Stick had said she’d been magnificent with her father on the phone. It wasn’t hard to imagine. Lily had a steely backbone that I don’t think she even realized she possessed. Stick wouldn’t give me any of the details of her conversation with her father. He said she wanted to talk with me about it herself.
So I waited a couple of days after I was released, hoping she’d call. Stick had called her when I got out, to let her know that her father had worked his magic.
And he must be quite the influencer, because I was home Sunday morning before Andy and Mrs. Jankowski were even awake. Nothing would show up anywhere, no record of any wrongdoing. I could only imagine the shit fit George Bell threw when he learned no charges would be filed against me.
A small salve to my otherwise shredded self-worth.
I was happy to realize that not once did I crave the escape of painkillers. It felt…realto feel the shame and all the other shitty feelings that were running through me.
So I let myself feel like shit and waited for Lily to call.
But she didn’t.
On Tuesday, I wasn’t sure whether I should be the one to take Andy to his swimming lesson or ask Stick to do it. I didn’t want to piss Lily off by being there, or put her in an awkward position. But damn, I wanted to see her. The ache I felt at knowing I’d probably lost her was so much worse than when my shoulder blew apart. Because no surgery was going to fix this.
I ended up taking Andy to the lesson on Tuesday, and I watched from the spectator area, just like I had the first time I ever saw Lily.
She knew I was there, but she didn’t catch my eye. No sly smiles, no sassy blown kisses like she’d done on one occasion.
Afterward, I waited in the hallway for Andy with the moms. They chatted a little bit with each other as we all waited for our kids. But I stayed apart, trying to think of something great to say to Lily when she brought Andy to me. Something so sterling that she’d have to stay with me.
I even thought about playing the “Andy needs you” card, but that wouldn’t be fair—to either one of them.
Andy came out of the boys’ locker room with Freddy and ran over to me. “I’m getting better, right, Lucas?” he said, looking up at me, anticipation—and adoration—on his little face.
Adoration I so obviously did not deserve.
“You bet you are. You’re going to be swimming laps like Lily before you know it.” He puffed up like a peacock and I placed my hand on his wet head.
I didn’t know Grayson Spaulding, but I sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the man for allowing me to be there for Andy. To not have his life thrown off the rails any more than it already had been.
Lily came out with the little girls and two of them went over to Freddy, while the other two stayed with Lily.
“Let’s go talk to Lily,” Andy said, pulling on my hand.
“Wait a second, buddy. Let her talk with the mothers first. We’ll talk with her last.”
He waited like a six-year-old, which is to say, not very patiently.
Finally everybody had cleared out except for the three of us. We moved to her side and she gave Andy a bright smile, while not meeting my eyes.
“And my favorite student! You did a great job today, Andy. I think next time you’ll be able to float on your back without me holding you. Think so?”
He nodded his head, not quite enthusiastically, but not wanting to disappoint Lily, either.
Smart kid. I could tell him that disappointing Lily was one craptastic feeling.
“Can I talk with you for a minute?” she asked me. It was the first time she’d looked directly at me since I’d left her dorm room Saturday morning. Only four days ago, and yet an eternity. A lifetime.
“Of course,” I said. We walked down the hall to one of the empty classrooms—the same one where she’d been upset about not having enough substance to write a paper on the person she was.
What a load of shit. She had more substance at eighteen than most forty-year-olds I knew.
“Andy, want to draw on the chalkboard while I talk with Lily for a second?” I said. He gave me a questioning look. Probably wondering if we were going to discuss his progress. “It’s not about swim lessons. It’s about something else.”
His face turned to smug and knowing, and he nodded and turned, entering the classroom. I watched to make sure he was fine with drawing, then I shut the door. There was a window in it, so I’d be able to keep an eye on Andy as we stood in the deserted hallway. There wasn’t much trouble he could get into in the old classroom, anyway.
“Lily,” I said, then cleared my throat. Too much emotion was welling up and I wanted to be able to say my piece—state my case, such as it was—as objectively as I could.
