Tiger Lily: Part Two

by Amélie S. Duncan

  “After two years?” I asked, my voice raising. “That’s it? Aren’t you upset?”

  “I am. I was. I cried already. Eat,” she said as she sipped her wine. “Crying won’t change anything. I’m focusing on what I have control over right now. And that’s my studies and career, which we will get to after you tell me the rest. I don’t feel like talking about it anymore right now…‌So, spill it woman.”

  I reached over and squeezed her hand, and she drained her glass of wine, the only sign that she was still upset. I knew from experience that if I pushed her, she would get snippy. I respected her wishes and filled her in between bites of the abysmal pizza made with some odd flavorless cheese. I told her everything I had left out earlier between Ian and Jonas, omitting Declan from all of it. I just wasn’t ready for that conversation yet.

  “I risked carbs for this,” I said at the end, taking my last bite of pizza. “Yuck.”

  Mary giggled. “It’s not that bad, and you’re not eating.” She adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses and made sure I caught her glare. “Something else is going on with you, but first…‌Meow. What a hot little cat you are, two guys! I’m impressed. Ian sounds hot, but don’t be that girl that goes through a guy’s friends. I love you like a sister, but that’s skank territory.”

  My cheeks burned. “Thanks, Mare.”

  “I’m only saying these things because I adore you my beautiful, dorky friend,” Mary said and beamed at me. “As for me, I’d give Ian a go. Who did he look like again?”

  I laughed. “Kind of a Rosenberg, a bit of a Hemsworth. I don’t know…‌hot.”

  She wagged her brows. “Geeky, too? I might be in lust. I’ll need to make a trip up to New York soon.”

  I laughed, but she actually looked serious. Whether she wanted to admit it or not though, she loved Hans.

  “What about Hans?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I need a sex-esteem boost. Since he’s so busy with his assistant,” she grumbled.

  I squeezed her shoulders. “Think about it first. It’s too fresh to make any hasty decisions.”

  The sound of my phone chiming made my heart skip a beat as I pulled it out to answer. Mary’s face lit up, but turned concerned when she saw the corners of my mouth turn down.

  Number unrecognized.

  “Not Jonas,” I mumbled. “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Ms. Lily Salomé?”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “I’m Diane Langston of Langston, Harrison, and Fitzpatrick. Ian sent me your information to follow up on a possible criminal and civil filing against Declan Gilroy. Now, he was arrested a few days—”

  “Arrested?” My jaw unhinged. “Oh, my God. I didn’t think. Uhm….” I looked over at Mary and saw her brows rise questioningly. I waved my hand and walked towards the front door, as I tried to settle the jolt to my heart. “I didn’t agree to that.”

  “It’s a police matter and part of procedure. I’m sure you were aware of that, though it usually doesn’t happen this quickly. But then again, you had Ian Unger’s assistance. Now, as for the civil case matter—”

  “I don’t want to sue him. I really just want this all to go away.” I lowered my voice. “I want to put this behind me. I’m sorry, but I’m not available to discuss this right now.”

  “Well, when will you be? I can make an appointment for you next week.”

  I could hear the sound of her shuffling papers around, as well as Mary walking up behind me.

  “I’ll call you back. Okay?” I said quickly.

  “Okay.”

  She drew out that last word before ending the call.

  I knew Mary had heard enough and wasn’t going to drop this. I had run out of time. Putting my phone back in my pocket, I met Mary’s questioning stare. My mind conjured up memories of our lengthy friendship. She had always been a good friend to me, and what had I done but keep secrets from her? I rubbed my souring stomach.

  “I got a restraining order against Declan. He…‌beat me.”

  The shock and dismay on her face made me want to turn away, but she deserved the whole truth.

  “He had been hurting me physically, off and on, for the past two years. You already know how snarky he could be from the times you met him, but that was the least of his cruelty. He said things that hurt me so much.” My voice went monotone. “You know I hadn’t seen him for months, but I met with him over lunch, and he hit me. Declan promised he would get help this time. But he didn’t. Instead, he showed up at my job and scared me. Dani found out, and she and Ian helped me to get a restraining order so he would leave me alone.”

  Mary did a great impression of a fish out of water for a few minutes. I stood, holding my waist, and waited.

  “That fucking asshole hit you! I knew he was a scumbag, but I didn’t realize…‌How could I not know? How could this happen?” Mary’s anger boiled over. She shoved over a stack of books before turning back to me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  The hurt look on her face was more than I could take, and I dropped my head. She pulled me into crushing hug as she broke down in tears. The guilt, shame, and sorrow over hurting her had me crying again, too.

  “I’m sorry, Mary,” I hiccupped. “I loved him. I didn’t want to give up on him. You know what a hard life he had. He was abused and abandoned. I thought he needed love and family. I wanted to give him all that,” I tried to explain as I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I forced myself to meet the devastated look on her face. “You hated him so much, I was afraid you would think less of me for staying. I…‌I wanted it to be my decision to leave him. But, well, he ended up leaving me. I’m sorry,” I sobbed.

  “I’m sorry too, Lily,” Mary said, wiping her eyes and picking up her discarded glasses. “I didn’t realize I made you afraid to tell me the truth. You’re right. I would have worked to my last breath to make that prick suffer and forbidden you to speak to him.” Her eyes widened. “I mean, if your dad and mom knew….”

  Mary knew how close I had been with my parents. Seeing their disappointment reflected in her eyes ripped apart my heart.

  “If they knew,” she continued, “you kept this from them. They would have been devastated. This would have broken their hearts. How could you keep that from them, from us? We are supposed to be your family.”

  She covered her mouth.

  Her words broke me. The self-hatred filling me was unlike anything I had ever felt before. Bile rose up in my throat and I took off for her bathroom. Barely making it, I threw up violently into the toilet, which was surprisingly relieving. I continued dry heaving over the basin until my throat was raw and my stomach muscles ached too much to continue. Part of me wished I was back in New York and alone. I had known it would be hard to tell her; however, thinking of how much I would have hurt my parents was almost more pain than I could bear. They would have discovered how weak I am, not the brave daughter they brought up.

  I did what worked for all of us. I soothed myself with my reasons as I took deep breaths to gain more control of myself. Once I settled in myself, I flushed and cleaned the toilet, rinsing my mouth and splashing water on my face.

  “You okay, Lily?” Mary asked, pushing the door open. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put that on you. You had a lot to deal with back then. You were in your first relationship. You were in love. I mean, you planned to marry that asswipe,” she said, clenching her fists.

  I took a deep breath. “I can only say I’m sorry, Mare. Yes. I lied to you all and I’m sorry…‌I did what I thought was right…‌I’m not perfect.”

  “None of us are,” Mary said. “I’m only upset because I didn’t know, and I didn’t help you. I’ve been a terrible friend.”

  I gripped her shoulders. “No, you haven’t. I’ve been a terrible friend to you. Just know I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing,” Mary grumped. “I hope Declan goes to jail. I’m going to put a protest together to boycott his business.”

  She pursed her lips.
<
br />   “All the way in New York? Stop, Mary. He was arrested, and I won’t speak to him again. I think that’s enough.”

  I walked past her, and together we walked down the hall to her bedroom. I flopped down on the four-poster bed that took up most of her room.

  “He will get the message and leave me alone. I really just want to put it all behind me,” I repeated.

  I sat up and looked at her, wincing at the hostility on her face. While I was ready to move on, Mary wasn’t.

  “Why are you so certain he won’t try anything else?” she asked. “He hit you in broad daylight. He came to your job.”

  My stomach knotted. “Can we please talk about something else for a little while?” I pleaded.

  “Okay,” she finally conceded. “You’re right. We should process.”

  I closed my eyes and she hugged me. She paused as she eased her hand on the back of my shirt and felt along my spine. I edged away.

  “Seriously. You’re perfect just the way you are,” Mary said quietly.

  I moved my hair to hide my face and laughed. Mary didn’t join me, sitting down next to me instead. I reached in my pocket and checked my phone, looking for a distraction. I had two texts—one from Ian, and the other from Dani. No Jonas. My shoulders drooped, but I read the messages anyway.

  Hi, Lily. My friend Diane will be calling you soon about pressing charges. How about dinner tomorrow night? As friends :)

  Ian was persistent. I quickly texted back.

  I’m in Boston with my friend Mary. I’ll have to pass on dinner. Sorry.

  Next was Dani’s.

  Hello, Lily I spoke with Jonas. I’m…‌sorry. Give him time. If you want to talk, I’m here.

  The pain cut me down so far I wondered if I’d ever be able to rise up again. Knowing he had discussed my feelings with Dani, while keeping his own promise to stay away from me, hurt. But it was her “sorry” that gutted me. It made it feel so…‌final.

  “Okay. Now the most important question of the afternoon. First Contact or The Search for Spock as we work on my papers?” Mary asked, knowing I needed something else to focus on.

  I climbed off the bed. “First Contact, of course. Duh.”

  I lowered my head to protect my heart, as I wasn’t ready to discuss the texts. But the second I settled across from Mary at the workstation she created in the dining room, she had me telling her what was on my mind once more.

  “Let me play the Devil’s advocate,” she said once I had finished. “Jonas helped your funding for the legacy, flew you up to Connecticut, took you to meet his family, and went all territorial sex on you at an event. I’d say he’s a bit more attached to you than he’s letting on. So give him time. Give yourself time.”

  I focused on the computer screen without responding. Dani and Mary both wanted to give me hope where there wasn’t any. Jonas was pretty clear in his intentions and had always been open and honest with me, unlike I had been with him.

  “Does he even know what happened to you?” she asked in a soft tone, bringing my attention back to her.

  “No. And before you protest, I will tell him. But in my own time. When I feel better and have some distance from it all myself. And from what Dani and Ian said, he’d freak out anyway. I don’t want that.”

  I shuddered.

  “I’d pay to watch him go medieval on that asswipe,” Mary said, venom dripping from her voice.

  I laughed. “You have quite the vocabulary there, Ms. Stoebe.”

  “Why, thank ya very much, Ms. Salomé,” she said in her best Elvis impression.

  She added a few lip curls and pelvis twitches that made me laugh even harder. This time she joined me.

  Once we recovered, I said, “I don’t love Declan anymore, but I don’t want to hurt him, either. I just want him to get help and leave me alone. As far as not telling Jonas, I don’t want him to be with me out of pity.”

  Mary nodded. From her expression, I could tell she didn’t agree with me, but I also knew she would respect it. She did this by not saying another word, both of us diving into her sociology coursework instead.

  CHAPTER 11

  Over the last few days I had found myself on a crash course through Mary’s sociology master’s degree program. I had forgotten how much researching went into the mere selection of a quote for a paper. Her jam-packed schedule made the days full and occupied my mind. I needed the distraction since I still hadn’t heard from Jonas after my love grenade.

  “You’re up already?” Mary asked.

  This was quickly becoming our morning routine, though I had only been at her place for three days. I would get up at dawn to go run, and she would grouch about it. Her apartment was in a renovated Victorian house and her small section on the bottom front was cozy. Any movements on the creaky wooden floorboards blared like a foghorn—at least to Mary. Not to mention the fact that she was a light sleeper, something that had irritated me as her college roommate. Waking her up had always required an explanation, even if it was something as mundane as “my feet were cold so I opened my dresser to get socks. Go back to sleep.” Her drowsily turning over after said offerings was the only reward.

  I loved Mary, but I couldn’t wait to return home this afternoon. I missed being in my own space. I missed New York.

  Mary alternated between concerns and disappointed looks, while we worked on her papers. She’d ask on a loop, “Why did you stay with Declan?” Of course, none of my reasons were ever good enough. This scrutiny was exactly why I had hidden what he did to me from her and my parents. How many ways could I say I gave him chances because I loved him and believed he loved me? My reasons gave her only more room for debate, as she drilled home how wrong I had been and what I should have done. The only break I found from her inquiry into my psyche was running.

  “I’ll be back in half an hour or so,” I announced.

  I crept around the room, changing out of my Conan O’Doyle T-shirt into a pair of borrowed jogging sweatpants and a winter fleece jacket. I made a quick, messy piled bun of my hair, and did a few stretches. I grabbed my phone and made it out the door before Mary had a second wind grumble.

  The freezing chill of the air hit me in the face as I ran down Beacon Street. Boston was under an arctic nor’easter. A few feet of snow lined my path along the streets. My insides warmed as I ran up Kirkland and then on to Francis Avenue toward Harvard Yard. The redbrick and stone buildings, perfectly situated trees, and awing specialty shops along the square made everything in Cambridge picturesque. I missed Massachusetts, my home.

  My mind raced along with my pace, as I thought about my parents and their deaths. When my mind caught up, I realized I had auto-piloted to the MTA subway at the Square. I needed to see something. I purchased a pass and took the Redline train to Quincy Center. I knew I wasn’t going to Hancock Cemetery, where my parents were buried, or the elementary school where my mother had taught, though, I would need to speak with Ms. Parker about the Salomé Legacy program soon. No. Right now, I was heading home.

  Or what had been my home, I thought somberly, as I exited the subway and headed above ground to Quincy. A mile run had me rounding Franklin in no time. Steadying my pace, I slowed down and stopped before the two-story yellow brick colonial house on Franklin Street. The stonework was still the same, as were the large windows with black plantation shutters. Even the rose bushes planted by my mother were there, though now made barren by winter. The house looked inviting, but empty. Just like me.

  A memory drifted before me as I stood there, as if it was imprinted in the house. It was a memory I would have stopped if I could.

  I’m standing on the last step of our polished mahogany staircase in our small foyer. I’m staring at my mother, her long, black wavy hair foaming around her face and brushing her shoulders. She’s wearing my father’s favorite sky blue V-neck blouse, the one that enhances her curves. In her hands is a floral Hermes’s scarf to cover up. I laugh, knowing my dad would likely hide that. Her wide blue eyes were filled,
threatening to spill over.

  “Don’t cry, Mom. It’s only dinner. I’ll be here the rest of the weekend,” I say, wiping the smudged mascara under our shared large, silvery eyes.

  “But you’re always working now. You don’t come up here enough,” she replies.

  I glance over her shoulder and saw my father, looking impeccable in a dark grey wool suit. His short grey hair perfectly parted. His mustache groomed and trimmed, He’s handsome and flawless.

  He juts his chin at me as his dark eyes scan me from head to toe. “Ever the vagabond.” He tugs my messy ponytail. “What are we going to do with you, Tiger Lily?”

  I lower my gaze and pull my hair down. “I’m going to the salon on Monday.”

  “That’s Monday. How about doing something about it today?” He tucks my hair behind my ears. “Your mother is right. We barely see you anymore.”

  I sigh. “I was here two weeks ago.”

  “But that was for the Stevenson’s fundraiser,” My mother says.

  I bit my lip.” I can’t come up every week.”

  “This isn’t like you, Lily. Is this because of him? You can bring him up here. What was his excuse for not coming this time?” He smirks. My mother groans.

  “His name is Declan, Dad. He has his business to run. I told you. He was too busy to come….”

  My father snorts. “But he can drive from New York to pick you up from here?” He turns his head toward my mother. “Now he has her making up excuses for him.”

  “Leave her alone, Randall,” She scolds.

  He turns back to me and frowns. “You’re lying for him. Salomé’s don’t lie. Especially not to each other. We raised you better than that.”

  I stare down at my feet. “That’s what he told me. He has to be on hand just in case they need him at his store. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Lily,” He says and I look up at him. “I’m not trying to upset you. I miss you. We miss you.”

  My mother moves over to me and puts her arm around my waist. “We do. It’s not the same without you here. I’m sorry.” She wipes the corner of her eye.