrification, the invasion of artists, was evident in a neighborhood called SoHo. While walking there, Tony noticed a for-sale sign on an abandoned warehouse. The sign itself, a discount store orange lettered sign, indicated the possibility of a cheap deal. He walked around the building, looking for any sign of weakness and then copied the phone number from the sign before returning to his hotel.
When he called the number, he learned that the warehouse owner was anxious to sell to settle with the IRS, which had taken over his bank accounts. Tony was able to change his return flight to Sunday and to start the wheels in motion to purchase the building.
He called the lawyer who had settled the divorce and had handled the marijuana charge so many years ago. On his attorney’s advice, he called a building inspector. The warehouse had a functioning toilet and numerous water spigots and a spray nozzle with floor drains that could be adapted for use as a shower. He returned to California certain that if the closing actually went through, he could turn the place into a home.
The sale finally took place after delays caused by the title search, which had shown the IRS’ interest. Meanwhile, a bank had recruited Tony as a computer engineer. He used the bonus given to him for coming to New York as his architectural fund.
Now, Tony sat on the terrace, admiring the view and contemplating a cardboard box. Tony had packed the possessions he wanted to keep – his books, records, and other personal items. When he came across the box containing Lilly’s things, he had hesitated and then brought it out to the terrace. He opened it slowly and unpacked items one at a time.
Their marriage certificate was still framed. Tony studied the seal of the state of Tennessee and noticed how faltering and young their signatures looked. He looked at the clothing next two sweaters, pastels, blue jeans, and shorts. They looked so small to him, almost like children’s clothes. Then he came to a pair of shimmery gray panties, part of a two-piece negligee. He remembered finding them behind a dresser when he moved to California. He remembered playfully pulling them off and tossing them.
Next came her perfume, Chanel #19. He opened the cap and took a whiff. The scent was soft and light and familiar. Tony felt his chest grip, and he replaced the cap and put it down. He continued with determination. He took out a lunch bag filled with barrettes, some functional, some intricate and decorative. One was covered with rhinestones. He remembered watching her play in the band, the lights reflecting from her barrette, her long wavy blonde hair dancing as she played and sang. He thought of the secretary he had shared with two others. Her hair was long. He decided to give her the barrettes and throw the rest away.
Then he came to a ribbon-tied packet of notes and letters that chronicled their love affair. One plain envelope contained the “you are not a virgin” note, another, the instructions for eloping. Then he opened an envelope he had mailed to her but had long ago forgotten. The note said simply, “Lilly, I love you, Tony.” The envelope also contained a feather. The date on the postmark jogged his memory.
The final item was a photo album. He went through it slowly at first, then more rapidly as the eager young faces, the dumpy apartments, the record of their love began to stab at him. Lilly dressed for work in her nurse’s aide uniform, lounge lizard Lilly, Lilly dressed to play with the band.
He closed the album and sat watching the ocean from the terrace. After a time, he doggedly repacked the entire box and put it in his car for the trip to New York.
*************************
24. March 1978
Lilly sat nervously watching the fields beneath through the airplane window. She thought about her destination: New York, Eileen, home.
Yesterday, she had left Bangkok in a maze of unresolved emotion. She felt a sense of déjà vu, running to Eileen in an emotional burnout. The businessman next to her opened his briefcase to return the papers he had been pondering and take out a John LeCarre novel.
Lilly studied the dates written on the inside of the case cover.
“Troubleshooting,” he answered her unasked question.
“Troubleshooting?” She repeated.
“This is my anniversary, my wife’s birthday, my kid’s birthday, my mother’s birthday, etc.
“Very clever.” She smiled.
“Is New York your final destination?”
“Yes,” Lilly replied with a shudder. “Are you traveling on business?”
“Yes, I do about twenty trips a year. Are you unfamiliar with flying?”
“I shouldn’t be. I’ve been flying for almost twenty-four hours straight.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“Thailand.”
“That’s a journey. Do you mind my asking why you were in Thailand?”
“I’m a nurse. I’ve been working in a refugee camp.”
“Oh, yes. The Cambodians. Very depressing work.” He seemed to understand and went on, “You’ve been fidgeting, and you have a sad way about you. My daughter, Leslie, would call it your aura. She’s seventeen and, as she would say, ‘very into parapsychology.’”
He spoke for a while about his children, and Lilly paid polite attention. Every minute, as New York drew closer, she could feel her jitters getting worse.
The businessman asked her, “Have you been to New York before?”
“Yes, but not in four years.” Lilly’s memory quickly flashed on Tony, and she shuddered again. Lilly turned away. He turned back to his book. The airplane went into a holding pattern over LaGuardia.
Even if Tony still lived in Yonkers, there were 250,000 people there. Besides that, he’d always wanted to live in Manhattan, and the chances of running into each other there were beyond minuscule.
Eileen was waiting for Lilly. Eileen drove through New York rush-hour traffic. Lilly alternated between listening to Eileen jabber about her baby daughter and toddler son and staring at the traffic like a transplant from Mars. Eileen hesitated when they arrived at her apartment.
“Lilly, I’m pregnant. I haven’t even told Everett yet. I’m so upset. I had a tubal ligation when Kara was born. Everett is going to have a fit. We only have two bedrooms and the babies share the little room.”
“Eileen, would it be better if I visited Issy in Jamestown and then came to visit you come some other time.”
“No, Lilly, don’t go. I’m upset, but I could use a friend.”
Eileen and Lilly went inside the building to the La Roches’s apartment. Everett was reading aloud with his son on one knee and baby Kara asleep on his lap.
“Welcome, Lilly. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Hello, Everett.” Lilly studied his diamond-in-the-rough face and thought Eileen was exaggerating his probable reaction.
“Your babies are beautiful – ringlet curls, chubby cheeks. Eileen you two make beautiful babies.”
Eileen snickered. “Come into the kitchen. I’m making sausage and peppers for dinner.”
Eileen led the way. Lilly sat and watched her orchestrate a quick meal with the adroit finesse of a practiced housewife. Jet lag and culture shock made Lilly sleepy in a buzzed-out way. Eileen stopped for a second and reminisced about the time she went to visit Lilly in Yonkers.
“Our places were reversed. You offered to teach me to make gravy.”
“Gravy? I don’t think I could make a boiled egg now.”
“Lilly, are you ever going to remarry? What are you going to do from here?”
Lilly ignored the first question. “Actually, I was thinking of getting a job somewhere for the summer, like summer camp nurse, and then going to th
e Caribbean for the winter, being a nurse to some rich tourists.”
“From the ultra-poor to the ultra-rich,” Eileen commented. “That reminds me. I have your money, or your bank book.”
“I appreciate it. I have to buy some clothes. It’s only thirteen hundred dollars, and I have a check from the World Council of Churches for a thousand. I suppose I’ll have to find something until summer camp starts.”
Why don’t you take a few weeks off? You look awful, so skinny and tired.”
“Jeez, just what I needed to hear.”
Dinner was exciting, with Kara watching from the high chair, occasionally reaching her mother’s plate and throwing a tiny handful of EO’s dinner. Jason spilled his milk, and then while pushing back Kara’s wandering hand, he managed to spill his mother’s milk.
Everett asked Lilly, “Do you think this crew is ready for a fancy restaurant?”
EO groaned. “They’re not ready for McDonald’s.”
The sausage and peppers were too much for Lilly’s stomach, and she vomited after dinner. She woke the next day completely disoriented. Eileen tiptoed into the living room.
Lilly sat up on the sofa and asked, “What time is it?”
“Five o’clock.”
“In the afternoon? You’re joking! How were you so quiet?”
“I brought the kids to visit my mother this morning, and we came back around two. Actually after naptime, they played right here, really noisily. I wanted them to wake you, accidently, of course. But I felt guilty, because if you could sleep until three-thirty, you must be exhausted. So we went for a walk. Now it’s five. My house has never stayed so neat so long with the kids. It’s nice. We’re going to have chicken for dinner. It should be easier on your stomach.”
“My stomach. That’s strange. You’re pregnant, and I have the nervous stomach.” She got up and followed Eileen to the kitchen.
Jason was eating a hot dog cut into tiny pieces and carrots. Kara was sleeping in a wind-up swing.
“I had morning sickness with Kara. More like morning, afternoon, and evening sickness, but none with Jason, and this time I feel great. I really feel like an Earth mother.”
A Yonkers Kinda Girl Page 30
