Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Lily
It was late morning, and Lily sat at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of lukewarm coffee, dressed in yesterday’s sweater and pajama pants. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, wisps of gray at her temples betraying the sleep she’d lost and the time that kept moving without her consent.
Margot let herself in with a short knock and a knowing smile, slipping through the door like she had done for decades.
Her tote bag was slung over one shoulder, already bulging with supplies.
Without a word, she crossed the room and turned on the faucet, beginning to tackle the dishes left in the sink.
Lily watched her for a minute before speaking. “Do I look like an invalid to you?”
Margot laughed, rinsing off a cereal bowl. “No, you look like someone who could use a little rest and grace. And I need to keep my hands busy so I don’t go crazy. Let me have this.”
Lily rolled her eyes, but there was the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’re going to scrub the pattern right off those plates.”
“Fine, then you’ll have an excuse to buy new ones,” Margot shot back. She turned her head slightly. “There’s a church dinner tonight. Thought you might like to come with me. It’s chicken pot pie night. Your favorite.”
Lily’s smile vanished. She shook her head slowly. “No, thank you. I’m not up for pretending tonight.”
Margot sighed but didn’t push, at least not yet. She knew Lily well enough to ease in like the tide, slow and steady. “People in town are hopeful that you, Anna, and the kids will be in the church this week. They’re all itching to see how much those babies have grown.”
“Anna and the twins can go without me.”
“You used to love going to church to show off your family,” Margot muttered softly.
“I’m not exactly too keen on the teachings or the lies.”
“Lies?” Margot asked quickly.
Lily bit her tongue and shook her head. She was angry at the world still, and especially at the supposed man in the sky who took her husband from her too soon.
She’d spent a lifetime in that church. They’d followed the written word and lived a Christian life, but what had it gotten them? Her husband was gone, and she was left trying to figure out what she’d done so wrong to deserve this punishment.
Margot let out a long sigh. “I get it, Lily. I really do.”
Lily didn’t reply. She shook her head and focused on the bitter coffee in front of her.
“Where are Anna and the kids?” Margot continued.
“She took them to the library so they could get some schoolwork done.”
“It’s really neat that the kids can learn through their computers now,” Margot said as she continued washing dishes.
Lily continued to sit at the kitchen table, watching her friend as if she were watching an actor on a television show. She really was grateful for Margot, but some days, she just wanted to be left alone.
“There’s a fundraiser next month,” she said lightly. “For the children’s museum. You used to chair it. Remember the papier-maché whale from last year?”
Lily didn’t respond. She took a sip of her coffee, grimacing as it hit her tongue cold.
Margot turned off the faucet and wiped her hands on a dish towel. She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “They’ve been asking about you, Lily. The museum board. Everyone, really. They’re used to you being involved. Your name is still on the donor list, but not for this year.”
“I didn’t know grief came with a social calendar,” Lily said dryly.
Margot tilted her head. “You know it’s not about that. This community matters to you. It always has. You can’t hole up and…”
“It did matter to me,” Lily admitted. “But everything’s different now.”
“You think David would want you to stay holed up here like this?”
Lily flinched like she’d been slapped. Tears pricked at her eyes, but not because she was sad, anger filled her.
“Don’t. Don’t you dare tell me what my dead husband would want,” she snapped.
Margot leaned back and sighed.
“You haven’t left this house for anything but groceries and the post office in almost a year. You haven’t touched the studio in months. You’re wasting away in here. Hiding.”
Lily’s eyes snapped up. “It’s not hiding.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s grieving,” Lily said, her voice sharp now, but trembling. She stood suddenly, pushing the chair back with a scrape. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she turned toward the window.
Margot followed, her voice soft. “Lily, I know what grief is.”
“Do you?” Lily whispered.
“Yes,” Margot said without hesitation. “And when I lost my Will, you were the only reason I got out of bed. You showed up every day. Brought coffee. Forced me to eat. Held my hand when I couldn’t stop crying. You reminded me how to breathe.”
Lily said nothing.
Margot took a step closer. “You were the reason I could even begin to put one foot in front of the other. I’m trying to repay that kindness, albeit not as gracefully as you did.”
Lily’s chin dropped to her chest. The floor blurred as her eyes filled with tears.
Her breath hitched as shame and guilt slithered through her chest like smoke.
She hadn’t stood strong for herself. She had let herself unravel, piece by piece, and every day she watched the world outside move on without her.
She sucked in a long, deep trembling breath, and then slowly let it out. She couldn’t go down that rabbit hole—not again. Not today.
“I’m tired, Margot,” she said softly. “Every part of me is tired.”
“I know,” Margot said. “But you’re still here. And you’re still needed.”
Margot stepped back. “I’m sorry. That was too far. I just… I miss you, Lily. Not just being around you. I miss you being you.”
Lily met her eyes, and for a moment, the strength she’d always worn like a second skin cracked open, showing the raw wound underneath.
Her voice trembled, but she didn’t look away.
“It’s not right that the rest of the world kept on moving when my entire world stopped when David died.
It’s not fair, and I won’t apologize for trying to figure out how to live without him, even if I’m doing it poorly. ”
The silence between them was thick, and Lily tried so hard to keep the tears at bay. She cursed her emotions and shook her head. She hated that she cried when she was mad. Margot walked slowly over to the table and sat down across from her.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she said softly. “But you don’t have to do it alone, either.”
Lily blinked hard and looked away, swallowing the lump rising in her throat. She traced the rim of her coffee mug with a finger. “Some days I can’t tell if I’m grieving or just forgetting how to be alive.”
“Both,” Margot said simply. “And that’s okay. You’ve always been the person who took care of everyone else, but you fight everyone who tries to do the same for you. There isn’t any weakness associated with asking for help.”
Lily heard the words coming out of her best friend’s mouth, but she wasn’t really listening to her.
She had always been the strong one, the one taking care of everyone else, but she felt like no one had even attempted to do the same for her.
She knew it wasn’t true, really, but she’d felt abandoned and so alone after David died.
Lily and Margot sat for a while, trying to think about what to say next.
The house was too quiet, and Lily felt like the walls were closing in on her.
She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing.
For the past year she’d let those walls close in on her, let everything pull her under, but she knew that she couldn’t do that anymore.
Eventually, she exhaled slowly and stood.
“I’m not going to the church dinner. And I’m not ready for the fundraiser. But… I’ll think about it.”
Margot gave a small nod. “That’s all I ask.”
Lily turned to refill her coffee. She wasn’t ready to step fully back into the world. But she’d opened the door just a crack and for now, that was enough.
“You told me once that when I didn’t know what else to do, I just had to put one foot in front of the other.”
“I remember.”
“I think you should listen to your own advice,” Margot said with a soft smile.
She didn’t say anything more, but Margot stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight. Lily let herself be held and let herself rest in that space of understanding for just a moment longer.
“I feel like I made a mess of things.”
“Nothing we can’t fix.” Margot smiled back at her.