Hammering My Way to the Queen City Prom: Chapters 2, 3, 4

A few days ago when I posted the first few paragraphs of the story I am currently writing, I was genuinely suprised by the encouragement and comments I received to share more. Thank you so much.

.

For the time being, I will post a few chapters at a time. This is a work in progress: I can't promise I'll be able to keep up with posting to the end with any semblance of timliness. I have no idea when this story may even be finished.

.

I've made the chapters brief for easier reading, and I will be honored if any of you are interested in following this love story between Alex and Lily. I will also very much appreciate any feedback you have at any time.

.

If you decide to follow along, you might want to scan back, a few posts back, to Chapter 1 before you read on:

.

Chapter 2

.

“I couldn’t do it, Lily. I saw my Mother’s face telling me it was wrong, I thought about how much my husband trusted me, that Andy would hate me, my upbringing. It was carnal and selfish, and the only way I could attone was to suffer. Life without you would be the greatest suffering I could ever choose, so that is what I did. Even now I know I could not have lived with myself. I did what I thought was right, except I decided it would be easier for you if I ended it really badly. Of course you remember how bitchy I can be. So I let you think this had to be because the line that was crossed required a max punishment. I let you think I had gone along because I loved you, not because I wanted it too. And I told you it could never ever be, not even in the afterlife. I knew you wouldn’t call after I told you all that. I thought maybe time would put it all in perspective, and maybe some day we’d be friends."

.

Lily was totally frozen. Six years—three of them pillow-over-head agonizing—melted down to a waxless mess, leaving this pristine letter with the little girl circular handwriting, explaining the unexplainable, karate chopping at the knees what had taken her six years to rebuild. Years ago there had been explanations and apologies before all words stopped, different spins at different times, and each one had hurt more than the last. But now, for god sakes, here was a closer-to-the truth apology, at the worse possible time.

.

Here was an apology in this little girl circular handwriting two weeks before Lily would marry Max—two weeks before the firrst day in six years that Lily had finally broken free.

.

Chapter 3

.

The letter continued:

.

“Every day for 2,067 days, I’ve tried to accept what I did and to understand why it had to be. It took more than a year before I stopped thinking about you constantly, and finally, over time, I settled into life with Mike and the kids. I knew I was no longer the same person, I knew I was missing an arm or something, but at least I had done the right thing. Everyday I hoped you found what you hoped for in me."

.
Lily’s cheeks gave way to rising flaming anger. This was TOO much. “Found what I hoped for? How exactly, Alex? How exactly would I do that? I’ve had to settle too, you son of a bitch, and maybe it would be easier for me to read your obituary than this apology. You should know this Alex”
.
And yet, Lily read on.

.

Chapter 4

.
A year ago.I got the diagnosis. I’ll spare the details but it’s touch and go. I’ve reeled and thrown dishes and grieved and prayed. I’ve done everything I can and know it’s hands greater than mine. I’ve soul searched and taken inventory, rearranged my time and sorted my priorities. Paula will help Mike with the kids, although Andy is 17 and Amy’s 16—remember when they used indelible magic markers on every sheet and pillow case in the house to make a Buddist temple in the living room—it’s pretty much the same madness now except it’s more about cars and clothes and midnight curiews. Bottom line: In case I die, I’ve taken care of everything.. Except this.

.
Lily was convulsing. Unbelieveable. There was more to read but she couldn’t. She just sat on the couch, shook her head left to right, left to right, and sobbed, the kind where you can’t caught your breath, your face is soaked, and you know you’ll be avoiding people for a day or more simply because your red hollow eyes tell far too much already.