“It’ll be weird, won’t it, Lily?” Iris said as she alternated walking with clipped, rapid steps in the direction of the impressive brick building that stood in the distance, and slowing her pace to match Lily’s. Lily seemed determined it should take them as long as possible to cover the distance from the car to the building.
“You probably can’t wait to have the room all to yourself,” Iris said. Her words sounded as empty as the feeling in her stomach.
Lily stopped walking altogether. “I don’t want the room all to myself. I especially don’t want the family all to myself. I want to go away, too.”
“You will, Lily,” Iris said. “You’ll be going to that great school for the performing arts, next year. You can do it. You’ll have a great time with Dolores preparing for your audition. In the meantime, you’re a shoe-in for the lead in the school play this year.”
“I wish I could just fly away, right now,” Lily said, looking up into the sky. The clouds and humidity had been building up all day. Iris hoped they wouldn’t get caught in a thunderstorm on the drive home.
“Sometimes I have this dream, where I can fly,” Iris said, tugging on Lily’s elbow to prod her along. “I start out walking, then I’m running, and flapping my arms. Suddenly, I just lift off the ground. It’s so simple, so natural. I fly real low, so it’s not scary, and I can see everything, but in a more detached way. Everything looks so much better from a distance.”
“Sometimes I have this dream, where I really have to go to the bathroom,” Lily said. “So bad, I feel like I’m going to burst. I’m running around, looking for a place to go, and I finally find these public restrooms. There are rows and rows of toilets, but the doors are either missing from the stalls, or hanging on broken hinges, and as soon as I sit down, someone barges in on me. So I go somewhere else, but all the toilets are overflowing, and the toilet seats and floors are all wet.”
“Oh my God!” Iris said. “I have a toilet dream, too! Just like yours!”
“Get out!” Lily said.
“No, really!” Iris said. “Sometimes I can’t stand it anymore, and I decide to go ahead and sit on one of the toilets. The seats are all broken and dirty, but I pick the least gross one I can find. I line the seat with little squares of toilet paper, like Auntie Rosa taught me to do when I was little, but the paper keeps flying away.”
“In your dream, do you have to go number one or number two?” Lily asked.
“Number two, definitely,” Iris said. “And sometimes I have my period, too. It’s an awful feeling. I feel so gross when I wake up.”
“Me too!” Lily said. “Totally gross.”
“Weird.” After a few moments of walking in silence, Iris said, “I’ve always hated sharing the bathroom with so many people. Not that it will be any better at my dorm, but at least there won’t be any boys. When I used to go to Auntie Rosa’s as a kid, I used to sit on the toilet and look around at how neat and clean everything was. Sometimes, I would sit there so long my feet would fall asleep. Just because I could; just because no one banged on the door and made me come out. Hopefully we’ll both have a house with a bathroom of our own, sooner or later.”
“Talk about shooting for the stars,” Lily said.
Two hours later they were on their way back home, each holding a Wendy’s frosty Iris had bought for them to celebrate her official registration as a UB freshman. They cranked the radio up all the way, so they could hear it over the noise from the muffler and the roaring of the tractor trailer engines on Interstate 90 East rolling through the open windows together with the muggy afternoon air. Iris and Lily sucked hard on their straws, but the drink was impossibly thick, and the effort was giving Iris a headache. She placed the frosty between her bare thighs, to help it melt, and at the same time, cool her off. Her short denim skirt had hitched up to her crotch when she scooted in behind the wheel, causing the truckers to blow their horns whenever they passed, which made the girls giggle as they sang along to Fleetwood Mac’s “Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow.”
“I love this song!” Iris shouted, the impact of what she had just done in Buffalo making her giddy with excitement. Paying for her first semester of tuition and room and board with the money she had earned selling Egg McMuffins and Sizzling Skillet fish fries and rolling her mail cart down the corridors of Kodak headquarters with blistered feet and an all-American smile; imagining herself living in a dorm and going to class in those old brick buildings and studying whatever subjects she was interested in (they even taught Swahili!); meeting people from other cities and maybe even other countries, elated her spirit with a sense of independence that only hard-earned money can buy.
“Looks like Dad’s already home,” Iris said, spotting his car in the garage as they parked in the driveway at Chestnut Crest an hour later.
“I hope he doesn’t want to eat early,” Lily said. “He’s always in such a rush, we never even have the time to catch our breath.”
“I threw some beef stew in the crock pot before we left. It’s probably ready by now, if he does,” Iris said. “Uncle Alfred’s car is here, too. What on earth is he doing here, I wonder?”
“That’s strange. I doubt he’ll be staying for dinner, though,” Lily said. “He plays on Friday nights.”
The girls walked through the back door into the kitchen. The smell of slowly simmering stew filled the air. “You’d think someone could have at least set out the dishes,” Iris said, rolling her eyes at the sight of the bare table.
“God forbid,” Lily said.
Through the doorway that led to the living room, Iris could see her father bent forward in his armchair, elbows resting on his knees, looking down at the shabby carpet, smoking a cigarette. It was odd to see him home early, and even more unusual to see him relaxing before dinner on a Friday; he usually used that time to get a head start on the weekend and tend to a few odd jobs. Henry was smoking too, but he was standing, his back pressed against the door jamb, looking at the ceiling. She spotted Uncle Alfred sitting on the sofa, air-washing his hands, his slight frame poised on the very edge of the seat cushion, as if fearful of picking up germs. William, Charles and Ricci all sat cross-legged on the floor. The scene reminded Iris of those brainteasers at the back of the TV guide, where you have to study the scene and figure out what was wrong with it.
“Where is Auntie Rosa?” Iris said, immediately honing in on the missing detail.
“Iris, Lily,” their father said, in a flat voice.
“What’s going on, Dad?” Iris said. Never had she been in a room with more than two Capotostis and witnessed such silence. A chill of fear shot up her spine.
“There’s been an accident,” he said, his eyelids fluttering.
His words were a vice, clamping down on Iris’s heart. Something had happened to Auntie Rosa! Iris looked at Lily, at their father, at the faces in the living room that were turned on them expectantly, gauging their reactions.
“What do you mean? Tell us what happened!” Iris said, torn between wanting to know, and wanting to run away. Her head was spinning, her knees were weak.
“It’s Dolores,” he said.
“What about Dolores?” Lily said, her words interrupting the flash of relief that allowed Iris to breath again.
“She’s gone,” he said.
“She’s not gone, Dad,” Henry said, squinting at their father through the smoke of his cigarette. “She’s dead.”
Iris wanted to know more, but could not make her tongue ask any questions. No further details could be discerned from her father’s grim face; no hope of some gross misunderstanding was kindled by Henry’s hard stare. Dumb and numb, filled with relief, guilt, pity, sorrow, she looked at Lily. Her sister’s eyes darted around the room, frantically searching for a way out of the moment; a cry of visceral panic, like the spine-chilling whiny of a mare trapped in a burning barn, rose from deep inside her, piercing the eerie silence of the room. Iris saw the whites of her eyes flash, as Lily threw back her head and began laughing
uncontrollably.
28. Lily
Green carpeting, juice stain. Uncle Alfred’s hands, one gliding over the other, again and again. Is he cold? Cigarette smoke everywhere. Can’t see. Can’t think. Iris. Her green eyes crying. The kitchen clock. Tick tock, tick tock. Dad, over there, sitting in his chair two feet away, on the other side of the world. He looks so small. Henry leaning up against the sunroom door jamb. Stop staring at me. Legs like jelly. Can’t breathe. What is that awful sound? Is that me? Am I laughing? Why am I laughing? What’s happening? What is everyone doing here? Shut UP - it isn’t funny!
Iris wrapped her arms around Lily, pulling her in close, holding her tight. “Shhh...” she whispered into Lily’s ear. “It’s OK. It’s OK, Lily. Calm down.”
The convulsions of Lily’s body slowed and her wailing subsided to a whimper.
“What happened?” asked Iris, looking over Lily’s shoulder.
Their father and Uncle Alfred exchanged a glance, and then Uncle Alfred looked back down at his hands.
“It was an accidental overdose,” said their father. “Dolores was on some anti-anxiety medication and she took too much.”
“Oh my God!” shouted Lily, breaking away from Iris’ embrace. “I saw her do that - I asked her about it and she got mad so I didn’t say anything to anyone.” Lily turned toward Iris. “I should have said something... I should have told somebody...” Tears flowed freely down Lily’s cheeks. “If I had told Auntie Rosa that Dolores was taking too much medicine, she could have watched her, could have made sure. I didn’t want to make Dolores mad...”
“It wasn’t your fault, Lily.” said Henry. “It wouldn’t have mattered. Why don’t you tell her the truth, Dad? Tell her what really happened.”
Don’t you dare try to comfort me.
“Henry - that’s enough.” said their father. “We don’t know.”
Henry looked at Lily. “Dolores killed herself, Lily. She checked out. She couldn’t take it anymore.”
Shut up, Henry.
“We don’t know, Henry,” repeated their father, louder this time. “She didn’t leave a note. There’s no way to tell for sure.”
“Wake up, Dad - she did leave a note,” said Henry. “An empty bottle of pills and a fifth of vodka, drained one glass at a time into that tumbler she always had in her hand. Translation: Dear Family, Adios - I’m outta here. Love, Dolores.”
Vodka? It was vodka, not water? Dolores killed herself? Didn’t want to be here anymore?
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” mumbled Uncle Alfred. He continued to wring his hands, while rocking back and forth on the edge of the loveseat.
Something was really wrong here. This couldn’t be true. Dolores could not be dead, could not have killed herself. She would never do that. Not to herself. Not to Lily. Why would she? There was so much to look forward to. So many dreams. Dolores would not leave her this way.
Mechanically, Lily walked over and sat down on the ottoman at her father’s side. “All of my audition clothes are on layaway,” she said to no one.
“What?” asked their father.
Iris sat by Lily’s side and Lily rested her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Iris,” Lily said. “She’s gone.”
“I know, Lily. I’m so sorry. She loved you so much, you know that, don’t you?” Iris pulled the cuff of her cotton blouse down over her hand and used it to wipe the tears from Lily’s face.
“I knew she was sad,” said Lily between sobs. “But I didn’t know she was that sad. I wish I knew. I could have tried to make her happy.”
“Oh, you did, Lily,” said Iris, tucking a stray tuft of hair behind Lily’s ear. “She so loved being with you - you were the light of her life. She bragged about you all the time, she believed in you with her whole heart.”
That meant something. Once.
“The song - I didn’t finish recording the song for my portfolio. We were supposed to go next week. And then we - ” with a sigh, Lily stopped speaking.
“I want you to sing at the service, Lily,” said Uncle Alfred. “I want to play that song she loved so much.”
“Yeah, sure,” Lily answered absently. “When is the funeral?”
Uncle Alfred and Lily’s father exchanged glances again.
“What is it?” Lily asked, sitting upright.
Henry jumped forward into the silence of his father’s hesitation. “There isn’t going to be a funeral, Lily.”
Shut up, Henry, I’m not talking to you. You don’t belong here, you don’t want to comfort me; you just want to shock me, watch me suffer. Go get your thrills someplace else.
“Dolores wanted to be cremated,” Henry continued, “and the Catholic Church doesn’t allow cremated remains to, well, to attend service, so to speak.”
“What do you mean?” Lily asked their father. “They won’t let her ashes into church?”
“More or less,” Henry replied.
“That is such bullshit!” Lily shouted. “Doesn’t the Church know what a beautiful soul she is? Don’t they realize how completely anti-Christian it is of them to exclude her, to tell people who loved her that they can’t say good-bye to her properly?!”
“Now Lily,” their father said. “I realize that you’re upset, but let’s not go around accusing the Church of being anti-Christian.”
“What would you call it when they say that a person who suffered so much her whole life and was in so much pain that she couldn’t even stand to be alive doesn’t deserve a funeral?”
“There have to be rules, Lily. The Church needs its rules.”
Lily shot up out of her chair. “Screw the rules, Dad!” she screamed. “And screw the Church, and the vodka and the sleeping pills! And screw Dolores!”
“Lily Elizabeth Capotosti!” Her father’s exclamation was lost in the din of her mind, her rage, the stomping of her feet as she bolted from the living room, and out the back door.
Lily ran down the street to the duck pond, with Iris following close behind. She found a place under a willow tree, and let her body collapse to the ground, without even checking for duck droppings. Iris sat down next to her. The sisters sat in silence, holding hands.
“Would you rather be alone?” Iris finally asked.
“Apparently,” said Lily.
Iris drew in a breath a few times, as if she were going to speak, but each time she opened her mouth, a sob escaped, followed by a rush of tears.
Finally, Iris said, “You know Lily, there is a chance that she didn’t kill herself. It really could have been an accident.”
“Yeah. Sure. I know.” Lily knew that was what everyone would tell themselves.
“She did love you - she thought the world of you.”
“I loved her too. And I know this is going to sound awful and selfish, but - so what... she loved me. So did Mom. It doesn’t mean anything. Just because people love you doesn’t mean they want to stay with you. In fact, if you ask me, it almost seems the opposite. Seems like everyone who loves me ends up leaving.”
Just as Lily began to wonder whether Iris felt accused by the statement, Iris let go of her hand. Iris would be leaving for the university in two weeks; the idea of it was suddenly terrifying to Lily. She had been so distracted by the activity and excitement that Dolores brought into her life that she hadn’t truly considered it before. Iris was leaving. And so was James. For the first time, Lily was glad that he didn’t love her. At least that would make it easier to watch him go. Lily began to sob.
“What is it?” Iris asked, placing her arm around Lily’s shoulder.
Don’t go, Lily wanted to tell her. Please, Iris, please don’t leave me here alone. Not now. However, Lily had learned all too well that when the time came for a Capotosti to cut free, there wasn’t anything that could be done but to watch them go, and hope your time would arrive soon. As much as Lily was afraid to be alone, to live in a world that she couldn’t even yet fathom, she still longed for Iris get out and live her own dreams, whatever they were.
&nbs
p; “I’m going to miss her, that’s all,” said Lily.
“I know. Me too.”
“I’m OK, Iris,” said Lily. “You can go back to the house now. I just want to sit here for a bit.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep,” said Lily, forcing a smile. “I’m sure.”
“OK.” Iris stood and brushed off the back of her skirt with her hands. “I should go see what else I can scrounge up to add to that stew I made. I imagine the house is going to fill up with people pretty fast.”
Lily scanned the duck pond - the swans and geese, the calm surface of the water, the graceful willow trees, and of course the ducks. It looked like a photograph, and Lily wished she had suggested that Dolores come here and set up her easel. Everything about it seemed so gentle and beautiful, but the scene was tainted with Lily’s own sense of sorrow, the way all of Dolores’ paintings seemed to be tainted with the darkness inside her.
Lily’s vision became blurred as her eyes filled with tears that ran down the sides of her face, dripped into her ears, trailed down her neck, her sadness draining into the cool soft earth. Her eyelids grew heavy and, weary from the effort of sobbing, she drifted off to sleep.
Lily opened her eyes to find James draping his navy blue Varsity jacket across her chest.
“Hi,” he said softly. “Iris said I would find you here.”
“Hi.” Lily sat up, pulled the jacket around her shoulders, and swiped her palms across her face, embarrassed, knowing that her eyes were probably puffy and red. “I must be a mess.”
James sat down next to Lily and plucked a leaf from her hair. “I’m so sorry to hear about Dolores, Lily. I know how much she meant to you.”
In the moment before full consciousness, Lily had forgotten and was reawakened to the miserable truth yet again.
[Iris and Lily 01.0 - 03.0] The Complete Series Page 45