Page 2 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

There’s a short pause, and then he blurts, “You moved out?”

I can’t tell if his words are full of shock or relief.

“Yes.” When that one word leaves me and floats out into the air, it feels oddly freeing.

Silence falls between us. Knowing him, he’s probably fist-pumping the sky right now as he never liked Dean, but at the same time, what do you say to someone you love in moments like these? Good for you or It’s about time or Are you okay? Quite frankly, I don’t need to hear any of the words from him. I just want to collect myself, put together a new plan, and move on.

“Why didn’t you come here?” he asks, suddenly sounding offended.

“And do what? Cry on your couch like a sad panda while the four of you go on about your day-to-day life?”

My brother is married, has two boys, and lives near our parents in Tennessee. He is a lawyer, his wife is a sign language interpreter, who he met in college and I adore, and they are the epitome of two point five with the dog and the white picket fence. They are what I thought I would have, yet here I am, twenty-six and feeling like for the first time in my life, I’m doing life.

“You know we love it when you’re with us, and I’m sure the kids would love to see you.”

Just thinking about his two munchkins makes my heart ache. My oldest nephew just turned four, and the youngest is one. The older boy is so sweet and independent, but let me tell you, number two, he’s a firecracker. He just started walking, and they already have their hands full.

“I appreciate the offer, but right now, I just need to figure out what’s next for me.”

A loon calls from the lake, and my eyes track to find the sound. I find it in the water, bobbing its head up and down. I know it’s not symbolic, the head bobbing, but it feels like the bird is agreeing with me, and that reconfirms my need to do this my way. Things have never been done my way, and after all these years, I’m just now getting to dip my toe into freedom.

“I understand, but know you’ve always got a home here with us.”

“I do, and I’ll be there for the holidays this year. I promise. I wouldn't miss Christmas morning for anything.”

The loon flies off, and I lean back in the chair to prop my feet up on the railing in front of me. The sun is warm and therapeutic, especially with the bursts of serotonin giving me life and positive vibes.

“That feels like a long time from now, and I’m worried about you,” he says, causing me a twinge of guilt that I didn’t reach out and speak to him sooner.

“Don’t be. I’ve done a little hiking, found a few places where I love to eat, and I’m getting some work done.”

Well, not really, but I am trying. It’s hard to write about two people falling in love when I’m about as far away from that as possible. Maybe I should dabble in romantic suspense or literary fiction and kill someone. Perhaps I should name that character Dean.

He chuckles. “Let me guess, it’s a donut place.”

He knows me well.

Visions of a cute little cider house, with an old friendly dog named Duke, up on the mountain spring to my mind.

“Lance, these are some of the best donuts I’ve ever had in my whole life. I’m not sure what I’ll do once I leave here. And for the record, they’re not just any donuts. They’re apple cider donuts. There’s a place here called Red Barn Orchard. They make the best ciders, and they make the donuts on the spot, fresh to order. They’re warm and moist but crumbly yummy at the same time.”

“Fresh to order and crumbly yummy? Sign me up,” he says sarcastically.

“Don’t tease. For the first time in my life, I feel like I can eat as many as I want judgment-free.”

The year after Dean and I graduated from college, he was drafted, and we ate out a lot. Of course I was photographed, and the keyboard bullies came out in droves to comment on my hair, my clothes, and my waistline. Even though I was still fit and thin, I wasn’t runway thin with the few extra pounds. Dean never said anything. He knew better, but that didn’t change the fact that I’ve lived in this perpetual state of worry over my image. Worry not only over how the world perceived me, but also Dean. I wanted him to be proud to have me on his arm.

“Lily,” he groans. “I really didn’t like that guy.”

My stomach sinks. I’ve heard that so many times by him, my parents, and by Morgan. The world thinks he's a class act and an all-around all-American kind of guy, with his white teeth, perfectly floppy disheveled hair, and eyes that sparkle when he smiles at you, but he’s really not. He’s grown into this person who is vain, more competitive than I would say driven, and well . . . entitled.

“I know. He didn’t use to be this way,” I tell him. Not sure if I’m defending Dean or myself for why I stayed so long.

“He was always this way. You were just blinded because you see the good in everyone. Don’t get me wrong, that’s not a bad thing, I love that quality about you, but those good qualities should be returned, not taken advantage of.”

I’ve seen how he is with my sister-in-law, Casey, behind closed doors. I’ve seen some of Dean’s and my friends too, when we would get together for functions. The sweetness, consideration, and overall partner equality are something that I’ve always longed for and never felt like I got.

“I love you, too,” I tell him, soaking up his words that have rarely been given to me.