A Cold and Quiet Place

by Alison DeLuca

  She leans over the sink, squirts liquid soap on her hands, and starts to scrub. The overhead light blinks, and Lily remembers the mirror image of this scene, the day when her mother told Erica’s family about Lily’s acceptance. No one had said a word.

  Erica had been the one to break the awkward silence. She jumped out of her seat, threw her arms around Lily’s neck, and whispered congratulations.

  When it’s her turn, Lily discovers she can’t be as gracious as her best friend once was to her. She’s too raw, too broken. “Great,” she snaps. “I just got home and you’re about to take off. I’ll be all alone now, no one to hang with, have to practice with those idiots at the Y.” The tears course down her cheeks. Erica stops scrubbing her hands and stares at Lily’s reflection.

  The mirror shows Erica’s glamorous makeup and sleek hairdo. Next to her stands a pale, disheveled stranger, eyes swollen from this next bout of misery.

  No wonder Tyler has a new girlfriend.

  ◆◆◆

  It’s easier at swim practice. Everyone’s underwater, so they all look the same: flat hair jammed into rubber caps. Wet skin in wet suits. Outside, the weather has turned cold, so the atmosphere inside the Y is steamy.

  Lily cuts the water, intent on her new stroke style. After battling through her final lap, she climbs out of the pool and tents her body under a towel. The bench creaks under her weight, and she wishes she could fade away, a phantom in the fog.

  “Tough practice?” Mom’s stare is vague, unfocused.

  “Practice was fine.” The cement is rough under her wrinkled toes.

  “You know, you could at least…” The accusing tone in her mother’s voice vanishes as a pink and orange figure emerges from the swirling humidity. “Betsy. How are you?”

  “Wonderful.” With a bright smile, Erica’s mom leans against the thick metal bar separating bleachers from the pool. “You’ve already heard Erica’s news, I’m sure.”

  When Mom opens her mouth to reply, Lily interrupts. “Erica’s been accepted to Prescot, mom. She told me tonight. I didn’t have a chance to let you know.”

  The bench creaks again as Mom crosses her legs. “In that case, congratulations. I’m just sorry our girls couldn’t be there together.”

  The way her mom talks makes Lily lift her head. Just. Sorry. Our. Girls. The words are blunt. Mrs. Winslow doesn’t seem to notice as she sits next to them on the uncomfortable bench and crosses lean, tanned legs. She looks like a starlet on the red carpet. “It is a shame, isn’t it?”

  Lily pulls both arms close across her chest. It’s not just her imagination. Her mom and Erica’s mother don’t like each other. How did she miss it, after all those years?

  They’ve all gone to meets, practices, birthdays, and barbecues together, both families as part of a whole. The mothers kiss each other on the cheek when they meet at parties. “How are you?” they say. “Oh my goodness, there you are. How are you? You look amazing…no you…” The words are always spoken in the high register of long-lost girlfriends who meet after years of separation.

  And yet Mom’s face is frozen in a defensive attitude, while Mrs. Winslow’s chin juts out. The two finish the battle of their conversation, and Erica’s mom gets up to prance off.

  Lily looks up. “Sorry,” Mom says. “Hope I sounded normal. Ugh. To be honest, she can be a real bitch.”

  “Don’t use that word,” Lily begs. “I hate it.”

  Mom’s fingers tremble on Lily’s wrist. “Sweetheart! Did Tyler ever call you that? Oh my God, I bet he did. I’m – I apologize.” Her mouth staples into a hard line.

  Bitch. Lily has heard it so often it nearly became meaningless. Thinking about it now, she’s shocked at herself. How could she have become so complacent? He was her boyfriend, and he consistently called her names – hurtful, degrading insults like little sneaky barbs hooked into her lip. Lily was the fish on his line, continually thrown back into the ocean again and again. She kept swimming back, kept biting the same hook even though she knew it would tear her apart.

  Even after the break-up, what would happen if he walked through the mist and sat next to her at practice? Attacked with his biting, demanding kisses?

  Suppose, she wonders, he shows up at the Y. What would she say if he asked her to come back to him?

  Lily tries to tell herself the answer would be No.

  ◆◆◆

  The car’s door latch is slippery with ice. Winter has hit New Jersey with a vengeance. Lily blows into her cupped hands, jogs in place, and waits for Mom to come out of the Y. As usual, her mom has stopped to talk to a group of swim parents.

  “How was practice?”

  “Jesus.” Lily jumps and sees Erica is right behind her. “I nearly peed my pants. Sneak up on people much?”

  Erica pulls the green crocheted scarf tighter around her neck. “Still mad at me?”

  “I’m not mad. It’s just.” Lily’s anger is visible in the cold night, a cloud of frustration and lost hope. “Going to a new school sucks, you know? I thought at least I’d have you.” The thought is too big to put into words. Erica’s a light in the darkness, and Prescot’s about to swallow her up. Lily knows she’ll be terribly alone without her friend.

  “It was so easy for you.” Erica shivers. “You don’t realize it, but Prescot accepted you right away. Remember when you got your email saying you had a slot at the school? Your mom was so happy, you were thrilled, your dad told everyone at the Y. Even Maria put the news up in her office, and she never cares about anything.” Lily barks out a short laugh. It’s true. Maria only talks about practices and meets. “When you left, ugh. It was horrible. I think my mom went crazy for a while. She wouldn’t talk to me, wrote thousands of letters to the Dean…”

  “Seriously?” Lily is shocked. She never bothered to ask how Erica felt when the time first came to go to Prescot. The two of them talked on the phone constantly after the move, but only about dumb stuff like who was in their classes and how practice was that morning.

  “She just wouldn’t let up. Nagged at me to eat more, eat less, wear the right clothes, swim faster, make the National Team, wash my hands, don’t wash them too much, don’t take so many showers. It sucked.” Erica’s face crumples.

  Lily dumps her swim bag on the ground and pulls Erica into a hug. “Sorry,” she whispers into her friend’s moss-colored scarf.

  Quick footsteps echo through the lot. Both women, Lily’s mom in her Uggs and Mrs. Winslow in high heels, walk up to the car. “I just heard!” Mom says. “Congratulations, Erica – I’m so happy for you.”

  Mrs. Winslow’s glove – beige leather with brown fur trim – caresses Erica’s coat sleeve. She says Erica’s test scores were the highest in the region, the letter from the Dean was simply lovely, just filled with compliments, Erica will be the best student they ever had.

  Mom nods and murmurs, “How nice.” Her key fob clicks, and the car chirps in response. Lily climbs in beside her mom, waves goodbye, and shouts promises to call Erica soon.

  In the car, Lily’s phone vibrates. A hot surge of hope courses through her chest. Has Tyler sent an explanation, an apology, a declaration of love?

  It’s none of those. Yasmin, of all people, has sent a series of texts.

  Hi.

  School sucks!

  Miss us?

  Lily thumbs the screen, but it’s not Yasmin she wants to text. After months of talking to Tyler before and after each class, sleeping with him on Facetime next to her on the pillow, she feels cut off. Her body is an amputated limb inside a stainless steel surgery pan.

  I miss Tyler, she thinks. Hot tears roll down her cheeks, a final act of her body’s betrayal. In that dreadful moment, Lily would give anything to be back with him. She would deal with his insults, put up with all the online flirtations, and write text after text. He could call her a stupid bitch. She would say his name for hours until he finally decided to talk to her.

  Anything to fill the void her life has become.

&nbs
p; “‘Lovely letter from the Dean.’” Mom snorts and slams her palm on the steering wheel. “Go to hell.”

  18

  The lunchroom in Lily’s new school is loud and smells like baked beans. She sits by herself in one corner, hunched over a turkey wrap from QuikStop. Across the room, Sonya chats to a group of students. Their faces are bright with laughter until Sonya catches Lily’s eye across the room. The girl lifts her chin, turns away, and whispers to one of the girls.

  Lily lets the wrap drop into her napkin. She’s had enough soggy lettuce for one day. Obviously Sonya has taken Courtney’s empty throne as Head Mean Girl. Lily slumps and pulls out her phone - at least she can stay in touch with Erica.

  In New Jersey the weather stays on the wrong side of freezing. Icy rain slants into Lily’s boots and shirt collar, and it seems the days stay sullen and dark. At Prescot the lampposts would be lit to make the campus glow like a golden tree ornament as the students headed out to chat or make study group plans for later.

  The overhead neon tube flickers. Lily fiddles with her phone and decides to write an email instead of interrupting Erica’s day with a text.

  Hey girl,

  Just wanted to say hi and see how things are going. Here life is horrible, haha. I don’t mean to sound sad, but it’s just hard to start over in a new school.

  Guess you know what I mean, although the girls at Prescot are nicer. (At least I hope so for your sake!) You weren’t kidding about Courtney’s old crew, except Sonya is Queen Bee now. It’s like I’m a leper. Those girls act like I have the plague.

  God, I’m sick of myself and my dumb depression. I’ll be back to normal soon, I promise. But right now life is just…tough.

  And there’s no one to talk to.

  Lily stares at the words on the screen, certain she should delete everything she just wrote.

  “Chlorine!” Sonya has come up behind Lily’s chair. “Does anyone smell nasty YMCA chlorine?”

  Startled, Lily brushes the touchscreen and her email disappears. She didn’t even get to sign her name.

  “Yeah, gross pool water. One of the swimmers probably peed in it too!” One of the followers hoots with laughter, and the group cracks up.

  Don’t cry. Not over a bunch of brainless idiots. Lily concentrates on her phone and looks at her text messages. Tyler’s name is at the top of the list, still her most-used contact. Such a constant presence leaves a hole in her life now that he’s gone. She wants to hear the voice in her head, see the words in a message, sit and say his name all night until he’s decided she’s suffered long enough.

  You’re never good enough.

  You’re an idiot.

  You’re a waste of space.

  What you do means nothing.

  I’ll always be better than you.

  You failed the test.

  And her voice: “Tyler. Ty. Ty. Ty. Tyler. Tyler, are you there?”

  The table is empty except for her and half of a mass-produced sandwich. At other linoleum islands, kids talk about the weekend, games, sports, movies, and hook-ups.

  Across the lunchroom, there’s another kid who sits by himself, just like her. Lily recognizes Will’s black hair flopped over his forehead. Is he hiding another bruise? Despite everything, is he back with Courtney?

  Like him, Lily’s got no one to talk to in the overheated cafeteria. Tyler may have been a disaster, but his skin was warm against hers. His voice was deep in her ear. She was never completely alone when she had him…

  No. When he had her.

  Lily blinks and feels like she’s swallowed ground glass. She forces herself away from her contacts before she writes a messages and texts it to him. No, she thinks. No, not that.

  Her phone shudders, and Lily jumps. Did her thoughts swim through the air and land in his ear?

  There’s an email in her folder, a response from Erica. But when Lily opens it, three tiny words float in pixilated space.

  Who is this?

  ◆◆◆

  The time in afternoon class crawls past. Lily’s head aches from boredom and exhaustion. If James could see her heart now it would be black and crawling with maggots.

  Broken. Cracked. Diseased.

  She feels shattered. Her new high school’s standards are much lower than Prescot’s, but Lily can’t summon the energy to raise her hand in Trig and Advanced Bio, even when she knows the answer. It’s easier to hide behind inside her oversized sweats and watch other kids get the praise.

  After school the students climb on the bus. A pretty redhead waves to her, a former teammate from the Y. Lily’s got a ride with Mom, so she can’t sit next to the girl, or ask her about her swim career, or start a new friendship.

  Overhead, dark clouds glower and promise more icy rain. When her mom arrives, Lily climbs into the back of the SUV. Even though she dreads her mother’s questions - How was your day? Meet any new friends?? – Lily’s gloom increases as her mother punches in a number and starts an argument on the in-dash phone with a coworker. “I submitted the paperwork already,” she snaps. “Yes, I told Don. He said it was fine, told me to call Dr. Yi. It’s all taken care of, so I don’t see the problem.”

  You’re never good enough.

  You’re an idiot.

  You’re a waste of space.

  You failed the test.

  If she texted him, Tyler would get right back to her. It would be contact, a way to avoid the black hole inside her chest. Even his many punishments, long bouts of silence, were themselves a kind of communication. I’m testing you. I want to see how strong you are, see how long you can last. It’s for us. You have to put up with it for us. I’m here, you just have to win me. But you’re such a stupid brat, you’ll probably mess up again.

  And now there’s nothing. Lily feels she floats in deep space, an echoing vacuum about to suck out her guts. It’s like a cult follower forced out of the group, having to search for a new existence. It’s like standing in the cold rain as she looks through the windows into a room warmed by fire.

  The afternoon is already so dark Lily can see her face in the glass, white skin and hollow cheeks. Maybe she’s got a terminal disease. She’ll be a young, beautiful corpse. Tyler will come to her funeral and cry over the open coffin. “I should have treated her better,” he would say. “I should have begged for her forgiveness, should have told her I loved her.”

  Lily watches the grainy ice on the glass and tries to keep herself together.

  Practice, when she arrives, is a nightmare. Several of the lights have blown out, and the Y is darker and colder than usual. Lily has to fight against the water to reach the end of the pool, where she can lift her head and gulp icy air into her lungs.

  Maria’s frown isn’t necessary. Lily already knows her times continue to get worse.

  Out of the pool, her legs shake. She nearly trips on the way to the locker room and has to reach for the side rail. “Whoa!” Pete’s voice, behind her, is cheerful. “Watch out, Batista!” Fingertips on her elbow, five constellation points of warmth. “Hey,” he says in a lower, more intimate tone. “You okay?”

  Lily’s so cold she can feel the hot tears before they cascade down her cheeks. “I’m fine,” she manages to say.

  “Yeah, I’ll say.” Pete winks outrageously. “Still got the same number, right?”

  The photo of Tyler kissing Bree floats between them. He can go out with other people – why can’t she? “Yeah,” Lily answers. She takes a deep breath and forces herself to engage. “Gonna use it?”

  “I just might.” Pete’s fingers slide off her flesh, and he winks.

  Lily escapes into the locker room. Her wet feet make no sound in the puddles on the floor, and she wonders if the pool water invaded her ears as well as her life, her mind, her heart.

  Shivering violently, Lily dives into the nearest shower. She still wears her practice suit. The water on her skin doesn’t feel like anything - not hot, not cold. All she can sense are shudders electrifying her body down to muscle and bone.
>
  ◆◆◆

  Pete doesn’t wait long. When Lily enters her bedroom, three missed calls from his number show up on her screen. She plops on the mattress and chews one thumbnail as she listens to his messages. “Hey Lily. Missed your blue eyes when you were away! Big party tonight at my house. Wanna come over?”

  It’s the very last thing she wants, but after Sonya’s remarks in lunch and Lily’s own dark solitude, maybe she should go. If she got out of the house, escaped her messy room and lonely life, she could forget Tyler and lose everything in one night of alcohol and loud music.

  As she taps Pete’s number to call him back, Lily flips through the clothes in her closet. It’s time for a shopping spree. Most of her shirts are from meets or swim teams.

  “Lily!” Pete sounds like he’s already started on the beer. “Can’t believe you called, that’s just so awesome.” He shouts away from the phone, probably to some of the guys in the room. “Hey, shut up you assholes! I got a hot one on the phone.”

  Instantly Lily regrets the call. “Uh, so…” she falters. “What are you doing?”

  “What are we doing?” he yells. From the background, there’s an answering roar of drunken laughter interspersed with several filthy comments. “Get your beautiful butt over here and you’ll find out. Hey Lily,” he adds before she can answer, “what are you wearing? Wanna give us a show so we know what to expect?”

  The crowd jeers, and someone off-screen shouts “Nudes! Nudes! Nudes!”

  Lily realizes she’s frozen inside her closet, one hand fisted on the hood of an old Prescot sweatshirt. Horror and shame pour into her lungs. She’s drowning. “I don’t know…Pete? Can we talk in private?”

  “Talk in private!” Pete screams. The party woo-hoos, and some joker adds a line about getting off in the bathroom and to clean it up when he’s done.