Lily

At what point in your life do you start being tired, and never stop? Is it the same for everyone? I don’t think so. Do most people reach a point of exhaustion where they couldn’t bear to smile? I was tired as a child, when the angry sounds of hateful words and breaking glass filled the smoke-stained walls of a cold house. But I was happy too. That’s when I made my first friend. She always kept me company, my parents didn’t notice her but then they didn’t notice much that didn’t involve some kind of substance induced release. I didn’t have a clue who she was then.

The day I met her I was outside hiding in a tree with a worn copy of one of the few books I was allowed. My mother said five-year olds shouldn’t read and my father said girls shouldn’t read at all. So I sought refuge in the forest that covered most of our town, away from contempt filled eyes and the stinging pain brought by the back of one’s hand. I asked her where she came from, she said a bad place. I said me too. I asked where her parents were, she said she didn’t have any. I told her she was lucky. I asked her what her name was, she said she didn’t know. I didn’t question it. I had a name but only my Nana used it and I didn’t get to see her much. This strange little girl was quiet, her hair blocked most of her face and she was so very thin. But she was also so kind to me. So I called my new friend Lily and she smiled a crooked, closed mouth smile.

Growing up I spent most of my time with Lily. I asked her why she always stayed with me, didn’t she have other friends, family? She said she was too different. No one else could understand her the way I could. No one would listen to her, or even look at her. I liked to look at Lilly. I thought she was pretty. Different, but pretty. When I started school Lily would be out at the playground but none if the other kids played with her. She didn’t actually go to school, she just came to keep me company I think. I asked her if she was home schooled once, she just stared at me so I assumed it was true and didn’t ask again.

Perhaps it was the odd habits of her that made her think she too different? Lily never talked much and when she did she never opened her mouth all the way, always in whispers. She always wore the same long-sleeved lavender turtleneck and a gray pleat skirt. It could have been a brilliant violet once, washed out and faded away like Lily herself was. She would never eat when I did, no matter how often I offered what little I had. She said eating with others around made her too nervous. I didn’t question these things either, I had odd habits too from my upbringing. Like not being able to sleep in a bed some nights, preferring the safety underneath provided. If she didn’t want to tell me I wasn’t going to ask. I loved her anyways.

Lily never came with me on those rare occasions I got to go to Nana’s house. I loved Nana’s house. It was clean, comforting, and always smelled like fresh baked shortbread cookies. We would dip them in our tea and she would read books to me. Nana had a library that I could use whenever I wanted. After tea I would help her in her green house. Nana grew the most beautiful flowers. Roses, orchids and peonies. Tulips and marigolds. And of course lilies. I missed Lily. Later while watching one of Nana’s favorite movies, silly things with no color and lots of kissing, I asked her why Lily never came over. She asked who Lily was. I told her she was my friend; she went with me everywhere except here. When Nana dropped me off she asked my mother about Lily. My mother just shrugged. Nana and I were used to this response.

When I was 13 Lily woke me up in the middle of the night. She said we had to leave now. I wanted to get dressed, she said there was not time. We had to run, she was pulling on my arm, screaming at me to get up with frantic expression that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was the first time I saw her face this fully, saw her eyes. They looked glassy, a pale gray blue like the sky right before it rains. They looked right through me and I forgot how to breathe as I fell into the nothingness that were her too wide pupils. They seemed to suck me in, hold me captive. I suddenly felt so cold, so alone. As if Lily were just an image from a dream and not really there.

But then she was shaking me again and begging me to move. She was real and scared. I noticed it was very hot then. I was sweating and I smelled smoke in the air and I was scared too. We ran out the door, down the blackened hall and tried to find the stairs. My eyes were stinging, I couldn’t see straight, and I was beginning to feel very dizzy. Lily let go of my hand, putting her arm under my shoulder half carrying me to where we thought the stairs were, but instead we saw a wall of glowing crimson. It shifted and writhed with the hues of a warm sunset. I was dizzier than ever now.  I wanted to touch the colors, or perhaps lay down. I reached my hand out but Lily pulled me the other way. She seemed like she was crying but there were no tears. Perhaps it was too dry. I closed my eyes.

I woke up the next day in the hospital. There was a mask on my face and bandages around my arm left arm and my neck. I couldn’t move and I was very frightened again. My vision got blurry and for a minute I thought I was back in the house before I realized it was only tears. I finally managed to turn my head to the side, the pain made me black out but not before I saw Nana sleeping in the chair in the corner. I didn’t see my parents but if Nana was here I could slip into the soft, warm darkness peacefully.

I learned later that my parents had died in the fire, but nobody knew how it started. I was found out in the front yard, but nobody knew how I got there either. I was sure it was Lily, she must have dragged me out. I was so worried about her, but nobody would answer my questions about her. Nana didn’t answer any of my questions, she only cried. It must be hard losing your daughter, even though they never really liked each other. I went home with Nana. I didn’t see Lily again for a while.

Nana’s house was different now. It didn’t smell like cookies anymore because she never baked. She didn’t go out to the greenhouse or watch any movies. She didn’t make tea or read me stories. She mostly just sat in her rocking chair, not sleeping or eating much. I didn’t really do those things anymore either. Grief I suppose? I wasn’t sad about losing my parents though. I missed Lily. Nana didn’t talk to me anymore. Didn’t look at me. If felt like she wanted to badly but couldn’t. If felt like I wasn’t even there. This must have been how Lily felt. One day was particularly bad, particularly cold. Nana got a phone call and screamed as if every awful thing was happening again. A few days later a black car pulled up, and my uncle knocked on the door. I hadn’t seen him in years. He told Nana it was time. So we followed him out. The drive was quiet, but not peacefully so. We arrived at a funeral home, everyone was in the traditional black. I wondered why we were here, my parent’s funeral was months ago.  

I wandered around, there weren’t many people here. Most of them were actually people I knew. I didn’t feel like talking to any of them though and they left me alone. I was only looking for one person. When I finally found her, her eyes were closed. She was quieter than ever, in fact she didn’t speak or move at all. She was in the coffin. She looked like she was dreaming, a nightmare that she couldn’t wake up from. I felt the tremors start, sobs consuming my body so quickly I felt as if I’d always been crying. There were no tears though. Why did I not shed any tears? The people around me ignored my pain, they only talked to each other or cried for Lily too.

I felt the same nothingness, the same empty lifeless feeling from the night of the fire when I looked into Lily’s eyes and thought them dead. Now they really were. I did not know how to wake her up, I needed her to get up. I begged all the gods there were that I never believed in to wake her up, but they didn’t listen. They never listened. So I ran. I ran past the grievers, past my family and out the door. I ran into the trees and kept running until I collapsed. I stayed there until the stars came out and drifted off under their icy shine and begged for Lily again.

When I woke up I heard sniffling in the distance. It sounded like a child. I looked around but didn’t see anyone. I looked down at myself. I was wearing a skirt and a purple sweater, I tugged the sleeves down to hide the burn scars. There was a puddle nearby, I never really looked at my reflection much. I had no interest in myself, but I looked now. My eyes were blue gray, cold, dead. My hair seemed almost white in the early sunlight, almost shining.

“Where did you come from?” A curious little voice spoke from the tree above. A small girl with a tear streaked face, hiding from the world while clutching a book peered down at me.

“A bad place.” I answered carefully.

“Me too.” She whispered, as if she didn’t dare tell anyone. “Where are you parents?”

“I don’t have any.”  Not anymore anyways.

“Well you’re lucky. What’s your name then?”

“My name? Um, well I .. I don’t know my name actually.” No one said my name anymore. They haven’t for months. It didn’t really exist anymore anyways.  

“Hmm. How about Lily?” she suggested cheerfully.

And so I smiled for the first time in months.