Blood Lily - Part 6

A fiction short story.

     Gloria located the public phone in the privacy room down the hall, where the nurse said it would be. She closed the door from the bustle on the outside and began rifling through her purse, pulling out the address book and locating the number. Her fingers felt heavy as she punched the keys, waiting as it rang.

     “Lily? It's Mom. Lily...are you there, honey?”

     The voice on the other side was different. Perhaps it wasn't Lily who'd answered “hello”.

     “What do you want?”

     “Is this T.J.? T.J., can you give Lily a message, please? Her Dad's in the hospital. It's a stroke. He's in pretty poor shape; not very lucid. I think she should come and see him. Do you know where she is?”

     “She's gone out. I'll give her the message.” There was a pause. “Which hospital?”

     “St. Michael's. Please, T.J., tell her it's important that she come as soon as possible.”

     There was a click and the connection was gone. Gloria didn't like that boy, whoever he was. He was rude and boorish. Likely they were living together now the way he answered Lily's phone as if it was his place.

     They'd become friends in high school; at least that was the first mention of him. Gloria had never met him, though. Lily refused to bring him home; guarding their relationship from her mother's prying questions with chilly aloofness. Gloria had been happy that her daughter had met a boy. She hoped he'd be good for her but now she wondered. What had Lily told him about her parents that made him so defensive. She didn't really want to know.

     Gloria escaped her memories of Lily's child-hood, leaving them buried in that room, welcoming the buzz of the hospital hallways. She was trading trauma for trauma as she turned left into Intensive Care and followed the room numbers to E12.

     He was lying on the bed in the same position she'd left him. His eyes were closed and a myriad of thin hoses ran from his nose, mouth and arm. Gloria drew up the chair next to him and reached for his hand. It was grey and cold. His eyelids didn't flinch in recognition to her touch. She felt so alone.

     Her thoughts went back to Lily. She'd left home in a hurry; gone the day after she procured her first job at the bakery. She never called home, never visited, never even checked in to see how they were doing. Gloria didn't push it. Her daughter had to find her own wings, make her own way. Jerry never asked about Lily. He'd taken her leaving as a personal affront and met any discussion about her with consternation.

     She really needed Lily right now. If Jerry didn't come to, if things got worse and a big decision had to be made, Gloria didn't think she could do it alone. Lily had to come. She could not possibly be that cold.

     Phoebe curled tightly into the corner of the sofa, her teddy bear warm and soft against her cheek. Old re-runs of Power Puff girls danced on the T.V screen; Blossom, Bubble and Buttercup racing in to save the day from another collection of evil nemeses. She reached for the warm glass of milk on the coffee table, inadvertently bumping it to the floor. She made no move to retrieve it, watching as the white fluid ran along the paisley throw rug and slowly disappeared.

To be continued...

Blood Lily - Part 5

A fiction short story.

     Lily eyed Aaron cautiously as he slid one butt cheek onto the corner of her desk. She tried to look busy, thumbing through the pile of insurance forms.

     “I tried to call you.”

     He was sipping from his coffee mug, nonchalant. She knew he was lying. The phone hadn't rang all weekend. Lily took a deep breath, filling her lungs to capacity and exhaled loudly.

     “I'm sorry, Aaron...about Thursday night. I don't know what came over me. I guess I've been kind of stressed lately.”

     She shuffled the paperwork off to the side and swivelled her chair to face him.

     “I was at Jimmy's on Saturday with a buddy. I understand now why the waitress mistook you for someone else. There was a lady there that looked a lot like you. Honest mistake, I'd say.”

     Lily stiffened. Monday must have been at Jimmy's. People often-times mistook them for sisters.

     “Was she nice?”

     Aaron grinned. “Too much make-up for my taste. A bit of a she-devil.”

     Lily smiled. Len's office door opened and he emerged from the confines of his windowed lair. Aaron stood and turned toward his desk, then glanced in Lily's direction one more time, hands clutching his mug.

     “Can we try again sometime?”

     One eyebrow was raised but his mouth was expressionless. He was not getting his hopes up. Lily loved that face, so trusting. He was handsome, too. She knew Chloe was crazy about him, brushing against him too close when she delivered notes. Refilling his coffee mug when she perked a fresh pot. Lily glanced up to see Len conversing with Chloe. Her eyes were on Lily and Aaron, though.

     “Maybe...sometime.”

     Len was working his way toward Lily's desk. Aaron shuffled to his own.

     “Lily. Have you got the Hargrave file? The client's not happy. Seems I'll have to mediate on this one.”

     Lily grimaced. His cologne was burning her nostrils. He could stand a lesson in scent modification. She dug through the “in” pile and located the file, pushing it toward him, carefully avoiding contact.

     “Thanks, doll.”

     Doll. It had an ugly connotation of ownership; of demeaning superiority.

     Lily sometimes worried that Monday would show up here. She'd never survive in this environment; untidy desks, coffee spills, filing room akimbo. She'd likely be donning rubber gloves for the germs she'd encounter. But, boy, would she give Len a run for his money. Lily shuddered. No, she wouldn't allow Monday to come. It would likely cost her a job.

To be continued...

Blood Lily - Part 4

A fiction short story.

     Aaron held the door for James. James' arms were busy gesticulating, giving visual interpretation to the story he was telling. Aaron pointed towards the bar to keep him moving. The blond pony-tailed waitress was there, behind the bar. James and Aaron dropped onto stools, James buckling in laughter as the punchline of his story finally crested.

     “Sounds like you boys are having a good night. Can I get ya'll something?”

     Ponytail eyed Aaron sympathetically. He hoped she wouldn't bring up the fiasco of Thursday night. She'd made his escape from the restaurant quick and painless, distracting the couple nearby while he slipped out.

     “Martini please...dry, no olive.”

     “Sounds good.” James chirped. “Make that two. I'll have his olive.”

     “Can do.” She pitched the order to the bartender and moved on to clear tables.

     The bartender tossed two coasters onto the bar, loaded the glasses and slid them to the pair.  James was instantly absorbed in another story. The guys at the squash club had grown tired of them but Aaron was still a willing participant in his escapades. Aaron rolled the martini in his glass, sipping indolently at the cocktail.

     Across the bar a woman moved in, her face partially obscured by a pendant light. She wore a low blouse and the crease of her bosom moved him to immediate attention. He tried to listen as James story unfolded. The woman spoke in low sultry tones to the bartender – a lime margarita, frozen, two straws. Aaron shifted on his stool trying surreptitiously to get a better look. The voice was familiar.

     He could make out the brown hair, tossed into perfect curls that rested on her shoulders. Large hoop earrings, gold bracelets and a medallion that nestled just below her throat. Her face was blurred by shadow. She spoke again to the bartender but this time he couldn't make out what she'd said. The bartender chuckled and motioned to the jukebox in the corner.

     “Here's a loonie, Monday. Play one for Frankie too, would ya?” The bartender tossed her a coin.

     Her red nails reached up and caught the coin, mid-air, and she slid from her pedestal, swaggering across the polished floor. Her face was turned but Aaron followed from the corner of his eye. Tight jeans, high heels and long exotic legs. He wasn't subtle enough. James turned to follow Aaron's eyes and caught the brown-haired beauty in his gaze.

     “Holy cow, man. Is she here with someone?”

     “She appears to be alone, so far. Seems to know Frankie over there well enough.” Aaron nodded toward the bartender, also watching her every movement with alacrity.

     “Hey. Frankie, is it?”  James motioned him over.

     The bartender moved in toward them. “Another martini?”

     “No, not just yet. What can you tell me about the bombshell over there? She single?”

     Frankie grinned. “Don't know. She comes here often. Guys approach her all the time. Sometimes she lets them buy her a drink, have a dance or two but she usually leaves alone. One sorry ass got his shin kicked pretty good when he tried to make an advance on her. With heels like that I'd suggest you keep a safe distance.”

     Frankie winked and moved on. The jukebox kicked into gear, Evanescence – Bring Me To Life - drumming through speakers mounted on either side of the bar. The gentlemen glanced away on her return. James smiled at Aaron, threw back the last of his drink and dismounted his stool. He pulled a hand through slicked hair, yanked up his trousers, and made a jabbing motion toward himself. Aaron grinned and nodded - “you look great.”

     Aaron stopped James with a tug at his sleeve. “Be careful.” He jabbed James in the arm.

     “Pfffft.” James tipped a cocky hand toward Aaron – “no problem.”

     Aaron watched from across the bar as James moved in for the kill. James lifted a finger to the bartender and ordered two more drinks – one for him and one for her. Her body language demonstrated little interest as James slipped in beside her and introduced himself. She was nursing the last of her margarita and nodding. Evanescence crooned their final words - “Bring me to life, I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside, bring me to life.”

     Her head was turned now, immersed in James conversation. He seemed to have a way with women – lucky stiff! The bar had gotten busier making eavesdropping difficult. The jukebox kicked in again – Mat Kearney – She Got The Honey.

     Aaron stood to use the restroom and James waved him over. He rounded the bar and approached from the rear of the couple.

     “Aaron, this is Monday. She's in insurance too.”

     “Nice to meet you.” Aaron stuck out a hand and was struck by her appearance. “Hey.”

     Monday recognized him too, he could sense it.

     “Good to meet you two. Excuse me, gentleman. I need to use the ladies room.”

     She dropped onto her heels but instead of heading left to the restroom she turned right and exited the restaurant.  

To be continued... 

Blood Lily - Part 3

A fiction short story.

     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...

Blood Lily - Part 2

A fiction short story.

     T.J. paced the living room floor. How had Lily allowed this to happen. He'd warned her not to try anything stupid like that. He'd reminded her about the ways of men. Fists balled at his sides he fought the urge to hit something – anything. But that wouldn't help. She was older now, and she was forgetting the pain that men inflicted upon the helpless. It was a very good thing that he stepped in when he did. She could have been hurt.

     T.J. was the pragmatic one; the protector. He'd been there for her for so many years and he knew she'd listen to him again. He would just keep reminding her - bring the pain to the surface - allow it to bubble and agitate her back into guarded paralysis.

     T.J. remembered the dress. Pushing his way down the hallway he found it where she'd dropped it, on the bedroom floor. It was pressed tightly to the carpet, creased and forlorn. Her footprints were still embedded into it; she'd tried to erase the memory of the night before.

     He picked it up and inspected the red stain along its front, then squeezed it into a ball and headed for the kitchen. Flipping the garburator to “on”, he grabbed a wooden spoon and pushed one corner of the dress into its hungry mouth, forcing it down until it disappeared, the noisy churning of its jaws the only remaining evidence of its existance. Now she could move on.

     T.J. flipped on the T.V set and dropped into the big brown suede chair. There was nothing on at this time of day; nothing worthwhile. The apartment was quiet. He'd called in sick for Lily; it was the least he could do. He knew she couldn't face Aaron just yet.

     Flipping through an endless stream of channels was something of an exercise in distraction. His rhythm broke on the Movie Channel. He recognized the film - Gardens of the Night. Gillian Jacobs was so beautiful and so broken – like his Lily. She, too, suffered under the hands of her abuser, but the perpetrator was not her father. Gillian would eventually go home. Lily could not.

     The phone rang and T.J.'s body tensed at the sound. He allowed it to ring through until the click of the message machine.  

     “Lily, it's me, Aaron. I just wanted to say...well...I'm sorry for last night. I don't know what happened exactly, but...you're not here today and I wondered if it had anything to do with me. I'd like to talk about it.” There was a heavy pause, a sigh. “Call me sometime...please.”

     T.J. stood from the chair and shuffled to the kitchen. He pressed “play” on the machine and listened again, hit “delete” and the message was gone.  

To be continued...  

Blood Lily - Part 1

A fiction short story.

     Lily was breaking all of the rules today, and it felt good. It wasn't the restaurant. It felt familiar enough, although she couldn't say why. A pony-tailed blond turned her attention from the bar and spotted Lily at the corner table, in the shadow of the pulled blind. The waitress smiled lightly then lifted one finger - “I'll be right with you” - as if she recognized Lily.

     The door swung open at the far end of Jimmy's Grill and a black raincoat pushed through into the dim entry, followed by a gentleman in a grey suit. They were greeted instantly by the blond waitress and she waited while the gentleman helped his girl with her coat, pointing to a row of hooks along the wall. She guided them to a table two down from Lily. He pulled out a chair for his girl and she slid in. Her ruby-painted lips, matching the flirtatious dress, peeled into an intoxicating smile. He slid in across from her, taking in her aura.

     Lily's eyes flitted from the pretty couple to the doorway. Her fingernails tapped nervously on the smooth surface of the water glass, the ice cubes skipping to the beat. She immediately noticed her nails. She'd forgotten to paint them. Even after Lily had plucked the bottle of nail polish from Monday's drawer. Even after she'd taken time to preen just like Monday would have, she'd still forgotten to do her nails.

     Monday was the fashionista; hair gewgaws and lovely jewelry, perfumes and pretty clothes came naturally to her and Lily was jealous of that. But Aaron hadn't asked Monday on this date, he'd asked Lily. She pulled a compact from her purse and flipped it open, inspecting her reflection; plain but comely enough.

     The door swung open again and Lily sat up straighter, tucking the compact away, shewing vanity with it. It was Aaron. He shook the rain from his shoes and glanced around the restaurant spotting Lily in her corner. He was smiling. She smiled back; she could do this.

     “Sorry if I kept you waiting. It's coming down pretty hard out there.” He pulled a hand through damp brown locks, dropping into the seat across the table. “Have you ordered yet?”

     “No.” The word stuck in her throat like a ball of chewing gum.

     “Can I get y'all something to drink to start with?” Ponytail arrived on cue. “A lime Margarita, frozen, two straws?” She was looking down at Lily, one eye-brow raised, pen and pad poised.

     “House wine, please. Merlot.”

     “Aah, changing it up tonight, are we?” Ponytail grinned. “Spontaneity is good once in a while, I suppose. And for you?” She was looking at Aaron, her eyes scanning his upper body like a catalogue model scout.

     “Budweiser, please. With a glass.”

     “Sure thing, hon.” And she was gone.

     “You come here a lot?” Aaron swirled a paper coaster around in circles with his fingers.

     “No. I've never been here before. She must have me confused with someone else.”

     An awkward silence converged, then Aaron jumped into comfortable workplace small talk.

     “What do you think about Cassandra?” he started in. “Think she's gonna get canned for posting that stuff on Facebook about the boss?”

     “Huh! I rather doubt Len has any notion of what Facebook is, let alone how to use it. I'd have never done it, though.” Lily sipped from her glass, alleviating the dryness building in her throat. She glanced at the couple nearby wondering how they made it look so easy. “I don't think it's right to trash people on such a ubiquitous forum. The coffee room is one thing, but the internet?”

     “Yeah. I don't like the ass either but I think she crossed a line there. All it will take is someone to open their big mouth and she's done for.”

     Ponytail returned with the drinks and took their order. Lily checked to see what the pretty lady ordered, then ordered the same. The lazy preamble continued and Lily felt more at ease. Maybe she could do this. Her eyes jumped back to the couple nearby, as much as good judgement allowed. This was her very first date, which at twenty-four, was nothing to be proud of. She needed coaching. The gentleman at the other table reached out and ran his hand up the lady's right arm; she didn't pull away.

     Dinner was excellent. Lily covered her empty plate with the napkin from her lap. Conversation had gone well so far in her estimation. Aaron was rarely short on ambling monologue and thus far he was pretty content with her monosyllabic responses. Ponytail arrived with the bill and they both reached for it, Aaron's hand brushing Lily's. She pulled away.

     “Mind if I get this one?” His eyes were playful, and hopeful.

     Lily shook her head and broke contact with his probing gaze.

     “That's a beautiful ring you're wearing.” He reached across the table and ran a thumb across its faux ruby surface. “An old beau?” His eyes were teasing now and he slid his fingers under hers.

     Heat rushed to Lily's face and she tried to penetrate the blind's translucent barrier to the street lights outside. Her heart raced madly; Aaron's fingers moved gently under hers. She didn't want T.J. to find them - not now, not here. But she knew Aaron had crossed a line and she could sense T.J. close, too close.

     “Just who do you think you are?” Lily's hand flew off the table, spilling the last of her wine. It poured onto her lap, propagating a blood-red stain along her thigh.  

     Aaron stood, napkin in hand, rounding the table to her side. She pushed him away allowing emotion to erupt further.

     “Don't touch me. Just get away from me.” Her voice dropped; Aaron pulled away, confused.

     The couple at the other table were fully immersed in the fiasco, eyes large and questioning. Lily stood abruptly, fumbled for Monday's purse and stormed from the restaurant.

To be continued...

30 SECOND RANT

12 Things I Deplore (not exhaustive and in no particular order):

1)  Magazines with trite, tired-out headlines proclaiming "new ways to lose weight", "better ways to have sex" and "more ways to eat chocolate".   What's wrong with the old ways?

2) Tenacious, inflexible grey hairs that pop straight up from my part and refuse to be reasoned with, making a tweezer my only option.

3)  My insatiable appetite for unruly hang-nails in winter.  And, though I know from experience that biting them off is unsightly and bloody, I do it anyway!!

4)  Deficits.  I deplore them all but especially the money kind and especially if they are mine.

5)  Small talk.  The bland salad that's the necessary precursor to the meat and potatoes of a conversation.

6)  Facebook users that insist on filling my wall with commentaries on the mundane details of their lives.   If you're going to share something, make it worth-while (or at least funny).

7)  A forward-thinking, multi-cultural nation that still can't wrap it's finite brain around the idea that a free country means freedom for EVERYONE.  Must we still be talking about homosexual rights and prayer in schools in 2013?  

8)  People that feign sincerity but have an agenda.

9)  The belief that Manitoba is a terrible place to live; "too freaking cold", "too many mosquitos", "too...too...too!"  Can we stop whining and accept the fact that we are in one of the safest, free-est places in the world.  Not to mention the virtual absence of catastrophic weather patterns?  

10)  Junk mail and the way it fills to overflowing the garbage cans at the post office.  

11)  Commercials and commercialism.  

12)  People who only talk about themselves.  People who don't talk about themselves enough because they assume I wouldn't care.

(To be continued...as deplorable moments arise).