The Complete Series

by Angela Scipioni

  Of course, Auntie Rosa had her shame, too. Which is probably why she grasped your love with white knuckles. If we had all just learned to let go of the shame a little, we might have seen that being the saved and being the savior are two facets of the same brilliant gem. Our vulnerability is what makes us lovable; our willingness to accept the vulnerability in others is what makes it possible for us to love.

  Love,

  Lily

  10. Lily

  “Today,” said Iris, “we tackle this house.” Iris stood in the center of Lily’s living room, surrounded by stacks of boxes, her hands on her hips. She was dressed for action, in a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a T-shirt with an image of a lizard on it. Her hair was pushed back from her face with a black elastic headband, revealing the large diamond studs that were part of the three-piece set that Auntie Rosa had given herself for her fortieth birthday, and which she had never removed. The undertaker had carefully unscrewed the earrings and unclasped the pendant and placed them into Iris’ hand. There was no need for the family to consult the will; Auntie Rosa had always made it clear that the diamonds would belong to Iris. Lily didn’t bother to wonder whether Auntie Rosa ever thought about the ramifications of that.

  “Ugh,” groaned Lily. She kicked at a cardboard box, toppling it and spilling a pile of faded dish towels onto the floor. “It’s hopeless.”

  “I admit, it’s not going to be easy to get everything in order,” said Iris, looking around. “But it’s not hopeless.” A shadow passed over Iris’ face. “Nothing is hopeless.”

  Iris’ voice trailed off as her gaze wandered about the room, from one pile of Lily’s transported belongings to the next. There was little to differentiate the items strewn about from those that Lily had dumped at the curb earlier that morning, with the intention of separating the junk from the good stuff. Now, standing there in the middle of it, it all seemed like junk.

  “Really, Iris,” said Lily. “Let’s not do this today. I can take care of it myself. I’m sure you have tons to do before you leave tomorrow.” Lily was aware that if she could have indeed taken care of it herself, it would have been done already. It had been a week since Auntie Rosa’s funeral, and every day Lily would sit on the couch, smoke, and look out the window until it was time to go to support group, where she would cry until she was exhausted, come home, collapse into bed, and then wake up and resume her position on the couch. Every morning she told herself she would get the place in order. Yet every morning, she was consumed instead with the reordering of her thoughts. Hours passed as she gazed out at the lake, reviewing the preceding week of her life - the agonizing incident with the boys, her thwarted attempt at numbing her own pain, keeping a Reader’s Digest vigil at Auntie Rosa’s deathbed with Iris. It was as though her mind were sorting through the jumble - seeking patterns, striving to make connections and sense out of what seemed like a tidal wave of confused misery. Finding no logic there, her mind drifted back further, to the months leading up to recent events. While she had been living that life, it all seemed quite believable, but from her spot on the couch, it seemed fantastic. She wondered if people really believed her account of what had happened with the boys, or if their heads, nodding in sympathy, instead shook with disbelief when they turned to walk away. She thought of Owen, of Donna, of Bethany and the women at PTW. How suddenly they all seemed like strangers when so recently they had been the buoys around which Lily’s life had moored itself. It was a life that had been built on a deceptively solid set of truths: God protects the faithful, marriage is forever, love heals all wounds, children love their mothers, families care for one another... the list went on and on and on. Lily’s existence had been stitched together with maxims such as these; they operated as a system, and helped her navigate life. Now, like the Mousetrap game Iris and Lily used to play when they were small, one illusion bumped into another one, which toppled a third, and smashed a fourth, and ultimately Lily found herself the mouse, trapped by a contraption of her own making. She was left with the task of rebuilding the structure of her worldview, thought by thought, and she wondered whether she would ever be able to cobble it together again in a way that would enable her to move on.

  “You know what Auntie Rosa always used to say,” said Iris. “Many hands make light work!” She picked up a pillow from the floor, the way a new father would pick up a soiled diaper. She let it drop onto the couch, gave it a pat, then wiped her hands on her shorts. She wore the same smile that Auntie Rosa used to apply to her face whenever she proclaimed that she loved all of her nieces the same. Her mouth feigned joy, betrayed by a darkness in her eyes. Lily considered whether Iris had inherited the smile along with the diamond studs and pendant. Or maybe she had just inherited the ease for wearing them.

  “Anyway,” Iris continued, “if we don’t do the work, we can’t have the celebration!” She pulled a bottle of champagne out of her canvas bag and set it on the coffee table. “This is for when we finish! I’ve had it chilling at Violet’s overnight. We should put it in the fridge.” Iris extended the bottle toward Lily.

  “It would probably do me more good to have some of this now.” A dark chuckle escaped Lily’s throat, as she set the bottle down on the coffee table. It was clear Iris was intent on going back to Italy with all the loose ends neatly tied in a bow; Lily knew she would not be able to stand leaving her in this mess. The only way to get past today was to try and go along, hoping it would pass quickly.

  “I know what you mean, believe me,” said Iris. “But what you need now is a little inspiration - look what else I brought.” Iris reached into her bag again, and pulled out a Jesus Christ Superstar CD.

  “Oh, my God! What, do you always carry that around with you?”

  Iris smiled. “I borrowed it from Violet.”

  “I haven’t listened to that since we were in high school.” Not exactly the memories Lily wanted to conjure up. She was having enough trouble trying to mitigate her current disasters, without inviting past troubles to this little shindig.

  “I still listen to it every Easter,” said Iris. “It always reminds me of how we used to act out the whole opera, from beginning to end. I still get goosebumps when I think of you singing ‘I Don’t Know How to Love Him.’” Iris sighed. “Those were the days - when we spent our afternoons hanging out at the Valley Ranch clubhouse, and our nights lying in bed listening to the radio and talking.”

  It must be nice to have the ability to tune into the happiness of the past with such precision. Those days existed in Lily’s mind as a wall of noise and confusion, of emptiness and fear, duty and drudgery. She thought about the good times once in a while, but then the sadness always hitched a ride into her reverie, and rode her for hours, or even days. It was much easier not to think of those times at all. Unless you were Iris, apparently.

  “Nothing gets me cleaning like a little ‘What’s the Buzz?’,” said Iris. She reached for the boom box that sat on top of the television set.

  Iris popped open the lid, extracted the CD that was inside, and read the label.

  “‘Lift Me Up’? Hey! Isn’t this the song you recorded? Let’s listen to it!”

  Lily looked at Iris, then at the CD.

  “No!” she cried. How could she have forgotten that it was in there? “I mean, I’d really rather not.”

  “Why not? Please... I want to hear it.”

  “It reminds me of that day - and I can’t stand the thought of it.”

  "I know,” said Iris. She sighed, and shook her head slowly. “I know the song will always remind us of the morning that Auntie Rosa died."

  “I wasn’t talking about the day Auntie Rosa died, Iris.” Not everything that happened this week was about Auntie Rosa, believe it or not. “I was talking about the day I recorded the CD.” Lily retrieved a small glass candy dish from a box, and began dusting it with one of the old cloth diapers she had held onto expressly for the purpose. Nothing better for dusting. “There was something about that night that I never shared with anyone
- not even the women at support group; they probably would have thought I was nuts. Or at least more nuts.” Lily hesitated as the story crouched in the back of her throat, but it was her best argument against allowing Iris to play the CD. And maybe even to purge the acrid taste of it festering there.

  “I was standing there in that vocal booth,” she began, mechanically wiping the candy dish in circular movements. “Joe was sitting there, his eyes just boring holes into me... and the band was on the other side of the window, in the control room, watching me. I opened my mouth to sing, and when those first few words came out,” Lily sang quietly, “‘When you look at me, tell me, what do you see?’ It was like I was asking them what they saw, you know? And for a split second, I was there with them, looking in at myself. Seeing Joe sitting there like he owned me made me so embarrassed. He humiliated me and shamed me. It didn't hit me until later, but that was the first time I saw the reality of my life. It scared the shit out of me, and I believe that everything that happened that night - the car chase, the cops - happened because I finally opened my eyes to the truth.”

  “That’s good, right?” said Iris. “The truth shall set you free, as they say. And now you’re free!”

  “Welcome to my freedom,” said Lily, gesturing to the mess all around them. “Please, really, just throw that CD away.” Lily wanted to kick herself for not removing it before Iris came over. But at least she had remembered to flush the remaining pills down the toilet, and get rid of the bottle.

  “Lily,” Iris protested. “That’s all in the past now. Don’t look back; look ahead. There’s really no sense in wallowing in past hurts, is there?”

  Spoken like someone who had no regrets, no past humiliation. Or like someone who couldn’t admit them.

  “I can’t afford to not look back,” said Lily. She set the candy dish down onto the coffee table next to the champagne. “I don’t think of it as wallowing. I get the sense that I’ve been tripping over the same crack in the same sidewalk over and over again. If I can’t figure out where it is, I can’t learn to walk around it, you know?”

  “I guess,” said Iris.

  “I mean, all that stuff you told Auntie Rosa the day she died - about what happened with Gregorio - don’t you ever think about it, and wonder how things got that way? Don’t you ever feel regretful or guilty about it? I even feel guilty about leaving Joe, and Gregorio adored you - bought you expensive things, took you all over the place - he treated you like a princess.”

  “There’s something they don’t tell you about being a princess, Lily. You may get to sit on a throne and be adored, but that’s all you get to do.” Iris removed the CD from the boom box and slipped it into the padded envelope that was lying there. Her gaze wandered out the window. “I would have traded all I had for the freedom to be myself, to get embarrassed, to make a few mistakes now and again. Get myself into a mess or two. My life with Gregorio was so... sterile. Safe, but predictable. Like he thought I was made of porcelain and was afraid the world would break me. Anyone with half a brain gets pretty darned bored with that after a while, and anyone with a mind of her own will go insane, eventually. If they don’t kill themselves first.”

  The image of Iris as a porcelain princess locked away in an ivory tower and of Gregorio as a cold and overprotective king jarred Lily’s gut.

  “Isn’t that weird?” asked Lily.

  “Isn’t what weird?”

  “That we were both cut off from the world like that.”

  “Yes, but Gregorio wasn’t like Joe. If anything, he took too much care of me.”

  “I guess there are all kinds of ways of controlling someone.”

  Iris turned from the window with a sharp sigh. “He meant well, he only had my best interests at heart, so yes, I do feel guilty, but I’ve learned to keep it to myself. Whenever I bring it up, Max always says regret and guilt are a waste of time.” Iris smiled. “That’s what every therapist he’s been to says, too. They can’t all be wrong. And after all, we can’t change the past now, can we?”

  It seemed like a rhetorical question, but dusted with hope, as though Iris thought Lily might actually know of a way. Lily wanted to mention that Joe thought he had her best interests in mind, too, that he believed he was protecting her, but she decided against it. Iris would probably get insulted at the suggestion that Joe and Gregorio were alike.

  “How long were you unhappy?” Lily asked.

  “It wouldn’t be fair to say I was unhappy, as marriages go. What reason could I have had for being unhappy? Except of course, the disappointment about not having a baby. It wasn’t until I met Max that I realized that deep down, I was sad. He said he could see it in my eyes, the very first time we met.”

  “He could see that you weren’t happy the first time he met you?” It sounded to Lily like the kind of thing a guy might say to get you into bed. Anyway, chances are that every other woman on the face of the earth had that look. Lily had seen it in her own eyes. They all had it in support group. “That’s kinda strange.”

  “He’s very perceptive,” said Iris. “He knew it before I even admitted it to myself. I had no idea how messed up I was, how my sensuality was being systematically stifled, how pedestrian my tastes and habits were, how limited my view of the world was.” Iris’ voice began to trail off. “He really opened my eyes and showed me things about myself that Gregorio never could have.” Iris reached up and touched the diamond pendant. “Well, that’s enough about me!” she exclaimed. She handed the padded envelope to Lily. “We don’t have to listen to this, but I think you should hold onto it. Tuck it away for now. You may want it one day.” Iris ripped a sheet of paper towel off the roll, folded it in fourths and slipped it under the sweating champagne bottle. “In the meantime, we should put this in the fridge.”

  “To be honest,” said Lily, “I can’t think about someday yet... all I can handle right now is seeing the boys tomorrow. I’m so nervous - isn’t that ridiculous? Being nervous about seeing my own children?”

  “No, it’s not ridiculous at all, given what you told me about the last time you saw them. Did you talk to your friend at the shelter about it?”

  “Sophie?” Lily wanted to explain that Sophie was a counselor, not a friend. That Lily was in therapy every day, not going to tea, or for a manicure with her girlfriends. “Yes, I went to see her again yesterday. She said that no matter what happens, I should insist on keeping regular contact with the boys, but I don’t even know what to say to them.”

  “Poor Lily... I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to finally have children, and then lose them. I don’t think anyone would know what to do in your situation,” said Iris. “What does your heart tell you to do? I think you have to listen to your heart.”

  “Gee, why didn’t I think of that?” Lily murmured, tossing an empty box aside.

  “What?” said Iris.

  “Nothing.”

  Listen to your heart. A naive solution for simple problems. This was more complicated than Iris could ever fathom. Listening to your heart only works if you’re not heartsick. Or heartbroken. Lily wished Iris would stop trying to give her advice about things she could never understand.

  “I’m so hurt and angry by what they did, but at the same time I have to remind myself that they are being coached, that somehow they think that if they make my life miserable and if they leave me, I will go back to their father and we will be a family again. When I look at them, I see Joe and his craziness, but what I want to see are my little boys.” Lily’s voice cracked and a tear trailed down her cheek. “I miss my little boys.”

  “It’s so despicable that anyone would manipulate innocence that way,” said Iris, setting down a stack of books, and going to place a hand on Lily’s shoulder. “You know, take someone who doesn’t know any better and mess their mind up like that. Makes me sick to my stomach.” Iris’ gaze again wandered out the window.

  “I know, me too,” said Lily. “And I refuse to put them in the middle or use them that way, but
of course if I insist on taking the high road, I’m afraid I’ll lose them forever. But I do know that I’m just so sick of all the drama, you know? I just want to rest, I don’t want to fight or struggle anymore right now.”

  “So maybe tomorrow you should just do that,” said Iris. “If you think you’re confused, imagine how Joseph and Pierce feel. Personally, I think it would be better if you guys just tried to have some fun together, you know? Don’t drag them down by talking about what happened. Give them some fun. Maybe spread a blanket under that huge old oak tree out there in the yard and have a picnic.” With a clap of her hands, she added, “Yes! In fact, when we’re done here, I’m going to go down to that little grocery I passed on my way - the one by that bike place just over the bridge - and get you all set up for a picnic. It will be my gift to you and the boys.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” said Lily.

  “Why not?” said Iris, the smile draining from her face.

  Because. Because this can’t be fixed by forcing them into a scene from a Rockwell painting. Because they are my children and this is my mess. Because I can handle this on my own. Just because.

  “I’ve already got something in mind,” said Lily.

  “Oh,” said Iris.

  Lily shook a Merit from the pack and offered one to Iris.

  “No,” said Iris, turning her back. “But thanks.”

  Droplets of condensation ran down the sides of the champagne bottle, forming a ring of moisture around the base.

  “We should put that champagne in the fridge,” said Lily. She drew on the cigarette and blew a series of smoke rings. “It’s getting hot in here.”

  “And late,” said Iris, cranking open the window. “We’d better step it up - we have a lot to do and not much time to do it. You know me, I like to get the work out of the way first. Max, on the other hand, is all pleasure before business. Carpe diem, that’s what he always says.”