Chapter Eleven Lily #2
A few weeks in, I developed a stutter in his presence.
I stopped speaking up in meetings. I worked twelve-hour days, and then went home to answer more emails until my eyes were so sore, I couldn’t respond to texts from my mom without going cross-eyed.
I was easy to work with because I didn’t hold enough power to be difficult yet.
Eventually, I got so good at playing dumb, some days I even believed my own bit.
That’s when the panic attacks started. Every passing day, I felt less and less myself.
At first, I didn’t tell Rose or Lottie what was happening, because I knew they would encourage me to quit, but I did tell Henry.
He said, “This is just how you earn your keep. First-years always get treated like shit.”
I bit my tongue, wanting to point out that since he had joined his father’s company, he probably had a different experience than the rest of us. Regardless, I stuck it out.
Then, the pandemic happened. Lottie’s breast cancer came back, worse this time.
I moved back to the island and worked remotely for what I thought would be a week but became a year.
Henry and I took a “break,” because I couldn’t risk seeing anyone while Lottie was going through her treatments.
What if I got her sick? I’d never forgive myself.
The break became a breakup, I moved back to the city, got fired, and now here we are.
All of it is so tied together in my mind, a spiral of unfortunate events: It’s like I lost my career, my great aunt, and Henry all in one fell swoop.
The bus pulls up with a laborious exhale and I get on board. We make a turn onto Milestone Road, and after a few minutes, pass Sankaty Head Golf Club: the site of my first kiss with Henry.
It was an early June night. It felt illicit sneaking onto the course: the absolute quiet, beyond the rumble of the nearby ocean, just over the bluff.
The only source of light being the moon and someone’s iPhone flashlight.
Henry lent me a sweatshirt, and as we were hopping over the tall grass of the rough, he mustered up the courage to reach out and grab my hand, leaning in quick and brief, lips light as a passing prayer.
While I was walking home that night, I spotted a discarded tee on the outskirts of a putting green. Without thinking, I quietly picked it up and shoved it in my purse, a part of me, even at the time, missing the innocence of the moment as it rolled on by. I still have it to this day.
What I wouldn’t give to go back to that summer now, before everything got so messed up.
Now Henry is worse than a stranger. In August, he will be someone’s husband, and the past will stop being part of an ongoing narrative. It will just be past. And me, the only ghost still betrothed to it.
I know I have to let go of Henry. He deserves happiness with someone else, and his fiancée deserves it, too.
I know psychics are silly and probably fake, but last week when the woman said my soulmate’s name started with the letter H, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that hope the shape of a white lie took hold in my chest.
When the bus drops me off at ’Sconset center and I arrive back home, the renter, Thomas, is outside reading in the garden.
It’s odd seeing him, given the little I now know about his relationship with Rose, but I’m also surprised I haven’t bumped into him sooner.
Has he been avoiding us? I wouldn’t blame him.
I squint at his salt-and-pepper hair and try to imagine him younger.
Who is this mysterious man who once wanted to marry Rose?
And who was the version of my mom who almost went through with it?
When he spots me, Thomas stands up, placing a finger in the crease of a worn paperback to hold his spot.
I notice where he is sitting: Lottie’s old bench by the honeysuckle bush.
No one uses it anymore. Rose and I never discuss Lottie’s chair, but wordlessly, it has remained empty, an unspoken agreement.
“I’m sorry,” Thomas says, brushing dirt from his pants. “I thought no one was home.”
“Oh, hi!” I arrange my features into my best imitation of a smile. “No problem. I’m Lily by the way. I realize I forgot to introduce myself the other day.”
I reach out to shake his hand, inspecting it for signs of the aforementioned wedding band. I don’t see one, but perhaps he took it off to go to the beach.
“Thomas.” He shakes my hand back. “Apologies, I thought no one was home.”
“It’s okay, please don’t let me disturb you. I’m just stopping by to drop off my bag and change into sneakers to go for a walk on the beach.”
Truthfully, all I can think about is Henry and the wedding.
Hearing about the engagement had been shocking, of course, but I thought there would be more time.
More time for what? I’m not quite sure, but I assumed it would be one of those long engagements—maybe a year or two before the big day.
So much can go wrong in a year or two, after all.
I know this well. Based on the date of the engagement photo, they’ve only been engaged for a few months. What’s the rush?
“Is there a good walking trail nearby?” Thomas interrupts my thoughts.
He’s holding the book with two hands behind his back now. I wonder if it’s from Lottie’s library, and the thought makes me want to cry again. Thomas’s expression is sheepish. He looks torn between staying put and running away, but something keeps him grounded.
“Definitely!” The corners of my mouth hurt from faking smiles all day.
“There’s the famous ’Sconset Bluff Walk.
It goes all around the east shore bluff.
It’s narrow at parts but super cool. You can see the ocean and the big cliff that leads to it on one side, and then on the other side are the lawns of Baxter Road.
It ends at Sankaty lighthouse. I highly recommend. ”
My face feels tight, effortful after the rambling monologue. Thomas nods attentively and thanks me with genuine gratitude. I take a few tentative steps toward the front door.
“I’d hate to be an imposition, but would you maybe show me it one day?” he asks before I can escape.
“Oh,” is my only response. I’m too shocked to come up with anything better. What would my mom think? She’s so angry at him for reasons I still don’t understand.
“I mean—I’m sorry, that was rude to even ask,” Thomas says. “You guys are so nice to have me in your home, I’d just like the company is all. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about… about Rose. But please don’t feel pressured.”
His eagerness to please, his deferential manners, tug at my heartstrings. Even if he’s a near stranger, even if he made mistakes, who am I to judge? I’ve made enough mistakes for a lifetime of remorse.
“No, no, it’s not an imposition at all. I’d love to show you sometime. Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”
I know Rose will be at the office at that time. Recently, she’s been seeing two clients on Saturdays around then.
“Yes, of course, whenever,” says Thomas in a rush of emotion. “That would be amazing, thank you so much.” He looks around, seemingly debating whether to sit back down.
I nod toward his seat, Lottie’s bench. “Please, sit. Don’t let me disturb you, I’m leaving soon anyway.”
He gives me a small, gracious return nod and then resumes his book. I see he’s reading something by Jane Austen, but I can’t catch the title because the spine is too worn—an unexpected choice, regardless.
Inside, I throw on an athletic set, slick my unruly hair into a ponytail so tight it makes my brain hurt, and lace up the old pair of running sneakers I reserve strictly for walks on the beach.
They still have sand in them from last summer.
I decide to grab my camera, a Canon EOS RP Lottie bought me for Christmas a few years back.
It’s mirrorless, lightweight, with a fast autofocus that makes it particularly adept at capturing nature.
Just as I’m about to dart back outside, two texts appear on my phone. The screen door slams against my body, ricocheting off my backside as I pause to read them.
One is from my mom. With it springs forth a new surge of guilt over agreeing to meet Thomas tomorrow: Hope you’re having a wonderful day, Lily-pad!
Hi, the latter reads. Good running into you the other night. Would you be open to grabbing a coffee and catching up soon?
The sender’s name is Henry Wright.