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I don’t know if it’s the fact that Dorothy has her own man in Eli now, or just that our community has grown in size and in love. But I’m happy for my grandmother. She doesn’t make friends easily.
Kind of like me.
“Poor girl is just skin and bones now,” Dorothy says as she straightens a stack of books on the counter. “To think she has to go through labor in just a few weeks too.”
“She’s strong,” my grandmother replies, and I hear a hint of respect in her tone. “If she can get through everything she has so far, she can deliver a baby.”
I could have told her that. From the moment I met Lily, I knew there was steel in her spine. Then she told me about the breast cancer, and everything made sense.
The book I’m holding is upside down—a fact I only notice after I’ve shelved it. I sigh, pulling it out, and slide it back in right side up. I’ve been distracted for weeks. Working helps, of course. The business is booming, and my grandmother’s bookstore is ticking along just as it always does. The renovations I’ve done on my home are almost complete.
But it’s all so meaningless. From a distance, I watch Lily fighting for her life and her baby’s, and I spend my evenings ripping up old carpet and painting walls. Why? Why does any of it matter? The things that used to matter seem so empty now. It took all my effort over the past decade or so to establish myself in the world of real estate—for who? For what?
This buzzing in my skin won’t settle, even though I’m in my grandmother’s sanctuary. I need to get out of here.
“I’m going out for lunch,” I tell Grandma, and nod to Dorothy. The two of them fall silent as I walk past, something unreadable in their gazes. They probably want me to start dating Lily again. Maybe they think I’m a coward for not being with her while she’s going through all this.
Maybe they’re right.
I inhale the scent of winter, buttoning up my light jacket and burying my chin in my chest. This winter has been a wet, cold drizzle, a perfect complement to the state of my mood.
Poor girl is just skin and bones now.
Dorothy’s words echo in my mind, and I pause on the sidewalk. Maybe I should bring Lily some food, make sure she’s okay. I shake the thought away as soon as it pops up. No matter how hung up I am on her, I’ll have to admit sooner or later that we’re not together. I don’t have the right to take care of her. I can’t call her mine.
My shoes scuff on the sidewalk as I make my way down the street, not even sure where I’m heading. There’s a new Italian restaurant that just opened up, and they have a good lunch special. I could do Mexican or stop in for a sandwich at Four Cups.
Wherever I go, though, I’ll be alone. That never used to bother me. I’d eat in restaurants by myself or with a date, and the experience felt the same either way. No real connection, only distraction. Now, I feel Lily’s absence down to my bones.
The sky is a mass of dull, heavy clouds when I look up through the naked tree branches lining Cove Boulevard, and I know I need to get out of here. Our community is too intertwined, and I’ve heard Candice insisting that she’s hosting Christmas this year. I managed to avoid Thanksgiving at Trina’s house, thank God, but I had to reject six invitations to do it. I’m not going through that again at the end of the month.
Maybe it’s time for me to pack up and move away. After a vacation over the holidays, I can take a page out of Lily’s book and take off for a while. One of my employees could be promoted and my business could run itself. I could take a few months off. Disappear. Try to forget the way Lily’s lips felt against mine.
Somehow, I end up at the community garden. There are new benches here now, and the naked remnants of new plants and trees that will burst with life in the spring. The empty lot behind the garden is vacant, and I’ve heard there’s a petition going around to either incorporate it into the garden or turn it into a park and playground for kids.
Maybe Lily’s child will get to enjoy it.
When I take a few steps closer, I see her. She’s on that same bench where she sat when she told me it was over between us. Her head is tilted up to the sky, as if she’s soaking up any rays of sun that pierce through the gray clouds.
And I can’t help it. I change my trajectory and move closer.
Lily’s eyes open when she sees me, and a sad kind of smile tugs at her lips. “Hey, Rudy. Happy belated Thanksgiving.”
“Same to you.” I sit down exactly where I sat last time. So close to her, but with a chasm between us.
“Any plans for Christmas?” she asks, and I wonder if I’m imagining the hopeful tone in her voice.
“Thinking of going down south,” I say. “San Diego, maybe. Mexico. Never been to South America. I might see if there are any cheap flights anywhere.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then nods. “That sounds nice. You should go to Machu Picchu. It’s worth braving the hordes of tourists.”
I study her face, and realize Dorothy was right. Lily’s lost weight. A lot of it. It’s not that cold today, with just a bit of bite in the air, but Lily’s bundled up like she’s in Alaska. Her skin is pale, and she looks like she’s drowning in her jacket. A few strands of dark hair stick out of the fluffy pink hat pulled low over her ears.
“How are you doing?” I ask. “I heard you finished your chemo.”
She nods. “Waiting on the last blood test results to come back. Hoping everything’s clear because I’m ready to move on.” Her hand slides over her bump, and I wish I had the right to touch her. To put my arm around her and pull her into my warmth, to tell her that I’m right here and I’ll make everything okay.
But that’s not what she wants.
