The Last Good Place of Lily Odilon

by Sara Beitia

  If Albert was honest with himself, he didn’t want to cause trouble for either Lily or himself, or worse, trouble between them because he’d overreacted. He wondered if Lily was trying to start some trouble, and his irritation began to elbow out his worry again as he was leaving the empty house. It was as simple as walking out the back door and shutting it behind him, but the thud of wood on wood and the click of the latch sounded so final. Once through the door, he made his way home by side streets, cutting through a few back yards.

  Hadn’t he known something like this was going to come up, sooner or later? Lily was sweet and smart and he was crazy about her, but he knew she had a wild streak. He hadn’t been in town for two weeks before he heard the stories going around George Washington High School—and one story in particular. Lily’s version of this story was called “The Bad Thing,” and it was a short story because she remembered very little of it. The legend, though, went by the longer title of “That One Time Lily Odilon and Some Other Juvenile Delinquents Broke into Lily’s Step-Dad’s Dental Practice and Lily OD’d on Laughing Gas and Almost Died.” This second version was surprisingly short on juicy details (since no one who’d been there had come forward to share them), but even so, the popular version of the story had an ugly, gossipy sting.

  He could kind of understand why her parents kept their thumbs on her, but he felt guilty for the thought. She probably thought the same about him and his strict parents. Both of them had done things in the past to burn what trust their parents had in them, and both of their parents seemed unwilling to let them earn the trust again. Though maybe Lily wasn’t trying very hard.

  By now Albert was almost home and tired of the struggle going on inside his head. He wished that Lily would finish her little joyride or whatever and just call him. He promised himself he wouldn’t even be too much of an ass to her when she finally did call. He would be willing to let the whole thing go—unlike their parents. Forget it like a fading nightmare, if only she would pick up a phone and call him.

  But he was still unwilling to share his worry with anyone else. The fear of what the consequences might be if he let his worry send him like a baby to the adults kept him in check. He was afraid Lily would dump him for being a pansy if he ratted her out and ruined her fun. Still, until he heard from her, it was like holding his breath. He wasn’t sure whether he was doing the right thing.

  A few minutes later, Albert was letting himself in through the back door of his own warm, silent home, being careful not to make a sound. He was thankful that at least his parents didn’t seem to be awake yet. He was able to creep to his bedroom and into bed. He dropped his clothes in a pile on the floor and pulled the covers over his head, wanting to think of anything but Lily but unable to push her out of his brain. Within minutes, though it would’ve seemed impossible, he was dead to the world.

  Still, he had to wake up eventually. The rest of the weekend was unbelievably long as Albert waited for the phone to ring and for Lily to put him out of his misery. But she never called; his vague fear kept growing even though he didn’t know exactly what he was afraid of. Mostly he stayed in his room, unable to focus on his homework or pay attention to the TV, just staring at the ceiling or out the window, waiting. It sucked.

  Monday morning was the worst day yet. As Albert stumbled around his room getting ready for school, he couldn’t believe the new week had somehow arrived without Lily. And he still wasn’t sure if he should say something to someone. As he walked alone to school, it was harder to convince himself that Lily was off on some weekend joyride. Her parents had to be home from Philadelphia by now, and her sister from wherever Lily said she’d been, and they would find that she had gone. Albert was now sure that something was very wrong.

  So, unable to leave it alone, he aimed his path toward Lily’s house instead of straight toward school. He thought he could see some activity from a block away, and when he got closer, what he saw sent a jolt of alarm through him. He felt an irrational desire to bolt in the opposite direction before anyone saw him. Mostly, Lily’s house looked the same as it always did, except that there were two police cruisers parked outside and people standing in the front yard on the frosty grass. Giving in to panic, Albert quickly turned the corner and began heading back in the direction of the school. He looked over his shoulder and saw Lily’s mother and sister standing a little apart in the yard. They seemed to be talking to a cop, and Lily’s mother seemed to be crying.

  Albert didn’t remember arriving at school or much of anything that happened all morning. All he could do was obsess about what might have been going on at Lily’s house. That is, until things got worse. The tipping point—when everything went from vague to a horribly real, actual situation—was right around the time Principal Gherdt pulled him out of third period U.S. History.

  Crouching down next to Albert’s desk while the whole class stared at them, Mr. Gherdt said in a loud whisper, “Some gentlemen want to speak with you, Mr. Morales.”

  Albert had no choice but to follow Mr. Gherdt out of the classroom and down the empty halls to the school’s main office. The principal walked a few paces ahead, and Albert noticed for the first time that the man walked like he had an itch he couldn’t scratch in public. When they went through the glass doors, the secretary behind the counter glanced up at them and did a double take, and Albert hated that other people knew something about him before he did. Gherdt led Albert through the main office and down a short hall into the small conference room that the guidance counselor used as a place to “rap” with troubled students. Just as Albert was wondering if he and Mr. Gherdt were going to “rap,” he saw that the room wasn’t empty. Besides himself and the principal, there was Mrs. Patel, the guidance counselor herself, and two men Albert had never seen before, one tall and one not, both wearing droopy sport coats. The four adults looked at Albert silently as he came into the room, and Albert saw Gherdt and one of the men exchange a look. The two men were standing against the far wall as Albert and Gherdt lingered just inside the door. Only Mrs. Patel was seated—at least sort of, with one haunch resting in a pretend-casual way on the edge of the desk.

  Gherdt pushed Albert into the room and closed the door behind them. “Take a seat,” he said, gesturing at the plastic chair in front of the desk.

  Albert sat as he’d been told, and asked, “What’s going on?” He knew this had something to do with Lily. He hadn’t cheated on any tests, hadn’t stolen anything or gotten into a fight—there was nothing else it could be.

  One of the men said, “We’re hoping you can tell us that, Mr. Morales.”

  The guy addressing Albert was the taller one, who seemed older than the other guy. He wasn’t super-big, but Albert noticed prominent muscles on his forearms where his jacket sleeves were pushed up, and his neck was thick. He looked like a guy who never hit the gym, but instead got his muscle from his daily activities. Some big dogs had the same look.

  “This is Detective Andersen,” said Gherdt, “and his colleague, Officer Demiola. They’re here—”

  “Thanks, Principal Gherdt,” interrupted Andersen. To Albert he said, “We were hoping you could answer a few questions about a”—he cleared his throat—“chum of yours. I gather you’re close with a senior named Lily Odilon?”

  “What’s happened? Is she okay?” The words fell from Albert’s mouth.

  Andersen raised an eyebrow and took a step closer to Albert. “I’ll tell you, kid, we’re not sure she is. Mind if I ask you a few questions, see if we can’t shed a little light?”

  “Um.” Albert didn’t know what to say, because he didn’t quite know what was happening. He cleared his throat, but still found no safe words.

  Turning to Gherdt, Mrs. Patel spoke up. “Vernon, don’t you think we ought to call this boy’s parents? They should know their son is being questioned by the police at school this morning.” Even with what she was saying, there was a fair amount of the usual pep in her voice.

  Before Gherdt could reply, Andersen said,
“That’s a good idea, ma’am.”

  “Both your parents at work?” Gherdt asked, on board because the cop was on board.

  “Yes. But my mom works in town, so it’d be better to call her.” He was babbling, not really knowing what was coming out of his mouth but knowing it was coming out too fast. Something about this guy’s pale, expressionless eyes turned him into a scared little kid. That, and Albert wasn’t used to talking to cops. “They’ll have to page her, though, so she might have to call you back.” Still babbling.

  “That’s fine,” said Andersen, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you folks mind going into the other room to do that? I’d like to chat with Albert here while we wait—if he doesn’t mind.”

  Albert did mind, but he said nothing. They were all looking at him again, so he nodded.

  Gherdt and Mrs. Patel left the room with Detective Demiola, who was saying as he shut the door on Albert and Andersen, “I have a few questions for you folks about Miss Odilon …”

  “Lily’s a friend of yours?” asked Andersen once he and Albert were alone.

  “She is,” said Albert, his voice coming out weak. “More than a friend. I’m her boyfriend.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  The guy didn’t worry much about putting a guy at ease, Albert decided. “Friday night, or I guess actually Saturday morning. It’s a long story.”

  “I have as much time as you need.”

  Albert squirmed in his chair. “Sure, but shouldn’t I wait until my mom gets here?”

  Andersen sat down on the couch and tented his fingers, merely looking at Albert.

  “I mean,” Albert went on, “am I being questioned? Am I in trouble for something?”

  “I’m just trying to understand. You’re not under arrest for anything. What do I have to arrest you for? We’re just talking because it looks like something bad could’ve happened to your girlfriend and I figure you want to help. You do want to help?”

  “I want to help. Maybe you can tell me what happened to Lily? I haven’t heard from her since … the last time I saw her, and I’ve been kind of worried.”

  “Why would you be worried?”

  “I don’t know.” This was true; at least, he didn’t know how to explain the uneasy way he’d felt when he’d woken up in Lily’s bed with no Lily.

  Andersen scratched his eyebrow, saying, after a pause, “Okay, but if you were so worried—for whatever reason—why didn’t you tell somebody?”

  “Her parents were out of town, and Lily—she gets funny ideas in her head sometimes and does unusual things.”

  Andersen pounced on this. “What kinds of ‘unusual things’?”

  Albert wished he’d said nothing. It was too hard to explain. “Nothing bad, just … she’s just a free spirit or whatever. You can ask anyone who knows her.”

  “We intend to.”

  “I didn’t want to get her in trouble.” It sounded stupid when he said it out loud.

  “That’s not the real concern here.” Andersen leaned forward, catching Albert’s eye. “Let’s start with you telling me about the last time you two were together. Go slow and don’t leave anything out.”

  Albert tried. He filled Andersen in on the entire chronology—starting with crawling through Lily’s window Friday and finishing with being led out of class by Mr. Gherdt just a short while earlier. Andersen let him tell his story uninterrupted, then made Albert go through the whole story again, this time questioning things—asking for clarification here, more detail there. Sometime during the second telling Andersen had stood again, listening with his back to Albert, as if this would give him some different perspective on the same story. He paced the small room as Albert spoke and the detective’s hovering made Albert nervous—which, Albert suspected, was the point.

  When Albert had finished his story the second time, Andersen took a seat on the couch again. He was perched on the edge, though, not relaxed into the cushions. His expression was hard to read, and Albert wasn’t sure if the detective thought he’d done well or not.

  Then there was a cursory knock on the door and Mrs. Patel was poking her head into the room without waiting for an invitation to enter. “Mrs. Morales just called back. She’ll be here in ten.”

  “Fine, fine,” said Andersen, motioning for Mrs. Patel to leave. When the door closed again, he said to Albert, “Like I said, we’re just talking here, and I appreciate your willingness to cooperate. I’m going to ask your mother to bring you down to the station tomorrow so you can give me your statement. Officially. That is, if you’re still feeling cooperative.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  Andersen looked at him. “Nothing about your story you’d want to change?”

  “I told you everything I know, everything I remember,” Albert insisted. “It’s not a story. It’s the truth.”

  “So your story will stay the same when I tell you we found Lily’s car an hour ago?”

  Blindsided. “Her car? What about her ?”

  “What about her?” Andersen was looking at his phone, like he wasn’t that interested in Albert anymore.

  “I mean,” said Albert, aware that he was raising his voice but seemingly unable to stop, “if you found her car, where is Lily?”

  Albert stood, as did Andersen, who said, “Are you curious about what we found?”

  The room felt hot and Albert felt like he was suffocating. “Why don’t you just tell me?” he demanded, his voice even louder. “Is she stuffed in the trunk or something?”

  The cop put his phone back in his pocket, saying, “The car was left at Meyer’s Drug in Middletown, parked around back with the keys still in it.” He didn’t appear troubled by Albert’s outburst. “The store owners called it in, said it had been parked there since yesterday. No sign of the girl. But the drug store is on the edge of town, not far from the highway or the dump. We have a search crew out there looking.”

  Albert felt the blood drain from his face, and he struggled to understand what these words meant. He was saved trying to figure out how to ask when the door opened. He looked over and saw that his mother was there. She gave him a frightened looked, but it was also a hard look and a disappointed look, too. She was flanked by the other cop and Gherdt. Andersen went to her and they exchanged a few low words Albert couldn’t fully make out; Andersen’s sounds were firm, while Albert’s mother was unusually tame.

  Albert stood like a dumb animal, looking at his shoes and lost inside his head, until someone drew him from the conference room and dropped his backpack into his hands as the five of them made their way down the little hall and into the front office.

  The cops left immediately, without another word to Albert or his mother. Gherdt seemed like he had more to say to Mrs. Morales, but when one of the secretaries told him she was patching a call through to his office, he left with one irritated backward glance at Albert. And though Albert had never thought the guy particularly liked him, the suspicion he thought he saw in the principal’s expression gave him a rude jolt. This guy saw him every day, had even joked with him in the lunchroom before and had never had to discipline him. Albert’s stomach clenched, and he wondered what exactly they all thought he’d done and how they could think he was that kind of person. Still, he felt like he should have been expecting this reaction somehow; whenever an adult acted mistrustful of him, he always began to believe he must somehow deserve it.

  With the principal gone, this left Albert with his mother, who was looking up at him with her own hard-to-read expression; the school secretary, who was trying to pretend they weren’t there; and Mrs. Patel, who had returned to hover the way she always did.

  Mrs. Morales glanced pointedly at Mrs. Patel, then turned to her son and put a hand on his cheek. “You look pale and your skin is clammy,” she announced. “I’m signing you out and taking you home.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, embarrassed. He was suspicious of her concern; past experience had taught him to suspect she
was hiding some rage, too, at being called away from work to deal with trouble at her son’s school.

  His mother was still inspecting his face. “You look like you’re going to faint.”

  At this point no one in the room was even pretending not to listen, and Albert felt like the secretary and Mrs. Patel were now staring at him, waiting for him to collapse or do something interesting. He agreed to leave with his mother just to make it stop. He’d had enough scrutiny for the day.

  The ride home was quiet, and tense. Albert’s mother kept her eyes on the road, not giving even a sideways glance at Albert; as for Albert, he put his hands in his lap to stop them from shaking and stared out the window until they pulled into the driveway at home.

  “I want to explain—” Albert began, once they were home and standing in the kitchen. It was really important that he make her understand, but he didn’t know which words could do that.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” his mother said curtly. “If it’s about why you were out in the middle of the night, well, I’m not stupid. I don’t like it and I thought we raised you better, but …” She trailed off. Her mouth was a thin, hard line. “I guess I’ll hear the whole story tomorrow when you talk to the police.” She paused, adding, “As for the rest of it—I know you didn’t have anything to do with that girl disappearing.”

  That girl.

  Albert didn’t trust himself to speak. He left the kitchen and went to his bedroom, shutting the door softly. His mother hadn’t stayed home with him on a school day since he was eleven. Though he was in his room and she was on the other side of the house, thankfully leaving him completely alone, knowing she was there at all—that she was thinking about him—was a weight. And though she was as sharp with him as usual, her show of motherly concern, something he hadn’t seen much of since about the time he’d turned twelve, was disturbing. For the past few years, he’d become used to their relationship’s two gears: the nag and fight gear—the one where he screwed up and she harangued him about it, and the tolerance gear—where they pretty much ignored each other as long as Albert didn’t do anything to set her off. Today’s mom-ishness seemed like a bad sign, like when there’s a death in the family and everything is subdued.