Chapter 61 Tilley - Spring Chickens
TILLEY Spring Chickens
Tilley truly felt like she was floating on air, like if she tried, she could lift her arms and fly away.
Being onstage was a high she had forgotten, a thrill she had longed for, a balm that her soul had needed.
And not only had it helped her move forward, but it had also brought Daisy and Mason back together, those two darling things, who were, as any fool could see, more than meant to be together.
Sure, she had been a little disappointed to look out into the audience and not see George.
But he was a busy man and, after all, he had said he would try to be there for opening night.
Of course, there was always the possibility that he had gotten home and realized he couldn’t move forward with her, that it was too much.
And she, with her gentle heart, would more than understand.
She was ready to get to her present in the dressing room, but she saw something even better than a present approaching her.
Her beloved. Her child, who, at long last, knew he was her very own baby boy.
He wasn’t happy about it, necessarily. But he had continued to show up, which was perhaps more than she had hoped for.
Robbie handed Tilley an armful of lilies, her favorite. She inhaled them and kissed him on his cheek. “You were sensational,” he said. That was enough for her. But he added, “And I love you so much. Thank you for sacrificing your happiness for mine.”
She could have burst into tears. But she was an actress, as she had been reminded tonight.
So she did not do that. Instead, she hugged her son, the flowers between them.
“There is so much in my life that is hazy, that I don’t remember or understand, that I cannot explain.
But the one constant, the single truth.” She looked up at him, and locked her eyes on his so he would know she meant it: “I have only ever loved you.”
“How many people can say that?” He kissed her cheek. “See you at dinner?”
“See you at dinner,” Tilley agreed.
As she took the last few steps toward her rough-hewn dressing room, she imagined this family of hers around a vibrant table, laughing and passing plates of food, sharing secrets and the random bits of their days.
It was a happiness that, even in her darkest moments, had never left her.
And now, tonight, Tilley vowed that, like the character she had just played, she would look for those special, happy moments, always.
She would find the silver lining. Her secrets were out. She was free.
She opened the door and, standing beside the table where hundreds of dancers and actors and singers who had taken this stage had signed their name, sitting underneath the mirror surrounded by large light bulbs—one of which was blinking, another of which was burned out—was George. Her George, she thought of him already.
She placed the lilies on the table, and George handed her a giant bouquet of roses, quite appropriate for the theater, Tilley thought.
“I am so sorry, my darling,” George said. “My flight was delayed, and I was a little late, but from what I did see, you lit up Cape Carolina in a way that everyone will be talking about for years to come. Nay, decades.”
Tilley smiled. She was too old for grudges.
She was too happy to be mad. This was too new for her to have any expectations.
“George,” she said. “If we are really going to give this thing a go, there are some things you should know.” She took a deep breath, prepared to tell him the truth about Robbie.
Tilley was fond of George. She found him attractive and interesting. But she was finished with secrets.
George put his hand up. “Tilley, we are no spring chickens. I will have my secrets; you will have yours. We can share what we feel we must to make us happy, but I don’t need to know anything at all about you except that I find you positively intoxicating.”
Tilley was so swept up in the adrenaline of the stage, the pure joy of Robbie’s forgiveness, and the thrill of hearing a man she liked say these words to her, that she practically lost her head.
Not like in the old days, not like she used to.
No, this was something quite different. Throwing caution to the wind, she wrapped her arms around George and kissed him squarely on the mouth.
A zip of electricity passed through her as he held her in his arms. It had been decades since Tilley had been kissed, years since George had done any kissing of his own. But it wasn’t awkward or strained.
“Tilley,” George said, “I’ve been thinking it’s high time I got some life back into my life.” Tilley smiled, as he was referring to a line from the play. “And I can’t imagine doing that with anyone but you.”
George took Tilley’s hand and spun her around like they were dancing.
“Let’s go get some life back into our lives, George,” Tilley said.
He put his arm around her, and Tilley knew that she had gotten a standing ovation only a few minutes earlier. But this moment, right now, walking out of the theater with her George, meant more to her than any standing ovation ever could.