“When I see an old lady, I’ll be sure to ask her.” He laughs as he stands up. “Until then, would you like to dance with me, Donna?”
She takes his hand and they walk onto the dance floor. I turn to Robbie. “Jamie is here.” He’s in the middle of cutting his steak; he continues to cut, slowly and deliberately. Without looking up he asks, “Anything I need to worry about?”
“No, nothing,” I reply.
“Okay, then.” He looks up at me. “How does it feel to be the most beautiful woman in the room?”
Before I can respond, Donna and David come back to the table. Donna walks, David stumbles a bit.
“You need to know that Jamie is here. I just ran into him. He’s pushing an older lady with big lips and huge ta tas around the dance floor.”
In unison Tommy, Fernando and I say, “Mitzi!” We all laugh. Donna looks concerned.
“I’m all right, Auntie D. Don’t worry,” I say, and I mean it. For the first time all night, I feel like everything is going to be fine.
“Who’s Jamie?” David asks. He is now slurring his words.
“He’s Lily’s ex,” Tommy answers.
Fernando chimes in, “An uninvited jackass!”
“What a douche, showing up where he’s not wanted.” David looks at me. “You want me to fuck him up, sis?”
“No one needs you to do anything,” Robbie says, “except stop drinking.” He lowers his voice. “You can’t drink with the Cyclosporine A you’re taking. It’ll kick the side effects into high gear. Anyway, bro, you don’t want to mess up that brand new kidney.”
David glares at Robbie. “Take care of your own business, bro. You’re off duty and I’m not your damn patient. It’s my fucking kidney now, and I’ll do whatever I want to it.”
There is an uncomfortable silence at the table. Robbie’s face turns a deep red, and everyone starts talking at once.
The band is playing a slow song from the forties and Robbie asks me to dance. In his arms, nothing else matters. We spend the next half hour that way, not saying anything, just holding one another and feeling the music.
The evening is coming to an end. I am relieved that it is almost over, and happy that it turned out to be an overwhelming success on so many levels. Everyone shared their stories and love for Daisy and we raised a substantial amount of money for the Brain Injury Association—well over one hundred thousand dollars, Theresa told me earlier.
“Excuse me, everyone.” The chatter in the room stops. Donna is in front of the microphone again.
“We would like to thank everyone for coming. I’d like to sing one last song. It is one of Daisy’s favorites. I wrote it, oh, I guess about twelve years ago. It’s called ‘Parati.’”
The rise and fall of the melody is haunting and heartbreaking. Mom always cried when she listened to it. She said the song sounded mystical and always moved her soul.
Donna’s eyes close and she starts singing:
Parati
How can I have such sad eyes in a Brazilian paradise?
Oh Parati it took so long to get you close to me
The one that I thought I’d be with all my days is here with me
But I am sad and all alone with him in Parati
You took my breath away when I set foot in you
Lovers can be such strangers when a love’s so new
A winding mountain road no vision in your blinding fog
What I thought would move us closer turned my prince into a frog
I had to let you go
At last my broken heart is still
Safe from the man who cut me loose against undying will
Oh Parati Parati
I lost my love to your sea
Oh Parati Parati
I don’t know what I do believe
Oh Parati Parati
Don’t your Gods have mercy, mercy?
Oh Parati
The only memory left of you is me
We sat among the rocks and stared out to an endless sea
He spoke in shades of blue but never spoke his wish to me
What I know now is how his eyes had lost their sparkle then
And what he needed was for me to be his darkest friend
So now I walk alone the sea and sand seem black and gray The rain pours from an angry sky that lights only yesterday
I flash back to a phone call my mother got in the middle of the night, when I was about sixteen years old. The phone woke me up, and I went into my mother’s room and crawled into her bed.
Donna had just started dating a musician at the time and was head over heels crazy in love with him. She was touring with her band in Brazil and she invited him to visit her. They took a side trip to the idyllic city of Parati, which is the southernmost and westernmost part of Rio de Janeiro, known for its stunning waterfall and forests. That was the moment when everything went wrong between them. I didn’t know the details; I only knew that while the musician was sleeping, Donna closed herself inside the bathroom and called my mother. Mom talked to her for over an hour, listening to her, calming her down, and giving her advice. It was hard for me to keep my eyes open, but I remember thinking, before I nodded off, how lucky I was to have such a smart Mom who always knew the right answers.
Oh Parati Parati
I lost my love to your sea
Oh Parati Parati
I don’t know what I do believe
Oh Parati Parati
Don’t your Gods have mercy, mercy?
Oh Parati
The only memory left of you is me
My mother is gone; she is never going to give me any advice, not about men or babies or anything. And when the time comes, she will not be there on my wedding day.
I feel that claustrophobic feeling pressing down on me, and need to get away from everyone—from the music, from the people, from my mother’s life-size photo—everything. I excuse myself and rush out of the tent, kick off my shoes, and run down the hill to the water. I sit on the dock and cry.
Again I ask my mother to show me a sign that she is with me. A strong wind brings with it the music and laughter from the tent. I close my eyes. I feel old and tired. I look up at the black sky. I see a brilliant pinpoint, then a flash of light. My eyes follow the swift path of a shooting star. There it is! I know it in my heart of hearts: my mother’s sign to me.
I cannot count the many evenings she and I sat on the dock or in Malibu and looked at the sky, hoping to glimpse a shooting star. We never saw one. One night when I was a child, we were on the sailboat, cuddled under a blanket and stargazing.
“Lily, when you see a shooting star, it’s one of the ways your angels send you a message, letting you know they’re watching over you. So always be aware, and one night, when you least expect it and need it the most, you will see one.”
Sitting on the dock, so many years and experiences later, a very odd feeling of calm comes over me. The anxiety that was racing through my body a few moments ago is gone, and I felt almost elated and peaceful.
That is my gift—knowing my mother has not left me, and is watching over me.
A few minutes later, I jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around, dreading the sight of Jamie’s face. But it’s Robbie. He sits next to me and puts his arm around me. “How are you doing?”
I nod. “Better now.”
He tenderly kisses my cheek and forehead. He pulls back and looks into my eyes and kisses the tip of my nose. He softly kisses my lips; I put my arms around him and pull him closer. Our tongues find one another.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” We both jump and turned around.
Standing there is a very inebriated David looking down on us. “Again! You’re doing this to me again!” he shouts.
Robbie jumps up and put his hand on David’s arm. I can’t move.
“Slow down, David, chill out—”
David is shouting by this time. “Get your hands off me.” He pushes Robbie. “You never surprise me. Ever since high school,
you’ve broken me down bit by bit, so I’m always less than you. You always get everything. Every girl I date ends up with you, every friend I have, you take away. Hell, Mom and Dad always had to love you just a little bit more than their fake son.”
Robbie tries to calm him. “Slow down. No one’s out to take anything away from you, David. You’re drunk; you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Oh, I don’t? Every opportunity you get, you take out your fucking scalpel, and like the quote unquote brilliant surgeon you claim to be, keep cutting me until you dissect everything and there’s nothing left. And you.” He points his finger at me. “You’re the only blood relative I have in the world. There aren’t enough guys around? You have to screw my brother? My fuckin’ brother! Shit, this is priceless.” He comes closer to me.
Robbie moves so that he is in between David and me.
David says to me, “You had her all to yourself, your whole life. She kept you instead of putting you up for adoption. Daisy didn’t throw you away like a piece of shit garbage. You were worth keeping. And look at you, you turned out to be a spoiled brat and a slut.”
Up the hill, a crowd is gathering. Robbie holds on to his brother’s shoulders and looks into his eyes. “I’m warning you, that’s enough,” he says through clenched teeth.
“You’re warning me? Who the hell do you think you are? Get your fucking hands off me.” David takes a swing, and his fist connects with his younger brother’s face. Robbie instinctively punches him back; his right hook sends David to the ground. I scream and run over to him. He is out cold.
He comes to and tries to stand up. He ends up back on the ground. He looks green.
“I’m gonna be sick.”
Robbie helps him up and tells him not to worry; he’ll take him inside. We walk up the hill slowly. David is leaning on Robbie. Most of the guests who stayed for the sideshow are leaving. I keep my eyes straight ahead and don’t look at anyone.
Jamie steps out of the shadows. “Babe, you gotta talk to me. Let me come in.” He takes us all by surprise. He looks nervously at Robbie, who has stopped walking and is standing next to me, still holding his brother up. Jamie decides to go for it, not caring who’s there. “I love you, babe. I made a mistake. Please give me a second chance.”
I shake my head. I look at him and then at Robbie and Steve. I am overwhelmed and run ahead of them, into the house.
Barbara is in the kitchen overseeing the cleaning staff. She sees me and starts to tell me something. I run past her, ignoring her, bound up the steps, and finally lock myself in my bedroom. I practically rip my clothes off and get into the shower.
I let the water flow over me. My head is spinning. My mind plays over and over again the drama that has unfolded in the last half hour. We should have told David so he wasn’t blindsided. That was a big mistake. But there is now absolutely no doubt that he resents me. That’s a huge punch in the gut. And what the fuck is up with Jamie? Why now? Can guys sense, even from three thousand miles away, that their woman has lost interest and is falling for someone else? Is that why he showed up tonight? To regain what is rightfully his? Oh, shit, what a hot mess this whole thing is!
After the shower, I change and wait for Robbie. There’s a knock at my door. I unlock the door and he walks in. He looks pale.
“How is he?” I motion for Robbie to sit next to me on the bed.
“Not too good. I should have stopped him from drinking so much.”
“What were you supposed to do, cut him off ?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I should have done. I’m a doctor. I should know better.” He shakes his head.
I put my arm around him and feel him stiffen. “I punched him, Lil. After all he’s been through, I knock him out.”
He stands up, walks over to the window, turns his back on me, and looks outside.
“It was a knee-jerk reaction. You didn’t do it on purpose. You didn’t start it.” I’m nervous, and my voice sounds shrill to me.
Robbie faces me. “I called his doctor, and he wants me to bring him back to get looked at. I’m going to take him now.”
“I’ll get dressed and go with you.”
“No, Lily. Listen, I’m sorry…” He turns to me and looks into my eyes. “I almost lost my brother a couple of weeks ago, and now, because I’m being selfish, I’m pushing him away and I’m going to lose him for real.” He shakes his head. “I really didn’t think he would take it like this.”
“He’s drunk, Robbie. He’ll be okay when he sleeps it off. That was the alcohol talking.” But I know, even as I am saying it, that it isn’t true. David’s reaction to seeing us kissing, and his resentment of me, goes deeper than just his being drunk.
Robbie looks like he is on the verge of breaking down.
“No, it isn’t. He’s got this thing, I don’t know why. He feels that I’m better than him. Has since we were kids. I’ve told him over and over again that it’s bullshit. I never play into it. I’m careful. But this, us—I can’t do this to him. I’m sorry.”
What he is saying makes sense, but I don’t want it to end. “That’s it?” My mind and heart are racing.
“For now, yeah. And you obviously, you still have unresolved issues with actor boy. You have to work those out. I’m sorry, I really am. I care about you, I do—really. But it’s all way too much.”
“No, it’s not like that, I promise.” Even as I say it, I know he’s right. There are issues, especially one huge one that needs to be resolved.
We sit on the edge of the bed for a good ten minutes, not speaking, simply looking at one another.
He stands up. “I better get him to the hospital.” Robbie hugs me tightly and says, “I wish…”
“Yeah, me too.” I brush the tears from my eyes and kiss him. In less than twelve hours, he will be on a plane headed to Africa.
He walks out the door and out of my life.
I toss another log onto the fire in my mother’s office and the flames hungrily lap it up. I wrap the woolen blanket tighter around my shoulders, sit down on the window seat, and look out. I see nothing but acres and acres of untainted fluffy snow. The rays of the February sun bravely bounce off the expanse of pure white, but are not yet strong enough to thaw the frozen Sound.
A sudden kick under my ribs reminds me that I’m not totally alone in the farmhouse. I look down at my substantial belly and rub it.
“Well, little lady, that is a Rockettes-worthy high kick. Lucky for me you’re not wearing heels.” I smile. It seems so incredible that in only eight weeks, little Daisy Rose Lockwood will be my new “roommate.” The sonogram the doctor gave me last week showed a healthy baby girl. Fernando was with me, and he is, without a shadow of a doubt, convinced that the baby is the spitting image of a young Ann-Margret.
I walk over to the desk and look at the photos, which are mostly of me, or Mom and me. There is a new addition: a picture of me and Mom’s two gal pals, Auntie D. and Theresa, at the Emmys.
Glenn Close won for my category, which wasn’t at all surprising. We had an absolute ball; Theresa and Auntie D. were in rare form and at one point during the evening, I laughed so hard I actually had to run to the bathroom to keep from having an accident in my oh-so-expensive Carolina Herrera gown.
The next day, as the sun was setting, we went out on Theresa’s boat, and I scattered the rest of Mom’s ashes into the Pacific. Donna sang. It was one of those moments in life, that although they seem surreal while they’re happening, you remember every detail.
Donna and Theresa stayed with me and helped me go through the Malibu house and box up Jamie’s things. I must admit, being back there brought back some good memories. I was hurled back to reality, however, the moment I walked into my bedroom and saw the huge hole in the wall.
I called Jamie when I got home from my LA trip. He sounded genuinely happy to hear from me. He told me that he had just started dating someone but he loved me with all his heart. If I said the word, he’d be back. Things would be differe
nt, he promised.
The word I did say was “pregnant,” which, I gathered from the silence on the other end, was not quite the word he was expecting. I told him what my plans were and said that if he wanted to be involved with the baby, fine. If not, that was fine too.
Surprisingly, he calls me often and checks up on me. He keeps asking me if he can come to New York, stay with me and be there for me. I tell him for right now, if he’s on the other end of the phone, three thousand miles away, that’s close enough for me. He wants to be there when I deliver. I’m leaning towards letting him be at the hospital, but the only ones I want in the room are my mother’s two best friends. Theresa and Donna are taking their roles very seriously and are going to Lamaze class with me. If I Love Lucy had an episode with Lucy and Ethel in Lamaze class, this would be it. We end every class in bouts of laughter.
Jamie does seem like he is changing, growing. But who really knows—only time will tell what role he’ll play in Daisy Rose’s life.
I decide that, while I am pregnant at least, I want to be at the farm. I am away from the spotlight, although not totally away from the paparazzi. Often, I see them waiting at the gate, calling my name and snapping away as I drive by. On many occasions, they follow me to the supermarket or the drugstore. As my belly grows, so does their interest and their imaginations.
I was standing on line at the checkout counter at King Kullen when I saw the headline, LILY LOCKWOOD IS HAVING GEORGE CLOONEY’S LOVE CHILD. Underneath, there I was, rotund belly and all, walking into a baby furniture store. Where do they come up with this stuff ? I’ve never been in the same room as Clooney, much less the same bed as him.
The first bad snowstorm put an end to their waiting game, and I haven’t seen any of them since. Grampa used to say you have to be of hearty stock to be out on the North Fork in the wintertime. And I doubt that any of the paparazzi are what anyone would call hearty stock.
I finished filming the last episode of St. Joe’s, and in spite of Franny’s very long and very loud objections, decided not to renew my contract. I want to keep my options open. I did receive an offer for a Broadway show. Rehearsals are set to start at the end of May. It’s a drama. The script is well written, and the director is one I’ve wanted to work with for a very long time. So I’m going to keep that on the table and see how things go after the baby is born.
The Seeds Of A Daisy: The Lily Lockwood Series: Book One (Women's Fiction) Page 27