Iris placed her thumbs against the cork and worked it free.
“Evviva!” she cried.
With a pop! the cork flew across the room and a puff of smoke erupted from the bottle like a magic genie. Lily would like three wishes, and her first wish would be for an unlimited number of wishes. She had a feeling she would need them.
Iris handed Lily a foaming glass of champagne.
“Wait!” cried Iris. “Before you drink it, let me get my camera - I want to capture this moment.”
Iris left the kitchen and returned a moment later with her bag. She reached in and pulled out a camera.
“Wow, nice camera” said Lily. “I don’t know you were interested in photography.”
“Isn't it cool? It's a Canon EOS Rebel. Max has so many, and he wasn't using this anymore so he gave it to me. He's teaching me how to use it,” said Iris. “Just a second while I find the right setting - I want to immortalize this moment. Now hold up the glass like you’re making a toast, Lily.”
Lily obliged.
“Now say evviva!”
“Evviva,” Lily mumbled.
“Oh, come on!” said Iris. “Can’t you at least try to look happy? I want something to remember you by when I go back home.”
You could just remember it the way it actually was. Lily smiled. The camera clicked. Iris poured herself a glass of champagne.
“Try to enjoy yourself tomorrow, Lily. Don’t be so worried about what you’re going to say or do with the boys. They might surprise you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Lily took a long sip of champagne. “I keep wishing there was an instruction manual or something, you know? I could flip to the index and look up ‘children, what to do when they abuse and leave you’ and then I could turn to page twelve or whatever, and there would be a diagram of a mother and two little kids all smiling and happy, with text that read, ‘Step one, step two, step three.’ Wouldn’t it be great if you could look up stuff like that in manual?”
Iris covered her face and burst into tears.
“What is it, Iris?” said Lily. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Iris smiled through the tears that ran down her face. “It must be the champagne... the idea of leaving … I’m just tired... it’s been a long week - but look who I’m telling!” Iris blew her nose on the towel.
Lily just looked at her, not knowing what to say.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” Iris dug into her bag and pulled out a small silver box. “This is for you.”
Lily opened the box, to find Auntie Rosa’s lily of the valley pin inside. “Auntie Rosa’s rhinestone pin?”
“I’ll have you know,” said Iris. “That those are real diamond chips.”
“No kidding...” Real diamond chips. The pieces that fell to the floor as the whole diamonds were cut.
“Everyone thought they were imitation, but that’s because they never bothered to really look at them - see how they sparkle in the light? Just like you.”
“Thank you, Iris,” said Lily.
“Dolores gave that pin to Auntie Rosa, and I know they would both want you to have it. I was hoping it would be a reminder to you of how much you are loved, Lily. Dolores loved you, Auntie Rosa loved you, and I love you.”
"I love you too, Iris." That part was true, despite the rest. She put the pin back into the box.
“Don’t you want to put it on?” said Iris.
“I’m in my robe,” said Lily.
“Oh, I know, but just to see how it feels - let’s pin it on!”
“No thanks,” said Lily. “I think I’ll save it for a special occasion.”
Iris heaved a deep sigh, drained her glass, and gathered her things into her bag. Lily knew that she had disappointed Iris by not putting the pin on. Perhaps Iris thought that receiving a diamond chip pin was a special occasion - or at least that it should have been regarded as one by someone as down on their luck as Lily. But in that moment, Lily realized that getting diamond chips instead of two carat earrings wasn’t okay with her anymore, nor could she keep pretending that it was. Why should she revel in being second best? Why should she accept survival as a cause for celebration when life was so much more than that?
The sisters said their final good-byes, and Lily watched as Iris walked down the driveway. As her car disappeared around the corner, a wave of relief mingled with remorse passed over Lily. She could give up the charade of optimism now that Iris was gone, but now, Iris was gone. Lily hated that it was so difficult to be around her, and still so difficult to watch her drive away.
She picked up the bottle and poured the rest of the champagne down the drain. One more drink might take the edge off, but it might also blur the new image of herself that was just coming into focus.
Lily woke the next morning to a gentle breeze that draped itself across her bare breasts like a cool washcloth. With a groan, she pulled the white cotton sheet up over her shoulder and rolled over onto her stomach.
She had dived head first into a deep sleep the night before, exhausted from the work she and Iris had done, lightly relaxed by the champagne. As she rose to full wakefulness, she remembered how lovely the great room had looked when they’d finished, how much it had seemed like a real home, and then she remembered that today was the day the boys were coming. She quickly rolled back over, unwrapped herself from the sheet and jumped to her feet. She slipped into the night shirt she’d abandoned to the floor during the stifling night and went downstairs into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. She wandered into the great room, cranked the windows all the way open and closed her eyes as the refreshing morning breeze flowed past her face, displacing the stagnant air still trapped inside from the day before. She sat by the window in the rocking chair, which had been a birthday gift from Joe the year she was pregnant with Joseph. It was the only gift of his she’d kept.
Lily watched a thick, dark shelf of clouds being pushed across the sky by a lively northwestern breeze. She was disappointed to see that it was probably going to rain. After Iris left, Lily had decided that a picnic sounded like a good idea (especially since she hadn’t been able to come up with an idea of her own), and had taken a trip to the corner grocery to buy some food, a frisbee, and a bottle of soap bubbles for blowing.
The boys would be arriving in an hour. All those years, they were never more than a few feet from her side. Now she had to wait for them, receive them like guests. When they’d left (was it really just last week?) it was as though Lily had lost a part of herself, but already, the space where they had been was different somehow. It felt smaller, quieter. She missed them terribly, but she had to admit that she was enjoying the respite from the chaos. Her stomach twinged with guilt. She would use this time to get her strength back - then she would be able to provide them with the kind of home they wanted.
Lily finished her coffee, got dressed, and then sat in the back hall watching for Joe’s car. As thunder rumbled and lightning flashed she was grateful that at least she did not have to drive across town to pick the boys up, even though she knew this was one more opportunity for Joe to mess with her. He could drop the boys off late, pick them up early - even “forget” to bring them by at all. But of course, her house was on the way to the track, so this arrangement worked out for Joe, which meant that it would have to work out for everyone.
Joseph and Pierce’s mad dash from the car couldn’t save them from getting drenched in the downpour. Lily greeted them at the back door with two fresh towels.
“Good-bye, my sons!” Joe poked his head out through the open car window. “I’ll call you later to say good-night!”
Lily wanted to shout back, “Don’t call them later! They can go one day without talking to you!” You’d be surprised, in fact.
Yet Lily trained her eyes on the ground, unable even to look at Joe, his face the very gateway to horrifying memories and searing pain. It was the face with whom she had shared daily life for twenty years, the face for whom she had labored
and borne two sons, the face that accepted her virginity and stole her innocence, once the face of a passionate boy who made her heart pound and her body call out in desire. Now, she couldn’t even bring herself to look at it. How long would it be before she could raise her eyes to his and not recoil? How long before his face would mean nothing to her? How long before his would become a face she used to know?
“Who’s the best Daddy in the world?” Joe called out through the teeming rain.
“You are, Daddy!” shouted Pierce.
“Hey you two,” Lily delivered a kiss to each of the boys as they stepped into the foyer. “I have some fresh clothes for you. Give me your wet things.”
“Mommy, I’m soaped!” said Pierce.
Lily laughed. “Soaked, my love. You’re soaked.”
Joseph grabbed his towel and the dry clothes and went into the bathroom, closing the door without saying a word.
“I was hoping we could go on a picnic today,” said Lily. She pulled Pierce’s T-shirt off over his head. “But it looks like we’re going to have to go to Plan B.”
“What’s Plan B?” asked Pierce. He pulled his white socks off one at a time and flung them across the foyer.
Good question, thought Lily. “Well, maybe we can go down to the video store and rent ‘A Fish Tale.’ I heard that’s good.”
“My Daddy just rented it for us last night,” said Pierce. “We stayed up until eleven a-clock and watched it three times!”
“Oh,” said Lily.
Joseph emerged from the bathroom, dressed in his dry clothes. “Where do you want these?” he asked flatly.
“You can leave them here, honey.”
Joseph let the bundle of wet clothes drop to the floor.
“Well, how about if we go to the mall?” said Lily. “We can ride the Carousel, maybe get a hamburger...”
“We just came from the mall,” said Joseph as he headed for the stairs. “Samantha forced us to walk around all morning, shopping for clothes for our vacation.”
“Oh,” said Lily. “OK.”
Joseph headed down the stairs. Pierce followed.
“Well then, go on downstairs,” said Lily. “I’ll put your things in the dryer and then I’ll come down, and maybe we can play some Gin Rummy or something.”
“Do we like Gin Rummy, Joseph?” Pierce asked.
“No,” Joseph replied. “Card games are gay.”
“Yeah,” said Pierce. “Card games are gay, right, Joseph?”
Lily tossed their clothes in the dryer, and hung their coats on the rack. She headed down the stairs and called toward the great room. “At least I know you must be hungry, right?” She didn’t wait for a reply; she needed time to think. “I’ll make some sandwiches, and then we can decide how we’d like to spend the afternoon.” So far, this was not going very well.
Lily grilled up three cheese sandwiches, and pulled three containers of chocolate pudding, three juice boxes, and three apples from the refrigerator. She placed everything on an aluminum tray.
She noticed the Porky Pig glass and the sticks that she hoped would one day be lavender again. “I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long – and I know you don’t belong in there – it’s so undignified. Hang on just a little while longer. I’m dancing as fast as I can.” She opened the faucet and added an inch of water to the glass.
“I know!” she called in to the boys. “I’ll get a tablecloth out of the closet, and we can have our picnic right here in the house! What do you say?”
When she didn’t hear a reply, she went to check on them, and discovered that they had both fallen fast asleep - Joseph on the couch, and Pierce on the loveseat. She’d never seen them pass out so quickly. She stood and watched them sleep, then closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of their breath. In and out. In and out. The rain had tapered off and was gently tap-tap-tapping against the house, tiny rivulets of water trickling through cracks in the rusted gutter. A cool breeze followed on the heels of the downpour, gushing in through the mesh of the window screens. Lily pulled one afghan first over Joseph, then gently laid the other one over Pierce. They both stirred. Lily held her breath, silently praying that they would stay still, for just awhile longer.
As quietly as she could, Lily turned the rocking chair away from the window and toward her sleeping children. She slowly let her body down into the chair and began rocking gently, adding the creaking of the wood to the sweet symphony that played. The tap-tap of the rain droplets on the window pane, the crick-crick as Lily rocked, the hissing and rumbling of little boy snores and slumbers.
She missed them so much. Whenever she’d called them over the past week to check on them and say hello they had been on their way to a baseball game, or just coming in from Sea Breeze amusement park, or had been in the middle of putting together a new trampoline, or focused on conquering the most treacherous villain that stood guard at the final gate of the latest video game. Apparently, it was exhausting to be entertained twenty-four hours a day. The ransom for their loyalty left them too tired to enjoy its spoils.
Lily rocked to and fro, unconsciously keeping time with the boys as they breathed in and out. She could sit there and watch them sleep all day. They did not need more fun, additional activities, greater thrills. Perhaps they just needed a place to rest. Admittedly, peace wasn’t as exciting as buying new clothes, or as seductive as staying up until all hours getting hopped up on sugar and fairy tale philosophy. Lily could not - would not - give them that. But if they needed a place to sleep in a crazy world where all the grownups were frantically competing for their affections and vying for their loyalty, where their own fledgling sense of fair play could be no match for their fear of losing their father to death by loneliness, she would give them that. Even though she had little more to offer than a threadbare couch, a crooked afghan, and a cool breeze, it was enough. It was what they needed, for now.
Lily’s mother had tried to give her what she needed, and Lily hadn’t made that easy for her. Lily had wanted sympathy, not strategy. In the end, her mother was right – what Lily really needed was to find a way to face her predicament with strength and wisdom. That’s what she had tried to give Lily. She was finally starting to see that. After the boys went home, Lily would call her. Maybe go over for a visit.
Lily bowed her head and gave thanks for all the women in her life who had tried to give her what she needed, all those who had nurtured her, who had birthed her, who had saved her. Or tried to save her soul, like Donna. Sweet simple Donna who thought a plate of cookies and a Bible verse could solve almost anything, and even when it couldn’t, would be sufficient to at least numb the pain.
She thought of Iris, and of all the ways in which she’d loved Lily over the years – from sharing the candy she’d bought with her saved allowance long after Lily had squandered all of hers, to pushing Alba Ichberg into the duck pond in Lily’s defense, to putting aside her own grief and giving up her last day in town to help Lily create a home for her children. Poor Iris seemed so sad and displaced when she’d left last night, knowing that she was forever leaving Auntie Rosa behind. Lily had never realized before how dear Auntie Rosa had been to Iris, how much they had loved each other. A pang of envy sliced into Lily’s sense of peace. Maybe one day she would understand, would learn to truly forgive Auntie Rosa – for Iris’ sake, and for her own.
Iris had seemed so different yesterday. She looked like the sister that Lily had always known and loved, but not much else about her seemed familiar. The Iris that Lily knew was conventional, demure, timid, even. Lily smiled as she remembered how Iris used to tremble when she had to call the doctor to make an appointment, the way she would write down what she wanted to say and then rehearse it over and over again. She sure wasn’t shy any more. Iris wasn’t the fainthearted young girl she used to be any more than Lily was the starry-eyed dreamer she once was. Iris was a sophisticated and worldly woman who used to be a little girl that Lily once knew.
Different could be good; grown up and matur
e she understood. But Lily couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the changes she saw in Iris were something else. Lily could even understand about Iris leaving Gregorio. As much as she’d always thought she would have died to have a husband like him, there were lots of women along the way who probably thought that about Joe. You can’t tell what goes on behind someone else’s front door - let alone their bedroom door - and you can’t turn on happiness with the flip of a switch. As far as Lily could tell, neither could you beg it or cajole it or tease it or chase it. Happiness seemed to have a mind of its own. The best you could do was look out for it and hope you recognized it as it flit past.
More than Iris’ past, it was her future that disturbed Lily. Max certainly sounded exciting, intelligent, talented, popular... Iris had done a thorough job of painting a picture of what kind of a man he was. Who was she trying to convince?
Lily’s thoughts travelled on to Sophie and Kitten and Claire and Edie – all the women at the CBW support group who gave her the space and freedom to cry and scream, whose pain reflected Lily’s past and gave her a place to lay it all down.
She prayed for wisdom as she faced her own uncertain future as a mother, and considered the work of delicately carving out what that meant for her now.
Lily rocked and the rain tapped and the boys slept. No matter what came next, they would always be her children. No one could ever take that away.
“I love you guys,” she whispered.
Lily stashed her purse in the broom closet and set a pot of coffee to brew in the kitchen. She stopped in the bathroom to check out her hair and make-up. She readjusted Auntie Rosa’s lily of the valley pin, which she had fastened to the lapel of her jacket to cover the stain there. Besides, Mrs. Windham-Childs would surely appreciate both the style of the pin and the fact that Lily had gone to the extra trouble to look nice. She needed all the help she could get this morning. She took her seat at her desk a full half an hour early, hoping to appear the model of punctuality and cheerfulness when Mrs. Windham-Childs breezed in through the front door. In her own way, she was caring for Lily, too, teaching her about life’s finer points and giving her a peek into the world of privilege.
[Iris and Lily 01.0 - 03.0] The Complete Series Page 134
