One thing I can’t do is find out what’s wrong while standing holding our drinks. This has me carefully crouching down and putting them on the tray in the middle of the picnic blankets.
After sitting on the rug next to Lily, I run my hand down her arm, with her looking like she needs comforting more than my daughter. “What’s wrong?”
Rather than answer, she waves her hands around before swallowing deeply. Even if I hadn’t spotted the tear rolling down her cheek, I’d have known she was lying.
This has me turning toward my daughter. “What happened?”
If I thought my daughter looked cagey before, now she’s looking downright guilty. And yet I’m at a loss to know what could have happened that would upset Lily as much as she obviously is.
“Tyler, it’s nothing. I’ve just got a headache, is all. We’ve been having a lovely time.”
Taken at face value, Lily’s words go some way to explaining why she’s out of sorts, and yet I know this isn’t all of it. She’d been fine when I went into the trailer to fix our drinks.
But short of giving my girlfriend and daughter the third-degree, I’m not finding out. Zoe, in particular, now has a mutinous expression that I’ve come up against in the past. Unsuccessfully.
I’m still staring at my daughter when Lily’s hand comes to rest on my arm. “Tyler, is it okay if we call it a day?” Another deep breath and she adds, “I just want to take some painkillers and go to bed.”
My take on this is don’t bother coming back after you’ve read Zoe her bedtime story. Much as I want to rail against this, I can’t. Not without upsetting both of them. Whatever happened, I’ll find out, eventually. However, now is not the time.
I need to give both the girls in my life some time to cool off first. This hits me harder than I’d have expected, and I grab my glass and toss the contents into the long grass at the edge of the clearing.
Soon enough I see that neither Lily nor Zoe are interested in their drinks, so I repeat the process, hoping it doesn’t attract ants.
“We’ll help you clean up, and then we’ll be on our way.” I follow this up by stacking the tray with everything I can lay my hands on.
And just like that, it’s as if the spell cast over us has lifted. After jumping to her feet more easily than someone with a headache has any right, Lily reaches down and collects the cake. Soon enough, this is back in the bakery box, ready for Zoe to take it home.
There’s no missing the guilt on my daughter’s face when she asks Lily if she’d like a piece for later.
“That’s okay, sweetheart, but I probably shouldn’t. Not with my headache.”
With everything packed away and Zoe buckled in her car seat, there’s nothing to keep me here. After shutting the truck door, I turn to Lily before reaching out for a kiss goodbye, but she steps back. Although it goes against every fiber of my being, I let her retreat. “I’ll come by and check on you later.”
Something upset her, and I doubt I’m the cause, because I wasn’t even there. There’s also nothing my daughter could blurt out that would have Lily rejecting me like this.
“No… No, that’s okay. Once I take those painkillers, I’ll be out like a light.” Her words are lackluster and full of pain, although not the sort caused by a migraine, or whatever this is supposed to be.
Not giving her time to escape, I step forward and give her a peck on the cheek. “Call me if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow.” A quick squeeze, and I back away, giving her the space that she so obviously needs.
* * *
On arriving at the house on Monday, I’m none the wiser about what had upset Lily. Zoe had shut down when I tried asking her what they’d talked about while I was in the trailer. And when I’d pushed it, she’d had a major meltdown, to the point my mom told me to leave it.
On pulling into the driveway, I immediately see that Lily’s car isn’t there, which is strange given it just after five o’clock. It’s after knocking on the trailer door that I know it’s not just her car that’s missing.
Where on earth could she be this early? Could it be she really had been suffering from a headache yesterday? That it was something serious.
I’ve moved onto strokes and brain tumors before I think to pull my phone out and call her. When it goes to voicemail, I’m not prepared, with my message being all too brief. This has me ringing back and leaving another.
“Lily, are you okay? I’m at the trailer, but you’re not. Can you please call me? I’m worried about you.”
She doesn’t. Instead, I get a text soon after saying she’s sorry she missed my call, but that she’ll get back to me later. So impersonal is the message that it’s as though she’s chosen it from one pre-programmed into her phone.
It’s with a heavy heart I walk down the path at the side of the house and around to sit on the front steps. While I drink the two coffees and stuff myself with bakery items, I try to fathom what the hell had gone wrong.
And was it my fault? Then I completely beat myself up for letting Lily get close to Zoe. It was something I’d strived hard to avoid over the years, if only to protect my daughter. Strange then, that I’m now the one who’s hurting.
I come close to choking on the last mouthful of donut when I think about how Zoe will take the news that Lily and I aren’t ‘friends’ anymore.
