“Your wife?” Lily guesses.
“Yeah.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Was.” Robert touches the picture with one careful fingertip before he places it back into his pocket. “Was pretty. She passed two years ago.”
Lily frowns. She’s not sure where the conversation leads – it’s as mysterious and eerie as the underwater maze in her dreams. Long moments tick by. “Sorry,” Lily mutters. Across the room, Haddigan laughs and chats with the trainer who’s stretching her out.
Robert waves away her lame sympathy. “I went to hell when it happened. It was a car crash – can you believe that? Just a dumb accident, the kind of tragedy that happens to other people. The sort you hear about in the news. Except this time it happened to her.”
The floor is freezing under Lily’s feet. Robert describes his reaction, how he hid in their house. “Couldn’t even leave our home to get a sack of groceries,” he says. “Ate through all the cans and jars in our cupboards, even went to pick berries in the woods when I got hungry. Really. Our daughter used to call all the time, but I stopped answering the phone. Didn’t want to talk to anyone.”
Her eyes prickle, and Lily ducks her head so he won’t see. Robert gazes across the room. “She was lucky,” Lily blurts. He raises his heavy brows, and her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I mean, your wife. She was lucky to have you.”
“You might not have said that two years ago. I was a real mess. Didn’t sleep, started hallucinating. Saw things that weren’t real.” His lips compress. “They say it makes you stronger, right?”
The metal chair creaks as he stands and looks down at Lily. “You take the time you need,” he says. “Don’t fight the water, and don’t fight yourself anymore. You’re young, strong, and you’ve got real talent. I know that for a fact.”
Lily murmurs a lame, “Okay.” When she looks up, the corner is empty. Robert is gone. The trainers and Haddigan chat about something, maybe school or parties. Lily hears Haddigan’s soft laughter, the joy of a girl who has nothing to lose.
Stop fighting. The concept is new, surprisingly simple. Maybe she can show up for practice and take it easy, find her way back through the maze.
It’ll take hard work. She doesn’t mind that, though. It’s just the way things seem so difficult lately, and there’s no reward in sight.
There’s no more time to waste. Even though her shoulder still aches, Lily decides to get out of the sweaty, underground trainers’ room.
“All done?” Haddigan calls out. “Wait for me – let’s walk to class together.”
Lily grins and waves. Maybe it is just that easy. She slips on her shower sandals. They slap against wet tile as she heads to her locker, opens the lock with a practiced twist of her wrist, and pulls out her gym bag. As it thumps onto the wooden bench, the side pocket emits a beep.
Tyler. There’s a sharp twinge between her ribs as Lily takes out her phone and views the long line of texts. Where are you. I’m sick of waiting. Tell me what’s up. And - This is my last message I’m sick of it goodbye.
Lily’s hands shake as she writes frantic messages – Sorry, I had to get hydrotherapy, My shoulder is killing me, Please don’t be mad. The desperate little bubbles wing towards him, but there’s no answer.
Her shower is quick, a mad dash in and out of the warm water. Conditioner squeaks in her hair as she towels dry and types another text.
No response.
Tyler will keep her in silence all day. He’s got a number in mind, an abstract figure. As soon as she sends the requisite amount of apologies – is it 50? 100? - he’ll forgive her and it will all be fine again between them.
It’s no big deal. Lily can get her body to practice every day, so she can survive this.
She watches the screen as she rinses chlorine out of her ponytail under the sink faucet and dresses in thick sweats. Outside the long Prescot lawns will be glassed over with frost. The athletes’ footprints in the silvery grass will map out their dedication when Lily heads outside.
The locker room is silent as she sends one final text to Tyler and repeats how sorry she is. Lily picks up her gym bag and looks around.
There’s no one else. Haddigan must have left. Did she come in, see Lily hunched over her phone?
The flame of relief Lily feels when her phone finally vibrates is extinguished when she sees it’s from Courtney, of all people. Lily hasn’t talked to the girl since she left for Prescot.
Have you seen this link? OMG, I’m so embarrassed for you.
Lily blinks as she pushes through the heavy gym doors into the chilly Massachusetts morning. The URL Courtney has sent is a Tumblr link. Lily spends her time on Instagram and Snapchat, if she goes on social media at all. Between Tyler, schoolwork, and swim practice, there’s hardly time to go and reblog pictures of cute actors.
An unflattering photo of Lily coming out of the pool is capped with a headline: This Lily Batista Chick Is a Bitch.
The title is a smack in the face. Lily sucks in cold air and scrolls through the Tumblr feed – five posts, all put up on the same date. Lily thinks she’s so hot. She got into Prescot by cheating. This has been retweeted and Liked by twenty people. One person has added I hate girls like that.
Who put it up? And why? It isn’t until she’s halfway into Lit class Lily realizes she forgot to get breakfast. For a swimmer, skipping meals is bad news. Already she’s down thousands of calories.
At Prescot the students don’t have to get a pass to leave the classroom. Lily gets up in the middle of a discussion about chivalry in European ballads and heads to the bathroom. Locked in a stall, she sniffs and finds half a power bar in her purse. The food tastes like plastic.
To send a text is against the rules, but Lily does it anyway. Tyler, are you there? Please just answer. She breathes out a watery sigh and adds I need you. I really, really need you right now.
There is no response.
15
After the early ice of Massachusetts, New Jersey seems too hot and humid for November. Dad’s car passes groups of people out for a walk around their neighborhood: kids jeering at a boy on a scooter, a few girls intent on their phones screens. They all wear padded jackets and, in the case of the girls, furry earmuffs. Lily, by contrast, has peeled off her sweatshirt. Even though she’s down to her cami, the muggy atmosphere of the car is stifling.
In the front, Dad talks to a client through his dash interface. He uses phrases Lily doesn’t understand, things like VoIP and Internet Protocol. In the rearview mirror his face is red with anger as a big work deal goes south. “For Chrissakes. I already talked to China about this whole meeting. Tell Jerry to stop dicking around or we’ll look like a bunch of assholes.”
Bored, Lily scrolls through her texts to Tyler. It’s a long line of promises and apologies from her, short bursts of complaints and expletive-heavy insults from him. The yearlong conversation is pathetic. There’s no other word for it.
She can’t lie to herself any longer.
All the messages are from her. Tyler hasn’t responded since the day Robert talked to her about the death of his wife.
Dad finishes his call and starts in on the questions about her swimming, practice, strokes, taper, future meets. Lily answers her dad, although she concentrates on her useless apologies to her boyfriend.
I’m so sorry.
I didn’t mean to do anything.
Please don’t cheat on me.
Lily wrote the last one after midnight, hazy from a few Tylenols she took to ease the pain in her shoulder. At the time it seemed logical, but now she sees the words make her seem young and inexperienced, a girl who has to beg for her boyfriend’s attention.
Automatically, she answers her dad’s questions. Yes, her swim times have been okay. (Not true.) No, she doesn’t have a lot of homework. (Also not true.) Yes, she’s kept up in all her classes. (Sort of.)
The questions are worse when they get in the house. A slew of cousins and aunts gather by the garage d
oor as though they’ve waited for her. The instant she walks inside, an uncle shouts, “Hey! Lily’s here!”
She’s surrounded.
Vincent’s face, hovering at the edge of the crowd, brightens as soon as he sees her. Lily excuses herself and squeezes her way to him, and they hug briefly. Her brother’s grown, although his ribs still feel like bird bones. “Skinny,” she says in his ear.
“You’re skinnier,” he retorts.
It’s easier with Vincent at her side. Lily’s able to sneak past the kitchen, where Mom chats with another group of relatives. She waves a martini glass in the air to illustrate a point. As Lily and Vincent head towards the stairs, a wave of pink liquid splashes onto their mother’s shirt. She doesn’t even notice as she continues to laugh with an aunt about how much the holidays suck.
Ham and Lettuce are stashed in Lily’s room to keep them out of the way of all the guests. The guinea pigs get jumpy around too many people. Lily scoops up Ham and collapses on the bed. “Whew,” she sighs.
“Yeah.” Vincent folds his legs into a pretzel and sinks onto the floor. “It’s been like this all day.”
“When’s dinner? Guess I have to put on jeans or a skirt.” Lily has no idea what she’s packed to come home for the Thanksgiving break. Her bag might be filled with car parts for all she knows.
“You have a while.” Vincent crashes on the mattress next to her and scratches Ham’s back. The pig responds with a loud purr before chattering his teeth.
“He must be hungry. Go steal a bag full of lettuce?” Lily bats her lashes and nudges Vincent’s hip with one toe.
She doesn’t have to ask twice. He gets up and heads out, closing the door with a click.
Lily’s phone is on 17%. The charger is in one corner of her sports bag, underneath a pile of t-shirts and crumpled heat sheets.
She plugs in the phone and scrolls through the texts. Nothing new pops up except Happy Turkey Day! from Erica along with a long line of X’s and O’s.
“This is ridiculous,” Lily mutters. She’s grumpy after the car ride and onslaught of relatives. Her index finger stabs Tyler’s info, and she hits the Facetime button. Downstairs she hears a burst of loud laughter.
There is a click, and the call picks up. Lily sees nothing, just a square window framing a patch of carpet. “Ty, are you there? It’s Thanksgiving, and I’m home. You’re probably at home too. Come on, Tyler, it’s time. Either you’re gonna break up with me, or we’ll figure this out. But you can’t just shut me out.”
A text pops up at the top of her phone. Keep it up.
“Why?” Lily closes her eyes and forces herself to take a few breaths. She’s relieved to finally get a text from him, a sharp stab to the heart. He’s answered her, yes, but it means something she can’t confess to herself just yet.
Wanna see how long you’ll keep texting. To see if you’re real or not. Or if you’re one of those fake-ass girls I meet all the time.
Ham shifts on Lily’s chest and begins to whistle whataweek, whataweek, whataweek. Outside the door, Vincent’s footsteps thud up the stairs. “Okay. Listen. I’ll text and take your test or whatever, but right now I gotta go be with my family.”
Knew you couldn’t hack it.
Her little, interior voice kicks in. Lily’s used to cold pools on frosty afternoons and climbing back into the water after she’s puked up her power bar breakfast. The inner monologue is her competitive spirit, and it makes her want to win, to ace Tyler’s ‘test.’
“I’ll hang in. You’ll see.” She’s just able to press End before Vincent comes in with a wad of green vegetables.
The guinea pig, an inert football on Lily’s chest, starts to wriggle and becomes a ball of fur and claws. “I think Ham and Lettuce can smell the food,” Vincent sniggers.
“Ow!” Lily manages to scoop up the pig and deposit him into the wide cage. The animals dive into the bowl, their wide ears making them look like miniature elephants without trunks. “Damn, he scratched me.”
“He scratches everyone. We need to trim their claws.” Vincent settles back on the floor and studies the guinea pigs. “Mom’s loud.”
“I didn’t even say hi to her. Better get changed and go down there.”
Vincent mumbles he’d better get out and starts to scramble to his feet, but Lily rushes to stop him. “Wait! Don’t go yet. I – I’ll do my makeup first. Stay.” She’s surprised at how much she’s missed her baby brother.
“Yeah? Sure? ‘Kay.” He hangs his head over the edge of the cage and pokes the pigs’ bowl. “This stuff looks too green. The store didn’t have the right food.” From the back, Vincent’s neck looks slender, almost fragile.
“The piggies’ll still eat it…” Lily doesn’t pay attention as she sits on the bed to type in another text. Still here! I didn’t give up! Happy Thanksgiving!
Maybe if she acts cheerful, as though she didn’t have a care in the world, Tyler will go back to how he used to be. Her breath catches as she remembers him, tall and gorgeous, his bronze skin catching the light in the huge arena surrounding the competition pool.
Their best day together: his head bent over hers, the spark in his eyes as he put the ring on her finger. She caresses the tiny circle and the sapphire in its center. At least she still has it, a magical artifact, to let her know it all was real.
There’s a knock on the door, and it opens slowly. “You never said hello.” Mom comes into the room, sits on the bed, and slings an arm around Lily’s shoulders. “Ugh, I’m tired already and we haven’t even started to eat.”
“How long will everyone stay?” Lily can’t stand the thought of polite chitchat as she passes endless clusters of casserole dishes and serving platters.
“I don’t know.” Mom leans her head on Lily’s shoulder. Warm breath gusts against her neck, tainted with vodka. “We have to go down and socialize. Your grandfather has asked when you’ll get here about a thousand times already.”
Lily loves her grandfather, a silent man with a quick smile who seems to come alive when he sees her. “Okay. I’ll come down like this…”
“You look pretty, you always do.” Mom drags the sports bag across the quilt and scrabbles inside. “But you know your grandmother expects you to change into real clothes.”
“Ugh.” Lily stretches her eyes. “Guess I need a little privacy…”
Mom gets up and beckons to Vincent. He doesn’t argue, just climbs to his feet and follows their mom out to the hallway. As the door closes, he raises his hand in a quick, shy wave.
But when she’s alone, Lily doesn’t bother with clothes, even though she’s still in shorts. Instead, she pulls out her phone and types, Did you eat your turkey yet? Is your phone turned off? Forget how to read? If you don’t hear from me for a while, I have to do the family thing.
And – Tyler, please. I’m sorry.
◆◆◆
“Tyler.”
It’s after midnight. Downstairs the hum of voices dies down as the last of the relatives leave. Lily managed to stay long enough to say goodbye to her grandfather, itching to get back upstairs. In the pocket of her jeans is a flat packet of twenties, his parting gift along with the whispered advice to go and buy something nice for herself, not for anyone else.
“Tyler,” she says again to the dark screen. “Tyler. Are you there? Ty, I won’t go anywhere. You know me – you said we were alike. I’m the one who gets you. Out of all those students who go to Prescot, you told me I was the one who understood. I haven’t changed. Have you?”
“Ty. Ty. Ty. Ty.”… She’s said his name so many times it sounds like a word from a foreign country – North Korea, or maybe Jupiter. The view on her laptop doesn’t change, but there’s a ding on her phone. Keep going, his text reads. Fate may be rewarded.
He means faith, not fate. The mistake is endearing, as though he just came to life. She’s talking to a real person, not just a machine.
“Tyler,” Lily repeats. “Ty. Tyler.”
Outside, the wind curls a
round the house like a woman who fights for her lover’s attention. A far-off car honks, maybe to say goodbye before the driver heads onto 195.
As the sound dies away, Lily hears whispers in the hallway outside her room. “You hear it?” her dad hisses. “Just let me go in there and put an end to this whole stupid thing. I can’t stand that boy. He really pisses me off, thinks he can take advantage of our daughter, I will not put up with it. He’s lucky I don’t get in the car, drive over to his house, and punch him out.”
“No.” Mom’s voice is blurred, but urgent. “It’ll be fine. If we make him upset, he’ll take it out on her. Don’t you see? Maybe if we have him over or something later with our family. He’s fine when he’s happy. Just – just let me talk to her.”
“She’s not the problem here!” Dad whisper-yells. Lily can picture how red his face will get from rage.
“I know, but if we barge right in, we’ll just create a Romeo and Juliet kind of situation. Tell her she can’t see him any longer, and it’ll just get worse. Can’t you see? Don’t be stupid.”
“You’re stupid.”
Their voices die out, and Lily slumps against her headboard. This is all her fault. She’s the epicenter of a hurricane.
Hurricane Lily, who spreads destruction wherever she goes. Worse than Superstorm Sandy.
The blankets feel oppressive, pooled around her hips as though a shadowy jailer holds her by force. Lily bounces out of bed, runs to the bathroom, and swallows water straight out of the faucet. She gasps for breath and braces her hands on both sides of the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. Clumps of hair stick up at random from her scalp, and there are bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep, purple crescents of exhaustion. Jitters run through her body as though she can’t catch her breath.
Already she’s taken too long. Lily dries her face on the hem of her shirt, snaps off the light, and heads to her room.
“Tyler,” she says to the blank screen. “Tyler. Are you there? I’m still here. Tyler.” A sob erupts from her mouth, a wobbly bubble of grief, and she collapses on the pillow.
A Cold and Quiet Place Page 16
