Lily was thankful for the weekend; two
more days before she had to face Aaron at the office. That should
give things time to cool and, hopefully, she could dream up some
mitigating explanation. Something deep down made her wish that he
would call, or text. She had a vague memory of the final moments of
their date and also a feeling, deep down, that Aaron hated her right
now.
Rummaging through the closet and
laundry basket turned up no evidence of the dress she'd worn.
“Where are you? Where are you?”
Lily implored it to come out of hiding. The blood-red stain pulsed
in her brain as a sour memory of another life. Monday would kill her
if she found out. It was one of her favourite dresses. She should
never have borrowed it.
Even if she did find it, though,
she had no idea how to remove such a permanent stain. That was
Monday's area of expertise. Monday was a clean-freak, nearing O.C.D. in her compulsive tendencies. But she couldn't ask Monday, not this
time.
Lily knew it would be no use
conferring with her mother, either. Her mother's approach to the
subject was to throw the article into the trash and forget about it.
Lily remembered the times she'd re-worn dirty underpants and pajamas
as a child; the few she'd owned disappearing faster than they could
be replaced on her mother's infrequent trips to Bargain Village. At
first Lily had tried to hide the blood-stained articles from her
mother but she'd always found them, skulking around Lily's room while
she was at school. “Out of sight, out of mind,” was her mother's
philosophy on a lot of things.
Maybe a good soak in the tub would
relax her. It was where she could think. Lily closed the door to
the bathroom and turned the lock, rechecking it twice for security.
Growing up she'd never been allowed to close or lock doors.
“We're all family here,” her
father would say. “You've got nothin' to hide. And if you do, I
should know about it. This is my house.”
She'd learned to put on a dress
before using the toilet so she could hide most of her dignity behind
it's cloak. Bathing was another thing altogether. Saturdays were
bath days. She'd grown to hate Saturdays.
Lily turned the knobs to affect a
warm flow from the spout and stuck in a big toe. It felt good. She
checked the door's lock one more time then peeled away the layers of
clothing, dropping them to the floor. Placing one cautious foot into
the tub, she smiled gratefully and was drawn in like a starving man
to a smorgasbord.
Her skin squeaked against the
bottom of the tub. It had an unpleasant sound like the ones she once
made when her father would creep into her bedroom at night. The
sounds someone made when he'd remove her pajamas. Lily didn't
altogether think those sounds had been hers but they were in the room
on those nights, high-pitched and eery.
Monday had rescued her, at least
as much as she could. She'd come into Lily's life when she was
twelve and Monday eighteen. She'd loved Monday's name from the
start, it represented the end of a weekend. The end of long days at
home under her father's watchful eye.
Father didn't like Monday; she
wore too much make-up and dressed lasciviously, flaunting her thighs
beneath mini-skirts and bearing a little too much breast. But that
was what drew Lily to her. She'd seen pictures of women like Monday
in magazines, their flirty flamboyance creating a powerful strength
that Lily longed for. A strength that could defy men like Lily's
father.
Lily eased herself deeper into the
warm cocoon. Gazing down at her torso she was still pleased with
what she saw. She could pull off dressing like Monday, but not as
well as Monday could. Monday was sure and confident. She used her
power of attraction to reel a man in and then throw him to the
sharks. Lily smiled. She wished Monday were here right now to laugh
with; to tell Lily of her latest exploits.
Lily slipped deeper, her head
breaking the surface of the water, her ears picking up aquatic
motion, honing in on the sounds in her head, her heart-beat. The
phone was ringing but no one left a message.
To be continued...
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