Chapter 20 Lillian
Lillian stared longingly out the window.
The boat was passing the Round Island Lighthouse, jutting out on an isthmus, rocky and remote. Seagulls swooped and circled.
What would it be like to live in that lighthouse? Lillian wondered. All alone, logging the weather, operating the lights. Subsisting on weekly groceries and the warmth of
a crackling fire. Hosting someone for the night or a lifetime. No parents to judge, no neighbors to gossip.
Lillian was tempted to jump off the top deck now and swim to shore. Roll in the sand and stones, feel the grainy texture scrape
her skin. Release the conditioning of what it meant to be clean.
“You okay?” James asked as they swayed to a ballad. The dance floor had filled and the space felt muggy and cramped.
“I’m fine,” Lillian said.
James was not a good dancer. No rhythm. But Lillian kept her hands on his chest, aware of her parents looking on. She couldn’t
be upset with James. This was her fault, really. She was ashamed of herself. Yet it was a different kind of shame that had
spurred her to suggest the idea in the first place.
She should be trying harder to sell her affection. But her parents found PDA gauche, so her platonic-level physical affection
with James was another point won in their book. And if Lillian looked morose, they would put it down to the fact that she
wasn’t over the broken engagement. That she was still pining after Alex.
Lillian did miss Alex, very much so, but it was in the way she might miss a brother if she had one.
She missed the comfort he brought, the consistency.
It had been the right thing to break off the engagement.
Lillian wasn’t questioning that. What she was questioning was if she was actually going to be that much happier on the other side.
More than anything she’d wanted freedom, and now that she had it, it felt overwhelming, like a stormy current she couldn’t swim in.
“Looks like they’re hitting it off,” James said, looking over at Gigi and Ronny. Lillian followed his gaze.
Gigi was dancing behind the DJ booth, arms flailing, head bobbing. Beneath her see-through dress, her bikini clung like lingerie.
The outline of her nipples showed. Ronny’s hands were wrapped around her waist.
“Good for them,” Lillian said. Both of their eyes kept sliding back to Gigi. James didn’t even try to hide it.
Lillian did.