“Lilly,” I plead. “It’s us. What could you have possibly done that you can’t tell us? We knew you when you spied on that Colin creature in college and dropped your notebook in front of him, when you paused the VCR to kiss Johnny Depp’s luscious lips on the TV screen. Heck, we knew you when—”
“Just never mind. I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you. No need to torture me.” She nibbles on her lip. Her hair is in full frizz mode today. She didn’t bother with the laminate she normally uses, and she’s like one big puffball of hair. I suppose that’s how Poppy figured out she’s not being upfront with us. Lilly’s issues are all in the hair. If the hair is bad, Lilly is feeling it. I wish I’d been more attentive, but I was too lost in my own world.
“You’re going to be mad. I’m a little mad.”
“People don’t get mad. Dogs get mad—”
“People get angry,” my friends finish for me.
“So you’ve heard it before; why don’t you fix it?”
“We like to disrupt that prep school girl in you. It’s endearing,” Poppy says.
Lilly mats her hair down with her hands and sucks in a deep breath. “I can’t believe I did this.”
“Did what, Lilly?”
“I sort of pulled a Morgan. And I’ve been lecturing her, so I knew that I was going to get lectured, and I already know what I did deserves a lecture. I just haven’t had to face the consequence yet like Morgan has.”
I feel my brows lower, “Lilly, what did you do?”
“Max and I took a little trip late one night. It was the most gorgeous sunset that night, and the sky was just pink and purple and—”
“Lilly! Back to the story.”
“So we sort of hopped in the car and headed towards South Lake Tahoe.”
I cringe at the thought of Nevada. Home of my ever-so-brief marriage and my infamous annulment.
“And you gambled?” Poppy asks.
“Sort of. We got married.”
“What!” I have never known Lilly to do a spontaneous thing in her life. Everything is calculated and exact and planned to the hilt. This is completely. . .Well, this is completely like me.
“Lilly!” Poppy says. “What on earth moved you to get married?”
“Max and I, we had a great arrangement as boyfriend and girlfriend. I’d go over there, I’d sketch. He’d watch TV for work. All was well and good until that one sunset.” She pauses as though remembering the colors. “I just noticed his eyes, and we sort of . . . Oh, I don’t know, we were like magnets. We just rushed each other. And all the while I know my nana is downstairs and she can walk up at any minute. I looked at Max, and I said, ‘Baby, we gotta get out of here before we do something we’ll regret or be held accountable for.’ So we leave, and I’m thinking we’re going to go get ice cream or something to cool off—even though it’s a San Francisco summer night and freezing outside.”
“Get to the wedding part,” I say, grabbing Lilly’s hand.
“So we get into the car. And remember that brooch he gave me of his grandmother’s?”
“Sure, my dad said it was the highest quality,” I offer, but from the looks I get, no one really cares.
“The engagement ring matched, and he had it in his pocket.”
“So he asked you to marry him in the car?” Poppy asks.
“That’s not very romantic,” I offer.
“He said he knew the first time he saw me, and from being around my nana because of all the wonderful things she thought I was. And, um, go figure. But anyway, he said we were just wasting time. I thought about that six years I spent in finance, and that it really was a waste of time, and I thought, Do I really have the time to waste? Who is coming along who is better than Max? So we drove to Lake Tahoe, found us a wedding chapel, made out on the beach, and found us a hotel. The end.” Then her face contorts. “Sorta.”
My mouth is agape. I have been trying to get married for eons. Eons, I tell you, and Lilly just happens into it like it’s buying a losing lottery ticket. There is no effort, there is no exchange of dowries. She just finds herself a rich, sexy husband by drawing dresses in the guy’s house. Because conveniently he lives over her nana.
If my dad rented out a place, the guy would inevitably be at my house because he was short on rent or moving back with his mother. Life is so unfair.
But I couldn’t be happier for Lilly.
If not insanely jealous.
“None of this explains why you are living in your loft with Morgan. Did you get married for a one-night stand?” Poppy steps back, and several horns honk behind us while we await the answer. It’s a fall day, the best San Francisco has to offer, and we bask in the warmth of the rare, bright sunlight.
“Max has been trying to get me to move in as his wife, but we aren’t quite sure how to break it to people. My nana is going to kill me for running off, and my mother-in-law is going to think I trapped her son for his money. When I found out she was coming, I thought moving in could easily happen after she visited. I designed her gown for the Red & White Ball next month, so I thought I’d use work as an excuse. I certainly have enough to do.”
“Well, you have to tell them, Lilly.”
Lilly clucks her tongue, shaking her head. “One night, we’re looking at the view, and the next I’m a married woman.”
“Where’s your ring?”
“Max is getting it sized.”
“You didn’t take it to my dad?”
“Um, no, I didn’t. He would have told everyone in San Francisco.”
“My dad may be a lot of things, but indiscreet is hardly one of them.”
“He would have told you,” Lilly accuses.
“True.”
“Let me get this straight.” Poppy shakes out her long red tresses. “So you’re not living with your husband because your nana’s going to be mad you got married without the big wedding.”
“That’s part of it,” Lilly explains. “The other half is that Max’s mother is going to have to explain how to announce this to the society pages and ensure it’s not a shotgun wedding. I still had the lease on my loft, and a lot of work to do, and we just sort of let things slide.”
“Lilly, no one’s going to think any such thing as a shotgun wedding. In nine months, they’ll know better.”
“Here’s the funny part,” Lilly says, kicking the sidewalk and looking at the street. “I am actually pregnant. Wedding-night baby, if you can believe that.”
We’re speechless. Even Poppy has nothing to say. Nothing to add about energy, good or bad, and she can’t even work up something about the need for proper nutrition for baby.
I run through the spectrum of emotion. First, there’s anger that any best friend of mine should get married and deny us a wedding. There’s a deep envy streak growing by the minute as I think of Lilly, not even looking for love and it’s found her doorstep. Then, there’s the betrayal. How could she not tell us?
After a few minutes of goggling, Poppy tries a response. “Lilly . . . Wow, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”
She starts to hug our friend, but Lilly groans and pushes her away. Again, she pats down her hair. “It’s not amazing! It’s humiliating, actually. I can’t get a design business started for six years, but I can get pregnant on the very first night? Do I have the weirdest life or what? And just imagine what Max’s mom is going to say. If there was any hope of a big wedding, it’s definitely out of the question now. I doubt we can pull off what Mrs. Schwartz expects before I begin to show.”
I finally find my voice as I decipher what she’s told us. “Are you nuts? So you’re not sleeping with your husband, but you’re carrying his baby?” I’m astounded. I know Lilly has always done things relatively backward, like getting a finance degree and then a master’s because she couldn’t announce to her nana that she hated all of the above, but this takes the cake. This is her living our pathetic lives out when she has an actual choice.
“I’m not living with Max, but I’m taking my prenatal vit
amins. And who said anything about celibacy? We have our ways. Besides, this way if I have any morning sickness, he won’t have to deal with that.”
“Good for you, Lilly. Make sure you’re drinking plenty of no-sugar-added orange juice as well. Fresh squeezed is best,” Poppy says. “And don’t buy cheap prenatals; they put cheap binders in them. I’ll get you the best.”
“Oh, that sounds great, Poppy,” Lilly nods.
I’m still trying to process all this. “There is no way on earth we’re supporting you in this. We’ll tell Mrs. Schwartz ourselves. It’s only going to get worse if you put it off.”
“So just how long have you actually been married?”
“A little over a month. I just found out about the baby the day before yesterday. We didn’t make it very long after the fashion show. I just never realized love was such a strong motivator. And I sort of lost my head, and we ended up in Tahoe before I knew it. Even with his broken leg.” She gets a secret smile on her face. “It was worth it, though. He’s worth it.”
“Lilly, I can’t believe you, who wasted all those years on the wrong degrees, could be so impulsive.”
“Have you seen Max lately?” Poppy asks.
Translation: does he know about the baby?
“So now we get no bridesmaid’s dresses? No Lilly Jacobs wedding gown for the town to behold.”
She shakes her head. “None of the above. I haven’t seen Max lately—well, not since he was here—and you’re not getting bridesmaid’s dresses. Just the satisfaction of knowing you are my maids of honor.”
“Well, it’s over now, but you’ve got to move in with your husband, Lilly. This is just weird.”
“It is,” she admits.
“What did you wear?”
“I wore a pair of jeans and flip-flops.”
My best friend got married, and I wasn’t there. There seems to be no justice here, and I’m still in a bit of mourning. “Why wouldn’t you tell us? We would have come at any hour of the night, you know that.”
She nods. She does know it, but apparently friends are no match for Max Schwartz. What irony—the purr of traffic above our heads from the freeway overhead, and Lilly’s explaining to us that she’s living my life:
She’s married to a wonderful man.
She’s having his baby.
She’s not going to jail.
What the heck happened? Where was God when I mentioned how desperately I wanted to be married and out from under my father’s grip? I mean, did he just miss with the bolt of lightning and aim at Lilly by accident? I ask myself all these questions, but of course, it does me little good. I’m thrilled for Lilly. Really I am. But I feel more alone than ever. Just like when you’re in a movie theater by yourself for a romantic comedy, and the couple in front of you is making out. It amplifies one’s pathetic-ness.
There’s a rumble above us, and the main apartment door opens with Kim rushing out the door, her half-opened suitcase thrown after her. It hits the landing, exploding the contents down the front steps in a waterfall of bad clothing behind her.
“And stay out!” Nate is at the doorway, and he slams the door with vigor.
I knew something was awry in that house. No woman puts up with a dog who smells like that without something festering beneath. Kim looks at us, trying to maintain her sense of dignity as she picks up the clothes. Lilly and Poppy both bend over and begin helping, but I’ll admit, I’m too mesmerized by the scene to do anything but watch it unfold, like a roadside accident. I see Nate in the window beside the doorway, surveying his damage with a smug and yet grim smile. So, apparently, asking how Kim is feeling is probably not the best course of action.
Kim’s ending with Lilly was no different. Kim decided she was moving in with Nate and left Lilly to pay the rent for that month. Sure, she helped her sew things for the business, but if Lilly’s boss had found out, Sara Lang would have pulled funding faster than you could say tattoo. And yet, I don’t know what Kim’s story is, or why Lilly seems to care, but Lilly never abandons her. It seems no matter what this girl does, including living with the man who kissed Lilly full on the lips, Lilly just picks Kim up, dusts her off, and sets her back on course.
I think we have just witnessed the true Nate. The one who keeps Kim around as he needs her, and feeds off others to tell him how fabulous he is. Lilly still seems to think he’s a fabulous person, and I’ll grant her he’s a very charming personality. But charming people generally don’t vomit their girlfriend’s stuff onto the sidewalk. However, Lilly’s continuous support of Kim fascinates me in a sick sort of way. The entire codependent threesome needs to move on.
“I take it you’re moving out,” Lilly says.
Kim purses her lips and keeps stuffing her clothes into the suitcase.
“I could have told you he wasn’t going to put up with your dating other guys. He found out?”
“Lilly, enough with the words of wisdom, okay?” She looks to Lilly with those eyes, and I can tell she’s going to ask to stay in Lilly’s loft, which is a bad idea on so many levels, so I step in front of Lilly.
“Listen, if—”
Kim holds a palm up in my face, “Listen, princess. I got nothing to say to you. Go back to Snob Hill and leave us poor vermin to our lives.”
“Kim!” Lilly yells. “Do you mind? That’s my best friend.”
Kim looks back at me, and her hard expression softens. “Sorry, Morgan. I suppose you and I have more in common than I’d like. Men throwing us out on our ears and all that.” The corner of her mouth turns up in a sly, devious way. “Can I crash at your place, Lil?”
“Morgan’s staying with me right now. Besides, it wouldn’t be good with Nate upstairs. You need to give him some time to cool off.”
“I didn’t think he had it in him,” Poppy muses. “But his energy has always been draining.”
Kim rolls her eyes, “Would you tell Hari Yogi to be quiet? I’ve just been dumped.”
“Do you need a few days off?”
“Yeah, Einstein, I do.”
For the life of me, I cannot understand why Lilly puts up with Kim. She’s just bad news all the way around, from the scattering of tattoos evident all over her body—more readily viewable due to the lack of clothing she employs—to the plethora of body piercings. Now, I’ve lived in San Francisco long enough to know not to judge on the exterior, but what I’ve always noticed about Kim is her quick temper. Her inability to see the best in people, but to always assume the worst and speak of it rather than hold her tongue. How she managed to overlook Nate’s many shortcomings in favor of picking on Lilly remains a mystery. But I guess charm goes a long way. It worked for Andy, so who am I to judge?
Kim tries another tactic and softens her tone, “I finished the Red & White ball gowns tonight. Mrs. Sheen will be picking hers up on Friday and Mrs. Schwartz is coming into town tomorrow, and she’ll get hers then. I imagine you can just take that one to Max’s. It’s up at Nate’s.”
Lilly nods, and my hearts jerks just a bit as I hear about the Red & White Ball. This year’s ball coverage will only remind me that the life I knew is over. Even if I manage to get in with my father’s jewels, I’ll be the laughingstock of the entire event. I’ll be witness to everyone I know, dressed in their finest, snickering behind raised, cupped hands. I wonder if I’ll even have access to the jewels or if those will be frozen, too. Frozen ice. If it wasn’t so dismal, it might be funny.
“Where are you going to go?” Lilly asks.
“I thought maybe I’d go to Max’s.”
Um, I don’t think so. If Lilly lets this woman anywhere near Max, I will personally hurt both of them.
“You can’t go there,” Lilly says. “His mother is visiting.”
See how nice she is? I’d have told her, “You can’t go near another one of my men, you pathetic tramp,” but see, Lilly has grace and she’s a much better Christian than I appear to be. And I was trained in such niceties. Doesn’t say much for me.
“Kim,
you can’t keep living my life. Max is not going to take you in, and you can’t ask him to. You should have figured this out before you decided that Nate was expendable. You’re not going to keep taking from people I introduce you to.”
“Lilly, I didn’t cheat on him, you know I didn’t. I love Nate.”
“Then you’ve got to quit playing him like this. You purposely made him think you did.”
“He won’t marry me, Lilly. I thought if he thought I might go somewhere . . .” Suddenly tears are rolling down her cheeks and Lilly is rubbing her back.
Mental note: the dramatic someone-else-wants-me trick doesn’t work either. Marriage is going to solve none of Kim’s problems, and with striking clarity, I realize it’s not going to solve mine either.
chapter 26
Poppy’s taking Lilly to get her hair cut and styled at my hair salon. She is treating her to the salon as an engagement gift. We want her to look her best when she meets Max’s mother. I wish I could go, but I’m not inclined to show my face at the moment. I could use freshened highlights, but I have to find out where the money will come from.
I know that when faced with Mrs. Schwartz’s prying questions Lilly will bounce back, and she’ll stand firm. She always has, just like the Weebles. She wobbles, but she gets right back up again.
I unlock the latches at Lilly’s loft, and I notice Nate at the stairwell.
“Lilly’s gone,” I say to him in a sharp voice.
“Did she take Kim with her?”
Do you care? “I don’t know, Nate. I just know Kim’s not staying here.” I allow the keys to dangle from one lock, and I turn to face Nate. He’s handsome, in an innocuous engineer-type way. Put it this way—he’s no Orlando Bloom. He and Kim couldn’t make a more opposite couple. He looks straight out of grad school with a perfect-part boyish haircut, and Kim looks as though she was kicked out of a rock band for too much partying. When I look into his eyes though, I see what she sees in him. There’s something about Nate; he’s always there when you need him. That steadiness is attractive, even when you know it comes with a cost and it’s more an illusion than reality. Consistency doesn’t have blowups that force your girlfriend’s stuff onto the street. Consistent people don’t find satisfaction in such theatrics.
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