9-Lily
“It’s been three months since our last meeting. You were considering switching to an education major then.” Dr. Lambert asks. “Are there any updates?”
The worldly sophistication I once found striking in Dr. Lambert is still there. She puts a great deal of care into her wardrobe. Today, her jade earrings match her green blouse, creating a look that works perfectly with her black hair. Past that, I see laugh lines and the first strands of gray peeking out next to one ear. She’s more approachable than she was a year ago, and that’s due largely to the progress I’ve made over the past year.
It isn’t scary to tell her the truth anymore.
“I switched majors this semester. It will add another year of study, provided I continue full-time and take a class over the summer, but that’s it.” I huff, letting my hands rest in my lap. “I wish I made this decision a long time ago.”
“Well, you made it, and isn’t that the most important thing?”
“Yes, I suppose.” What was it Julian said? It was good news for him since I’ll be around longer. It’s good news for me because I’ll be around him longer. “I meet with my new faculty advisor again next month to plan my remaining courses.”
Dr. Lambert glances at her computer, probably reviewing notes from our last session. Every appointment is the same. We review notes from the previous meeting, I give her updates, and then we talk about medication. I resented the first few appointments, and any talk of medication only reaffirmed my sense of failure. It’s strange to think of taking my daily pills as only a habit now. Granted, they’re a habit that isn’t a habit yet, but I can function. How do I explain to other people that normal is my aspiration?
“You were concerned your dad would disagree with your decision. How is he taking it?”
Dad was silent, only commenting on how proud he was. “He was fine. He said I’m doing much better and that I’m handling more responsibility.” It came out condescending, but I don’t mind. Dad constantly searches for a compliment, sometimes leading to a clumsy delivery.
Dr. Lambert types a few sentences and leans back in her leather office chair. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and I don’t have the urge to copy her. “He’s right; you should feel proud. I notice the difference with every appointment. Your hair is looking great, by the way. I once wanted your thick hair so bad that I put yogurt and mayonnaise in it every night because a friend told me to.”
Gross. “Did that work?”
“Not even a little.” She smiles and puts her arms out. “We all do silly things to fit in. To this day, I can’t eat anything that contains either ingredient.”
“I do have great hair.” Pulling until it breaks and splits can disguise that. It was painful to break the habit, but the difference was completely worth it. “I’ve been experimenting with it lately.”
“Last time you were here, we talked about your job with that motorsports company. You have a friend there, Julian, right? How is that going?”
For most people I know, motorsports and NASCAR are their entire lives. It’s my dad’s job, and Julian drives professionally. It’s strange to hear other people who barely think of it at all.
My cheeks are warm, which means I’m blushing. “It gives me a place to go when not at school, and Julian is nice. He’s a good friend.”
Nice and good are the two most banal positive words in English, but if I use anything more, she might think I have a crush—or worse.
“Lily, can I ask if you’re developing feelings for him? There’s nothing shameful in it if you do. You’re a grown woman, and I would expect you to want a relationship or go on dates.”
That’s the dreaded question, and not because the idea of dating embarrasses me. I’ve considered how to date or gain a boyfriend. I want a boyfriend. I want to kiss, go on dates, and get naked. I want to hear someone other than my father call me beautiful.
Do I want to do all that with Julian?
The man I want is still a hazy figure, hiding in a smoky shadow and waiting for me. Julian is a real man, while my dream man is a dream. Reality is always more difficult to manage.
“He’s my friend. We get along well, and we fit, you know? Two people who become friends, even when it surprises them both. It’s pretty wonderful having a friend, you know?”
Dr. Lambert laughs at my expression. “It is wonderful; you’re right. Quick, since our time is almost up. Med check. You’re in a great place, but the ultimate choice is yours. Do you think any changes are warranted, or do we continue at the current dosage?”
I don’t even hesitate. “Continue.”
∞∞∞
“Are you going to eat that?” Dad asks.
I hand over the rest of my baked chicken and continue eating the last of my asparagus. Julian and I went for milkshakes this afternoon, so I’m not hungry. Naturally, he doesn’t need to know that. “What time is the flight on Friday again?”
“Are you coming to the race this weekend? It’s like before, all over again.” Dad checks the calendar on his phone. “The big flight is at three, and there’s plenty of room available.”
Julian will be on that flight. Dad is half right; he’s only considering the times we played cribbage or a board game in the trailer. I want to hang out with Julian or maybe even go to one of the parties he’s told me about.
“I’ll be there.”
“I’ve been hearing more about your great work,” he says carefully. Dad’s dream of me working with RMS isn’t gone yet.
“Julian is great to work for,” I say with the same care. The positive feedback is coming directly from Julian, which is pretty funny. I spend my time at school, work, or goofing off with him. He praises me to everyone who will listen, knowing it gets back to my dad. He looks like a great employer doing Pete Webb a solid favor while I avoid a job I don’t want.
My favorite part is that it puts Dad in a bind. He doesn’t like Julian Murphy, which I don’t get, but he also believes working for him is good for me. As long as there’s no hint of impropriety, he won’t act.
“It’s not him, Lily, it’s all you. Boone’s offer is still there, remember? If you decide to stay on, there’s a job waiting for you.”
“I appreciate it, Dad, but I want to be a teacher. It’s fun, you know? I’m taking a class on child psychology this semester, and it’s fascinating. Plus, another one about childhood development.”
“Your future classroom is lucky to have you.” Dad pats my hand and returns to eating.
He’s worried I’ll fail and doesn’t want to say it outright. I suppose it’s a comfort to know I can take a job at RMS one day, but it’s not what I want. Besides, my friendship with Julian isn’t enough reason to stay there forever. One day, he’ll find a woman worth more than one night and then forget about me. Planning a career around our friendship is a horrible idea.
“Don’t forget your medicine,” he says while we’re cleaning the kitchen.
“Taking it now. Thanks for the reminder.”
∞∞∞
My morning medication is wearing off, and the house is quiet—a dangerous combination. My eyes wander from the computer screen to a stack of books to read and then to a new skein of yarn. I started a scarf before putting the project down and forgetting about it.
I rub my temples and tell myself to focus.
Dr. Lambert asked me about boyfriends today.
Focus.
Boyfriend.
Focus.
It doesn’t work like that.
My phone rings, and I jump. “Julian. It’s late.” I glance at my computer monitor. “It’s eight at night.”
“That’s not late. Eight is barely even nighttime. What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I snap the laptop shut. If there was a possibility of work, it’s gone now. “You want to game?”
“I have a better idea. Check this out.”
“Check what out?” I ask, and then I hear the faint tink-tink on my bedroom window. “Are you trying to rob me?” I hiss into the phone.
“I’m here to deliver you an evening of fun. Open the damn window. Your neighbors are going to call the cops on me soon. Luckily, I’m wearing a sign that explains that I’m not an actual burglar.”
“You’re a fake one,” I say, and pull up my blinds to find Julian, clad in one of his perfectly fitting white tshirts, waving at me. “It’s good my dad is already in bed.”
Julian whistles into the phone. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard in my life. Now, open this,” he says and hangs up.
His sudden appearance might be the most rebellious act of my life, and I’m a grown woman. How sad is that?
“You’re lucky there isn’t an alarm system,” I say as he slides through my window.
“You should have one. I’d feel better knowing an alarm system protected you. Is this your room?”
“It’s not the kitchen,” I say. Julian takes in the bedroom’s pale blue walls and geography-themed decor. “It’s not what you expected?”
“You look sexy,” he says rather than answer my question.
I put a hand over my chest. “They’re pajamas.” A thin pink top and boy shorts are comfortable when alone, but they are awkward when staring at Julian Murphy, the man my therapist inquired about today.
“Well, change into regular clothes. We’re going out.”
“No, we’re not. Where are we going?”
He points to my bookshelves. “You want more of those? I’ll buy you more. We can do that or eat or go to a movie. It doesn’t matter, you pick.”
Julian showing up at my window is something right out of an old movie. Wasn’t that common once upon a time? Secret boyfriends appear out of the darkness to whisk their girlfriends to a forbidden rendezvous.
How sad is my life that I’m twenty-three and any social activity relies on sneaking out after my dad goes to bed?
Screw it, I’m going out.
“I want a new journal. You can buy me one of those.”
“Done,” he says. “I’ll buy you a dozen.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Now turn around so I can change.”