“Why, it’s my pleasure. I’ll be back with more lemonade.” Erica’s mom sets a few paper plates next to the steaming box and heads back across the long backyard, a trim figure in tan and coral.
“Mom’s lemonade sucks,” Erica whispers.
“Oh thank God,” Lily laughs. “I thought I was the only one who couldn’t deal.”
“Does she dump an entire bag of sugar in on top of all the high fructose? It’s so sweet it hurts my teeth.”
“Think we can water the trees with it after she leaves?”
“Maybe it’ll kill the caterpillars.” They both giggle as Erica digs in her bag for the hand sanitizer she carries everywhere. Lily smells lemons and - is it sage? Pine? – as Erica squeezes a glop and rubs it into her palm. She spends a long time on each finger. Lily sees Erica’s knuckles whiten as she kneads the stuff into her palm.
“It smells,” Lily comments.
“Mmm. I’ll get a different kind next time. Lush instead of Bath and Bodyworks.”
“Going green, huh?”
Erica laughs. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”
The lemon and pine smell lurks in Lily’s nostrils as she bites into a sloppy triangle of pizza. The dough is undercooked except for the bottom, charred black from the oven. It’s even worse than the pie at Nationals. Despite the Winslow’s obvious wealth, Erica’s mom always seems to serve the worst food.
Erica bites into her own slice and eyes Lily across the table. They stare at each other for a moment before Erica breaks into more giggles. “I know,” she gasps. “It’s terrible. We can always call for Chinese, though. And soda.”
“Now you’re talking my language.” Lily stops chewing her slice and drops it into the grease Rorschach on her paper plate. “Lo Mein? Or Kung Pao chicken?”
“Both, duh. And egg rolls.”
◆◆◆
Ben, the guy from Rosemont, seems to have appointed himself as Lily’s adviser. He sends her his email and, after a few half-hearted exchanges, asks for her phone number. With a shrug, Lily complies.
Tyler talks about u a lot, he writes. But there’s a bunch of girls who hang round our hall 24-7 and wait for Ty, I’d want 2 no if it was me.
Lily adjusts her towel and rolls onto her stomach. She’s showered off the sweat and chlorine, ready for a night of watching a movie with Vincent and the guinea pigs. Thanks, but it’s fine. I’m not a jealous girlfriend.
Okay. He seems to consider before adding, You should probably come visit so he don’t forget u.
We r talking about it. Her finger hovers over the screen before she adds, Drop a few hints, k?
K. Look 4forward to meeting u.
It’s cold in the air-conditioned bedroom. Lily shivers, towels herself dry, and dresses in sweats and flip-flops. It’s not a good look, but she can peel off a layer if she goes out after the movie Vincent wants her to watch with him.
When she opens her bedroom door, Vincent stands there with Ham tucked under one arm and Lettuce in his hoodie pocket. “How long have you been there?” Lily demands.
“Not long.” Vincent shuffles into her room and sets the pigs down on Lily’s discarded towel. They sniff at the wet spots, and Ham starts to chew the Macy’s label. “I’ll get their playpen in a second. Hey, can we watch Saw? And The Ring?”
“You’ll have nightmares.” Lily plops on the rug and starts to fiddle with Ham’s ears.
“It’ll be worth it, Lily. Please, Lily, please. Come on.”
“Fine, I don’t care.” Lily waves her hand at the TV, a Christmas gift from a few years ago. Months of begging and pleading with her mom, plus long promises she’d keep up her grades and read her summer books every day won over her parents in the end. “Dad watching sports?”
Vincent shoots her a look. Of course Dad’s downstairs, shouting at baseball. “Be right back with piggie snacks and the DVD’s.”
He crashes out of the room, a slender kid with massive feet. Both guinea pigs popcorn with fright as Vincent’s sneaker connects with the doorframe with a thump. From the kitchen Mom yells to be careful and not bring the ceiling down for the Good Lord’s sake.
While Lily waits, she herds the pigs onto the towel and away from the charger cords. Lettuce is in a sassy mood and jumps out of Lily’s hands when she tries to catch the little furry football-shaped animal. By the time Vincent returns with a bag of Veggie O’s and a few movies with lurid DVD covers, Lily has given up on the pigs. She wraps Ham in a towel, corners Lettuce behind the bed, and hugs her as punishment for being a pain.
“Did they jump all over the place?” Vincent rattles the bags, and both pigs wheek with excitement. “I think the playpen stuff’s up here in your closet.”
“You left it there.” Lily goes to her closet, pokes about, and finds the guinea set-up, a wired hoop meant to corral the pets. Once it’s ready, she plops Ham and Lettuce inside, and Vincent scatters a few treats for them on the layered towels. “They really want peeled grapes, you know.”
“I know. Maybe when Saw’s done.”
She watches him open the DVD player and select the disc while she settles down on the ground next to the guinea pigs. As soon as the first scene appears, a face underwater and a key that gets flushed down a rusty drain, Vincent huddles against Lily’s side.
“We should get popcorn and drinks,” she suggests. “Piggies aren’t the only ones who get hungry from horror movies.”
Vincent winds his skinny arms around her waist. He argues that he’s scared already and she can’t leave. They wrestle a bit before settling into the story. After each graphic scene, her brother settles closer until he’s draped over her shoulders and practically in her lap.
The doctor in the movie finds a phone in the room where he’s held prisoner, and Lily gasps. “What?” Vincent demands, his eyes huge. “Do you think there’s a monster in the closet?”
“No, silly. I just remembered I have to text Tyler.”
“But you texted him before the movie started. I bet he’s busy with college things.”
Lily shoves him with her hip so she can access her phone. “He likes me to check in every few minutes.”
“Every few minutes!” Vincent finds the remote and freezes the frame of the movie. On the screen the puppet with spiral cheeks shivers in time and seems to assess the audience right through the TV screen. “Do you have to do that when you have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend or whatever? Because I don’t want to.”
“No. Well, it’s different for everyone. I mean, I’ve had boyfriends who just called me once a day or a couple times a week. I guess Tyler’s one of those people who likes to know where I am all the time.”
“Oh.” Vincent turns back to the movie and points the remote at the Saw puppet. “Weird.”
“You’re twelve,” Lily scoffs. “And you have no idea how it works yet.”
Vincent presses Play, and the action returns to the loud argument between two men chained up in a dirty basement. “I may be twelve,” he says finally, “but I still know what’s weird.”
Lily sends a few texts to Tyler, goes to Facebook and Likes his latest post. She scrolls through Twitter and responds to his tweets. In the middle of finding his latest Instagram, she pauses.
Is it weird? She’s been so in the moment, so invested in Tyler’s uncertain temper and his outbursts, she hasn’t thought about her own behavior.
The air-conditioning kicks back on, and Lily shivers. In order to warm herself, she scoops up Ham out of the enclosure and snuggles closer to Vincent. He doesn’t seem to notice, intent on the movie’s latest bout of gore. He’ll end up sleeping in their parents’ bed. Lily will get blamed for it, but she’s used to it.
Lily scratches Ham’s butt, and the little animal purrs on her chest. If only people were so easy. Give them food, find their kick spot, everyone’s happy.
On the screen, Dr. Gordon has a flashback: an almost-affair with a medical student. He’s so intent on the relationship, he ignores his daughter when she cries about a man in
her closet.
There’s a chain bolted around one leg. Soon the doctor will consider sawing off his own limb so he can escape the nightmarish basement.
◆◆◆
Vincent ends up in their parents’ bed like Lily predicted. She follows as her dad carries the boy in, tucks him under a huge duvet, and turns off the lights. “Guess I’ll wake up with bruises.” Dad straightens up and puts one hand on his back. “Vincent’s elbows are harder than pool cues.”
“You can sleep on the couch if you want.” Mom comes in with extra pillows. Her nurse’s training lets her slide one under Vincent’s head without waking him.
The phone in Lily’s hand vibrates. I miss uuuuuuu
Hi, she texts back. Just watched Saw with Vincent.
College sucks. Evyone jst shady. Come see me bby
Lily chews the inside of her cheek. She can tell that Tyler is drunk again. Maybe one of his jokes didn’t go over with the college crowd, or a girl found his beery, handsy ways irritating. Still, she’d like to see the campus and visit the pool.
“Can I visit Tyler?” she blurts.
“At Rosemont?” Dad wanders out of the bathroom, loaded toothbrush in his fist. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Lily plunges into pleading mode, her usual method for getting what she wants. “Come on, it would be good experience for college visits. They have a great swim team there, and I want to see the pool. Maybe meet the coach. C’mon, dad, please? Please please please?”
“There’s no way!” Dad explodes with wrath. “Go visit this guy in college while you’re still a freshman in high school? Not happening.”
“I’m a sophomore now, so I can go,” Lily declares triumphantly. She sits on the bed near Vincent’s lumpy feet to make it clear she won’t give up.
Dad starts to brush his teeth vigorously. “No, you can’t,” he says around a mouthful of foam. She splutters, but he waves her off and goes into the bathroom. Lily hears the faucet run followed by prolonged spits and rinses.
She waits, a stubborn fixture on the bed, until her father comes out of the bathroom. He dries his hands in one of the crimson and gold fingertip towels Mom always tells them they’re not supposed to touch. “Where would you even sleep? Not in his dorm room, I can tell you that. And,” he continues as she draws in a deep lungful of argument, “not in a girl’s dorm room down the hall either.”
Mom snatches the towel from him and shakes it out. “I could go with her,” she offers. “We could stay in a hotel together, the way we did when she was sick.”
Her mom’s unexpected support makes Lily look up from the phone and stop typing I love you’s to Tyler. “Really?” she asks. “Mom, you’re – oh, my God. That would be so amazing.”
Her brother’s legs twitch under the thick duvet, and Lily catches Mom’s eye. They both snicker as Dad snarls, “I can’t believe you’re considering this!” He throws both arms in the air. “Not to mention, I don’t even like him.”
“Maybe Tyler just needs to see what a supportive, normal family looks like. I already told you his father is pretty odd. However,” Mom adds, “he has to come for a visit here first.”
“What?” Lily frowns and lets her jaw drop. “He’ll never want to visit my parents – no way. Let’s just go. You can come too, Dad, and meet him.”
“No visit here, no trip to Rosemont.” Her mother throws his crumpled towel into a blue canvas laundry bag.
Lily recognizes the tone of finality in her mother’s voice. She gets up, jams her phone into her pocket, and leaves the room.
Is there a subtle sound as the door closes, the quiet slap of her parents’ palms as they share a high five? Lily slams her way into her own room, bounds onto the bed, and finds her phone. Tyler has sent a few pics from the party, him surrounded by a group of girls. They seem to like me, he writes. College rocks.
Ignoring the picture, Lily writes back. I’m so sorry, but my mom says I can’t visit Rosemont unless you come here first to meet my dad. I know. 1950’s much?
The response is another shot of Tyler flanked by two girls, both laughing up at him. It seems he’s over his depression. You’re missing out, he texts. You want me to leave all this to meet some parents? That is so stupid. For a few angry thuds of her heart, Lily considers powering down her phone. Tyler looks so handsome, deep dimple in his cheek. It used to mean a secret smile, the one that was just for her.
Lily takes a deep breath, ignores the pain in her stomach that always seems to erupt when she’s texting Tyler, and lists a few dates. She’s learned by this point it’s better to offer him some options so he feels like he’s the one in control.
There’s a long wait while she feels like she might jump out of her skin. Just as she’s about to go and dig out some summer work to take her mind off the conversation, he texts that the end of July might be okay. Guess I’ll see you in 2 weeks or whatever, he adds. Go to bed, but don’t forget to answer when I Facetime you when I get home. I want to hear you sleep. Want to know where you are. Always.
Don’t spend time with anyone else, he adds.
I’m the most important thing in your life.
Lily peels off her sweats and yanks one of the huge t-shirts she uses as pjs in the summer over her head. She brushes her teeth and drags a wet cloth over her face. Her heart beats as she slams into her room and thrusts her feet between the wrinkled, messy sheets.
Her anger ebbs. Before she turns off the light, she sets up Facetime so Tyler can see her the moment he calls.
◆◆◆
Summer flashes by, layered with swim practice and gym workouts. It’s difficult to find a day to hit the shore with Erica, but in the middle of August Maria gives the swim team a free morning. As soon as Lily hears, she texts Erica.
The beach is crowded by the time Lily and Erica arrive. Mom sets up an umbrella and opens her book, a novel with the cover image of a frantic female who steps out of a shadowy doorway.
Lily hasn’t slept well. Tyler hasn’t texted her a lot, although he still seems to expect her hourly updates. Swim practice has become a blur of rubbery limbs and cold caffeine. She wants to flop on a towel and lie in the sun for hours.
Erica sneaks into the shade of her mom’s umbrella and gets out her own book. Lily sends off her check-in to Tyler, and he actually writes back with a big grin in a shirtless selfie. Miss this?
Of course, she replies. Miss you so much, bby.
It wakes her up, makes her slog off her exhaustion. Lily amuses herself by texting her friends from Prescot. She even shoots a quick Hi to Yasmin.
Disgusted, she throws the phone into her beach bag and hops up to drag Erica off her towel. “Come and boogie-board with me,” Lily begs. “The waves are good, it’ll be fun, c’mon.”
“Might as well say yes,” Mom comments. “My daughter won’t give up until you do.”
Lily pulls Erica’s arm again, scoops up their boards, and heads to open water. The space between the flags is filled with kids and stately, elderly swimmers, but she finds an open lane just close enough to avoid the lifeguard’s whistle.
Saltwater sprays her face as she splashes out with Erica close behind her. When they’re far enough out, Lily holds her board and waits for a good wave. She catches it just right and smacks onto her stomach, rides the water all the way to the beach.
They surf for so long she’s dizzy by the time Mom waves for them to come in. The sand and sky seem to swing around her, and the ocean’s roar is still in her ears, as though her skull has become a conch shell.
She survives the usual sandy, sticky trip back to the SUV and sits on her damp towel to protect the seats. Mom stops for boxes of greasy food at The Lighthouse, and Lily wolfs down two hot dogs plus fries.
After they drop off Erica, Lily moves to the front seat. She ignores her mom’s complaints about sand in the car seats, turns up the radio, and hums along to the music.
“You seem happy,” her mom comments.
Lily doesn’t answer, but Mom’s on the r
ight track. The sensation that rolls through her tired limbs and salty skin is weightless, floating, spacey enough not to have a name to tie it down to any emotion.
She stifles a burp, tells her mother to stop laughing. The car is filled with notes from a half-forgotten song.
It’s been a great day, the best Lily can remember in a long time.
12
After weeks of more begging, Dad relents and says Lily can visit Tyler at college. “As long as you stay with her,” he declares.
“Absolutely,” Mom agrees. “We’ll go to Rosemont for the night, take Tyler out to dinner, and we’ll stay in a hotel.”
“You’ll room with Lily?” Her dad shoves his sunglasses up onto the top of his head.
“Of course.” Mom pours clear liquid into a cocktail shaker and adds ice.
Lily hugs her dad and flies upstairs to call Tyler and let him know she’s going to visit. As usual, she gets his voicemail blaring “What?” followed by the pounding bass of alternative music.
“Dad’s letting me come out to Rosemont!” Lily sings at the beep. “So excited to see you, can’t wait, we’re spending the night too. Well, at a hotel. Me and my mom. But you and me’ll spend time together, which is the important part. Right?”
Lily presses End Call and jumps off the bed. She changes into her last dry practice suit, humming one of the old songs from her mom’s radio station, and giggles. Tyler would make fun of her if he could see her now.
He finally calls back after practice. “Yeah, okay,” he says in her ear. “Guess that’ll work.”
“Okay!” Lily flops back on the pillows and crosses her ankles. “I can’t wait. It’s going to be so amazing to see you in two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” She can hear the anger in her voice, and her gut twists. “No way. Not happening.”
With a huge effort, Lily manages to control her own temper. “We already agreed on the date. My mom took off work and booked a hotel. It’s all arranged.”
“By who? Who arranged it? Not me, that’s for sure. You think you can control me? Fuck off. You’re so stupid sometimes. I hate that. It’s like you want to have the final say on my life.”
A Cold and Quiet Place Page 12
