The Complete Series

by Angela Scipioni

  Dolores took Lily by the hand and led her off to the side, away from the thick of the crowd of laughing and chatting performers and their families. She had a tissue wadded in her left fist, and dabbed at teary eyes.

  “I had no idea you had such talent.” said Dolores. “What are you doing about it?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Lily. “I thought being in the play was ‘doing something’ about it.”

  “I mean, what are you doing?” said Dolores. “How are you developing your singing and acting? Are you entering pageants and taking private coaching? Are you out there getting some experience for your resume?”

  “Um... no,” said Lily, suddenly becoming self-conscious over the absence of a resume or anything resembling one. “I’m just doing the plays and stuff. I’m looking at colleges, but I haven’t thought about where to apply yet.” Between babysitting all summer and her hefty list of household tasks during the school year, there really hadn’t been much time to think about or pursue such things, let alone figure out how to navigate or pay for them.

  “Well, we’re going to remedy that.” Dolores was emphatic, and her voice cracked as a tear slipped down her cheek. “We’re not going to let you go slip through the cracks. I would love to take you under my wing, Lily - and I know some people who can really help. How would that be? Would that be alright with you?” A timid smile crept across Dolores’ lips, but it wasn’t enough to cover over the sadness lurking behind her eyes.

  Lily hardly knew Dolores, having seen her only on New Year’s Eve and at the family reunions they used to have on the Fourth of July when Grandma Capotosti was still alive. She had always liked Dolores, and admired the graceful way she spoke and moved, yet she rarely saw her now when she wasn’t either crying or on the verge of tears. Lily couldn’t imagine how this weeping beauty with a storage closet filled with unsold paintings could help her in her performance career, but it was the best offer Lily had received. The only offer. Anyway, there was no way Lily could or would deny Dolores her hope, and she could not deny her own, regardless of how fantastic the idea seemed at that moment. Even this rickety bridge might be sufficient to carry Lily to her future. Perhaps it could bear the weight of their collective hopes and dreams.

  So despite her skepticism, Lily’s heart leapt at the prospect of having someone in her corner who cared about her, appreciated her, and claimed to have the means to help her - someone who could perhaps be for her what Auntie Rosa had been for Iris - a benefactor, a champion.

  “Oh, Dolores,” Lily replied, tears coming to her own eyes. “That’d be so great.”

  “Fabulous!” Dolores gave Lily an enthusiastic hug, and from the view over her shoulder, Lily saw James leaning up against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, a single carnation in his hand and a smile on his face. It was a smile that never failed to melt Lily’s heart.

  Dolores released her embrace, and traced Lily’s fixed gaze. “What in the world are you doing standing here with me?” She adjusted Lily’s hair and pinched the flesh of her cheeks. “We’ll talk soon - you go now.”

  “Thanks, Dolores,” said Lily, already halfway across the hall.

  As she approached him, James extended his arm and presented the flower to Lily.

  “You were amazing,” he said. “I mean really amazing.” He didn’t hug her or kiss her. She didn’t expect him to - not with all those people standing around.

  “Thanks,” said Lily. She raised the flower toward her face, and recognized that in order to really smell a carnation, you had to stick your nose way down into it, almost like forcing the blossom to yield its beauty. The joy she felt in that moment, with the exhilaration of the performance, of her family’s praise, of Dolores’ offer of help, her long-stemmed carnation in her hand - made her want to shout her feelings out to him. Maybe she would. Soon.

  They stood there, looking at each other, looking around the vestibule. Lily was hoping he would ask her to go out for a drive, or for a hot chocolate or something. She would have suggested it, except that he was the one with the car. And after all, he was the boy.

  “So,” he said. “You probably have a cast party or something to go to.”

  Lily couldn’t tell if he was trying to discern whether she was available to go out, or if he was trying to avoid asking.

  “Well, there is a party, but I don’t think I want to go,” said Lily. The drama crowd had divided itself into Lily supporters and Kiki supporters, and Lily didn’t want anything to do with it. It was pointless and juvenile, and she didn’t want to spoil the way she was feeling tonight by exposing herself to it.

  “Wanna go grab something to eat?”

  “I’d love to,” she replied.

  The fact that James was not committed in any way to take Lily places actually made the time they spent together a little sweeter. He could be anywhere, with any girl, and he chose to be here, with her.

  Lily and James sat in their booth at Burger King, where she had a Whopper Jr. and a diet cola, and he had two double cheeseburgers, a chocolate milkshake, and an order of fries.

  “Can I have a fry?” Lily asked, reaching toward the paper envelope on his tray.

  “No!” said James, pulling the tray out of reach, and covering the fries protectively with his arm. “I offered to buy you some, but you said you didn’t want any.”

  “C’mon -” Lily pleaded. “Let me have one. I didn’t know I wanted them until I saw yours.”

  “Nope,” said James, pointing his index finger at Lily. “You have to learn how to know what you want, and then say what you want.”

  “OK,” said Lily. “I want to go for a drive.” It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but the subtext was clear.

  The good thing about having a family auto shop was that it was easy to park your car in the lot after hours without being discovered. Whenever they had tried to park in back of the school or along the fence by the airport, either some other couple would park next to them, or a policeman would drive by, roll down his window and shout out, “Let’s move it along, kids.” But parking behind the auto shop was quiet and private, and so isolated that Lily would never dare go there with any boy but James.

  “Wanna go in the back seat?” said James, in between kisses. So far, Lily and James had only necked - nothing more; she was always afraid of getting caught. But as the months went on, the desire to go further with James was bolder than her fear and less tolerant than her patience.

  They took turns climbing into the back, and lay down together on the bench seat. Lily felt James’ mouth on her lips, on her neck, his hands first against the skin of her back and then against the skin of her breasts. She slid her fingers down his back, and over his firm behind which had been chiseled from the rigors of three years of Varsity soccer. She glided her hand over his hip, bringing it to rest over his zipper. She could feel his erection, and his body flinched at her touch. Her desire ignited, but she didn’t know what to do next. She hesitated.

  James took her hand from the front of his pants, raised it to his mouth, and kissed it. “Maybe I should take you home now.”

  No, no NO, Lily thought. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to stop yet. What would he think of her if she said those words out loud? What would he do? Like so many others, Lily’s desire for James remained tucked safely inside, invulnerable to rejection and disappointment.

  James drove Lily home and they sat in her driveway, talking until the flood lights flashed. Just as Lily was about to enter the house, James rolled down the car window and called her name. She walked over to him, expecting one last kiss. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket, and handed her a French fry.

  “Good night.” He smiled.

  Lily placed her carnation into a bud vase, and put it in the refrigerator. She wanted to keep it alive as long as possible, to keep this night alive as long as possible. She climbed the stairs to bed, exhausted from the day, still warm with arousal, still soaring from the admiration of her family, and newly excited about Dol
ores’ proposition and where it might take her. She pulled the French fry from her pocket and slipped it under her pillow.

  This must have been the way Cinderella felt when she slipped her foot into that glass slipper. Only this was better because it was real.

  21. Iris

  “Ha!” Frances Jejune exclaimed, as she cool-handedly dunked the eight ball into the corner pocket, winning her third straight game.

  “You rat!” Lily wailed, throwing her cue stick down on the pool table. “I stink at this, I’m going to have a sauna.”

  “Let’s go swimming first,” Iris suggested.

  “Better not,” Frances said. “My father has been coming to the pool every Friday afternoon.” Mr. Jejune, a methodical man of French-Canadian descent, was an insurance broker, and had adopted the annoying habit of wrapping up work early on Fridays. “All I need is for him to catch me here. Especially since I’mstill grounded. In theory. And we are supposed to be in school. In theory. Now that I think of it, check out the hallway, would you, Lily?”

  Lily cracked the door open, sticking her head out just enough to scan the reception area and the corridor that led to the men’s locker room. “Oast-cay is ear-clay!” she pronounced, in perfect Pig Latin. The three teenagers dashed across the hall to the ladies’ locker room, where they changed into their bathing suits. Iris cranked up the thermostat in the sauna and they all stepped inside. She couldn’t wait to soak up the heat that would obliterate, at least momentarily, the dismal climate she was growing to despise more with each passing year. The calendar said it was spring, convincing Iris to shed her winter coat and boots, but judging from the snow flurries that had been poking fun at her all afternoon, western New York had its own agenda.

  Ever since Auntie Rosa and Uncle Alfred had moved into their townhouse at Valley Ranch, Iris had been coming to the clubhouse on free guest passes as frequently as possible, often bringing Lily along. Never before had the girls had access to such luxurious facilities: tennis courts, billiards and ping-pong, an exercise room, and a heated indoor pool and sauna which helped them through the long, cold winter. There was even a lounge to hang out in, and a fireplace to warm up the atmosphere around the conversation corner furnished with black couches upholstered in vinyl every bit as soft as real leather. Iris and Lily and their few friends whose families had membership to the Valley Manor Club sat there talking and flirting, until the bridge-playing blue-hairs arrived and chased them and their giggles away with dirty looks. The clubhouse lounge was a much more desirable place to hang out than Frank Domino’s basement, especially because it came without Frank. Iris had finally found the courage to break up with him after he insisted on taking a walk in the snow one night, and had slobbered all over her despite Iris’s resistance, leaving her with a face so chapped Lily asked her whether she and Frank had fallen asleep in a snow bank. An even more desirable feature than the absence of Frank, was the presence of Michael Jejune, Frances’s older brother, who restored Iris’s interest in the art of kissing. Michael was cute, made her laugh with his ironic sense of humor, and definitely knew how to put to good use the muscles and moves honed during his rigorous training as a member of the high school wrestling team. All in all, he was a good boyfriend. But sometimes he really ticked her off.

  Like the previous Friday, when they had all been hanging out having a good time in the lounge, and Michael had said he was going to the bathroom, but Iris was sure he had sent some secret signal to his two buddies to follow him outside. In fact, as soon as he walked away, he was trailed by “Mouse,” a slight boy with scrawny whiskers and beady eyes, and “Rat,” a grubbier, tubbier version of Mouse, who wore tent-like T-shirts over his burgeoning beer belly, complemented by low-slung jeans that revealed his butt crack whenever he bent over, and sometimes even when he stood up straight. Or rather, slouched up straight. The belt loop of Rat’s jeans sported a thick metal chain that disappeared into his front pocket; Iris sometimes wondered what was clipped to the other end, but she was afraid to ask, and focusing her attention on his pocket for the purpose of deeper speculation forced her into a territory that was too disagreeably intimate for comfort.

  “Why do they do that?” Iris asked herself out loud, her temper stoked by the heat of the sauna, her blood boiling with resentment at Michael when she thought of the episode. It wasn’t the first time he had made her feel excluded.

  “Why does who do what?” Lily asked. She sat up on her bench, panting. Lily was always dying to go in the sauna, but always wanted to leave after two minutes. Iris wondered why she was always so restless, and could never just lie back and enjoy what few pleasures they could grab for themselves.

  “Why do Michael and the boys exclude us when they sneak out back behind the clubhouse?” Iris said. She took a long, slow breath through her nose, enjoying the scent of redwood in her nostrils, and the searing sensation in her lungs each time she inhaled.

  “They leave us out because we’re girls,” Frances said.

  “As if we didn’t know what they were doing out there,” Iris said, her words floating out on a long, slow exhale.

  “It pisses me off,” Frances said.

  “Me too,” Iris agreed.

  “So what’s the an-play?” Lily asked. “We should do something about it.”

  “There’s only one logical way to handle this,” Iris said slowly. “I say we get some stuff of our own and see how it is. Who needs them?”

  “Awesome. But where are we gonna get it?” asked Frances.

  Iris sat up slowly; she and Lily exchanged glances.

  “I ink-thay our other-bray has some arajuana-may in his edroom-bay! Ots-lay of it!” Lily said, giggling.

  “Really? How do you know?” Frances said.

  “Lily’s right. Someone is definitely doing a lot of smoking in that room. And I’m not talking about cigarettes. We can even smell it from our room, but my parents never even notice the stink. Or at least, they pretend not to,” said Iris. “There’s only one way to find out what the guys like so much about pot, and that’s by smoking it ourselves. And there’s only one way to find out whether Henry’s got a little to spare in his bedroom, and that’s by going in for a look. Ut’s-whay the orst-way that can appen-hay?”

  “You can’t be serious, Iris! You want to sneak into Henry’s room?” Lily said.

  Iris looked at Lily; worry clouded her sister’s eyes, sweat streamed freely down her flushed face. “Don't’ worry, Lily. He’ll never catch us,” she said. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. He’ll be playing guitar somewhere until late like he always does. I have to stick around and keep an eye on the boys so Mom and Dad can go see the usual movie neither one of them will like because neither one of them will let the other one pick. Everyone else will be out. Come and stay overnight, Frances. We’ll organize a blitz!”

  Iris was slightly shocked to hear herself devising a strategy to get her hands on some pot. But she had shocked herself with a lot of things lately. Like cutting chemistry class and hiking across the slushy field and through the supermarket parking lot to the clubhouse. Like the fantasies she had about Michael taking things one step further every time they made out. Like the way she had no desire to push him away when he did. Like the way she suddenly wanted more of everything new she tasted, and less of what she already had.

  “I dunno, Iris. I don't like the idea.” Lily stood too quickly, and seemed she would lose her balance as she walked out of the sauna, but Frances grabbed her arm as she followed her out, leaving the door ajar. Iris was disturbed by the damp, confused air of the locker room that insinuated itself into the sauna, shattering its warm, woody atmosphere with the smell of chlorine from the adjacent pool, the clanging of locker doors, and the voices of ladies discussing dinner menus and visits from grandchildren planned for the weekend, as they shouted to be heard over the high-pitched whirring of blow-dryers and the incessant running of water in the showers. Iris sat on the bench, her head hanging between her knees. She would slam the door shut and stay there until
summer, if it wasn’t for the prospect of meeting Michael in the lounge.

  The following Saturday evening in the Capotosti kitchen started out as usual, with the smell of oil heating in the kettle, followed by the rat-a-tat-tatting and mouth-watering aroma of freshly made popcorn. Iris tipped the pot over a serving bowl, and the piping hot kernels tumbled down, piling up in a fluffy mound. Setting aside a bowl for herself and Lily and Frances, she sprinkled the popcorn generously with salt, while Lily mixed up two quarts of orange juice from frozen concentrate. She could hear the TV blaring in the living room; it was set on Channel 10, and there it would stay, no questions asked. Their mother and father had left the house for their Saturday evening date, the pitifully thin “On the Town” section of the evening newspaper tucked under their father’s arm, as the two continued their debate over which movie to see. When their parents didn’t go out, the kids’ Saturday evening viewing, which kicked off with the series All in the Family, was sadly compromised, due to the fact that their father simply could not tolerate Archie Bunker. Iris suspected that he might recognize some of his own negative traits in Archie, and see in his TV son-in-law the nightmare of his precious Jasmine taking for a husband a man who did not meet his standards. That nightmare now had a name, an unpronounceable, Swedish name, and a ruddy Nordic face to go along with it, because Jasmine had recently married a veterinary student from Minnesota whom she had met at college, while volunteering at the local animal shelter. He worried that Jasmine might end up living way the hell over in Minnesota, though he had hardly batted an eye when the nineteen-year-old Violet, the first to marry just a year before Jasmine, had moved all the way down to Portsmouth, Virginia, where her husband Todd was stationed in the Coast Guard. Both weddings had taken place with little ado and even less budget; the same gowns were worn by both brides, the same Father Delaney performed the same quick ceremony at Sacred Family, and the same relatives on the Capotosti side (plus, of course, the groom’s relatives) convened at the same Party House to fill their bellies with baked ziti and a choice of chicken or roast, and indulge in tiered wedding cakes topped with thick white icing and a statuette of a smiling couple. Iris and Lily clapped and cried at both receptions, when they saw their sisters dance with their father for the first time.