Iris placed the Superstar disc into the boom box and listened as the “Overture” began to play. She worked her way through the maze of debris with a white plastic garbage bag, tossing packing paper, food wrappers, and empty soda cans inside.
“So tell me more about Max,” said Lily. “What’s he like?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Like, what kind of personality does he have?”
“He’s pretty hard to describe,” said Iris, lugging the garbage bag to the back door.
“Try,” said Lily, when she returned with a new bag.
“Basically, I’d say he is everything Gregorio was not,” said Iris.
“Which is?” said Lily.
“Which is exactly what I needed. What I need. Max is adventurous, he’s bold, he takes chances - he isn’t confined by the rules that keep people trapped.”
Max sounded a lot like Indiana Jones. “What does he do for a living?” Lily asked.
“Well, right now he actually shoots films for Italian TV, documentaries and stuff, but he's really a filmmaker. He's working on this big project, trying to find backing.”
“What kind of project?” said Lily, emptying an ashtray into a garbage bag.
“It’s a screenplay, for a feature film. It’s highly artistic, and he won’t settle for anything less than some big names. That’s why it’s taking so long to get off the ground.
“Cool,” said Lily. “So you’re working as his assistant now?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it that,” Iris said. “But I help out with some things. He has a whole crew working under him, and his own personal assistant. He doesn’t speak much English, so he’ll need me to help with the film project, as soon as he has some time to dedicate to it,” Iris kept moving as she talked, never coming up for breath, never pausing for thought, as though reciting from memory. “He’s amazing at what he does, which is why he’s always too busy to really focus. Meanwhile, he got me some work writing copy for the documentaries and the English voiceovers, that kind of thing. That’s what makes it so fun, I get to travel everywhere with him, and my trip pays for itself.”
“You have to pay?”
“No, of course not! You have to understand how these things work, though. Max usually finds a way to pass me off as one of the crew, but if some things aren’t covered, like for example if we’re in a very exclusive resort and decide to stay on and enjoy it for a few extra days, I can pay for my share out of the money I earn. But that doesn’t happen often. Max has a way of dealing with hotel and restaurant owners, and once we’re there, they are usually the ones who offer us free hospitality. I know how it is, because I’ve been at the other end, dealing with the media, journalists, travel agents - anyone that has the pull to promote a property. That’s how I met Max in the first place. When he came to my hotel.”
Still, it seemed to Lily like the least he could do was let Iris keep the money she made. “Speaking of your hotel - don’t you ever miss your job? Sounds like you were really good at that.”
“I got as far as I wanted to go with that career. The hotel was beautiful, but the job sounds more glamorous than it actually was. The hours were grueling, and the responsibility was dragging me down. I even had to start taking Xanax. When I left Gregorio, Max opened my eyes for me. He told me I wouldn’t really be free unless I cut all my ties. I mean, what sense did it make for him to be traveling to all those beautiful places on his own, while I slaved away, pandering to the bourgeoisie, not to mention the owner of the hotel ... ‘yes sir, no ma’am, right away sir...’ God - I was little more than a glorified servant. Working with Max, well, he is just amazing to watch. And his friends are so accomplished and interesting; he’s opened up a whole new world to me.”
“You took Xanax?” Lily had to stop herself from adding “too” to the end of her question.
“For a while, said Iris. “It helped take the edge off. Hey - Maybe I’ll take that cigarette, after all, if you’ve got one to spare.”
“What about your friends from the hotel?” asked Lily, offering the pack to Iris. “Do you miss them?”
“I didn’t have any friends there. I had staff. You have to keep your distance when you’re the boss, you know.” Iris picked up the bottle of champagne by the neck. Tiny rivulets of water ran down the side of the bottle. Iris passed a dust cloth over the surface of the coffee table. “Here, Lily - take this,” said Iris, holding the bottle out. “We have to get this into the fridge.”
Lily took the bottle. “I will,” she said, “in just a sec... I’m trying to figure out if this is a stain or a burn mark in the carpet. God, I hope it’s a stain.” She set the champagne down on the end table next to the couch, and returned to scrubbing at the carpet.
“So what’s it like to be assistant to a filmmaker?” said Lily. “That sounds like a fun job.”
“I told you, I’m not his assistant,” Iris snapped.
“Geez Louise, Iris. What’s the big deal?” “I’m sorry. It’s just that Max hates it when people call me that. And so do I,” said Iris. “After all, I am his companion, Lily.”
“I’m sure you are,” said Lily, although she thought that Iris sounded a bit like a groupie. Then again, what did Lily know? She obviously had no idea what it was like to be with a man like Max.
“My main job is to give him support and encouragement. He is so sensitive, and so - I don’t know - tortured, I guess. He needs me there to keep him grounded, you know? Everyone says he’s so much more centered when I’m around – even a lot nicer. I go on location with him, and then at the end of the day, I am there to help him unwind, relax a little. And of course I’m in charge of entertaining, when we’re in Rome, or whatever. He has to throw lots of parties in order to make the kind of connections that are so crucial in his field.”
Entertain for him, encourage him, help him get along with others. Now Iris sounded more like his wife, really. Or his mother.
“Rome? Do you live there now?” asked Lily, wondering how many other pieces of information Iris was keeping to herself. They weren’t exactly minor details, either. Leaving her husband for a new relationship, quitting her job, moving to another city.
“Max has a place there, from back before we met.”
“I guess it made sense for you to move in with him, since you left your house. It sounded like Liguria was beautiful, though.”
“I haven’t left Liguria.”
The edge to Iris’ voice alerted Lily that her sister was losing her patience. “So you and Max got an apartment there?”
“Look Lily, it’s not like Europeans live the same way as Americans. They don’t all have their nice little houses, and their nice little families, you know? I have an apartment, and Max has an apartment, and sometimes we’re in one, and sometimes we’re in the other, sometimes we’re together, and sometimes we’re apart. That’s how modern relationships work. Like Max says, I’ve been married once, for half my life. We both need a little breathing room, at least for now. You should know what it’s like.”
“Yeah, OK,” said Lily, fighting back tears. Just because Lily didn’t know how things worked in Italy, it didn’t mean she was stupid. She’d had a modern a relationship. Sort of. Anyway, if Iris was so sure that her set up with Max was so perfect, why did she seem so irritated by it?
“Do you think you and Max will ever get married?”
“I don’t know, we’ve never talked about it. Men as unconventional as Max, with such an unhappy family background, naturally shy away from the subject of marriage.”
“I thought I heard you tell Auntie Rosa he would marry you.”
Iris sighed. “Yeah, well, what was I supposed to say? When someone is dying right in front of you, it’s kind of hard to tell them things you know they wouldn’t want to hear.”
True. Or when they are living right in front of you.
“Hmm. If you ask me, that’s the perfect time to spit out the truth.”
“Look, I’m not even divorced yet. I
t takes three years in Italy. So let’s just say we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, OK? Can we talk about something else now?”
“With pleasure,” said Lily. This whole sisterly bonding experience wasn’t exactly turning out the way Iris had likely imagined. No surprise there. Not much ever did. Too bad Iris didn’t notice that more. Maybe they should just stick to cleaning and talking about the weather.
Judas finishing belting out “Heaven on their Minds” as Lily tied up the ends of her garbage bag. “One down, one thousand to go!” She wiped her brow with a paper towel. “You want a Coke?”
“Is it diet?” asked Iris, her voice still shaking. “I’ve been taking in way too many calories since I got here.”
“Diet is all I drink,” said Lily. That, and the occasional bottle of Smirnoff.
Lily disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two cans of diet Coke.
Iris popped the tab on her Coke, and held it up in a toast.
“To crossing that bridge when we come to it,” she said, her smile marred by a quiver.
“Or burning it down,” said Lily.
The house throbbed with heat as the two women made their way from the great room, to the dining room, to the kitchen, continuing their work long after the music stopped. Even with all the doors and windows open, the stifling air hung heavy around them. Lily’s rickety old oscillating fan measured out a steady click-click, click-click when it should have been sweeping the room with air. Like a metronome, it inspired rhythm in their movements as Lily dragged a broom across the kitchen floor and Iris wiped down the cupboards with oil soap.
“That stuff smells like the pews in church,” said Lily.
“I know,” said Iris. “That’s why I like it. I always liked being in church, you know? The candles, the incense, the ritual and pageantry. Oh, Lily, you have to come see the cathedrals in Italy - you would just love them!”
“Yeah,” said Lily, letting the word drop like a guillotine on the conversation. Iris may as well have told her she should go to Mars; even a trip to the grocery store seemed like too much right now. The mere thought of going back to work on Monday nauseated her.
Lily had called in sick the entire week previous, leaving messages on Mrs. Windham-Childs’ machine in the middle of the night in order to avoid having to actually speak with her. What could Lily have told her? That she couldn’t come in because she went off the deep end and drank half a bottle of vodka and almost killed herself? Or that her ex-husband had been dragging her through hell, and all that was left was skin and bones, and it was all she could do to keep breathing? She could have blamed it on Auntie Rosa, which would have been true in part, since Lily needed to attend the wake and the funeral services. She may even have gained favor with Mrs. Windham-Childs for that because taking a certain amount of time to honor a family member who has passed would have been regarded not as time off, but as a proper and necessary family obligation. At the time, she hadn’t cared much about what Mrs. Windham-Childs thought of her reasons for missing a week of work. But with Monday looming on the horizon, she was reminded of what Sophie had told her - that she could be dismissed without explanation or warning if things didn’t work out.
“Lily - look at this!” Iris cried. She held up the Porky Pig glass from the kitchen window sill that held the lavender clippings. “They’ve got roots!”
Lily didn’t even remember caring for them over the weeks - she barely remembered caring for herself.
“I wouldn’t plant them today, though,” said Iris, wiping her brow with a paper towel. “It’s just way too hot. Give them a little time. Wait until it cools off a bit so they have a fighting chance.” She added an inch of water to the glass.
“Believe it or not,” said Lily. “We are down to our last box.”
“Wait! Let’s open it together!” said Iris. “On the count of three. One, two,...”
“Honestly, Iris,” said Lily. “You are the only person I know who can make an event out of opening a box.” It was hardly a victory; this was just the beginning of a long road for which Lily felt categorically unprepared. It was the part that Iris would not have to deal with.
“Three!” cried Iris.
Together they pulled open the flaps of cardboard, revealing two small beige cotton afghans, done in a simple shell stitch.
“What do we have here?” said Iris. She held up one of the afghans and shook it out. Rather than square, it was shaped was more like a trapezoid, with one edge longer than the other by a foot.
“Oh, those are awful!” said Lily, with a laugh. “I crocheted them a few years ago, but they are so bad, I never put them out. I am just going to have to admit that I do not have the patience - or the talent - for needlework. Just one more thing I tried to master along the way.”
“I know just what to do with these!” Iris brought the blankets into the great room and laid one across the back of the couch and one across the back of the love seat, strategically placing them to hide the spots where the fabric on the furniture had worn through.
“They’re lovely,” said Iris, as though trying to convince herself. She ironed them out with her hands, gently tugging at the edges in an attempt to square off the corners. “They will come in handy in case you get chilly.”
“Hard to imagine ever feeling chilly after today.” Lily plucked a paper napkin from the holder on the dining table and swabbed her neck. She took a second napkin and used it to wipe the last remaining moisture from the bottle of champagne. Drenched in sweat, together they finally hauled the last of the empty boxes out to the back porch.
“We did it!” shouted Iris, taking Lily’s hands in hers and jumping up and down in place. “We got them all unpacked!”
Lily didn’t feel quite feel like jumping for joy. She would celebrate when it was all over. Whenever that might be. And where did Iris get this indefatigable sense of joy and optimism? Would Lily ever be able to rediscover a bit of that in her life? Had she ever had any? Still, she only had to pretend to be cheerful for a little while longer. Then she would be left again in peace.
“Now,” said Iris. “You go take your shower, and I’ll run these bags out to the curb.”
“Iris - you’ve done enough, really, you can take off now.”
“Go get into the shower.” Iris pinched her nostrils closed between her index finger and thumb. “You stink.”
Lily let the cool water spray down over her head, allowed it to trickle into her ears, run down her back. She watched the water swirl down the drain, wishing the toils of her life could so easily be rinsed away. She stood under the stream until she heard the back door slam, unaware if a minute or an hour had passed, and wishing she could pause life just long enough to get her bearings.
Lily cinched the belt of her robe around her waist as she stepped down into the dining room, exhausted, but refreshed. Four side chairs rallied around the little round table that had been transplanted from the kitchenette on Trevi Way. A large glass vase filled with purple and white wildflowers stood at its center.
“Where did those come from?” Lily asked.
“I found them behind the garage - can you believe it?”
“They’re beautiful,” said Lily.
“Beautiful things are everywhere,” said Iris. “You just have to be willing to look for them – sometimes in unexpected places.”
It sounded like something Lily had once heard on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.
“Now, the first thing I want you to remember when you come down those stairs tomorrow morning,” Iris told her with a catch in her voice, “Is that you are a beautiful wildflower. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“OK,” said Lily. “I’ll try.” She bent forward to sniff the bouquet, then jerked back in repulsion at how bad they smelled. Maybe Iris did see her as a wildflower - beautiful from a distance, but if you get too close, you’ll get a snoutful of stink. If Lily were a flower, she’d want to think of herself as a white Easter lily, exuding the strong and unmistakable fragra
nce of the hope for redemption. Lily couldn’t recall if she had ever actually smelled an iris.
“And the second thing I want you to remember,” said Iris, tears forming in her eyes, “Is that if I ever catch you with plastic flowers in your house, I will fly across the Atlantic Ocean and personally pound you.”
Lily envied Iris her sentimentality, and she felt guilty that she did not feel the same sense of sadness over their parting.
Iris opened the refrigerator. “Hey- where’s the champagne?” she cried. “I thought you put it in the refrigerator.”
“I thought you did,” said Lily.
Iris scurried into the living room, returning with the champagne. “Now it’s warm! I can’t believe we didn’t put this on ice.”
Lily looked from Iris’ face to the bottle, and back to Iris. She shrugged. She didn’t much care to celebrate anyway.
“That’s alright, Iris,” said Lily. “It’s no big deal.”
“Of course it is!” said Iris. “We have to mark this occasion - today is the first day of the rest of your life! God knows I’ve done worse things than drink warm champagne. You want to do the honors?” Iris offered the bottle to Lily.
“You go ahead,” said Lily, shoving her hands into the pockets of her robe. She was embarrassed that she didn’t know how to open champagne, that she’d never had the occasion to learn.
Iris peeled the foil from the neck of the bottle, pointed it towards the windows overlooking the lake, untwisted the wire cork restraint and then looked at Lily.
“Are you ready to launch your new life?”
“Yes,” said Lily. “I am.”
“I’m not convinced,” said Iris.
“Neither am I.” Lily laughed weakly, hoping it sounded like a joke, yet relieved at the chance to speak the truth.
“C’mon, Lily,” said Iris. “Say it like you mean it.”
“Yes, yes!” said Lily, hoping to infuse her voice with enough enthusiasm to meet Iris’ expectations so she would open the fucking bottle of champagne.
The Complete Series Page 133
