The Complete Series

by Angela Scipioni

  Lily took to the theatre with a naturalness and an unconscious talent that made Mr. Howell giddy with excitement. She was fearless, and at his slightest direction would leap higher, sing louder, gesticulate more outrageously - without ever questioning him, balking, or being concerned about looking stupid - a disease that plagued most every other fifteen-year-old on the planet.

  Before long, Lily was nipping at Kiki’s heels for the leading roles in choir and drama. When parts for the musical were assigned, Kiki immediately set out counting her lines to confirm that her leading romantic role was technically a bigger one, while Lily was engrossed in practicing her comedic timing and playfully experimenting with her role of Ado Annie, the town flirt. And while the other kids were making out in the band room and planning cast parties, Lily was rehearsing and researching colleges of the performing arts. It was the only way she could ever imagine herself going to college - should she be lucky enough to survive the mind-numbing inanities of high school and get a student loan. She loved drama class, English, and Ms. Shue’s Women in Contemporary Society class, but otherwise school was completely unbearable.

  Lily’s high school experience may have been different if she had become socially engaged, but she found the girls her own age to be silly and shallow, with nothing more holding them together than cheerleader tryouts (Lily couldn’t do the necessary cartwheel) and an adoration of the boys on the football team (none of whom would ever want to date a drama geek).

  To complicate matters, once Lily’s mother went back to work, she had become exposed to the women’s movement and abandoned herself to it wholeheartedly. Lily had never seen such fire in her mother - it was a passion that fueled her mother’s dedication to a full-time job during the day and classes at the local college in the evenings to earn her master’s degree. Lily was perplexed by why anyone - especially someone as old as her mother who was married, had twelve children, and already had a job - would voluntarily go back to school.

  “Women have been held back far too long, Lily,” her mother told her. “I owe it to myself and to all women to develop my potential to the best of my ability.” Lily’s mother dropped three chicken drumsticks into a bag that contained a combination of bread crumbs, spices, and “home cooked goodness.” She vigorously shook the bag, then retrieved the pieces of meat and placed them on a cookie sheet. “Our options as women have been limited to the kitchen and the Miss America pageant and we have all suffered because of it. We will be silent no more.” She slid the cookie sheet onto the center rack and as she turned to wash her hands, she kicked up her heel and tipped the oven door closed.

  “If you ask me,” Lily’s father chimed in, “this women’s lib baloney is lousy with gals who can’t put a decent meal together and aren’t much to look at. Real women are content to stay home and care for their families.”

  “So Carlo, when I finish my degree I’ll be eligible for a job grade promotion and a new pay level. Are you saying you’d rather have me here, baking cookies and sitting under the hairdryer?”

  Lily’s father raised his cigarette to his lips, and took a long slow drag, peering at her mother through narrowed eyes as he attempted to protect himself from the sting of his own smoke.

  “No,” said Lily’s mother, placing a bowl of salad on the table. “I didn’t think so.”

  While Lily related the conversation with great pride to Ms. Shue - who considered her mother a role model - having a feminist for a mother was not without its price; after all, someone still had to stay home to clean up after dinner and watch the younger children. Thanks to the women’s movement, those tasks fell to Lily and Iris, leaving Lily precious little time for much else besides homework and play practice.

  The debate over whether women’s lib was bad because it depreciated the family dinner to a shake-and-bake experience, or good because at least it made a decent dinner possible, continued over the weeks and months that followed. Each night, the debate grew a little less friendly, the opinions a little more fixed, the language less eloquent and more vulgar as Lily’s parents became polarized and ardently pitted against one another. Lily suspected that they weren’t arguing about this movement in society as much as they were fighting over something much more immediate and personal. She often wished they would have their “discussions” behind closed doors; she did not want to have a front row seat to their anger and bitterness. Even more than that, the questions they raised confused Lily and it was clear they could not help her understand the issues with which they themselves were so desperately grappling. As she stood on the cusp of womanhood, the way seemed increasingly muddied.

  Part girl and part woman, partially liberated but mostly bound, Lily kept one foot in each world, balancing herself on stage and escaping into dreams of her future as an actress - a vision fueled by the rumors that Lily was to be awarded the annual school achievement trophy for drama. Every previous year, the award had gone to the leading lady - and with the most lines, Kiki was clearly the lead. By the time the rumor had made its way around, Kiki was barely speaking to Lily.

  “But Kiki,” Lily asked, “Why are you mad at me? I don’t choose the winner.”

  “Well, then,” said Kiki. “Don’t accept the award. Just tell them you don’t think it’s right you should get it, since you’re not the leading lady. Then they’ll have to give it to me. It’s rightfully mine anyway.”

  “Don’t you dare!” shouted Iris, when Lily told her she was considering Kiki’s request.

  “It’s just a trophy,” said Lily. “It doesn’t really mean anything.”

  “Yes it does!” said Iris. “It means that you’re the best, and that’s worth something. You earned that. She’s such a spoiled brat. I even heard that her father called the school to complain. She’s just jealous because you’re better than she is.”

  “No I’m not!” protested Lily. “Did you know that she can hit a high A note? I’m lucky if I can make a C! I could never sing her part.”

  “But yours is more fun; you get all the laughs. And anyway - she’s fat.”

  “Iris!”

  “That was mean, I know - sorry.” Then she added, “But it’s true.”

  “What is? That I’m better than she is, or that she’s spoiled, or that she’s fat?”

  “All of it!” said Iris, and they both laughed.

  Opening night of Oklahoma! was especially exciting for Lily, because her family was coming to watch. They had only known her as Lily - non-descript, number nine, youngest girl. Tonight, she was something else, something more. She peeked out into the audience from behind the curtain, and there in the tenth row sat her parents, Iris, Jasmine, Violet and Todd, and Auntie Rosa - all just to see her. Cousin Dolores was there, too - she was sick in some sort of way that no one wanted to talk about and was staying with Auntie Rosa “until she gets back on her feet.”

  Dolores was forty-one years old, the younger daughter of Bastiana Nuccetelli, sister of Grandma Capotosti, making Dolores Lily’s first cousin, once removed. Dolores was known as the family beauty, with thick black hair, a voluptuous figure, a slight overbite that gave her an air of childlike innocence, and deep brown eyes that, when you looked straight into them, caused you to get lost in your own reflection. She was a painter who had also worked as a kindergarten teacher before her marriage to Dr. Julius Corvo, or “the creep” as Iris called him. Dolores’ paintings had taken up residence with her in the basement at Auntie Rosa’s. Except for her clothes, they were all she brought with her when she came to stay.

  Dolores’ work was beautiful, yet haunted: a majestic forest scene depicting a path that led into the darkness of thick trees; a dilapidated barn caught in a blizzard, disappearing into an icy grave; a vase of wilted irises. When she showed them to Lily, she had the sense that she could feel what Dolores had felt when she painted them - a grown-up version of the stomachaches she’d had as a child. The paintings had an eerie quality to them. Lily liked looking at them, but she was also relieved to turn away.

  As the
pit orchestra began its cacophonic tuning and warm-ups, Lily scanned the audience one last time, noticing some of the boys she’d dated over the past couple of years - Salvatore Domino, Kenneth Carpino, Pierre Beauchamp - boys who she’d gone out with simply because she couldn’t bear to say no to anyone who asked, even though experience taught her that refusing had to be easier than going out on a date or two and then breaking up with them. Either way, you were bound to do something that would make them feel bad eventually. It all depended on whether you thought it was better to go on a date you didn’t want, or not go on a date at all.

  Lily scanned the audience twice, but she couldn’t find the one face she looked for; she couldn’t find the one face she longed to see, the one that belonged to a boy named James. Maybe he was just sitting too far back to be seen, or maybe he hadn’t arrived yet. She closed the curtain. It was just as well. She might be a little less nervous if she pretended he wasn’t watching.

  Lily and James had met at Kiki’s house the previous year. Kiki’s parents were regular hosts of the weekly Living Youth meetings, sponsored by a regional Christian youth organization. Every Tuesday, a group of teens would meet at someone’s house to have a sing-along, play games, and socialize. The evening would be topped off with a talk from one of the youth counselors, intended to help teach young adults how to deal with drugs, sex, and peer pressure in a way that “Honors self and Honors Christ”. The irony was that after the meetings, the group would disband and then reorganize itself into various sub-groups that would go find somewhere to have sex or get stoned - except for the clique that Lily and James found themselves in. They ended up at Spangles ice cream parlor every week, where they played music on the jukebox and collectively scraped together enough money from pockets, backpacks, and purses to buy the minimum amount of ice cream required to keep from being kicked out for loitering. And since James was a year older, and the only one in the group with his own car - an Oldsmobile Delta 88 that could fit eight teenagers - at the end of the evening he would make the rounds and drop everyone back off at home.

  Lily noticed after a few weeks that James would order the drop-offs so that she was the last one left. Initially, she was suspicious and defensive. Whenever a boy tried to work it out so that you were alone somewhere, it was inevitably because he wanted to try and get his hand up your shirt, or down your pants.

  The first time she found herself alone with James in the car, Lily sat as far over into the passenger’s side as she could. She kept her hand on the door handle and then as soon as the car stopped, she released the door and hopped out before saying a quick “thanks” and running into the house. But as the weeks passed, she relaxed into the thoughtful conversations they began to have along the way. She moved in closer, and let go of the door handle. Sometimes they would sit in Lily’s driveway and talk for hours. They talked about school, about faith, and about who they thought Jesus really was as opposed to who the counselors said He was.

  “I think Jesus would hate Living Youth,” said Lily. “He wouldn’t waste his time sitting around singing ‘Kumbayah.’ He’d probably pack us up into an old Volkswagen bus and take us into the inner city to pass out ham and cheese sandwiches to the poor.”

  “Jesus would never eat a ham and cheese sandwich, Lily - he’s Jewish! Anyway, you make him sound like a flower child,” said James. “I think he would be more radical than that. Not in a violent way, but I think he’d get his own TV show - like 60 Minutes - and he would expose those TV preachers and give all their money back to the people.”

  “So he’s not a hippie, but he’s a Robin Hood?” Lily giggled. “I wonder how he would feel about women’s lib? I wonder if he would attend those bra-burning rallies.”

  “He’d be the one with the matches.”

  James spoke of the way he felt confined by the expectations of his father, who had planned his life out for him.

  “He wants me to graduate from high school, take over the family auto shop, find a nice girl, get married, have babies,” said James. “Every time I look at my dad, and I see the bags under his eyes, and the stiff way he walks... I just don’t see any joy in him. It scares me to think I will end up living a joyless life, covered in motor oil.”

  “What do you want to do?” Lily asked.

  “Math.”

  “Math?”

  “Yea - I know it sounds sort of funny, but ever since I was a kid, I’ve had this thing for numbers. I love them. I love math problems - they’re like puzzles to me. Puzzles that reveal a mystery when you solve them.” With an air of decision, he added. “I want to teach Math.”

  “So teach Math.” said Lily.

  “It’s not so easy,” said James, rolling down the driver’s side window, letting in a gush of cool autumn air. “No one in my family has ever been to college, and my father just doesn’t see the point in it. He says, ‘Why spend all that money on an education when you already have a decent, honest living waiting for you at the shop?’ If I go away to school, he’ll be really hurt, and I’m sure he won’t help pay for it.”

  “All of my brothers and sisters have gone to college so far,” said Lily. “And I know my father didn’t help pay for any of them. Anyway, your decisions about your life can’t be based on what your father wants. He’ll get over it, you know?” It was difficult for Lily to imagine having a father who took enough interest in your life plans that he would even care if you stayed or if you went.

  “He just seems so sad,” said James. “I’d hate knowing that I’m responsible for that defeated look on his face.”

  “My dad has that look too,” said Lily.

  “Why, do you think?”

  “Probably too many bills, too many children... too much work. And now with my mother going to school at night, his sacred dinner is always a crazy production, with her running out in the middle of it to get to class and him screaming at her about how women’s lib is destroying our family.” Lily paused. “The best thing I can do for them is get out of their way. Move out, become one less burden. And honestly? I can’t wait to get away from them, away from the fighting. At least when I’m at college, I’ll only have to take care of myself, which has got to be easier than this. I’ll have enough credits to graduate next January, and I can’t wait to get on with my life.”

  They sat quietly. James reached over and took Lily’s hand. “I think you’re a special person,” he said.

  Lily looked up at him. “Special in a short bus sort of a way?”

  “Don’t do that,” he said.

  “What? I was making a joke.”

  “No you weren’t,” he said. “You were refusing a compliment. Let’s try that again.”

  James shifted his body so that he was directly facing Lily. Taking her chin in his fingertips, and tilting her head up so that her gaze met his, he repeated, “I think you’re a special person.”

  Lily felt a burning in the back of her throat, as her eyes welled with tears.

  “You’re smart, a good listener, and by the way, you’re very pretty.”

  Lily blushed, and cast her gaze downward.

  “Now,” continued James. “What do you say?”

  Lily looked up at him again, finding sincerity and kindness in his warm brown eyes. Unlike any of the other boys she’d gone out with, James was her friend, someone with whom she had shared secrets and ice cream cones, and now they were sharing this moment, this quickened heartbeat, this space in which there was no auto shop, no dinner to cook, no shouting, no women’s lib, no squelched dreams or horrifying memories. There was just the hand of a friend, and a longing to know what it would be like to kiss him.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  They leaned in toward one another, and their first kiss unfolded as naturally and effortlessly as their conversation. Lily sighed and collapsed into his arms, all of her defenses down, all of her fears dissolving as James’ lips parted hers, mingling breath and tongues and passion. James placed his palm on Lily’s cheek, and slid it down the side of her nec
k. Lily’s body ignited with desire and a soft groan escaped her throat.

  At that moment, the flood lights outside the garage flashed on and off, on and off, which was Lily’s father’s code for, “You’ve been out there long enough. Stop whatever it is you’re doing and come inside.” Great, thought Lily. Now they decide to start paying attention.

  The opening night of Oklahoma! marked the anniversary of that first kiss, but James had never asked Lily to go steady, and they had never exchanged the words, “I love you,” even though the proclamation had been on the tip of Lily’s tongue countless times. Maybe one of these days, she would find the courage to speak it.

  The performance passed in a whirr of entrances and exits, songs and dances, cues, miscues, and last minute technical emergencies that are scripted into every high school production - like the corn field set piece that toppled over in the middle of a chorus number, making one of the dancers yelp and jump into the orchestra pit to avoid being hit, which caused the audience to break out into spontaneous laughter.

  After the final curtain call, Mr. Howell took the stage, thanked the audience for their support and then announced the winner of the school achievement award for drama. “Please join me in congratulating Miss Lily Capotosti.” The audience erupted into applause and came to their feet, led by a hooting and cheering Capotosti section. As Lily entered stage to accept her trophy, she became aware that this success would come with a price, and she watched the wings out of the corner of her eye as Kiki spun around and stomped away.

  When Lily retreated to the hallway to greet her family after the show, she was met with cheers and hugs that were sweeter and more validating to her than any trophy. It seemed that a lifetime of familial obscurity had melted amid this outpouring of affection and congratulations, and for the first time in her life Lily felt that her family caught a glimpse of who she truly was, and they loved her for it. She could tell they were proud of her. She had finally found a way to be special.