by Joy Penny
A light knock resounded behind her. “Lilac?” said Frankie from the other side of the door. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine,” lied Lilac. “I’m sorry. I just… really needed to pee.”
“I imagine so after yesterday…”
Silence fell between them and Lilac actually did what she said she’d come in there to do, never mind that she’d really just run in there to hide.
After she washed her hands, she slowly turned the knob and peeked out the door.
“Feeling better?” asked Frankie, smiling slightly.
She nodded. A small part of her actually did.
“Okay,” said Frankie. “You get yourself together and I’ll make you breakfast. Text Gavin, okay? And I told Nolan I’d call him—”
“I’ll call him,” said Lilac, determined to set it all straight. She already had enough making her dread going back to work. Heaven forbid if things were awkward between her and him. She liked him. She had thought about fucking him. She just… couldn’t imagine that right now. And besides, she’d probably totally screwed that up. “I don’t have his number,” she realized.
“I do,” said Frankie with a sly smile. “We exchanged numbers last night. I wrote it down for you and left it next to your phone on your nightstand.”
Lilac found the slip of paper in question and stared at it, as if it would twist itself into an origami sandgrouse, come to life, and peck her on the cheek.
The thought was bizarrely comforting.
“And once you’ve eaten and you’re sure you’re up for it, I’ll take you to go get your car,” she said. “Nolan said he was going back to the bar afterward and he’d clear it with the bartender to make sure it was okay to leave it. Still, I don’t like the idea of leaving your nice new baby all alone in that junky gravel parking lot.”
Sighing as she hit the bed, Lilac cradled her phone in one hand and the paper in the other. He’d be working now probably.
She entered the number into her contacts, brushing aside several messages from Gavin and many more notifications, and opened up a texting box. I’m sorry, she typed. Frankie tells me I embarrassed myself yesterday. I’m so sorry and so thankful you were there to—she let her fingers hover over her screen, trying to think of how to phrase it—watch over me. I’m so, so sorry. I’m not usually like that, I swear. I hope I didn’t make working in the same building awkward for you.
She let out a breath and hit “send.”
Then she puttered around with her other notifications, favoriting and liking pictures and posts with a numb, empty mind. She liked Gavin’s post about going back to work like a zombie on Mondays without thinking and less than a minute later, her phone rang. Gavin was actually calling her.
She sighed. She owed him this. “Hello?” she said, putting him on speaker and turning down the volume so his voice wouldn’t carry through the hall and to the kitchen where her aunt would hear.
“You…” said Gavin, as if that said it all. There was actually a hint of anger in his voice.
“Me,” said Lilac, her throat still scratchy. “Don’t you have work right now?” she asked. “Should we talk later?”
“Nope,” said Gavin. “I have work, but right now that work involves waiting on five different variations of a latte, which apparently passes for work at his place. And I don’t care if I was in the office of the boss man himself, I’m not letting you wiggle out of this conversation.”
Lilac doubted very much that Gavin would have this conversation in his boss’ office, but she didn’t dare call him on it. Not with the mood he was in.
The sounds of foam machines and chatter permeated the air from the speaker.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked, still frightened to say more.
“If you’ve found out what kind of panties Tildy Tapir wears under her Ballroom dress,” snapped Gavin. “What do you think I want to talk about?”
“I fucked up,” said Lilac.
“Duh,” said Gavin. “I’d give you half a dozen lectures on drinking safety until I was blue in the face, but I hope Frankie did that much for me already.”
“Yeah…” said Lilac, although she wouldn’t say that Frankie had been much gentler on her than Gavin might have been. Or heaven forbid Brielle.
“Did you tell Brielle?” she asked, suddenly sick at the thought.
“No,” said Gavin carefully. “I said I was worried about you yesterday, but she had her own crisis to deal with. And that was before I knew you were half-passed out in a park, begging your co-worker to fuck you.”
Lilac winced. She’d never been that forward. Brielle was always the one who was, though you couldn’t tell by looking at the two of them side-by-side. It wasn’t fair. Brielle got away with being beautiful but seeming innocent—and she totally wasn’t, the minx.
“What crisis of Brielle’s?” asked Lilac, a little curious.
Gavin sighed dramatically on the other end of the phone. “Fine. I’ll talk—you’ll listen. Then we’ll switch it up, okay? Oh, those are mine!” he said, quickly switching gears. Lilac heard him say thank you to someone and ask for a tray, but he immediately dove back into their conversation. “Brielle texted me yesterday, panicked that her kid sister, Nora, was running away from home. She thought she might be at O’Hare and asked me to try to get there first to stop her.”
“What? Why? What could you do?”
“I don’t know,” said Gavin, and he mumbled another thank you as a door chimed and suddenly there was honking and the distant racket of a jackhammer as well as Gavin’s brisk footsteps. “I was closer and okay, I couldn’t really do anything until Brielle arrived, but I like to think some of my friends find me a comforting presence.”
“Gavvy,” started Lilac.
“Li,” he echoed back, his footsteps suddenly grinding to a halt. “So… We found her, I let the poor girl pour her little heart out to me, their mom came and all was well in the end. I even got to meet Brielle’s hot new lay.”
“Oh,” said Lilac, unexpectedly hit with something like envy. “She and that comic guy?”
“Yeah,” said Gavin. His voice lowered like he was about to whisper a national secret. “And oh my god, Li, he’s so hot, I had to fan myself half the way home.”
Lilac was glad to know that Gavin wasn’t too broken up about his disastrous date Saturday at least. Saturday…
Lilac wasn’t sure what Gavin was talking about for a little bit as her thoughts drifted, but then she snapped back to attention at what he said next. “But I didn’t even tell you what happened between Brielle and Pembroke Saturday!”
Oh, yeah. Their fight. “What?” asked Lilac, glad for another excuse not to talk about herself again.
“Pembroke was dating Daniel fucking-whatever-his-last-name-is!”
“Who…?” asked Lilac, confused on more than one count.
“Brielle’s ex! That scumbag.”
“Oh,” said Lilac, and an image of Earl flashed through her head. She found herself crying quietly without even meaning to. This was about Daniel and Brielle, not…
“I’ve been trying to reach her since then,” said Gavin. “But she hasn’t responded. Brielle said Pembroke pretty clearly broke the hell up with Daniel in front of her, but what the hell drove her to date him of all people in the first place? Oh my god, you women are going to kill me, you know that?”
Lilac felt immensely guilty then. They were supposed to be moving on. Gavin had his own life to worry about, his own problems. She listened as Gavin’s footsteps suddenly became hollower, the sounds of construction abruptly cut out.
“How are you?” she asked, trying her best to stay outside of herself, to be the friend he deserved. She knew Gavin’s other friends—most of whom were queer as well—teased him relentlessly for bothering with Lilac or the other two for that matter, but especially Lilac. The two of them were such a “trope,” a “straight, white bitch and her gay best friend,” she remembered one had said. To her face.
Over drinks, but even so… She sighed.
“All right,” answered Gavin, clearly busy. “Jenny, can you pass these out? I’m heading to the bathroom.”
Lilac wasn’t sure if that was where he was actually headed. “What about… your date?”
Gavin scoffed. “Old news. Over it.”
She wasn’t sure she could have been in his place. “But what happened?”
“Nothing,” he snapped. Then a door slammed and all other sound died out. “Nothing he wanted to happen anyway…”
So his date had tried to pressure him into sleeping with him. Which Gavin never did on a first date.
“I’m sorry,” said Lilac.
“Yeah, well, I’m not. Now I know he wasn’t worth my time, tight ass or no tight ass.”
Lilac laughed then and reached for a tissue to blow her nose.
“Lilac, I’m in a storage closet.”
“That’s a funny place to be.”
“No funnier than hiding in my roommates’ front closet to get a cotton-pickin’ minute to myself,” he said dryly. “But okay… I want to hear it.”
“Frankie told me you already knew. I got drunk and—how did you know?”
“The Nolan-of-the-sexy-voice texted me and I called him and we chatted about it,” he said. “He kept you safe for me.”
“For you?” asked Lilac, laughing.
“For both of us. Lilac, I didn’t mean the bender—I know about the bender. What I want to know is why you went on a bender. It’s not like you.”
“So I keep reminding myself,” said Lilac. She blew a breath out and her lips vibrated. “I’m sorry I scared you. It won’t happen again.”
“Okay,” said Gavin. “I’m glad to hear it. But, Li, you were upset yesterday morning and I… All day, I regretted not hearing you out.”
“You had other crises to deal with apparently.” Lilac was so jealous of Brielle in that moment. She had her hot new boyfriend and she had Gavvy a short drive away, and Gavin was Lilac’s more than anyone’s.
“What happened Saturday?” asked Gavin. “You texted me that you were going to a dinner meeting…” Gavin paused. “I’ve been thinking and well, did… did your boss do something to you?”
It was a knife that stabbed into Lilac’s chest—from hundreds of miles away. “Gavin, he…” She started crying. And fifteen minutes later, by the time her aunt knocked on her door telling her her breakfast was getting cold, Lilac had told him—and only him, her poor burdened best friend—everything.
Chapter Ten
Nolan put his Silly Sandgrouse suit on the same as anyone—one fluffy bird leg at a time.
But he was dawdling today.
“Clock’s a ticking,” said Angie, his Tildy Scout caretaker for the second week in a row. “We’ve got Tildy brunch at the buffet, then after lunch we’re supposed to head out for photos in the B-area around the resort.”
Of course, Nolan knew all this, but Angie had a habit of repeating their schedule aloud, as if to commit it to memory. “I’ve never had a character out there late before,” she said, pacing in the break room, “and I’m not about to start now.”
Nolan nodded and stuck one arm in his suit, staring across the room at Prince Beastly flirting with his Tildy Scout—Jo this week—and leaving poor Queen Animaliao—that would be Cheryl at the moment—off by her lonesome sipping tea from a straw beside a blowing fan. Her wig was rustling a tad off-center from the breeze, but he was sure Cheryl would fix it before she went out there.
“And the other arm, please,” said Angie, grabbing Silly’s empty wing from where it dragged on the floor.
“Just a second,” said Nolan, and he used his free hand to dig his phone out from his pocket and tap the screen with his thumb.
No messages.
Usually that was a good thing. It meant his dad wasn’t texting him to let him know Willow had gotten in trouble again and he was taking her home early.
But it’d been almost a day since Nolan had texted Lilac back—Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad we got you home. Feeling better?—and the most he’d heard from her was, I took a sick day. I’ll be back tomorrow. His Maybe I’ll see you then! had only gotten an Okay! as a response.
He’d probably said all the wrong things. He couldn’t help it. He was a bit rusty when it came to dating.
Dating. As if you’re going to be dating this girl…
“Are you kidding me?” Angie snatched the phone out of his hand and Nolan was so taken aback, he practically lost his bearings for a moment. “Phones go in the locker room, you know that.” She put it down on a nearby table gingerly with both hands as if handling a grenade. “You almost had me zip you up with a phone inside Silly. What if his thigh had started ringing? What was I supposed to say to campers then?”
“I wasn’t going to take it out with me,” said Nolan, but as he reached for the phone, Angie used the opportunity to slide Silly’s vacant wing on his arm and flit around him in an instant to zip up the back of the costume. “Everything a-go?” she asked, picking up Silly’s head and cradling it beneath her arm.
Sighing, Nolan stared for a moment at his phone longingly. “Yes. All clear,” he said, finishing the Tildy Scout/mascot pre-deployment check.
Angie slid Silly’s head over his and adjusted it so his long beak was centered at the front of his head. “I’ll take care of it,” she said into the small holes over one of his ears.
“Eddie!” she shouted.
Through Silly’s eye mesh, Nolan could just barely make out Eddie’s turn of the head.
“Lock up Nolan’s phone in the locker room, will you?” asked Angie.
Eddie waved his hand dismissively at them but nodded before the prince locked lips with his commoner paramour.
Angie slid her arm through Silly’s wing and they were off, Nolan’s feet settling into Silly’s slow shuffle automatically as he passed through the door Angie held open for him.
“I love you,” said the little girl who clutched to one of Silly’s wingtips. She had her other hand in her mouth, the tip of her thumb twirling between her front teeth as she stared up at him.
Nolan brought Silly’s free wing up to his cheek as if in surprise and then twisted one foot and his head just slightly to convey Silly’s embarrassment. Then he reached out for a hug.
“Aw,” said Angie. “Silly loves you, too!”
“Give me a big smile, Carmen!” said the woman who was probably the little girl’s mom. Nolan twisted their hug slightly to make sure Silly’s and the girl’s faces were turned toward the woman’s phone and he closed his eyes just as the flash went off, his grim lips and his scrunched face probably resembling someone who’d just sat on forty tacks, but score one for animal mascot duty.
They, unlike the human characters, didn’t have to actually smile or keep their eyes open for the pictures.
“What do you say?” said Carmen’s mom as she took her hand in hers.
“Thank you!” said Carmen and Nolan put a wing to Silly’s beak and then “blew a kiss” at her before waving. She was already scrambling over to the crowd gathered around Tildy. He forgot who was on resort Tildy duty today, but whoever it was was sure to need to take a load off by the time brunch ended.
There was another advantage Nolan had—Silly Sandgrouse was taller than Tildy Tapir and he was too tall to fit in the Tildy costume. On occasion, he had to sub for a Leah Llama, but he had his Silly mannerisms so perfected, DeShawn rarely bothered to rotate him off duty. If he slipped the man a few bags of Twizzlers when the end of the month approached, he might just get lucky and get a day or two as a Tildy Scout caretaker, but that was if Eddie hadn’t gotten there first with the king-sized Twix.
“Let’s see who’s enjoying Tildy’s yummy waffles over here,” said Angie, slipping her arm around Silly’s wing and guiding him toward a table. He could barely see beyond a few feet in front of him—let alone anywhere near his feet—so he counted on Angie to so much as move.
“Hi!” said Angie,
as spunky as ever. Nolan wondered where she got her energy. “How are we enjoying Tildy’s magical waffles today?”
Nolan couldn’t make out everything the people at the table said, but he heard the scream and felt the double hug come at him from either side as two kids jumped out of their chairs to embrace him. A third was unmoved, carefully stacking several blueberries he’d picked off his waffle with his fingers on a single tine of his fork.
“Do we want a picture with Silly?” asked Angie.
“Yeah!” shouted one of the kids.
Just then, the blueberry-fork child looked up, locking eyes with Nolan’s through Silly’s mesh-covered cartoon eyeballs.
“Code Blue,” whispered Angie into his ear.
Sure enough. Work at Tildy World long enough and you learn to spot them.
Blueberry-Fork Kid’s eyes went wide and then he screamed—earth-shattering, monster-in-my-closet-like shrieking.
“What’s the matter?” said one of the men at the table, who tossed down his cloth napkin like it was on fire and jumped up to lift Blueberry-Kid out of his booster seat.
The other man sighed so loud, even Nolan could hear him through those tiny airholes and all that plush. “Don’t coddle him,” he said and he stood as well, shepherding his other children around the table. “Let’s go get our picture over here,” he said. “Your brother is frightened.”
Nolan stared at the crying boy, his dad patting his back and humming to him as Blueberry-Kid started quieting, his sobs softer and a longer pause between deep breaths. Nolan waited for Angie’s signal, a tug backward to back off or a tug forward to turn on the charm. She slipped her arm though his and moved them forward.
Nolan put Silly’s wingtip up to his cheek and flittered it just a little as if Silly had gone shy all of a sudden and just wanted to say hello.
Blueberry-Kid stopped his sobs then, staring at Silly Sandgrouse like he was a new breed of puppy who may or may not bite him—but he was clearly leaning toward for latter now.
“See?” said his dad. “It’s Silly. You know Silly.”
