Tin Lily

by Joann Swanson

  “Lilybeans, come back to us,” Margie’s saying.

  I blink once and then again. “I’m here, Aunt Margie.”

  She’s sitting on my bed, holding my hands. I’m in my room with no idea how I got here, kneeling at my bed like I’m getting ready to say some random prayer. I feel Binka on my back, her tiny arms as far around my neck as she can stretch. She’s got her nose pressed into my hair. Someone’s making noise behind me and pretty soon Sam’s sitting on my bed too. I’m flanked, pinned.

  “How long?”

  “Only a few minutes,” Margie says.

  “Okay.”

  Margie’s eyes have pain. Sam’s are serious now. I focus on Sam.

  “You okay, Lilykins?” he asks like I’ve fallen off my bike and he’s trying to keep me from crying. Casual-like he asks if I’m okay.

  “Do you have any kids, Sam?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Do you want kids?”

  “Very much. My partner Jason and I want to adopt, but there are… obstacles to overcome.”

  “If you ever have a kid, even if the kid isn’t the brightest bulb in the pack, don’t tell them that, okay? Don’t tell them they’re stupid.”

  Sam’s eyes go extra bright and I hear Margie let out a big breath like she’s been holding it for hours.

  Sam reaches out a hand and touches my cheek gently with his fingertips. “Never,” he says. “I hope, someday, I get to have a daughter like you, Lily. You are very special.”

  I feel surprised. Sam wants a tin daughter? A kid who’s buried deep? Surprise is better than feeling all twisted up inside, so I take it.

  “I know you don’t believe me,” Sam’s saying. “It’s okay. I think someday you will.”

  “How?” I ask because I can see he really does know.

  Margie squeezes my hands and says, “One thing you’ll notice as you get older is that we all recognize the hurt in each other when we’ve been through it ourselves.” She brushes the sweaty hair off my forehead. “Sam sees in you some of his own experiences. And, what happened tonight—we all have triggers. For me, it’s when I think someone’s angry with me. Like if Sam jokes that my dinner tastes like crap, I think about how my father said the same thing to my mother, and I overreact. You understand?”

  Sam nods. “For me it’s yelling. Even just shouting from one room to the other. Like your Aunt Margie did when she was in the kitchen cooking dinner and we were chatting on the couch? It takes a lot for me not to bolt out of a room when someone’s hollering.”

  “I smelled wine on Jenny’s breath. It reminded me of Hank and his whiskey.”

  Margie and Sam exchange a look over my head, then glance behind me. I turn around, see Nick standing in the doorway.

  “I go away sometimes,” I say.

  He nods, but I can see he’s not so sure about me anymore. I can see he’s thinking he’s in over his head.

  “It’s okay if you want to go. I understand.”

  A little grin touches his mouth. “And miss the lobster? No way.”

  I try to smile back, but all I can think about is how these new people with their wholeness, their happiness, can’t understand the bees, the not-Hanks, the hollow inside me. Nick tries with his joking, makes me think maybe I was funny once. Margie tries by explaining about her metal boxes, about how it was for her and Hank growing up. Sam doesn’t try at all. He’s just Sam, not a bit afraid to be who he is. And I think about how there’s empty quiet in me just waiting to get filled up with something, maybe something closer to Hank than Mom if the bees have their way.

  I try to let these thoughts go so we can salvage Margie’s party. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

  Sam scoffs and tussles my hair. “You haven’t ruined a thing, Lily. Not a thing.” He plucks Binka off my back and sets her on his shoulder. “This baby is yet again wasting away. I believe she could do with a drop of kitten food.”

  When we go out to the kitchen, Jenny and Derek are getting ready to go. I tell Jenny I’m sorry and she gives me a big hug, says she understands. When she pulls back, I notice a scar on her face that runs from the middle of her cheek to the corner of her mouth. I think about what Margie said about hurt seeing hurt and wonder what happened to her. I don’t ask, though. I just say good-bye.

  Pretty soon Sam’s feeding Binka some leftover cheese he found in the fridge and Margie’s scolding him for creating a monster he doesn’t have to worry about.

  Nick looks at his watch and says he’d better get home after all, then asks me to walk him out. We head down the long path from Margie’s front door to the curb out front. Nick points out his car where it’s parked across the street, his face proud. It’s an old car, a Mustang I think. He tells me the year, but I can’t remember, can’t think of anything but how Nick knows about Mom, Hank, my spells. The only thing he doesn’t know is that I see not-Hanks too. I decide to keep that little gem to myself.

  We’re standing at the curb and Nick’s smiling at me. “I was wondering if you’d see a movie with me tomorrow night.”

  I don’t say anything, don’t know what to say. Here I’m expecting Nick to say good-bye for good and he’s asking me out. “What movie?” I finally ask.

  “You get so many offers you have to decide whether to say yes based on what’s playing?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, I don’t know if you’re into horror, but—”

  “My favorite,” I say before I can keep my mouth shut.

  “Mine too,” he says. “Well, there’s an indie theater over by the university showing that one with the guy?”

  “I’m supposed to know what movie you’re talking about by that description?”

  “Come on, I guess your favorite flower twelve seconds after meeting you, least you can do is read my mind.”

  “Does it have zombies?”

  Nick’s eyes go wide. “Seriously, are you psychic or did you actually read my mind?”

  “I don’t tell my secrets,” I say, then decide I need to work on my jokiness. “I mean, it’s a secret.” Truth is, Margie and I spent half an hour last night trying to find a good movie to see. She likes romance. I like horror. We couldn’t decide. But when I saw the zombie movie listed, right off I wanted to go.

  “So, you want to see it?” Nick says.

  Where my heart used to be is pounding. Thump-crack, thump-crack. I don’t understand Nick. He’s seen me—really seen me. I don’t know what he wants from me.

  Finally, I look up from my shuffling feet. “What do you want from me?” I say. My voice, chock full of anger and I don’t know why. Nick’s been nothing but nice to me. “Why do you want to spend time with me? I’m broken inside, spacey like you said, maybe going crazy.”

  Nicks laughs a little. “You aren’t going crazy.” He tries to take my hand, but I pull away from him.

  “How do you know?” I’m ready to go back into the apartment, forget this whole thing with Nick, this new life Margie wants me to fit into. All of a sudden I want the bees here, an excuse to go into the quiet place. These new people with their happy lives. I don’t think I can take it.

  Nick tucks his hands in his pockets and pulls his shoulders up. He’s not smiling anymore. “I’ve never told anyone this, but after my mom died, I spent a lot of time away from the house. My parents thought I was with my friends. My friends thought I was at home. I’d go to this park and just sit on a swing by myself.” He looks down at the sidewalk, then back up at me. “I’d be there for hours, just spacing out. I never had any idea how much time passed until my phone rang or the sun went down or it started raining and I came out of it.”

  “What were you thinking about?”

  “Nothing. Hours would go by and I couldn’t remember a single thought. I was just checked out, I guess. I never had anyone die in my life except my grandpa when I was, like, ten, you know? And when it’s your mom or your dad, it’s way worse than a grandparent. It’s like you lost part of what made you you.” Nick l
ooks down at his feet again. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  I reach out and touch his arm. “It makes sense.”

  He smiles and pretty soon his light is back, shoving away the darkness. He points behind me, up the walkway to Margie’s front door. “When we were looking at the sunset?”

  I nod.

  “That’s when I knew.”

  Thump-crack, thump-crack for a whole different reason. “Knew what?” I don’t like the tremble in my voice.

  “You get things like other people don’t. I never noticed that stillness thing you were talking about, but it was totally there. I think we see things differently now, you know? Like we notice things other people don’t, maybe the stuff that’s important.”

  We’re quiet for a little bit, shuffling our feet, looking everywhere but at each other.

  “I know you’ve got a lot going on right now,” Nick finally says. “I was just hoping we could hang out, maybe watch a bunch of zombies get their heads chopped off. And I still owe you that personal fish, so we definitely have to hit Pike’s again.”

  “Maybe I could call you tomorrow?” I watch my sneakers, feel my cheeks glowing bright. “Tonight was um… hard.”

  “Yeah sure,” Nick says. “Movie’s at eight, so any time before then.”

  Finally I glance up. “Okay. Talk to you tomorrow then?”

  Nick nods, steps off the curb and crosses to his car. He turns before getting in, giving me a little wave and a big smile. “Don’t worry about tonight, Spacey. I’d be way more worried if you weren’t a little loopy after everything you’ve been through.” He circles one finger next to his ear to make his point.

  I grin in spite of myself, feeling amazed by Nick. I can’t imagine him sitting on a swing at some park, spaced out and not knowing how much time has passed. Can’t imagine him anything but whole and happy.

  Twenty-Two

  Sam’s leaving when I get back to the apartment. He gives me a big hug, a smack on the cheek and tells me to make sure Binka gets enough to eat.

  When I slip back into the apartment, Margie’s sitting on the couch. She pats the cushion next to her, asks me to join her.

  “What did you and Nick talk about for so long?”

  “He asked me to a movie tomorrow night.”

  She grins. “What time?”

  “I don’t know if I want to go.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I look up from where I’ve got my hands clasped in my lap. “I told you Nick’s mom died?”

  She nods.

  “I guess I don’t understand…”

  “You don’t understand how Nick can still be okay?”

  Nod.

  “Well, a lot of it has to do with time, but even more, it has to do with letting the people who love you help.”

  “You mean like his other parents?”

  “Yes. Sam told me a little about Nick when the two of you were on the patio. I guess he had a very tough time when his mother died. It took about three months before he would talk about it with anyone. Once he did, though, Sam said he started feeling a lot better.”

  “I didn’t feel better when I told Nick about Mom.”

  “I know. For you it’s a little different. Nick’s mom was sick for a long time and they didn’t expect her to survive. Of course you’re never ready, but Nick and his family had time to prepare.” Margie squeezes my hand. “You’re dealing with a whole lot more, kid. And you’re dealing with it beautifully.”

  I look at Margie twice—a double take. “Beautifully? Aunt Margie, I hear bees in my head. I couldn’t even talk to your friends.”

  “Uh-huh. And you made a friend within your first few days in Seattle—a cute, very smart boy who wants to take you to a movie. You charmed Sam so much he’s begging me to let him show you the city.” She points at Binka stretched out in the chair by the patio windows. “And you saved a kitten from a dumpster. Point is, you have more strength than you think you do. Remember what your mom said in her letter? Every word is true. It’s hard to fathom now, I know, but I hope someday you’ll see what everyone else does.”

  I want to tell Margie about the not-Hanks, to see if she still thinks I have strength and bravery like Mom said. I keep quiet, though, decide my aunt thinking I’m strong is better than the alternative.

  She nudges me. “So, you think you’ll go tomorrow?”

  Nick and his movie invitation. I think about him sitting on the swing, checking out for hours at a time because he couldn’t be around people, then waking up one day and deciding he could. I guess Nick understands more than I thought and he’s still a good tether. I like being with him, I guess is what it comes down to.

  “Yeah, probably,” I say, which makes Margie smile.

  Twenty-Three

  I call Nick the next day and say I’ll see the zombie movie with him, which makes Margie happy. I decide to wear some of my new clothes, which makes Sam happy when Margie texts him the news. Everyone is happy.

  Me, I’m nervous like last night at the dinner party, but at least I know my voice will work with Nick.

  Margie thinks I should spritz some of her expensive perfume on, so I tell her Nick will be here any minute and I’ll wait for him outside. I close the door on Margie laughing, Binka shaking on her shoulder.

  I walk down the long path from the apartment to the curb, not thinking about much of anything except how Nick doesn’t think I’m crazy. His believing this has stuck with me and made me wonder if maybe Margie’s right about there being more strength in me than I believe. Dr. Pratchett thinks I should answer the bees, Mom thought I was brave, Margie thinks I’m strong, Sam wants a daughter like me. Maybe there is more in me than nothing. Maybe I can answer the bees and not dissolve. Maybe answering the bees will make the not-Hanks go away. A lot of maybes, stuff to think about.

  I stop at the curb and look down at the sneakers Margie bought me. They’re grungy, worn-looking, chocolate brown. Perfect sneakers for a sticky movie theater floor. I hear a squeak and then a car door slam, but I keep watching my new-old sneakers.

  Pretty soon paint-splattered work boots stop next to me. I still don’t look up, deciding to ignore what I hope is a not-Hank. There’s no whiskey, no mint, no paint, just the sweet summer air all around me.

  “Hello, Beans.”

  “Go away.”

  “Can’t do it, kiddo.”

  I look up at Hank, at his flat mantis eyes, at his mouth twisted into a frown. He doesn’t look angry, just unhappy. “What do you want?”

  He smiles and it is worse than the frown. “It’s not what I want that’s important, Beans. What’s important is what you want.”

  Here’s Hank, my used-to-be father who’s gone crazy, and I don’t know what he expects me to say, so I don’t say anything.

  “You want to come back and live with your dad again, don’t you? You never wanted to leave in the first place, isn’t that right, Beans? Your mom forced you.”

  I still don’t say anything, my eyes on my feet again.

  “I’m giving you a chance to make it right,” Hank says. His voice has changed and I have to look at his face to know why. He’s got his head tilted like he did in the bookstore when he was listening to Grandpa Henry’s voice. His eyes find mine and he smiles again. It’s not a good smile, not a kind or happy smile. A crazy smile. “Mother said I should give you a choice. You remember Grandma Josephine, don’t you, Lil?”

  “I never met her.”

  Hank’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Course you did.”

  “She died before I was born.”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at the sidewalk. “Can that be right?”

  “You’re all mixed up. What you did to Mom, it changed you. I think you need to turn yourself in.” My words surprise me and I think maybe Margie was right after all about there being strength in me. “If you don’t, I’m going to tell Margie you’re here.”

  Hank raises his eyes slowly until he’s looking at me ag
ain. I can’t help but flinch away from him. There’s no confusion in his face now. “What did I tell you about that?” he says.

  I back slowly away, down the sidewalk, looking around, but there’s no one out here and Margie’s apartment is too far away for her to hear us. I think about running, but everything inside me feels weak and trembly. A bee is starting up in my ear, promising silence and peace. I try to push it away and think about Binka’s whiskers to keep me here.

  “I’ll make this simple for you, Lily,” Hanks says. “Two days. You wrap things up here and then I want you to come back to me.” He leans toward me, his finger pointing at my chest. “You come back to me, got it? You and your mother never should’ve left in the first place. Only you can make this right now. Understand?”

  Nick’s Mustang is coming down the block. The last thing I want is for Hank to see him. “Okay,” I say quickly. “See you in a couple days then.”

  Hank stares at me for a few seconds, then backs off toward the black SUV he drove when he worked for Grandpa Henry. The passenger side door where Berkenshire Metalworks used to be is painted over. He gets in and drives off down the road as Nick parks across the street.

  “Who was that guy?” Nick says when he steps up on the curb next to me.

  “A neighbor.”

  “He looked pretty pissed off. Was he bugging you?”

  I try to control my spinning thoughts. “He thought I had a cat who used his flowerpot as a litter box. I told him Binka doesn’t even go outside.”

  Nick looks down the road where Hank is disappearing around a curve. “What a jerk,” he says.

  “Yeah, that’s one word for him.” Everything in me is leaping and thrumming—energy I don’t know what to do with. There are no bees right now, just this big something I don’t recognize. A ball of energy lighting me up.

  “You ready to go?” Nick asks.

  I open my mouth to tell him I can’t, that I have to stay home now, keep watch, stay tethered, figure out what to do. But then I think about how much I’ve been doing exactly that, how I’ve squeezed my life into a tiny box just like Hank did with me and Mom, and I decide I will go with Nick. Hank’s coming for me and to keep Margie safe I’m going to have to go with him. One date with Nick. One date and then I’ll go. A final good-bye because I know when Hank comes, it won’t be for me to go live with him. It will be for me to go die with him.