Lily kissed Joseph and watched him climb up the stairs of the grimy yellow school bus. The smell of diesel fuel that it coughed out as it churned away transported Lily’s thoughts back to Gates-Chili High School, the only school she had ever gone to that was far enough away from home as to warrant a bus ride. She’d often found herself running to catch the bus in the mornings for want of staying in bed just ten more minutes, and then spending homeroom obsessing about how she’d forgotten to take the ground beef for dinner out of the freezer, or wondering if she’d remembered to unplug the curling iron. Hard to believe that was so long ago. When had her worries become so much more grave?
“I might have someone stop over later to take a look at the toilet upstairs,” said Joe.
Shit. Lily was hoping he wouldn’t put her in the position of reminding him that today was the first day at the studio.
“I’ll be here later on,” she finally said, “But after I take Pierce to pre-school, I have that volunteer thing today, remember? With Donna?”
“What is that all about again?” Joe asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Lily. “Helping this guy from church with some sermons he recorded.”
“Who is this guy?”
“I don’t really know him,” said Lily. “I think he’s gay.”
“What, are all the guys at that church gay?”
“Pretty much.”
“Why did they ask you again?”
Lily had the answers down pat. “Well, they asked Donna and she sort of volunteered me.” She quickly added, “But don’t say anything to her about it, OK? She would feel awful if she knew she was putting me on the spot.”
“What time are you going?”
“Ten o’clock,” said Lily. Dismissively, she added, “I think. Somewhere around there.”
“What time is it now?” Joe asked, sliding his cuff up to view the face of his watch. “According to this,” he said, tapping his index finger on the crystal, “I have half an hour before I have to leave for work.” He winked at Lily and took her by the hand. “We have time to do it twice.”
Joe had been particularly randy for the past couple of days, which could only mean he was winning. Normally Lily would begrudgingly accommodate him, and then poke around, ask questions, try to get her hands on some of the cash before it was gone again. But today she was grateful for his exuberance - both because it kept him appropriately distracted from her plans, and because it gave her an outlet for her fantasies of Owen, which had quickly become an addiction of their own.
“Coffee? Tea? Water?” Owen asked Lily and Donna. The three of them stood in the reception area of Star Recording Studio, which amounted to little more than a large foyer with a ragtag collection of furniture: a green velvet armchair whose nap was worn down to a thin film of fabric on the arms, a cane-back dining chair, a scratched glass display case filled with dust-covered CDs by local artists - who in all likelihood were parking their cars out in their driveways because their garages were filled with boxes of those same CDs, packed away with the dreams that had inspired them. Near the back of the room was a metal desk with a wood laminate top. Behind the desk sat two crooked black swivel office chairs. On top of the desk was a computer, a printer, assorted pen and pencil holders, a mail tray, and more dust. Beyond the desk was a wall with a bare window in the center of it that looked into Owen’s office.
“I’d love a coffee,” said Donna. “And,” she added, pulling a large plastic zipper bag out of her even larger purse, “No cup of coffee is complete without cookies - I just pulled a batch of shortbread cookies out of the oven this morning, and they cooled just in time for me to dip ‘em in chocolate!”
“I’m fine,” said Lily. She smiled at Owen despite her nausea. She still couldn’t believe they’d managed to pull this off - that she was standing here with Owen in a real recording studio.
Owen disappeared and returned a minute later with a green plastic tray that held two Styrofoam cups filled with coffee, a container of powdered non-dairy lightener, a white plastic bowl filled with clumped white sugar, two white plastic spoons and a white paper napkin.
“Here’s where we are,” he said, setting the tray down on the desk. “I have a bunch of techs helping me record, and then the files come back here for editing and a little post-production music. Between Palm Sunday, Easter Vigils, and Easter Sunday, we ended up with these fifty messages.”
Owen held up a clipboard with a sheet that listed the title of each sermon and the name of the preacher.
“Each one is about an hour long. I’ve finished editing them, but I need you two to listen to make sure that there are no problems with the audio, and then I need your help in making labels, printing out the invoices, and preparing the finals for mailing. If each one of you can review three or four recordings each day, then in a few weeks I’ll be all caught up. I really need to wrap these up before the end of the month.”
“I can hardly believe that you are going to pay me to listen to the pastors of our community preachin’ God’s Word!” said Donna. She held a cookie between her long pink fingernails and bobbed it up and down in the cup of coffee. “I am truly blessed - thank you, Owen!”
“My pleasure,” Owen replied. He and Lily exchanged a glance. Lily wasn’t sure if she saw guilt or justification in his eyes.
By the end of the first day, Lily had listened to one message and Donna had listened to three, devouring them with the same gusto she devoted to sweets. Lily found herself rewinding her recording repeatedly, as her attention was continually drawn away from the Word of God to the Office of Owen, almost as frequently finding that he was staring out the window at her.
Lily’s afternoons were filled with replays of the instances in which she had brushed up against Owen while passing him in the hallway, or of the snippets of conversation they’d shared, laced with double entendre that Donna either could not hear or did not discern. Emboldened by Donna’s absorption in her task and by the attraction that grew between them, Owen and Lily became more relaxed, often forgetting that they were tending to a secret and should be scrutinizing every phrase they spoke to one another, rationing each glance they exchanged.
During their second week at the studio, Donna happily munched on Skittles while listening to Pastor Erickson of Blessed Hope Fellowship deliver a message that had been titled, “We Murdered Jesus.” Lily turned around and looked through the window. Owen motioned with his head, inviting Lily to come in. She looked at Donna and then back at Owen, who dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. Lily got up from the desk.
“Hey,” she said, peeking her head into Owen’s office.
“Hey yourself,” said Owen.
Lily’s face grew hot.
“It’s driving me crazy, you know,” he said. “Having you so close and not being able to kiss you, or hold you - or any of the other things I am dying to do to you.”
“Shhhh,” said Lily, stepping further into the room and leaning to look out the window at Donna.
“She’s fine,” said Owen. “She is so rapt in the Word that she wouldn’t know if a bomb went off in here.”
Lily walked closer to the desk and picked up a Rubik’s Cube that sat there. “Did you ever solve this?” she asked.
“That was simple,” said Owen, “compared to figuring out how in the world I can go even one more second without touching you. Please, give me your hand.”
Lily looked out the window as Donna popped a handful of candy into her mouth. She extended her hand toward Owen. He took it in his own and stared into Lily’s eyes. He brought her hand toward his mouth and gently placed it against his lips. He closed his eyes and groaned.
Lily sighed.
“It’s all I can even think about anymore,” said Owen.
“I know,” said Lily. “Me too.”
The sound of a door closing caused Lily to jerk her hand away from Owen’s, and turn toward the window. Donna was no longer in the chair.
“Shit!” said Lily, as softly as her
state of alarm would allow.
“She’s probably just in the bathroom or something,” said Owen.
“That means she saw us,” said Lily. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit! I gotta get out of here.”
Lily returned to her chair, put her headphones on, and pushed the play button on her deck. Donna returned, took her place in her chair, and placed her headphones over her ears without saying a word to Lily or even turning to look at her.
On the way home, Lily said to Donna, ”So did you listen to any interesting messages today?”
“Not really,” said Donna, taking a cookie from the baggie in her purse. She checked her rearview mirror. She popped the cookie into her mouth and reached for another. As she spoke, she sprayed herself with crumbs. “I mean they are all interesting because they’re all about Jesus, but I don’t really remember anything specific from today.”
Good answer. What could Donna tell her, anyway? How could you share ideas about an Easter sermon without talking about sin and punishment, guilt and redemption? Donna must have known that she didn’t have to say a word about it; Lily was sure that her guilt was oozing from every pore, that Donna could smell it on her. She was able at that moment to see how the situation must have looked from Donna’s perspective, and she felt remorse at having used her only true friend to help her execute such a sinful scheme. She wished she had told Donna upfront about the whole plan, about the AOL bill - everything. After all, she still hadn’t been unfaithful to Joe. But she had most definitely betrayed her best friend.
As Donna pulled the car into her driveway, she said, “Lily, I have to say something.”
Lily closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Here it comes, she thought. Whatever Donna had to say, Lily knew deserved it.
“What is it?” asked Lily. She shifted her body in her seat, to face Donna, to at least take her punishment honestly.
Likewise, Donna shifted in her seat. “The thing is this -” Donna stopped to clear her throat.
Lily noticed a smudge of chocolate on Donna’s face. “You’ve got a little something right there,” said Lily, motioning to Donna’s chin.
Donna wiped at her chin with her hand. “Did I get it?”
“No - here, let me,” said Lily. She moistened the tip of her thumb with her saliva and then rubbed the chocolate from Donna’s skin. “You were saying?”
Donna’s gaze was at first fixed on Lily, then on the cookie in her hand, then on the hearty dusting of crumbs that had gathered on her lap. She put the cookie back into her purse.
“The thing is,” said Donna. Her eyes darted about, as though she were trying to remember her thought. “The thing is that, well, I know I said I would drive this week, but can I just meet you at the studio instead? I have some things I need to take care of in the morning.”
“Sure,” said Lily. She smiled weakly. “We can do that.” Lily imagined that perhaps Donna was going to tell someone what was going on - Pastor Halloway, or Bethany - to seek advice on how she should handle it. Or maybe she would try to go talk to Joe, to somehow let him know, warn him. Like a vise, fear clamped Lily’s chest. She hoped that Donna knew better than to arouse Joe’s jealousies, but she also knew that Donna was a good person, and not inclined to willingly participate in such unsavory goings on.
Lily had to put an end to it, before anyone else got hurt. She would just show up tomorrow, and tell Owen that she couldn’t come anymore, and offer to pay whatever balance existed on the AOL bill - she would have to think of a way. Then she would beg Donna for forgiveness. And Jesus too.
“Where’s Donna?” asked Owen the next morning. The look on his face was delight topped by a dusting of concern.
“She’s coming,” said Lily. “She had some stuff to do and said she would meet me here.”
“Look, Lily - I’m so sorry about yesterday. Did she say anything about it?”
“No,” said Lily. “But I wished she would have. At least then it would be out in the open. I feel like an idiot right now, and I’m sure she’s hurt.”
“It’s - I just - I couldn’t help it.”
“I know,” said Lily. “But we are playing with fire here.” She felt tears come to her eyes. She wished she had played it smarter, had found a way to stay close enough to Owen to experience the passion between them, but not close enough to ruin it as she had. Too late now.
“Owen, we need to talk.”
The phone rang and Owen ran into the back office. Lily heard him utter a few short phrases before he emerged again.
“That was Donna,” he said. “She’s not coming.”
“What do you mean? What did she say?”
“She just said that something came up and she couldn’t make it today.”
“She said that?”
“She did.”
“Oh my God,” Lily said, covering her mouth, “She must be so angry with me.”
“Or...” Said Owen, walking closer. “Maybe she understands.”
“She could never understand this,” said Lily.
“Sure she could, Lily. She’s a Christian, not a saint. Or maybe she doesn’t understand; maybe she just doesn’t blame you.” He took a few more steps. “I wish you could stop blaming yourself.” Owen held his arms open to her. “I wish you could just come here, and let me hold you.”
Owen walked right up to Lily and she leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her as she bent her elbows and tucked her closed fists under her chin, her head resting in the crook of Owen’s neck.
“There you go,” he said.
Something inside Lily broke loose and flooded her body. She slipped her arms out and wrapped them around Owen.
“You go ahead and have a little cry,” he said, rocking her back and forth in place as they stood in the middle of the room. “You have a cry now, and then dry your eyes, because I don’t want any tears when I make love to you.”
Lily stepped into Owen’s office and he closed the door behind her with one hand while cupping his free hand around the nape of her neck, leaning in toward her, kissing her. The kiss began gently, the way first kisses should, followed unbroken by the second kiss, and the third one, waves of pent-up passion flowing between them, bringing them together deeper and more completely as they explored each other’s tongues, ears, necks. Owen began unbuttoning Lily’s blouse, when she broke away.
“Wait a second,” she whispered breathlessly.
“I’ve waited so long already, Lily. Don’t you want this to happen?”
“I do,” said Lily, remembering the last time she said those words to a man.
Eyes closed, she sent her hands flowing over Owen’s body, drinking in the feel of his unfamiliar skin, the novel curves of his shoulders, the contours of his buttocks, the smoothness of his hips as she nervously inched around to the front of his body. Despite Owen’s admonitions against crying, the sting of tears collected in the corners of Lily’s eyes. Owen kissed her with his whole body, as though his life depended on it, and Lily’s body grew limp at the realization that someone could want her that much. In a flash, the past twenty years of her life played in her mind. She thought about the fights with Joe, the screaming, the accusations, the limitations, the rage, the nights she cried clinging to the edge of the bathroom sink, the sex endured with breath held and eyes clenched shut. Rather than becoming consumed with self-consciousness at her lack of experience, Lily’s arousal was catapulted at Owen’s desire for her, the way he softly groaned at her touch. She wanted him to devour her, slip her entire being inside of himself so she could be protected and warmed by his breath. Lily thought of the lies she told, the things she hid, the clandestine disloyalties and infidelities of her heart. She thought about the tree, the pile of severed limbs, hacked and bloodied, stacked in a huge mound by the curb. She became blinded by a mysterious craving for something she knew she’d never before tasted, having been stirred up from a place inside her that she had never known existed, like a secret room in the back of a closet, whose door was hidden behind musty old coats an
d boxes of outdated hats. As Owen peeled her blouse from her shoulders, Lily threw herself body and soul into the one act of betrayal that was not a fantasy, the one indiscretion that would all but guarantee that she could never return to the life she’d always known.
From: Iris Capotosti
To: Lily Capotosti
Sent: Thu, November 17, 2010 at 11:11 AM
Subject: Shocked
Dear Lily,
Now I’m the one who’s shocked! What were you waiting for to tell me about your little fling with Owen?
Not that I don’t understand how or why it happened. But what I don’t get is how you could write me an email just weeks ago acting like poor little Lily who did no wrong, but took the fall for everything, while perfect little Iris could smash up her poor father’s car and cheat on her wonderful husband and not get blamed for anything.
How could you let me go on talking about how ashamed I was, how wrong I was, and then just let the whole story slide?
I guess no matter what happens, you’ll always see me as the lucky one, and yourself as the victim. I’m just really starting to wonder what we’re getting into here. I’m not talking about what happened back then, but what you’ve been thinking about me all along.
Iris
From: Lily Capotosti
To: Iris Capotosti
Sent: Fri, November 18, 2010 at 9:32 AM
Subject: Re: Shocked
Geez, Iris:
The Complete Series Page 97
