“But you don’t even know me.”
“Maybe so,” said Curtis, “but I find it strange that on my final fishing expedition here – or,” he added with a cough, “should I say my non-fishing expedition – that the only other person I see all evening is someone who is on a fishing pier looking for a house. I’d like to believe that’s gotta mean something.”
Objections popped into Lily’s head faster than she could address them. What school district is it in? How much are the utility bills? How many bedrooms does it have? How long can I stay? How do I ask that question politely?
“When do you expect to return?” Lily asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Curtis. “I expect I’ll be with my daughter six months to a year. My lawyer would let you know in plenty of time when you’d need to vacate the place.”
Despite the voices in her head shouting, warning, trying to convince her that something was not right with this whole deal, Lily felt uncharacteristically calm. She looked at Curtis, perched on his white bucket, looking out over the water as though he could see Florida and didn’t like it one bit. In a strange way, Lily knew she would be doing him a favor to take him up on his offer and fill his house with life.
“Can’t hurt to come have a look,” said Curtis.
“No, I suppose you’re right about that.”
“Is your car parked up in the lot there?” Curtis asked.
“Yes,” Lily replied.
“Mine too - what say you follow me over there and I’ll give you the nickel tour?”
Curtis stood up and gathered his tackle box and rod. Lily picked up the white bucket, and they turned and headed back toward the parking lot.
Lily thought about stopping at a phone booth to call Donna to ask her to come down and meet her. She thought about calling the CBW hotline to see if Sophie was around, so someone would at least know where she was. It just didn’t seem necessary. When she thought about going to see the house, a sense of peace came over her. Maybe that was what a miracle felt like.
“Who ever thought that I’d cast an empty line and find myself a tenant?” said Curtis.
“Who ever thought I’d come to the edge of the world and find a home?”
Lily stepped out of the front door of the house on Trevi Way for the final time, carrying a garbage bag filled with bed pillows. There had been a time when she loved the house, when it represented safety and joy. But now, everything about it was just a reminder of pain and fear. The broken door jamb in the bathroom. The missing light fixture on the patio. The slip-shod repairs. The bed.
Lily set the bag down as she crouched over to snip several sprigs of lavender from the garden walk, hoping to transplant them at the lake so they would still have time to bloom before fall. She slipped them into a plastic zipper bag into which she had placed a moist paper towel. “I’m sorry I can’t bring all of you with me,” said Lily to the hyacinths and daffodils. “Anyway, soon someone new will come take care of you and love you - and Donna’s going to come by every once in a while and make sure you’re getting enough water. Be good. Be beautiful.” Knowing that they would be cared for in her absence wasn’t the same as being able to see them and care for them every day. A tear trailed down Lily’s face and landed in the dirt. She laughed.
“Well, I think that’s it,” said Lily. She shoved the garbage bag into the trunk of her mother’s old LeMans, and then used the force of her entire body to slam the lid closed, only to discover a tuft of plastic sticking out through the crack. She thought about opening up the trunk and trying again, but it was just an excuse to avoid doing what had to come next: Turning around and facing Donna.
“I just can’t believe you’re leavin’ us,” said Donna, her eyes glistening.
“I’m not dying, Donna,” said Lily, with an empty giggle. She knew that in a way, she was. Lily thought of Iris and how they had grown apart over the years. Of course Italy was a lot farther than Summerville, but even when Iris was in town, she barely managed to traverse those last few miles that remained between them. There just never seemed to be enough to pull them toward one another, to overcome the awkward pauses and the suspicion that the past was the only thing left to share. No matter what happened now, Lily and Donna would not be next-door neighbors anymore. They wouldn’t babysit for each other, or drive to church together. What use would Donna have of a depressed, scared, impoverished, confused friend on the other side of town? Their daily lives would no longer be compatible; it was only a matter of time before they followed suit.
“What in the world am I gonna do without you?” Donna wrapped her arms around Lily and both women collapsed into tears. Donna’s embrace was soft and warm, like a favorite sweater. The two women rocked from side to side. Lily wanted to climb deeper inside the embrace, curl up, go to sleep, wake up next year. Or last year. Be anywhere but here today, saying good-bye to her best friend – her only friend – in the world.
“You are not going to be without me,” said Lily. “I’m only moving fifteen miles away.” She understood that Donna wasn’t talking about the distance between them. Rather, she was talking about the distance between them.
They continued their embrace.
“You sure you don’t want me to come out there with you?” asked Donna. “Help you get settled?”
“I’m sure,” said Lily. “I don’t think I could bear to say good-bye to you from the new place. It would just be too much.” The truth was, Lily couldn’t wait to get the good-byes over, get past all the sadness and get on with her new life. She would always have a special place in her heart for Donna, but even if their friendship ended right there on the strip of lawn that separated their driveways, Lily knew she had to do this alone. Lily was the first to release the hug. Someone had to, and Donna didn’t have it in her.
“I understand,” said Donna, wiping her tears. “But you only have a few hours until Joe brings the boys back - you know I’m just a phone call away if you need help, right?”
“You’ll be the first one I call.” Lily wouldn’t have phone service until the end of the week. It was just as well. Make a clean break.
“Now, don’t you take no guff from no one, you hear?” Donna wiped her nose with her sleeve. “And just you remember how much I love you, will ya’?”
“I love you too, Donna,” said Lily. “I don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done for me, I -” the words stuck in her throat.
“Hush, now,” said Donna. “You’d better skedaddle or those movers are going to get there before you do. I wouldn’t put it past those guys to dump your stuff on the lawn and drive away.”
Lily slipped herself behind the steering wheel, gently setting her baggie of lavender clippings on the passenger’s seat. Wishes whimpered from her carrier in the back seat.
“It’s OK, girl,” said Lily. “Just try not to look back. It’s easier to just make a clean break of it. Don’t take any expectations with you and you’ll save yourself from future disappointments.”
The house on Trevi Way, along with Donna, grew smaller in her rearview mirror as Lily drove away.
It was hard to believe that just this morning, home was somewhere else, a place where Lily had been surrounded by things and people she knew, where she could go from room to room in the dark and never stub her toe. Everything at the new place in Summerville was foreign to her. The house itself was built into the side of a hill, separated from the beach by a quarter acre of lawn, half of which had been overcome by tall, reedy weeds. The house was uniquely situated, in that pulling into the driveway brought you to the back door, which opened onto a foyer on the second floor, where the bedrooms and laundry were located. A full flight of stairs took you down to the main floor with a great room lined with windows. When you looked out from them, instead of seeing the asphalt of the road, or the front of another person’s house, you could see the endless water of Lake Ontario.
Lily opened one of the boxes marked, “kitchen”, feeling disappointed that she had to stack the cupboard
s with old mismatched, battle-scarred dishes that she had stored away in the basement the last time she and Joe had moved. But she saw that they were also a perfect figure for her life these days. Some of the dishes had come from a grandmother, some from an aunt. Some bought, some given. One chipped, five cracked, one blue, one gold, six floral, and twelve melamine saucers. Remnants. Of a family, of a time. Placed now with love in a new place, a peace place , a place of hope.
Lily was constantly pulled from the work at hand into the great room, out onto the front porch, toward the lake. She stood in the dining area, picking a spot for next year’s Christmas tree. Would it go there, in the corner, or in front of the window?
She imagined the laughter she would hear when the boys arrived, as they ran toward the beach, racing, tripping, chasing. She lost track of time standing there, but it didn’t really seem to matter much. Suddenly, there was nothing to rush for, nothing to race toward, nothing to fret over. She simply stood in that room, being with her new home, the sun first at her right, then above her, then at her left, until the sound of Joe’s horn signaled that the boys had arrived – just in time to watch the sunset.
Lily ran up the stairs and out the back door as the boys burst forth from their father’s car and ran to greet Wishes, who was running toward them.
“Mommy – can we go swimming?” shouted Pierce, holding a straw cowboy hat in place on his head as he ran past Lily and down the hill toward the sand.
“The water’s still really cold,” called Lily. “But we can go wading… maybe we can find some cool sea glass.”
“Hi, Mom!” called Joseph, as he and Wishes followed Pierce down the hill.
Joe started to walk toward the house, but then suddenly stopped, as though he collided with a force field, no doubt courtesy of one Order of Protection. Lily wondered what would happen when it expired.
“Hey,” called Joe. “Don’t you guys say good-bye to your Daddy?”
“Bye, Dad!” called Pierce, waving without turning around. His cowboy hat flew off. He stopped for it, put it back on his head, and continued running.
“Yeah – bye, Dad,” echoed Joseph. “See you Saturday night!”
Lily stood by the back porch looking at Joe, who stood at the end of the driveway next to his car.
“This place is sort of far for me,” called Joe.
“You were the one who said I had to move,” said Lily.
“How are they going to get to school from here?”
“I’m handling it,” said Lily.
“What did you do to get this place?” Joe asked. “Or should I say ‘who did you do’?”
“I have a job,” said Lily, feeling too grateful to bother taking the bait he dangled.
“Yeah, right… how the hell can you afford a place like this?”
“Don’t you worry about it,” said Lily. “I’m doing just fine.”
“Don’t you worry about it, I’m doing just fine,” Joe mimicked. “I’m living in a two-by-four apartment in the city, like an asshole. If you think I’m paying for this, you’re nuts – and by the way, it’s going to cost you a fortune to keep this place up. It’s falling apart. The wiring is probably older than dirt. If you had a fire, the place would go up like a tinder box.”
Lily turned around to scan the house. According to Curtis, it had been built during the Lincoln administration and had survived two fires and a flood – disasters that had caused the demise of surrounding properties, enabling Curtis to buy up several of the adjacent lots, leaving Lily’s stoic but tired old house standing alone on a strip of private beach in quiet isolation, struggling to hold its head high. It might almost seem lonely as the oldest remaining structure of its generation. Some of the stones at its foundation were cracked and crumbling, the window panes hung nonchalantly in their frames, rattling with even the smallest breeze. The porch leaned to one side, and swayed in the middle. The roof tiles that remained were worn. But these were the scars of its long and eventful life, which made Lily love it even more.
“Was there something else you wanted?” Lily asked. She couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation of dismissing Joe, knowing that he probably wanted to scream or shout or run at her, but also knowing that he couldn’t. Except, of course, that there wasn’t actually anyone close by enough to hear if he did. She reeled in her bravado. Better not to poke an angry bear.
“I’ll have the boys ready on Saturday by six.” She turned to walk out to the beach, still feeling the heat of Joe’s stare on her back.
Lily’s days began by wrangling the boys out of bed half an hour earlier than usual to accommodate for the commute to their school across town. Cranky and uncooperative, they used up most of that time arguing with Lily, often arriving at school with uncombed hair, sleep in their eyes, and rumpled mismatched clothing – concessions Lily accepted as being temporary and that would no longer be required once they all got settled into their new routine. After she dropped them off, she made a mad dash back across town to work, barely making it through the door at The Fertig School by eight o’clock, arriving breathlessly under the disapproving gaze of Mrs. Windham-Childs, who believed that proper control of one’s home and family resulted in a calm and self-possessed countenance. From chiding her for her gum-chewing (which Lily did to stave off nicotine fits during work hours), to the way she sat in her chair, Mrs. Windham-Childs often offered Lily tips on how to present herself “in a manner more suited to a professional representative of a widely recognized and globally respected organization such as The Fertig School.” Lily did her best to appear interested and compliant (she still sometimes held a wad of gum in between her teeth and gums, sneaking in a chew or two when Mrs. Windham-Childs wasn’t looking), because she had the sense that Mrs. Windham-Childs considered herself a bit of a Pygmalion and that the greater portion of Lily’s value to her (and so her job security) was in her willingness to participate in the delusion that she was being groomed.
At the end of each day, Lily would rush back across town to pick the boys up from the after-school care program, where they could usually be found in the gymnasium, pumped up on junior surges of testosterone and competition. Lily would settle their sweaty exhausted bodies into the back seat of the car, and drive across town as they whined in stereo about being hungry, about having homework, and about having such a long ride home.
Dinner, dishes, homework, and showers took up the evenings. Lily collapsed with exhaustion each night. By the end of the first month, she still had not unpacked any boxes except those containing items that were absolutely necessary for daily life.
As the days and weeks passed, the boys’ behavior toggled between what might be considered normal, and what could be called erratic and violent, getting worse and more intense every time they visited their father. At first, they simply refused to obey her requests that they go to bed, or clean their room. Soon, they were talking back, even calling her names, and telling her that they hated her and that it was her fault that their father was alone.
More and more of Lily’s time was spent first dealing with their bizarre antics and then recovering from their effects. The boxes remained unpacked. She feared she was losing ground. She thought about asking her mother to come stay for a while, just to act as reinforcement, but that would still only delay the inevitable: Lily had to learn to be strong with them on her own terms. Besides, her mother was likely to tell her that the solution to her problem with the boys was in the law, and that she had an obligation to other women to hold Joe accountable through the courts, as part of establishing precedent for future cases. But what Lily really wanted was to be where she could talk about her needs and how she was feeling, and didn’t place an additional burden on her for the whole of the future of womankind. She hadn’t been to a support group meeting in weeks. Maybe it was time to check in.
“I have no doubt that your ex is coaching your boys to give you a hard time. That’s alienation of affection,” Sophie explained, the following Wednesday. “It’s a common tactic used by
men to gain residency by creating discord between children and their mothers.”
“But our separation agreement stipulates joint custody,” said Lily.
“Custody concerns itself with who has legal jurisdiction over the children,” explained Sophie. “Residency – where the children live – is a separate issue. The preference of the children is a significant factor in determining residency. What your ex is doing is grossly immoral.”
“What should I do? Write a letter to his lawyer?”
“Are you serious?” Edie said. “His lawyer is prolly telling him ‘zactly what to do.”
“But if it’s immoral, then why would his lawyer help him do it?”
“Lily, lawyers are hired to help you win,” said Sophie. “They don’t keep you from breaking the law; they only protect you from getting caught. With his history of gambling and abuse, your husband knows a judge would never grant him residency, and that the only way to get your children from you is to make them want to go live with him. He’s doing that by trying to sabotage their relationship with you, while making them feel responsible for his happiness - and God only knows what else. I see this all the time. It’s entirely despicable. The only way he will be held accountable for this is if you file a petition with Family Court.”
“And he knows you ain’t gonna do that,” said Edie.
“What makes you say that?” asked Lily.
“‘Cuz in order to prove your case,” said Edie, “you would have to put your babies on the stand, make them testify against they Daddy.” Edie reached into her pocket for a tissue. “He knows you kin never do that.”
Edie was right. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
“What I am struggling to understand is this: What in the world would my ex do with two little boys, living in a two bedroom apartment in the city, and working at a sixty-hour-a-week job?”
The Complete Series Page 125