“Fine.”
“Do you have much homework?”
“Done.”
“Want to go roller skating with me Sunday?”
“I practice softball everyday and have gym class. I don’t need the outside activities.”
“How about the mall? Do you want to go to the mall?”
“I thought I was grounded.” She shot Lily another look full of animosity. “Can Charlotte and Sally go?”
“No, I want to spend time with you alone. I don’t want to spend time with Charlotte and Sally. Besides, where is my top you loaned Charlotte without my permission?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your precious top back. I just forgot. Will you chill out, Mom?” With this last statement her voice went high and shrill. Then something came to mind and she turned to her mother with a sweet smile and a sugar-coated voice. “I need a new outfit. There’s a dance in the gym next week and we’re all going.”
Here we go, Lily thought, feeling the burning in her chest again. In desperation she had found herself recently doing something she despised. She’d started buying her things in the past year or so just to get that one little smile. As a parent, she felt she was on a seesaw. One minute she tried to uphold her long-standing rules and restrictions. The next minute everything fell away, and she broke all her own rules. To compete with John she had to play a new game, his game. His game was to give Shana anything she wanted. “I just bought you all those things two weeks ago, Shana. Can’t you wear one of those to the dance?”
“Mom…I’ve already worn them to school. I don’t want to wear them to the dance.”
“We’ll see,” she said, stalling, pacifying.
Shana stared out the passenger window.
“So, what else is going on? Any gossip?”
“I started my period today.”
Lily was excited and it showed. Shana rolled her eyes around in disbelief at her excitement. This was something strictly feminine, something they could share. Now, Lily thought, they could go home and lock themselves in the bedroom and talk about this, the way they’d used to talk about everything. “I knew you’d start any day now. Didn’t I tell you that I started at your age? That’s why you’ve been so snappy and emotional. I was, too. It’s normal. You’re a real woman now. Do you have cramps? How do you feel? We’ll stop at the drugstore. What are you wearing now?” Lily knew she was rattling on and on, but she didn’t care. This could be a new beginning for them.
“Dad already got me some pads today”
Lily’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. She took her foot off the gas, and the car came to an abrupt standstill in the suburban traffic. Cars honked and then passed. She turned to face her daughter. “You could have called me at work and told me. Why didn’t you? Why are you shutting me out of your life?” She had to hear the words; like a masochist, she sought the pain.
“Dad said you were too busy and not to bother you.”
The words “Dad already got me some pads today” were ringing in her ears; now they were joined by “Dad said you were too busy.” In the act of not sharing that one historically female moment, the rite of passage, and the fact that she could go to her father without embarrassment, her daughter had destroyed her. They drove home in silence.
John arrived home shortly after Lily and Shana. Located in what once had been the farming community of Camarillo, twenty minutes from Ventura, the house was a spacious twenty-year-old ranch with paned windows. John went and made a bowl of ice cream for himself and Shana, and carried her dish to her in her room; she was on the phone with the door shut. He walked in, handed the bowl to her, and started to walk out. Shana reached up without looking and tugged lightly on his shirt, still talking to the girl on the phone, until he leaned down near her face. She kissed him on the mouth and immediately returned to the conversation. He smiled and left, returning to the family room to eat his ice cream in front of the television. Lily was standing in the hall. She stepped back for John to pass, glaring at him. Then she went to take a shower. They did this after every game, and John had never once asked Lily if she wanted a bowl of ice cream.
She stood in the bathroom fully clothed and stared in the mirror. She was an unwanted intruder—an outcast in her own home. Without her salary they couldn’t even afford this house. Without all the late nights and the hard work and the stress that had put years on her face. John just wanted to punch a time clock, collect his check, coach Softball, watch television, and wait for the day he won the lottery. When they did talk, which was rare, John wanted to talk about spaceships and aliens and life after death, issues that delineated the world he lived in from the stark reality of Lily’s world.
She walked into the den and looked at him on the sofa. “Can we turn the television off? I want to talk.”
He jumped up. “I just remembered. Shana has the cramps, poor baby, and I told her I would bring her some Tylenol.” He headed to the kitchen cabinet.
Lily grabbed the two pills out of his hand and snapped, “I’ll take her the Tylenol. Afterward, I’ll meet you in the backyard. I want to talk.” In the backyard, Shana would be unable to hear. At least on one issue they agreed: not arguing in front of their daughter.
She opened Shana’s door. She was still on the phone, sitting on the floor in the corner, so much junk on her bed that there was nowhere else to sit. “Please get off the phone now and go to bed. You’ll never get up in the morning.”
The phone was left on its side as Shana strode over to her mother. I’ll get off in just a minute.”
“I brought you a few Tylenol for the cramps.”
“Did you bring me any water?”
The bathroom is just two feet away, Shana. Look. See, it’s still there.”
“Dad, bring me a glass of water on your way,” she yelled.
“On my way, darling,” he answered and was there in a second, entering the room as Lily backed out.
Lily stood with her back against the hall wall and listened to the two of them talk, discussing the game—John praising and bragging on her pitching. She could tell that Shana was standing on tiptoes and hugging him around the neck as she did every night, kissing him tenderly on the cheek. He walked out the door and saw his wife standing there, her hands crossed over her chest. He waited for her to pass and followed her into the backyard.
John took a seat in the lounger; Lily sat in a nylon chair across from him. It was dark and the only light was from the neighboring house. The only noise was their television heard through an open window. The amber end of his cigarette reminded her of the fireflies she used to chase as a child, sometimes capturing one in a jar.
“Where did you go last night?” he said. I had a late meeting. I told Shana to tell you, but I guess you never woke up.” Lily was thankful for the darkness, so he couldn’t see her face. She had always been a poor liar. He had once told her that whenever she lied, her nostrils flared.
“I saw you,” he said, his voice a mixture of anger and sadness.
Lily rubbed her arms in the damp night air, his words playing in her mind. She laughed nervously. What was he talking about? Surely, he didn’t mean what she thought he meant. “Oh, really,” she said, “and what exactly did you see?”
He was silent. Then he repeated himself. “I saw you.”
“Look, John, don’t play games with me. What are you talking about?”
“I want you to move out.” He stood and the voice now was all bitterness, all conviction, the voice of a man who was no longer playing a game. “Did you hear me? I want you out of this house by tomorrow.”
He was standing over Lily, and she looked up in the dark. Her eyes followed the glowing end of his cigarette, the dark outline of his arm in motion as he flicked it toward the dirt side of the yard. She waited for it to explode like a firecracker, counting the seconds, holding her breath. She thought of spontaneous combustion, her body erupting in flames, burning from the inside out.
His arm was flying toward her, a night
bird, a bat, the sound of his shirt wings flapping, the slap across her face the dreaded collision. “Move in with your boyfriend—the guy you were making out with last night in the parking lot.”
Lily caught his arm in an iron grip. In front of her she saw an enormous stack of white dishes crashing to the ground and the pieces flying in the air. “You want me to move out?” she screamed. “You disgusting piece of shit. You think I want to spend the rest of my life with you, working my ass off while you lounge around in front of the television and turn my own daughter against me?”
He yanked his arm away. “I never turned Shana against you. You’re just too busy with your cases and your career to pay attention to your own child.” He was spitting the words out between clenched teeth, his chest heaving.
“What do you suggest? That I quit my job? That we go on welfare or something so we can both be here every minute in case Shana needs a glass of water? You’ve spoiled her rotten. She was a beautiful child and now she’s a disrespectful, demanding brat.” She stopped, regretting her last statement. “Now you’re probably going to run in there and tell her what I said. Don’t you realize that you hurt her, too, when you do this, repeat things I say to you in private? Go ahead. Tell her. I don’t give a shit anymore.”
She stepped back into the nylon chair and almost tripped. With one hand she seized the chair and threw it onto the dirt side of the yard. “Look at the yard, John. You don’t even see that one side is dirt. It doesn’t bother you at all. You only see what you want to see.”
“You’re a slut, a whore. You let that man use you like a whore.”
Her voice lowered to a controlled level. “Like a receptacle, John? Is that what you want to say? That I let him use me like a receptacle?” He didn’t answer. “Maybe if you were a man and treated me like a woman, a wife, then I wouldn’t have needed another man.” She stepped closer, inches from his face. “You know, John, people have sex, married people, and for more reasons than just making babies.” Her voice rose again and she screamed at him. “They have it because it feels good and because it’s normal.”
He was shaking, moving back away from her, retreating. “You’re sick, Lily. You’re not fit to be a mother.” He turned and started walking toward the back door.
“I want a husband, John. I don’t want a wife.”
He slammed the door and left her there in the yard. The neighbor’s dog was barking and howling at the commotion. Lily picked up a stick off the ground and tossed it over the fence, hearing the little dog squeal and run.
Her breath was coming slower now. The tempest was over. She felt a lightness in her body, a floating sensation. She was finally going to be free. The only problem was Shana.
Walking down the hall, she saw the light under her daughter’s door—it was only ten o’clock. When she cracked the door, Shana was cramming papers from the bed back into a spiral notebook. “Can I come in for a few minutes?”
It took the younger woman only a moment to see the expression on her mother’s face and she said, “Sure. Have you and Dad been fighting? I thought I heard yelling out there.”
“Yes.” Lily turned her head, hoping Shana wouldn’t see the red handprint on her face. “Can we turn out the light and get in bed the way we used to when you were little?”
“Yeah, sure.” Shana flicked off the light and climbed onto the side nearest the wall. “What’s going on?”
“Your dad and I are going to get a divorce,” Lily said, sniffing in the darkness and feeling the wet tears run down her face. She had felt so good in the yard; it was what she wanted, but now she was terrified. “Things have been bad for a long time. You knew that.”
“Will we be poor now? Sally’s parents got divorced and she says they’re poor.”
“I guarantee you won’t be poor, Shana, even if I have to work an extra job. I love you; I’ll always provide for you, and I’ll always be there for you.”
Shana sat up in the bed in the dark, her voice thin and cracking. “Where will we live if you and Dad get divorced? We won’t be a family anymore.”
Lily sat up, too, and reached for her, but the girl pulled away. “We’ll always be a family, Shana. I’ll always be your mother and Dad will always be your dad. We both love you very much.”
“I can’t believe this is happening to me. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” She started crying. “Today. You’re doing this today.”
The fact that she had started her period for the first time that day surfaced in Lily’s mind. She fell back onto the small bed. Shana would remember this day the rest of her life. “Please, Shana. Try to understand. I know it’s hard. I just can’t live with your father anymore. I wanted to wait until you were out of high school, but—”
She cut her off. “Then why don’t you?”
“Because I cant take it anymore. Because I’m too old to wait that long. If we do it now, we both have a chance to find something else in our life.”
Shana leaned back next to Lily, still sniffing. “You mean another man? Find another man?”
“Possibly. Or your dad might find another woman who will make him happy.”
Shana was silent, thinking. Lily continued, “One of us has to move out. Too many bad things were said tonight. Dad wants me to move out. I have a right to stay here, Shana, and things might be different if it was just the two of us. You know, sometimes when I go to my room or stay late at the office, it’s because I don’t want to be around Dad. I mean, you stay in your room all the time and he sleeps on the couch. Try to see my side just once.”
“I want to stay here with Dad.”
Lily felt her heart sink. She’d known it would be this way. She got up and turned on the light, sat on the bed, looked into Shana’s eyes. With her hand she brushed a tear off her cheek. “Why? What is it I’ve done? What haven’t I done? Tell me.”
Shana reached for a tissue off the nightstand, blowing her nose. “Dad loves me more than you do.”
Resentment rose in Lily’s throat. She snapped, “That isn’t true. No matter what you think, that simply isn’t true. You know what it is? It’s because he gives in to you more, waits on you more, never demands anything from you. Isn’t it?”
Shana’s blue eyes roamed around the room before returning to her mother. “Maybe.”
What could Lily say? The child had answered honestly. She stood and was leaving the room when Shana spoke up. “You can sleep with me, Mom. Turn out the light.”
Back in the bed, Shana moved close and put her head on Lily’s shoulder. “I do love you. I just want to live with Dad. You know?”
“I know,” Lily said. “I know.”
CHAPTER 7
Clinton had called from Division 42 and told Lily that he wanted to speak with her before she left for the day; she had agreed to wait but was anxious. John was dropping Shana off at the house she had rented in thirty minutes, and Lily had been working toward this evening all week. They had been separated for eight days, and today was the first time Shana would see the house.
She had the entire evening planned. After she cooked Shana’s favorite meal, fried chicken and mashed potatoes, they would curl up together on the sofa and watch television. All the furniture had been purchased at a local antique shop, and although most of the pieces were actually inexpensive reproductions, the outcome was charming and warm. The greatest portion of the money and effort had been applied to Shana’s room, and Lily had rearranged the furniture three times until it was perfect. It contained a high four-poster bed with a canopy, an antique wardrobe, a pedestal nightstand, and the bed sported a brand-new quilted pink and lavender floral-print comforter with matching curtains that Lily had hung herself. She had framed a lot of small snapshots of her and Shana and even her father, and placed them in tiny silver and jeweled frames on the nightstand and dresser. The drawers were full of new casual clothes, underwear, nightgowns, and multicolored socks so that Shana would not have to pack a suitcase every time she spent the night with Lily.
&
nbsp; The house had been a godsend. It had belonged to an elderly woman who had passed away, and the family wanted to rent it to someone reliable until the estate was probated. It was in an older, quiet neighborhood a few blocks from the office, and the deceased owner had been an ardent gardener. Almost every square inch of yard was planted in rose bushes and blooming flowers.
Clinton came blasting into the office, out of breath, his hair standing on end. He slammed his briefcase on the top of her desk. “Just so we don’t have a problem with this, I wanted to tell you face to face. I asked for dismissal on the Hernandez matter. They’re probably releasing him right now.”
Lily was relieved. She was sure Clinton had asked to see her about a new development in the Stacy Jenkins case. He had interviewed the child a few days before and had gone bonkers. Learning that she was in foster care, he wanted to take her home to live with his family. Lily had put a stop to that immediately and gave him a long lecture about becoming overly involved.
“Hey, earth calling Lily,” he said, seeing that her mind was far away. “You know, the prostitute case—the one you were so hot about. I thought you were going to ream me out for dismissing.”
“So, the victim didn’t show again, huh? What was this, the third time you had continued?”
“Exactly. I would have kept the damn thing rolling, but no one even knows where she is, and without a victim…“He paused, waiting for a reaction.
“It’s fine, Clinton. At least you tried. I had a feeling it would end up like this. Give me the file and I’ll add a few notes regarding the dismissal just in case he surfaces in the system again.” She was already standing and took the file from his outstretched hands and loaded it into her briefcase, containing six or seven cases she planned to work on after Shana went to bed. She hurried to the door.
“See you tomorrow, boss. Hey, what did you do to your arm? That’s a pretty nasty bruise there. You mud wrestling on the side or something?”
Mitigating Circumstances Page 7
