The Complete Series

by Angela Scipioni

  Lily’s mouth was dry, and her tongue felt sticky. She took a sip of water from the glass on the music stand, then adjusted the headphones. The click-click of drum sticks counted off four beats, then four more, and Lily glanced over at Joe, who was glancing at his watch.

  “That was your cue, there,” Nick said.

  “Oh - sorry... sorry... Can we start over?”

  “From the top,” said Nick.

  Lily squeezed her eyes closed, trying to recall the way she’d felt the first time she was here, the way she would be feeling right now if Joe were not sitting over in the corner, legs crossed, right foot bobbing up and down arrhythmically, intent on getting home in time for kick-off, tip-off, or face-off - a problem she’d hoped they’d avoided by driving separate cars. She realized now that he had no intention of leaving her here alone.

  “OK, OK,” said Nick after she finished. “That’s our warm up. Let’s take it from the top. Lily, do you need anything? More water?”

  “No,” said Lily. “I’m OK.” It helped for her to think of the first pass as a warm-up. Sure. Of course. No one just walks into the studio and gets it on the first try.

  The music began a second time.

  “When you look at me tell me, what do you see?

  Would you be surprised to learn, that in my heart desire burns?”

  Nick interrupted before Lily could sing another line. “I think you’ve got a little bubble in your throat,” he said. “Take a drink maybe.”

  “OK,” said Lily. She picked up the glass and took another sip. Joe rolled his eyes. “Can we try it again - from the top?”

  “Absolutely,” said Nick. “From the top.”

  Lily took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to pretend that Joe wasn’t there. But even then, she could smell him. She could feel him. And she could hear him in her voice as she opened her mouth to sing.

  “When you look at me, tell me what do you see?

  Would you be surprised to learn, that in my heart desire burns?

  If you look inside my soul, let go of all you think you know

  You’ll find that I’m a lot like you,

  Just someone who hopes their dreams come true.”

  Lily opened her eyes when she heard Joe clear his throat. He checked his watch, then shifted his body in the chair.

  Nick cut in. “I think you missed your entrance on that last line, sweetie.”

  Joe straightened his body and craned his neck to look into the control booth. Was Nick crazy calling her “sweetie”? Nick looked at Joe, and then at Lily. She looked away.

  “Lily,” said Nick. “Let’s take it from ‘you’ll find that I’m a lot like you,’ – we’ll feed you the line before so you can sing along and pick up the same tone and feeling, OK?”

  “You got it,” said Lily. She tried to sound professional and carefree, but her anxiety and embarrassment mounted with each take.

  Lily struggled through the song three more times, stopping and starting, taking instructions from Nick and from the band members who intermittently shared tips for how Lily could relax and let go. Each suggestion was met with a grunt or a sigh, or a facial expression by Joe that only Lily was witness to, each one making her more nervous and self-conscious.

  They ran through the song a total of five times, and by the final time, Lily still had not been able to capture the easy soulfulness she’d felt the first time she met Nick and Tommy, or when she sang it at Owen’s studio – or when she sang it in church. No matter what she tried, that feeling of bliss was usurped by an arid self-consciousness. By the time they added a few punches to correct a flat note here and an errant breath sound there, Lily was exhausted.

  “I think we have enough here to put together the foundation,” Nick said over the microphone. “We’d better stop for now.”

  Lily struggled to tame the lump in her throat. She doled out quick “thank yous” to each of the band members, and while Joe and Nick settled the bill, she grabbed her purse, stuck a Merit between her lips and slipped out the front door. The cool evening air did little to soothe her irritation. She lit her cigarette, took a deep drag, and walked around to the side of building.

  “God, I am just so pissed!” she called out into the night air. “And mortified. So embarrassed...” She held her hands over her face, the lit cigarette between her fingers, hoping to muffle a scream.

  “You coulda used a little bit of that in there,” said George, the band’s drummer.

  “Shit!” said Lily. “I didn’t even see you there. You scared the crap out of me.”

  “I’d say you’re an easy scare tonight.”

  Lily tossed her purse onto the asphalt and sat down on the ground, leaning her body up against the building. The rough brick felt good against her back. Solid.

  “Boy, I really screwed that up.”

  “You?”

  “I was the one singing - if that’s what you want to call it.”

  “What was your old man doing in there, anyway?”

  Lily looked up at George. “Helping.”

  “No shit?” George ran his fingers through his thick black curls, blew a stream of smoke overhead, then tossed his cigarette butt onto the ground and crushed it with the tip of his boot. “Does he help you a lot?”

  “Yes,” Lily said. “He’s quite helpful.”

  “That’s a bitch.”

  “Will you tell the others I’m really sorry?”

  “You don’t need to apologize to us. It was your gig.”

  It was her gig. And now it was over. Lily ground her cigarette under the heel of her shoe, and as she moved to get up, George extended his arm out to her. She grabbed his wrist and he pulled her up just as Joe came around the corner.

  “There you are honey,” he said sweetly. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I paid your bill, and then I looked around and I said, ‘Where the hell’s my wife?’”

  “I just needed a smoke.” Lily brushed the dirt from her behind with her hand.

  Joe walked over and put his arm around Lily. “We better get home. Those sons of ours are probably driving Donna nuts.” Joe steered Lily around toward the parking lot, sliding his hand down her back to rest on her buttocks, looking back over his shoulder toward George as they walked away.

  As soon as they were out of sight, Lily shoved Joe away from her side.

  “What’s up your ass?” he asked.

  “You are, OK? You are! You had to go and ruin this for me, didn’t you? You couldn’t just let me have this one thing. You have no idea... ”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I - you made me nervous by being here, by sitting in that chair, staring at me. I screwed up, I did an awful job, I am so ashamed! And pissed!”

  “Hey - if you messed it up, don’t go blaming me. I did everything I could to support you. Didn’t I set this whole thing up for you? Didn’t I come here with you, and sit with you, and pay for the whole thing?”

  “Yes,” said Lily. “Yes, you did.”

  “It’s not my fault if you don’t have what it takes, Lil. I know that’s hard to hear right now, but I’m the only one who’s going to tell you the truth because I’m the only one who loves you and doesn’t want to see you get hurt. What do they care, anyway? What reason do any of them have to be honest with you?”

  “They said I was good and they wanted to help me.”

  “Lil, Nick was doing me a favor because I saved him a shitload of money on his new place. Those other guys? They just want to get in your pants; that’s how musicians are.”

  “That’s not true,” said Lily. “It’s just not,” she said weakly, wondering who she was trying to convince.

  “Well, it’s over now,” said Joe. “At least you gave it a shot, right? Now you can put it behind you and focus on being a wife and mother again.”

  The idea of having life go back to what it was terrified her. Fear and frustration and regret lingered there.

  “Don’t feel bad, Lil. I’ll be right here
with you, no matter what. I promise.”

  Lily’s gut lurched. Joe took her into his arms, and she sobbed into his T-shirt. Because she needed to cry and he was the only one there.

  “So let’s go get the boys and put them in bed.” Joe glanced at his watch. “Then maybe you and me can mess around in between quarters. Before you know it, things will be back to normal.”

  Lily wiped her eyes with her fingertips and ran her sleeve across her nose. She looked up at Joe - Joe, who was always there no matter what she did or where she turned; Joe, who always knew right from wrong without question and who masterfully traded one for the other as it suited him; Joe, who told Lily where her world began, what it contained, and where it ended. Solid, unmovable Joe. Anger bubbled up from deep inside Lily. Memories and images of all the times Joe had belittled her, lied to her, made her feel inadequate, and made her doubt her own sanity, gathered up into a hot ball of indignation. All the anger that she had stuffed down over the years came looking for a way out, now ignited by sparks of humiliation and disappointment.

  Lily sniffed, looked deeply into his eyes and whispered, “Fuck. Normal.”

  Joe pushed Lily away and held her by the shoulders at arm’s length. “What did you just say to me?”

  “Fuck,” said Lily, placing emphasis on the k. “Normal. And while you’re at it, fuck you!”

  Lily stomped over to her car, got in, slammed the door, and screeched out of the parking lot, leaving rubber tire marks behind her. Joe got into his car and followed. Tears streamed down Lily’s face as she recalled take after take, her throat closed up like a vise, her body shaking, the band exchanging quizzical looks behind the glass. She stopped at a red light, and yelped as her car lurched forward toward the intersection of oncoming traffic. She looked up into the rearview mirror, to see Joe pushing her with his car from behind. Her entire body clenched as she gripped the steering wheel, locked her elbows, and drove her foot into the brake pedal. The light turned green, but Lily was frozen in place. Honk, honk! cars in line behind her wailed impatiently. Lily punched the accelerator and her car lurched forward with a squeal. Joe zoomed up quickly behind her, the grill of his car too close to be viewed in her mirrors. Boom! Again he hit her from behind, causing her to swerve out of her lane.

  “Son of a bitch!” she cried. “Cut it out!” she called as she pounded on the accelerator in an attempt to create distance between her rear bumper and Joe’s grill. But Joe came up behind her just as quickly and bumped her again, this time with more force.

  “Hey, buddy!” A man shouted out his window. “What are you trying to do, get someone killed?”

  “Jesus!” cried Lily. “Are you insane?” Joe was so close behind her that she could clearly see his face in the rearview mirror. His eyes were vacant, and he wore the hint of a smile.

  Lily sped up again. Joe matched her speed, jarred her from behind again, causing Lily’s car to swerve in its lane, taking her right tires up onto the curb. She had to get away from traffic before she ended up hitting someone.

  An expert at beating the clock to get home by whatever curfew Joe had set for her, Lily knew how to use the secondary roads to get anywhere in town in fifteen minutes. She took a right turn into a system of side streets that she used when she was late coming home from church. Joe followed her. She wound through the maze of streets, with Joe slamming her bumper whenever she slowed down to take a corner. When Lily noticed two young girls riding bikes in the road, she headed back out toward the main thoroughfare. She didn’t even know where she was trying to get to - she certainly couldn’t go home; Joe was out of his mind. She decided to drive to Violet’s house, hoping that Todd would be home and that Joe would be too embarrassed to act out in front of him. Once Joe calmed down, Lily would go to Donna’s and figure out what to do from there.

  Joe’s minivan bore down on Lily. She stopped at a stop sign, and frantically searched for an accommodating break in the stream of traffic, but there was none. She wondered if Joe would follow her into the unbroken line of cars on the thoroughfare. It was dangerous, but maybe she could find a tiny opening for her small car. If he pursued her in his van, he would be the one to get t-boned by one of the vehicles whizzing past. No one would blame her - he was chasing her after all. All she was doing was trying to get away. She found herself wondering how fast the traffic was moving and if the impact would be enough to kill him. One thing was certain - she didn’t need him to get injured or paralyzed, God forbid. Then she would never be free. At that moment, Joe came up behind her again and ran into her, forcing her out into the road. Lily yelped, then slammed the accelerator to the floor, to get out of the way of a red pick-up truck that was headed straight for her driver’s side door. Flashing lights erupted in her rearview mirror, and she swerved as she slammed on the brakes with a screech and pulled over to the shoulder. The police car turned down the side street, blocking Joe’s way.

  Lily watched in her mirror as the policeman walked over to Joe’s window, shined his flashlight onto Joe’s face, and then swept the car with the light beam. The two men exchanged a few words, and then the policeman headed toward Lily.

  Lily’s heart pounded, its rhythm reverberating in her head. Oh, shit - I am so screwed. Can this night get any worse? Can my life get any worse?

  She rolled down her window. “Good evening, officer.”

  “License and registration, please,” said the policeman.

  Lily leaned over and retrieved a leatherette portfolio from the glove compartment.

  “Do you know why I stopped you?” said the policeman.

  “Because I cut into traffic?” Lily swallowed, hoping to ease the burning in the back of her throat. “Or was it because I was speeding back there?”

  The policeman read Lily’s registration by the light of his flashlight. “Is that your husband back there, in that van?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m going to go take care of him, and then I want you to follow me, understand?”

  “Yes sir.”

  The policeman walked back to Joe’s window, scribbled something on a pad of paper, they talked briefly, and then Joe turned his car around and slowly drove away. The policeman drove past Lily and signaled her to follow. Lily had never been “taken in” before; she knew she should be terrified, but she moved as though possessed by an alternate self, one who was much more composed than she. I can do all things through Christ, which strengthens me. Either it was the power of the Spirit or the dullness of shock. She didn’t care what was causing it, as long as she didn’t have to feel what was happening to her now.

  Once at the police station, the policeman offered Lily a cup of tea, then escorted her to a side chair at his desk.

  “Mrs. Diotallevi, I’m Officer Schickler. I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest with me, OK?”

  “OK,” said Lily. Was he going to ask for a confession? What was it that he thought she’d done?

  “Does your husband hit you?”

  “No,” Lily replied, relieved that she was not being accused of anything. After a pause she added, “He does throw things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Ice cubes. Shoes sometimes.” Lily blew on the hot tea and bobbed the bag gently up and down. “Books.”

  “Does he throw them at you?”

  “Sometimes. He’s got a good arm, but I’m quick.” Lily giggled nervously.

  Officer Schickler did not smile or laugh. He looked intently into Lily’s eyes. “Are you waiting for him to kill you?”

  Lily opened her mouth, but she didn’t know what to say.

  “‘Cause that’s what comes next, you know. Throwing things, yelling, playing a little chicken with your car - do you have any idea how much danger you’re in? He’s a time bomb.”

  “He is?”

  “I’ve seen it a hundred times. I’m going to have you speak to someone here, and she is going to explain your options to you.”

  “My options?” Lily didn’t want options. T
his was getting too scary. She had a longing to go home, but was suddenly aware that she wasn’t sure what was so great about being there, especially tonight.

  Officer Schickler left, and Lily rummaged through her purse for a stick of gum. She picked through the trash at the bottom, stopping to toss assorted papers, wrappers, and tissues into the aluminum garbage can next to the chair. She finally found a stick of gum, half-wrapped and peppered with flecks of tobacco. She wiped it off, and popped it into her mouth. A pair of navy blue patent leather pumps appeared in Lily’s view. Lily’s gaze followed the legs up to a stocky white-haired woman who extended her hand to Lily.

  “I’m Marilyn,” she said. “I’m with the Rochester Police Department’s Victims Assistance Program, and I’m also the Director of Intake at the battered women’s shelter.”

  Victim? Battered? “I’m not sure what I’m doing here,” said Lily, “but I’m fine, really. Can I go now?”

  “You can go anytime you want,” said Marilyn, “but if you can spare just five more minutes, I’d like to show you something.” She pulled a sheet of white paper out of her briefcase and laid it on the desk, turning it so Lily could read what was written there. Across the top were the words, “Power and Control Wheel.”

  “Have you seen this before?” Marilyn asked.

  “Uh... no, I don’t think so.” Lily clutched her purse to her chest.

  “Each spoke of the wheel depicted here represents abusive behavior. I’d like you to review this, and just take stock of how many of these behaviors your husband exhibits.”

  Lily read through the wheel. “Using isolation: Controlling what you do and where you go; limits your outside involvement. Using economy abuse: Preventing you from getting a job, making you ask for money. Using emotional abuse: Putting you down, making you feel bad about yourself, calling you names.”

  Spoke after spoke, round and round she went, like an unwilling contestant in a twisted game show. Yes, yes, yes - he does that and he does that - yes, that too.