[Iris and Lily 01.0 - 03.0] The Complete Series

by Angela Scipioni

  Lily’s eyes widened in fascination. “Is that the recording booth?”

  “You got it,” said Owen. “Wanna go in?”

  “Really?” Lily could hardly contain her excitement and reached for the door before Owen could answer.

  “Wow... it’s so quiet in here,” she said, stepping inside. “It’s even quiet when I talk,” said Lily. With a giggle she added, “I just realized how stupid that sounded.”

  “Not at all,” said Owen. “You’re right. See those panels on the walls? They absorb sound so even your voice doesn’t reverberate like it does in everyday conversation. It gives the engineer more control over the tone and quality of the recording. Nothing you hear on the radio or on a CD sounds the way it did live. We apply all kinds of effects and enhancements. You’d be surprised what some famous singers would sound like singing in the shower.”

  “So it’s all done with smoke and mirrors?”

  “Pretty much,” said Owen. “Just like anything in life.”

  Lily walked over to the corner and found a large crate filled with percussion instruments - maracas, a tambourine, a belt of sleigh bells, a triangle, a rain stick. They filled her with a sense of wonder. She wanted to reach in and pick them up, play with them the way she always had longed to play with the guitars, banjos, and ukuleles in Uncle Alfred’s studio. Whenever she had dared, Uncle Alfred would inevitably happen along and mumble a few words that she could never quite discern but knew were intended to scold her. Then he would take out his can of Pledge furniture polish and a fresh dust cloth, and methodically set about scouring away the prints of Lily’s bold curiosity, leaving her feeling unfulfilled and ashamed. Realizing that her self-control wasn’t at its best these days, Lily thrust her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

  “Go ahead,” said Owen, gesturing to the crate. “Dig in.”

  Delighted, Lily reached in and shook, knocked, and jiggled her way through the box until she found a pair of castanets, which she slipped onto her fingers, and performed a mock flamenco dance. She and Owen both laughed.

  “Thanks for bringing me in here,” said Lily. “What a great surprise.”

  “This is not your surprise, you silly goose,” said Owen.

  “It’s not?”

  “No - what kind of a surprise is that? You really need to learn to set higher expectations, Lily.”

  Owen rolled a mic stand by its base and placed it in front of Lily. He slipped a microphone into the sleeve at the top and positioned it directly in front of her mouth.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Patience, my sweet. Patience.” Owen reached into a box under a table and pulled out a set of headphones. He plugged them into a small metal box with a knob on it, which sat on a stand. He placed the headphones on Lily, adjusting them so that each earpiece was properly positioned. Lily’s stomach lurched with excitement with the recognition that she was standing in the vocal booth of a recording studio, wearing headphones - just the way she’d seen professional singers do on TV and in the movies.

  Owen headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” she shouted, unable to detect the volume of her own voice.

  Owen laughed and held his index finger up to his lips. “Shhhh,” he said. He pointed to the window and closed the door behind him. A few seconds later, he appeared in front of the mixing board on the other side of the glass and leaned in toward a microphone that was mounted on the table.

  “Doing OK in there?” he asked.

  Lily let out a yelp, startled to hear his voice come through the headphones.

  She laughed. “Yes, yes - I’m fine.”

  “OK,” said Owen. “Now just hold on one second.”

  He fiddled with a couple of the knobs and then sat in the chair. Music began to play through the headphones.

  “Oh, my God!” Lily shouted, recognizing the introduction to the song she had sung at the Easter Vigil. “It’s ‘Lift Me Up’ isn’t it?”

  Owen nodded and smiled. Lily closed her eyes and swayed back and forth to the music, holding onto the mic stand as though it were an anorexic dance partner. The music was just like they’d had at church - a simple accompaniment with Jeffrey on piano, but without any singing. The music stopped abruptly and Lily opened her eyes to see Owen lean toward his microphone. “Anytime,” he said.

  Did he want her to leave? “Oh! Sorry.” She reached up to remove the headphones.

  “You missed your cue,” Owen said.

  “My cue?”

  “Yes, your cue - you know, that little introduction that tells you when it’s time to start singing.”

  “You want me to sing?”

  “You are a singer, aren’t you?”

  “Not really,” said Lily. “I just -”

  “You ARE a singer, aren’t you?” said Owen, raising his brow.

  Lily laughed. “Yes, OK - yes, I’m a singer.”

  “And you know this song, right?”

  “Yes, I certainly do.” It was burned in her memory. “This is the song that brought us together.”

  “And this is a recording studio, is it not?”

  Lily replied playfully, “Why, yes - I believe it is.”

  “From the top, then.”

  The music began again, the beat of Lily’s pulse racing ahead, out of time. She hoped that when she opened her mouth, something besides her heart would come out.

  “When you looked for me...”

  She sang timidly at first, taken aback by the way her voice fed in through the headphones, enabling her to hear every tremor, each breath sound, as though she were her own best friend, telling herself precious secrets.

  “... tell me, what did you see?”

  Owen reached over to adjust a knob. He gestured to Lily to keep going.

  “Were you all surprised to find

  That I’d left my old self behind?”

  As Lily became accustomed to the way the music and her voice sounded through the headset, she began to relax, closing her eyes and letting her thoughts wander back to the Easter vigil and the power she had felt that night - was it just last month, or a hundred years ago? So much had happened since that night. So much seemed different now. She seemed different.

  “Lift me up, I’m reaching out for you - ou...”

  Lily recalled the way she had imagined Jesus saying those words to her, inviting her into His protective embrace, soothing her pain, easing her fears. The joy of that memory and the thrill of being in this moment, singing that beautiful song into a real microphone in an actual recording studio was tinged with the nagging idea that she tried to push into the wings of her mind but which kept re-emerging nonetheless: Jesus was faithfully in Heaven beckoning to her, and here she was, a cheat and a liar without even the decency to feel genuine remorse.

  The song ended. Lily opened her eyes to find Owen sitting motionless in his chair, watching her. He leaned forward and spoke into the microphone.

  “Don’t move a muscle.”

  Owen got up and entered the recording booth, flinging the door open and striding directly toward Lily, taking her face between his hands and kissing her passionately, his hands gliding down her back and over her buttocks, around the curve of her hip and up under her blouse. Lily’s desire erupted, banishing thoughts of Jesus and covering over the seeds of her guilt.

  “You were made for this, Lily,” he said, continuing to caress her breasts.

  Lily’s knees yielded willingly to Owen’s invitation. They collapsed to the floor together, the headphones slipping from Lily’s head and disappearing under a pile of clothing.

  “That was the best surprise anyone has ever given me my whole life,” said Lily, after they’d made love for the second time that morning. She stood at the studio entrance, fighting the tears that seemed to be her constant companion. Whether from happiness or sorrow, they always seemed to be lurking beneath the surface, ready to spring forth. “I will never forget this.”

  “It’s not over,” said Owen
. “You are going to record that song. For real. I am going to make that happen.”

  “Owen, I-”

  “Hush,” said Owen, holding his index finger over her lips. “I am going to take care of everything. This is your time, Lily.”

  Lily drove home, savoring the flavors of passion and possibility as they lingered on her tongue, hoping it would be enough to sustain her for another day.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Lily asked Donna.

  Donna cracked an egg into a bowl containing a thick brown paste. Lily sat in a chair at Donna’s kitchen sink, draped in a waterproof smock, with a tattered beach towel draped over her shoulders, its faded lettering hinting at some long forgotten family vacation.

  “I’m sure,” said Donna. “Don’t you worry about it. This henna is a natural colorant and by putting this other stuff in there like eggs and honey, you are going to get a primo conditioning treatment, too.”

  “Or you could stick my head in the oven,” quipped Lily. “Then all my problems would be solved and you would get a nice little cake.”

  “You bite your tongue!” said Donna, playfully slapping Lily’s thigh with a dishtowel. “The real question of the day is, do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Absolutely not,” Lily replied. She wondered if Donna was getting ready to finally confront her. She was a captive audience, sitting there with her head in Donna’s kitchen sink.

  “And by the way, if we stuck your head in the oven, it wouldn’t solve my problems; I would miss you terribly.” Donna drew the spray nozzle out of the panel of the sink and began to spray Lily’s hair. “I love you.”

  Lily’s throat burned and her tears mingled with the warm spray. “I love you, too, Donna. You’re a good friend.”

  “Well now, I don’t know about that.” Donna replaced the spray nozzle and squeezed the excess water from Lily’s hair. “Let’s not forget that I am the one who insisted that you sign up for choir, and now look at the mess you’ve got yourself into.”

  Lily’s face grew hot. Donna finally brought it out into the open. What should she say? What could she say?

  “Yes,” said Lily. “I guess I am in a bit of a mess.” Tears came to her eyes. She was glad that she could not look Donna in the eye from where she sat. It would be much easier to take her lumps if she didn’t have to actually face her.

  “The Good Lord knows that I am a prisoner of my own brand of temptation, Lily. I know what it’s like to feel powerless over carnal appetites - and as the Good Book says, ‘How can you say to your brother, “Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,” when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye?’ But then in Galatians, Paul tells us, ‘Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness.’ So I have been in constant angst over what to do to help you,” said Donna. “Besides, I know what goes on over at your house, Lily; you don’t even have to tell me half the time. I’ve got ears to hear and eyes to see. Our places are an arm’s length apart and these walls are cheap. It breaks my heart what I know.”

  Donna pulled a pair of milky white latex gloves over her hands with a snap. She scooped up a handful of the paste and began working it into Lily’s hair. “But sugar, I cannot in good conscience continue to look the other way with regards to Owen. Not when I know you are just storing up trouble for tomorrow.”

  If Lily’s hands had not been trapped under the smock, she would have used them to try and shield her face, as though she might hide her shame from Donna. Yet at the same time, a wave of relief gushed forth; Lily was glad to finally have the issue out in the open. If she ever needed a friend, she needed one now.

  “Joe would go ballistic if he found out,” she said with a heavy sigh.

  “Yes, he would, but that’s not what I’m talkin’ about. I care about your marriage, but I’m more concerned about your soul.” Donna scooped more of the glop onto Lily’s head.

  “My soul,” said Lily, “is dying anyway. But I can feel it come back to life when I’m with Owen, Donna. And this morning when he put those headphones on me and put me in that recording booth... and when the music started and it filled my head - filled my whole heart - it was like I was being replenished somehow.” Lily slipped a hand out from under the smock and wiped the tears that had collected at the outside corners of her eyes. “How is that wrong? How can the survival of my soul not be a part of God’s plan for my life, Donna? I can’t understand a God who would place Owen in my path, tease me with passion and the opportunity to sing again - for what? To test me? To teach me? I’ve already passed all the tests I signed up for. And I’m sick of this lesson.”

  Donna scraped the last of the paste from the bowl, plopped it onto Lily’s hair, which she then piled on top of her head and gently sat her upright. “I know you’re hurtin’,” she said. “But don’t think for one second that it is God’s will for you to have an illicit affair with another man. It’s pretty clear in the Bible that He don’t like that sort of thing - even wrote a whole commandment on it.” Donna extracted a long measure of plastic wrap from the dispenser and began to wrap it around Lily’s hair.

  “I don’t get it,” said Lily. “And why are you wrapping my head in plastic wrap?”

  “The plastic wrap keeps the heat in, which helps your hair absorb the stain and the nutrients of all the yummy stuff I added in.” Donna secured the plastic wrap in place and then added a layer of aluminum foil.

  “Are we going to try and contact the Mother Ship?” Lily giggled.

  “Hush now,” said Donna. “You’ve been doing nuthin’ but complaining about this since you sat down. We can’t have you showing up for your recording session looking like an old lady with all that nasty gray hair, can we?”

  “OK, well now I am thoroughly confused,” said Lily, sitting down at the table and accepting a cup of coffee. “Out of one side of your mouth you’re telling me that it’s not God’s will for me to be with Owen, and then out of the other side, you’re dolling me up and sending me back there.”

  Donna placed a plate of peanut butter cookies on the table and sat down. “You are confused,” said Donna. “Now I believe that God placed Owen in your life for a reason. But I also think that the two of you got the message all garbled up.”

  “But I have never been drawn to someone like that before,” said Lily, taking a bite of a cookie. “I felt at home with him from the very beginning, and I wanted him with my whole being - more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  “And all this passion for a man you didn’t even know,” said Donna. “Don’t you find that just a bit strange?”

  “Love at first sight,” said Lily.

  “Sugar - I know that’s what you believe, but I have to tell you that love does not go against itself. Love cannot sin, and when you say that love made you cross that line, I’m afraid you’re gettin’ into some mighty dangerous territory.”

  “How would you explain it, then?”

  “I would say that the attraction you feel is for a part of yourself that you lost along the way. Owen promises to give that back to you, but he can’t fix this for you, Lily. And you both are just makin’ it worse.” Donna reached across the table and took Lily’s hand. “You fell in love with the man when you were supposed to fall in love with what he’s pointing you toward. It’s like driving all the way to Arizona to sit and stare at a sign that says, ‘Grand Canyon, 5 miles ahead’.”

  White hot heat radiated from Lily’s chest, the same way it used to when William Nolan at Sacred Family grammar school made mocking cow sounds when she passed. She knew the sensation as shame, but then - as now - she had no response, could contrive no excuse for herself that would silence her accuser. She wished she could run away because she could not refute the accusation, nor was she willing to admit that such knowledge should induce her to stop. It was all Lily could do to pull her hand out from Donna’s grasp in protest. What could she say? That she felt that her transgression was justif
ied? That she didn’t care if what she was doing was wrong? The only truthful response was that she knew it was wrong, and she cared, but she chose it anyway.

  “It’s the only happiness I have now.” Lily said. “How can you ask me to give it up?”

  “I didn’t ask you to do anything, Lily,” said Donna. “The Lord gave you free will and it is not my place to take that away from you. That’s just your conscience speakin’ to you. But that’s not happiness, sweetie - not any more than dressing up in tights and a pink tutu on Halloween makes me a ballerina.”

  Lily laughed.

  “Conjures up quite an image, don’t it?”

  “Don’t make me laugh,” said Lily. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I know it’s not, but do you get what I’m sayin’? You and Owen are not two lovers in love, even though that’s what it looks like from the outside.”

  “Yeah, well, my life with Joe looks great from the outside, too.”

  “Only now, you’ve made Joe right; you’ve given him exactly what he wants - a reason to mistrust you.”

  “He didn’t trust me anyway, so I figured, ‘What the hell, I may as well.’”

  “What do you think Joe will do when he finds out? He will find out, you know. They always do.” Donna leaned in closer and looked directly into Lily’s eyes. “And then,” she said, “he can divorce you on the grounds of infidelity. Maybe even prove that you’re an unfit mother. Take your kids away.”

  The look in Donna’s eyes sent a chill down Lily’s spine.

  “He would never do that,” said Lily tentatively.

  “Are you sure?” said Donna. “Think about that and then ask yourself if your little rendezvous with Owen is still making you happy.”

  The two women sat sipping coffee from their mugs in silence. The burning in Lily’s chest intensified as the realization sank in. She panicked as she thought about what Donna had said. Unfit mother. Take my kids away. Lily was seized with terror. What if Joe knew already? Or what if he had called when she was with Owen that morning? He could have driven by the studio and seen her car there. He could have peeked in the window and seen them passionately kissing good-bye. How could she have been so stupid? Seized by fear, she bolted over to the kitchen sink, and threw up.