Chapter 15 - Lily Decided At The Curtain
Lily's first musical-theater performance was not glamorous.
Elementary-school auditorium.
Bad acoustics.
Painted cardboard moon.
Forty-two children in costumes designed by parents who had apparently disagreed about what decade the story happened in.
Vanessa sat beside Owen.
Not backstage.
She had volunteered to help with makeup.
Lily said no.
Vanessa survived.
I managed the school fundraiser because apparently my professional expertise had descended to distributing raffle tickets.
I preferred it.
Celeste was not there.
She and Vanessa had met five times in eight months.
Coffee twice.
Lunch.
One walk.
One terrible dinner that lasted twenty-three minutes because they started arguing about 2009 before appetizers.
Vanessa told me that one was progress.
They had not decided when Celeste would meet Lily.
Lily knew who she was now.
She had seen a photograph.
Asked questions.
Then lost interest halfway through because a friend called about slime.
Healthy.
Grant had not met Lily since the pageant night.
Vanessa answered some of his calls.
Not others.
She had stopped reporting that decision to anyone for approval.
Ten minutes before the school show, I was standing near the rear doors when Vanessa came running from the hallway.
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Lily's crying.”
“Why?”
“She doesn't want to go on.”
I looked at her.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing yet.”
Good.
We went backstage.
Lily stood near the curtain wearing a yellow costume and sneakers because she had refused the stage shoes.
Her teacher crouched nearby.
Owen stood against the wall.
Nobody had touched her.
Vanessa approached slowly.
“Hey.”
Lily wiped her face.
“I don't want to.”
Vanessa nodded.
“Okay.”
Lily stared.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
“But everybody's here.”
“I know.”
“You bought tickets.”
“They were fourteen dollars.”
“You bought Grandma a ticket.”
Eleanor? No. Different story. Vanessa's mother Celeste wasn't there.
Vanessa smiled.
“I bought Rachel one and she complained.”
“Correct,” I said.
Lily looked toward the curtain.
Children lined up beyond it.
Music starting soon.
Vanessa asked:
“Do you want to go home?”
Lily shrugged.
“Do you want to stay backstage?”
Another shrug.
“Want me to stop asking questions?”
Lily nodded.
Vanessa sat on the floor.
Not touching her.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then Lily asked:
“Will you be mad if I don't?”
“No.”
“Sad?”
Vanessa thought.
“A little.”
Lily looked worried.
Vanessa corrected:
“But that is my feeling. You don't have to fix it.”
I looked away.
Owen did too.
Some sentences are embarrassing to witness because they cost somebody a lot to learn.
Lily stared at the curtain again.
Then:
“Can I go on without the sparkly head thing?”
Vanessa looked at the teacher.
The teacher nodded.
“Absolutely.”
Vanessa said:
“Then yes.”
Lily took it off.
Handed it to her mother.
Vanessa accepted it.
No argument.
No adjustment.
No:
Just for the photo.
Lily walked to her place in line.
Then came back.
Vanessa froze.
Lily hugged her.
Quick.
Then ran back.
The curtain opened.
Vanessa stood beside me.
Her hands were shaking.
“Do not say anything.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were thinking.”
“Constantly.”
She almost smiled.
Lily missed one cue.
Sang one line too early.
Looked directly at Vanessa.
Vanessa did not mouth the lyrics.
I saw her almost do it.
Then stop.
Lily found the next line herself.
Afterward, children flooded the hallway.
Owen took Lily for ice cream with friends.
Vanessa had been invited.
Lily changed her mind and asked for “just Dad tonight.”
Vanessa said:
“Okay.”
Then came outside with me.
Cold spring air.
Cars leaving the school lot.
She pulled out her phone.
One message.
Celeste.
HOW DID IT GO?
Vanessa typed:
SHE ALMOST QUIT.
She stopped.
Deleted it.
Typed:
SHE DID GREAT.
Stopped again.
Deleted.
I looked away.
“Don't watch.”
“I'm standing beside you.”
“Exist differently.”
I laughed.
She finally wrote:
SHE DECIDED TO GO ON AFTER SHE KNEW SHE COULD LEAVE.
Celeste replied a minute later.
THAT SOUNDS NICE.
Vanessa stared.
“You hate the answer.”
“It sounds too easy.”
“Maybe she means nice.”
“That would be disturbing.”
Her phone buzzed again.
CAN I ASK ABOUT MEETING HER THIS SUMMER?
Vanessa went still.
Eight months ago, she would have decided immediately.
Yes because she missed her mother.
No because she distrusted her.
Either answer could have been built from fear before Lily knew there was a question.
Vanessa typed:
I'LL ASK LILY.
She did not send it.
“What?”
I asked.
“She's seven.”
“Yes.”
“I don't want to make her responsible for whether Celeste feels rejected.”
“Then don't phrase it that way.”
“How?”
“Not my job.”
She glared.
Then smiled despite herself.
We stood beside the school entrance while families passed us carrying flowers and cardboard props.
Vanessa looked down at the ring on her right hand.
Not worn as a wedding ring.
Just there.
She had started wearing Celeste's old band two weeks earlier.
Then stopped.
Then started again.
Nobody assigned meaning.
Her phone remained open.
Finally she sent:
I'LL TALK TO HER ABOUT IT. NO PROMISE.
Celeste answered:
OKAY.
Vanessa laughed softly.
“What?”
“Everybody in my family is becoming incredibly annoying.”
“Why?”
“They keep accepting answers.”
I smiled.
She put the phone away.
Across the parking lot, Lily was climbing into Owen's car.
She saw us.
Waved.
Vanessa waved back.
She did not run over to ask whether Lily wanted to change tonight's plan.
She let the car leave.
Then we walked toward mine.
Halfway there Vanessa stopped.
“What?”
I asked.
She looked back at the school doors.
“Nothing.”
We kept walking.
The pageant crown had gone back into the archive months earlier.
No ring beneath its lining.
No mission attached to it.
Grant had asked once if Vanessa wanted the old crown permanently.
She told him no.
Celeste had asked once whether Vanessa wanted the ring returned to her.
Vanessa said not yet.
Now she wore it some days and left it in a drawer on others.
Lily might meet Celeste in summer.
She might not.
Vanessa might call Grant next week.
She might let his call ring.
None of those decisions needed to be made in a backstage room while someone counted down to curtain.
For years, Vanessa had believed love was proven by finishing whatever the family had started.
Tonight her daughter had nearly walked away from a stage.
Vanessa had let her.
May you like
Lily went on anyway.
And nobody called it a mission.
