Once, she was playing ragtime when the parents arrived home. They asked her to play at their party the next night, and then she played at other parties. The night before the O’Dwyers returned to Yonkers, Lilly played at a wild party. She sat trying not to see too much while she concentrated on her music. When it was time for Lilly to stop playing, the host and hostess were drunk. She sat quietly and listened to them argue and snipe at each other.
She was afraid to approach them about being paid, so she kept playing. She played and sang an old Goodman song, “You Turned the Tables on Me.” It was the first time she had sung in public, even if most of her audience was too drunk and stoned to be aware.
The hosts had passed out, and Lilly knew that if she left, she’d never be paid. She saw a plastic bag of pot on the table. She lifted it and left fast. She didn’t know it was an ounce short of a quarter pound. She only knew it lasted forever.
Lilly became aware that her social studies teacher was standing in front of her desk smiling at her. Everyone was laughing.
“What?” Lilly asked embarrassed.
“She’s probably dreaming of dancing under the streetlights with a basketball player,” Kim called from two seats back.
“Kim,” the teacher admonished. “Welcome back, Lilly. Now let’s get back to Africa.”
Lilly cornered Kim after class. “What did you mean?”
“I’ve seen you dancing at midnight from my bedroom window.”
Lilly glared, then whispered, “Notice this. Who’s dancing with the cute guy and who’s watching from the window. Keep your trap shut about me.”
Lilly walked home thinking. Tony’s coach had told him he needed to work on his footwork if he was going to get a scholarship, so Lilly had talked him into dancing. He wouldn’t dance at the church house, or at Lilly’s house, or even in his own living room. His six foot six frame didn’t always move gracefully. They started walking to the church house on Fridays and dancing on the way home. She loved it.
Lilly hoped no one would tell Frank about Kim’s remark in class. Even though Frank was at Greeley, he still had connections at Emerson. Sometimes when Lilly sneezed at school, she expected Frank to say “God bless” when he saw her next. If Frank teased Tony, that would end the dancing.
Tony was the leader in their group. Perhaps it was his height, or that he had a job, or that he had a car. Frank was still boyish looking. Frank and Lilly had camaraderie between them. Lilly and Frank danced while Tony and Mike went for rides.
Lilly stopped before she walked up the path to her house dreading going in. She took a deep breath and then raced upstairs to her room to practice piano, hurrying past Brian’s room.
He had died in March, just shy of his seventh birthday. Her mother had told Lilly she could move down to his room, but she had opted to stay with the twins.
Brian’s death haunted her. Whereas the death of her father and other siblings had frightened and angered her, Brian’s filled her with a profound sense of fruitlessness. Her mother had become withdrawn, muttering about a curse on the family. Ann and Colleen mourned openly. Lilly attributed their openness in grief to their strong religious beliefs.
Bridget embraced their sorrow and scorned Lilly’s quietness, which she perceived as coldness. Lilly became removed from her family and dependent on Tony’s acceptance and support. Lilly felt her family was conspicuous in their troubles, shunned by the neighbors. Whenever she picked up the twins at their friends’ houses, she felt “the look’” from the parents.
Tony picked up Lilly at 8:30. He had his usual stilted greeting with Mrs. O’Dwyer. Ann, Colleen, Daniel, and Patrick had all decided they liked him. It was because of their good opinion that Mrs. O’Dwyer had allowed the relationship to grow. Her view of Tony had softened when he volunteered to watch the twins during Brian’s illness. He had taken the twins to the movies and to his parents’ house for a Sunday feast. He had given blood regularly during Brian’s final months.
The funeral had been Tony’s first. He couldn’t take his eyes off the casket. He thought about what he had been told about the last O’Dwyer funeral. They hadn’t been able to fit the coffins in the aisle between the pews so the coffins were arranged diagonally. The thought of not being able to get out because a coffin was angled against the pew, gave Tony the shivers. He knew the O’Dwyer house was out of kilter, but he didn’t know how deeply dysfunctional it was.
One time, Tony and Lilly had been watching a cowboy movie at the della Robbia home with Frank.
Frank had said, “It’s getting near the end; the Indians are dropping like flies.”
Lilly had answered, “No, they’re dropping like O’Dwyers.”
********************
10. August 1969
Tony was walking up and down the platform at Penn Station. Lilly was coming by train from Amagansett. The train was late, and he had ants in his pants, or rather, speed in his bloodstream. The della Robbias thought Tony was visiting Lilly for the weekend. The O’Dwyers thought Lilly was visiting Eileen O’Rielly’s. Lilly arrived and plowed into Tony, laughing.
Tony said, “I left the car at Woodlawn. Let’s get it and take off.”
Lilly had seen a full-page advertisement for the Woodstock Music Festival in the Arts and Leisure section of the New York Times in June. Tony had come to visit her for her birthday, and together they had schemed and had gotten a money order and the ticket order form from the paper. They had had the tickets sent to Tony in care of the station.
They picked up the car and hopped on the New York State Thruway, eating Oreos and smoking pot.
Ten miles north of New York, Lilly called, “Stop! That guy works with me.”
Tony pulled over for the hitchhiker with the Woodstock sign.
“Gee, thanks,” he said as he got in. He stopped and stared at Lilly.
“Lilly O’Dwyer?”
“Hi, Jay. Tony, this is Jay Sullivan. He works at Shop All.”
Lilly worked in the back of the supermarket, wrapping produce, away from the public eye because she was underage and didn’t have working papers. Jay was a stock boy. He spent as much time as possible hiding in the back and made a point of ignoring Lilly. Jay was twenty and was searching for a rock and roll band.
“So y’all going there too?” Jay asked.
Tony pulled out a joint. “Jay, Jay?”
Jay stretched out in the backseat, took out his guitar, and began to play. The three started enjoying the most famous party of their era.
Monday morning driving back, Tony began to worry. What if his parents had called the O’Dwyers? Or Mrs. O’Dwyer had called the O’Riellys? Lilly was sleeping in the back seat. Jay was still speeding, so Jay was still talking.
Jay was from Kentucky, the son of a coal miner. He had left school at 14 to do farm work. He had left Kentucky at 17, when he had concluded that if he stayed much longer, he would always work on someone else’s farm or become a coal miner. He had looked at his father and uncles and sworn he’d never be a miner.
Jay had traveled around for three years in search of a good band that would put his face on the billboard over Sunset Strip. He had hated Los Angeles, so he had come to New York where he played coffeehouses. Folk singers were OK, but he didn’t want to be Bob Dylan. He wanted to be Jerry Garcia, only that role was taken. He followed the “in” crowd to the Hamptons.
Lilly wanted to learn to play guitar, so over the weekend, Jay had shown her some notes and chords and had been surprised by how fast she learned. Jay composed music, but the lyrics didn’t come to him. When he came up with words, they were stilted and had to be sung too quickly or dragged out to fit the music. Tony had written a song with Lilly. Three days of smoking Tony’s pot had helped Jay see that they could be the new Garcia/Hunter collaborators.
Jay played his original music, and he and Tony threw out ideas for songs. Tony kept driving when they got to Yonkers, deciding to take them closer to East Hampton while he and Jay negotiated. Lilly slept while it was decided
she would sing and play with Jay on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights when he was at the Talkhouse.
They woke Lilly at Babylon Station. Jay stood on the platform while Tony and Lilly kissed goodbye. Jay told Lilly about the Talkhouse on the train and they discussed songs.
Lilly said, “I might get nervous.”
Jay became suspicious. “Tony said you played at parties.”
“Yeah, I’ve played, but I haven’t sung too much.”
“Tony said you have a nice voice, kind of throaty, and you can sing real high.”
“He’s biased,” Lilly answered. Jay began to play, and they both sang.
Jay said, “Sullivan and O’Dwyer. They’ll think we’re Irish folk singers.”
“Folk singers!” Lilly made a face. “I want to play rock and roll.”
“We’re going to need a better name.”
“Cuando,” Lilly said as if the case was closed.
“Cuando?” Jay asked.
“Yes, Cuando. It sounds like a successful rock and roll band.” Lilly set her face defiantly.
“OK … Cuando. Let’s practice. Sing me the song Tony wrote.”
“You mean Tony and I wrote.”
“Jesus, don’t get prickly… sing.”
They sang until they got into Amagansett station.
“Oh, God! My mother is here. I wasn’t at Woodstock.” Lilly said nervously.
“Don’t panic. You’ll give yourself away. Smile.”
Jay led her off the train. “Lilly I’ll call you about rehearsal,” he called.
Lilly walked to her mother. “Hi, Mom. How’d you know I was coming on this train?”
“Hello, Lillian.” Her mother hugged her. “I called the O’Rielly’s this morning to find out what train you’d be on. There was no answer, so I guessed they were taking you to Penn Station.”
“Oh, how lucky!” Lilly kept the smile plastered on her face. “You found out and saved the price of a call.”
“Lillian, who was that young man? He’s much too old for you.”
“Mom, he plays guitar at a coffeehouse. I’m going to play piano with him. He works with me at Shop All, and he has met Tony. So he wouldn’t try anything.”
Three evenings later, Lilly and Jay were playing at the Talkhouse. Lilly spotted a pretty, dark-haired, dark-eyed girl mooning over Jay and giving Lilly enemy eyes. Jay didn’t notice her. He went out to get stoned during the break. Lilly sat at the piano sipping her soda and feeling self-conscious about her age.
Two girls who were with Moon Eyes approached the piano. They made small talk about piano playing, but Lilly knew they were there to check out her status with Jay.
She said demurely, “I sure wish Jay would get back.”
Lilly watched them make their way back to Moon Eyes, and she started to regret her deception. There was something about Moon Eyes that Lilly instinctively liked. Moon Eyes looked shy and uncomfortable and as if her two friends could run her life. Jay and Lilly played the final set. Lilly saw Moon Eyes’ table was empty, but there was a set of car keys on the table. Lilly raced to retrieve them and then ran out of the coffeehouse. She spotted the girls further up the sidewalk.
“Hey, Moo … Girls – your keys.”
They stopped. Lilly brought the keys. Moon Eyes and said, “Thanks.” Sadly.
“You have the man blues. Forgetting stuff is the main symptom,” Lilly said.
Moon Eyes stared at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Lilly continued, “I wish my boyfriend was here. He’s in Yonkers.”
Moon Eyes spoke by reflex. “You and Jay Sullivan aren’t?” She caught herself.
“No, we work at Shop All, and he and my boyfriend are going to write songs together.” Lilly didn’t know what to say next.
Moon Eyes said, “Well goodbye.” She walked down the street a little, then turned and said, “Thanks, Lilly.” The two girls smiled at each other.
Two weeks later, Tony came to East Hampton for the weekend. Lilly thought he had come to see Jay rather than her, but she decided to ignore the gnawing feeling that his affection had waned over the summer separation. Tony picked Lilly up after work Saturday, and after an obligatory meal and small talk with her family, they went over to Jay’s room. There was a sign on his door to go to a swanky address.
“Is this really the address?” Tony asked.
They braced themselves and approached a mansion right out a of a 1930s high society film.
A maid, in uniform, answered the door. “Mr. della Robbia, Miss O’Dwyer?”
“Yes,” Tony answered.
“They are by the pool. Follow me.”
Tony and Lilly walked behind the maid, silently pointing things out to each other. They approached Moon Eyes and Jay, who were lounging on a slate terrace. Moon Eyes came to meet them.
“Hello, Lilly, I’m Hillary Carruthers. We’ve met.”
“Yes, I remember.” Lilly unconsciously put on her parlor voice.
Jay and Tony started working on a song. Hillary and Lilly went into the house to get sodas and beer for the guys. They stayed in the kitchen and talked. Hillary was seventeen, soon to be eighteen. She was an only child who had graduated from an exclusive boarding school.
Her parents were in Saudi Arabia where her father worked for Saudi Aramco. Hillary spoke of her friends. They were classmates who had come to visit her. Lilly asked cattily, if she were going to Bennington, Skidmore, or Sarah Lawrence.
Hillary smiled and answered, “None. The girls who were there, one is going to Radcliffe and the other to Bennington. I’m taking a year off to find myself. At least that’s what my parents think. I’m not going to college.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Live off my parents’ money.”
Hillary smiled the wickedest smile Lilly had ever seen. They both laughed.
The next day was a Sunday, and Shop All was only open eight to noon. All four went on a picnic in the afternoon. Tony parked at a lobster roll shack on the Montauk highway, and they walked over the bluff to a beautiful secluded beach.
Hillary’s year-round home was in Bronxville, about two miles from Lilly’s. They walked along the beach together, and Lilly put into words feelings she had never expressed. Eileen had always been her best friend, but in the last year Lilly had raced ahead. Her classmates all seemed to either be giggling madly at nothing or to be in the depths of pseudo-tragedy. She had seen too much real sorrow to take part in the pathos of her peers. At home, she was odd man out. Daniel and Patrick had attended the same Catholic prep school and were now in college together. Ann and Colleen attended Holy Sacrament Academy, with Ann just graduating. They shared friends, rode the bus together, and spoke about the nuns. The twins were too young to share equal ground with Lilly.
Lilly told Hillary, “The worse my mother expects me to be, the worse I am. Really, At home I’m so silent, I can go for days and days without saying a word to anyone in my family. My mother thinks I’m sullen.”
Hillary said, “You’re not sullen, you’re a snot.”
They had walked all the way to Asparagus Beach in Amagansett. Asparagus was a singles beach, where all of the city weekenders came. Those who had not picked up anyone by the end of the afternoon paraded to the waterfront in a last ditch effort to get picked up. Some imaginative person had thought the strutting singles looked like stalks of asparagus.
Lilly and Hillary glanced at the singles, made faces at each other, and turned back. Tony and Jay were sitting on the beach, Tony using one of Jay’s old guitars.
They were playing and singing. Hillary and Lilly stopped.
Lilly whispered, “Tony has a voice like a frog, Huh?”
Hillary giggled, “More like a cat in heat.”
They all smoked pot and then climbed the dunes, rolling down the soft, hot sand and stopping just a few yards from where the waves were pounding.
Hillary asked, “Where in Yonkers do you live, Lilly?”
“On Cassilus
.” Lilly sat, too dizzy to stand.
“Where’s Cassilus?” Hillary asked.
“It runs between Tuckahoe Road and Pondfield on the Bronxville side. Tony lives on Tuckahoe.”
“When are you going back?”
“Next week.”
“Where do you go from here, Jay?” She sounded as casual. Jay looked at her, measuring the emotions on her face. Hillary had achieved an attitude of practiced indifference.
“Wherever I can get work.”
Lilly could feel the sting to her friend’s feelings.
Jay turned to Tony. “I was thinking of going to Yonkers. It’s got to be cheaper than Manhattan. Are there any factories?”
“Sure. Otis elevator. Clairol. There are tons of factories.” Tony sounded enthusiastic about Jay’s coming to Yonkers.
The Talkhouse had added Sunday nights to Jay and Lilly’s schedule, and Tony stayed to hear them. He was surprised by how good they sounded. He also noticed the men in the audience watching Lilly and felt the first pangs of jealousy. Jay and Lilly were getting the knack of harmonizing. Jay had a smooth tenor, and Lilly could sing higher or, with gruffness, go lower. Jay was an excellent guitarist. Tony began to look forward to September.
Tony had been dreading Lilly’s coming home and going to Greeley with him. He had girls on the side he slept with. Lilly was a flower, and her purity was important to him. He thought Lilly would find out about the other girls, and there would be an ugly scene. The previous winter, Tony had had his nose broken during a basketball game and had gone around with two black eyes. His even-more-crooked nose had given him a tougher look, making it easier to pick up girls. He looked forward to his senior year as a time of unending conquests. Lilly would complicate things for him.
Jay had asked Tony to keep an eye out for a good deal on a car. Tony’s station had a van that had been in an accident. The young owner was killed, and his parents wanted to get rid of the car. Tony called Lilly and told her to have Jay call him. Jay went to Yonkers to close the deal on the 1969 VW bus for $100. He left it with Tony to replace the windshield and pound out some dents. Jay got applications from some local factories and a Herald Statesman newspaper to check out apartments.
A Yonkers Kinda Girl Page 6