Chapter Twenty-Seven Lily #3
After he walks away, it’s as if he’s siphoned a bit of me with him: taking the parts that are still stuck, the pieces that still love him in all the ways I’m not allowed to anymore.
What’s left is something more peaceful, steady.
“Hi, everyone,” I say, approaching the Great Harbor bench. Theo is noticeably avoiding eye contact, but I sit on a stool next to him, anyway. I refuse to let this be weird. I will shoulder through any awkwardness until we’re normal again just like I did after the bonfire.
“Lily!” Emily reaches across the table to give me a high five, almost spilling her drink in the process. “Where were you today?”
“It’s healthy to play hooky sometimes,” I joke. For obvious reasons, I don’t want to explain the full story: my dad’s sudden appearance and the history between us.
“Right on, Ferris Bueller,” says Emily.
“It’s not cool to just call off like that last-minute, you know,” Theo mumbles into his beer, not looking at me. “They had no one manning the desk all day. It sucked.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. He’s tying knots out of a straw wrapper. “Something came up.”
“Yeah, well. As the one who recommended you for the job, it reflects poorly on me as well. And you looked pretty healthy and fine just now when you were kissing your ex.”
“Jeez, Theo,” I say, hurt. I notice how little I’ve actually said his name aloud—it sounds foreign in my mouth, like a language I haven’t fully mastered yet. “I really am sorry. Tough day, trust me. I would never want to make you look bad. I’m really sorry.”
The rest of the group is talking among themselves, but I can tell Emily is eavesdropping by the position of her crossed legs. Theo lowers his voice.
“Whatever.” He shrugs. “So, what did he want?”
“Who?” I think of my dad.
“Henry, obviously. Is he magically calling off his wedding or something? You finally getting the rom-com ending you hoped for there?”
I’m offended by his anger. He has no right to it, especially after days of us not speaking. “Wow, the vitriol is a little dramatic. What do you care anyway?”
“I just don’t like being messed with.”
“That was never my intention, Theo. I like you, I had a great time the other night.” I reach to touch his shoulder but he pulls away. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a mess this summer, but I’ve always liked you. That never changed. I’ve just been working some stuff out.”
I can tell more of our coworkers are listening in, and I know I should be embarrassed, but this feels too important to ignore. Not saying how you feel is what went wrong with Thomas and my mom. It is always better to put everything out there, be as honest as possible.
Theo rolls his eyes, knitting his thick eyebrows together.
I remember the first time I opened up to Henry about my dad’s alcoholism, and how hard it was to speak aloud. It made it more real somehow. When I was done, I wished I could take it back. I hope Theo doesn’t feel the same after talking about his mother the other night: a vulnerability hangover.
“Are you congratulating our boy?” Emily interrupts in a booming voice. “Can’t believe he’s heading out in less than two weeks. What’s first, my dude? Thailand?”
“Cambodia,” he mumbles, playing intently with the wrapper again, knot after knot in a chain until the paper frays.
“You’re leaving?” I feel a weight near my collarbone drop.
“Yeah.” He’s still not meeting my eyes. “I’m teaching English abroad for a year. Going to be traveling to a few different places. I’m supposed to leave the first week of August.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice cracking a little.
Everyone at the table is watching us, but I don’t have the energy to care. I only care about his answer. I assumed we had all August together. Time to figure out what we are to each other.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe I thought you wouldn’t care.”
There’s a buzzing at the edge of my brain like a hive of bees, the first sign of impending vertigo, my panic attacks. It is rising again and there’s nothing I can do to stop it except brace for impact.
Two hours and three blueberry lemonades later, I’m too drunk to operate anything larger than a Razor scooter, so Theo takes my keys and offers to drive me home.
He practically drags me out of the brewery like a disappointed parent.
He made me do this, I think. After his revelation, drinking was all I could do to keep the panic attack at bay.
“I want to stay!” I pout.
“You’re drunk, Lily.”
“You’re right,” I giggle at his serious face. “I’m drunk as a skunk! But look, I didn’t spill on my jeans!” I twirl to show off my pristine white pants, but then the twirling makes me dizzy, and I trip on a loose stone, and the rest of the blue drink seeps down my body. “Oops.”
“Come on.” Theo tugs my arm again.
We pass Henry’s bachelor party on the way out. He is now nearing catatonia, head sloped over, wobbling dangerously on the uneven cobblestone.
“Goodbye!” I call out to the group, waving. Now that I’m drunk, we’re like kindred spirits.
“What’re you doing?” Theo hisses.
“They’re my friends.” I scowl again. “Hi, friends!” They wave back. “See? I have other friends besides you.”
On the drive home, we settle into silence. I open all of the windows so the wind smacks my face. The air is sobering. It hurts but in a good way, like a hard-learned lesson, like the muscle ache after a long workout.
It’s been a long day. It’s been a long summer.
I think about my morning with my dad and realize how stupid it was to get drunk after a conversation like that.
My dad confides in me about his sobriety journey, and I immediately head to a brewery?
Of course, I didn’t plan it like that, but the irony isn’t lost on me.
“I’m an idiot,” I say aloud, laughing at myself. “It’s just hilarious how I can fail at so many things at once, you know? At work, in relationships, even my friendships. My art.” My laugh is somewhere between a scoff and a bark. “Art! I’m an idiot. Who do I think I am?”
We pull up to the cottage driveway. The car stalls. With the alcohol, my life feels distant. It’s like I can take a bird’s-eye view of the entire summer, see all my mistakes lined up: rows of dominoes about to fall. I remember the email I sent to Clive this morning.
“Oh God,” I groan against the leather console.
“Go inside, Lily,” Theo says. “Drink some water.”
“You know,” I say, staring at the blue stains on my white denim. There’s something pretty about the pattern. “I really liked you. I just thought you should know since you’re leaving.”
He doesn’t say anything back, and if it weren’t for the numbing effect of the alcohol, I’m sure his silence would have hurt. A lot. Instead, it falls on me like the fog that is beginning to form outside the window in thick, slow swirls, alarming but harmless.
When I’m halfway out the door, another thought occurs to me. “Wait! How are you going to get home?”
“I’ll take the bus.”
I stumble onto the green grass of our lawn.
Theo gets out of the driver’s seat and hands me the keys, placing them in the palm of my hand and closing my fingers around them.
“Get some sleep,” is all he says before walking away, head down.