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37
Harry
I didn’t know what to expect when I arrived at Lilly’s house. Her mother had insisted on meeting me at the airport and we’d talked almost nonstop during the forty-five minute drive from the airport to Lilly’s house.
They’d only agreed to let me come because they knew that Lilly would want to see me.
“And you walking out like that…” her mother was saying after she’d finished telling me how angry she’d been at Freya.
“I’m sorry. I know it looked like that, but I was so single minded with anger towards my sister that I couldn’t even see straight. When I got that out of my system, I rushed back to the living room, but everyone was gone.” I leave out the part where I went to Lilly’s room and ruined everything.
“I understand it was all a big shock for you, too. It was for everyone.” She sighs, her eyes watching the road diligently as she drove, but I can see that she grimacing as she speaks.
“It was, but shock was all it ever was. I wasn’t angry at Lilly. ” Not until she told me I wasn’t as important as the phantom she was chasing. “I handled it badly.”
I still feel like what she was doing was wrong, but I shouldn’t have left her to work through it alone.
It was my turn to grimace. “The only word to describe how I felt is devastated. I spent a week basically shut off from the world. It took dragging me out of bed and reminding me of what a mess I’d made to bring me to my senses.” I admit, hating how fragile I sound.
She gives a short, humorless laugh at that
“Hmmm. Lilly did the same thing. When she got back she wouldn’t talk to any of is. She spent a week not answering her phone, responding to emails or anything. And when her father decided we should just go there, we found out that the only address any of us had for her was really the address for a P.O. Box. Her own family and none of us even knew where she lived.”
She’s shakes her head. “We let our girl down so badly. We knew it. We just didn’t know how to fix it. And then, a few weeks after we all got back, she finally called and then she came home.” Her smile is small and tinged with a little sadness.
“So, she’s okay?” I ask, eager for her to tell me more. I want every detail.
“No, not really. She’s learning how to live a life that doesn’t include the child she’s had to give up for a second time. She’s accepted it,” she sighs, “still feels that she made the right choice…but she has days, still.”
She glances at me for a second and her eyes flash with wariness but also warning.
“She thinks you’re lost to her. She’s been afraid to reach out to you because of the way you left things. But, if you came to your senses,?
?? she puts emphasis on the last two words, “So long ago, why are you just now, months later, calling?”
“I called her as soon Jan gave me her number. She answered and hung up when she heard my voice. I called a couple more times and then decided to send texts instead. She’s never responded. I never stopped texting, even when I got nothing back. It took me a while to decide to reach out to you. I knew that me or my family were the last people you’d want to hear from. ”
Her brow creases as she turn to face me as pull up at a stoplight.
“Are we almost there?” I ask as I look around the decidedly residential area we’re now in.
“You’ve been calling and texting?” She asks, as if I hadn’t heard my last question.
“Yes.” I pull out my phone and open my text messages. I show her the conversation box for Lilly, It’s nothing but blue message bubbles.
“See? she never responded.” I
She snatches the phone from me and glances at the traffic light to make sure it’s still red before she presses something on the screen.
“Oh my God.” She mutters with an eye roll before handing the phone back just as the light turns green. “That’s not Lilly’s number. It’s very similar but those two numbers are fives, her number ends with two threes.”
I slap my forehead, groan and sink in my chair.
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been sending these to someone and they haven’t had had the fucking decency to tell me I was texting the wrong number?”
“Watch your mouth, young man,” she slaps my leg in admonishment.
“Sorry,” I say. It’s more out of instinct than true remorse. My mind is reeling from what I’d just learned.
