Chapter 22

Lily’s heart cartwheeled as she walked the thirty or so steps leading to the entrance of the Mount Holyoke Women’s Center. She handed her ticket to a polished-looking overly gleeful woman dressed in blue taffeta with a green speckled scarf around her neck. She checked her coat and dropped a dollar in the tip jar. She then looked straight ahead, straightened her shoulders, swallowed hard, and walked through the doors into a vastly oversized room with a 25 foot ceiling and giant black and white photographs of famous women covering the far left wall.

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The room was humming with women—hundreds—many huddled around three long tables in the center of the room, where dozens of appetizers had been tastefully prepared and arranged. Some women wore gowns, some tuxes, some dresses, others Ann Tailor or Brooks Brothers pants with fitted blouses, a few jeans with slightly dressy sweaters. Lily had struggled before she chose a pale blue Liz Clairborne silk dress, which fell just below her knees. She accessorized it with a thin black suede belt with tassles hanging from it, and a blue and purple scarf tied loosely around her neck. She had purposely chosen black tights and black flats in case she had to quickly move in one direction or another.

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The Queen City Prom, as Lily and Alex had long ago dubbed it for no particular reason, was actually an annual fundraiser sponsored by Mount Holyoke College to benefit local women’s shelters and services. Attended by several hundred mostly professional women, the event was close to a black tie event in substance and style. This included a first class band—this year the Dykaroos, and a swinging dance floor where couples and singles gaily swung to and fro, together and alone, unencumbered by the expectations of heterosexual decorum.
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Lily had not attended Queen City since her break up with Alex. This had not been a good thing, given she was on the Board of the Woman’s Center and rarely refused her money or presence in support of women and families in need. But this event was one of a few activities she simply could not do. She was confused and unsure why or how she had managed to come tonight.
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Entering the carvernous room, her eyes scanned and darted every which way, looking for Alex, her 5 foot 7 inch 145 pound beloved former soul mate who had walked out on her by phone six years ago and for some reason decided they should reconnect before she unceremoniously died.
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Lily was concerned that her dress hung on her too limply, which is pretty much how she felt internally. She had no idea what to do, how to walk, where to keep her hands, or what in the name of sweet Jesus world she would even say to Alex, on the assumption, of course, that Alex was even there. Maybe she wasn’t, Lily thought: she may have backed out, or been too sick. These were excruciating thoughts—that she had come and Alex had not—thoughts just formulating in torturous detail when Lily spotted Paula.

Paula stood approximately 60 yards in front of her, nervously standing by herself in the far left corner of the room, looking like a missionary at the Playboy mansion. Lily wondered why Alex’s heterosexual Catholic sister would be here at all, but before her brain could compute a reason so obvious and simple, she spotted Alex. At first she appeared as a tiny speck, surrounded by dozens of animated heads towering above her, but there she was, her head level with Paula's waist. That’s odd”, Lily thought. Alex was staring straight ahead at the main door. She had to have seen Lily enter.
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Lily was frozen. Still, she knew she had to move, so she took a rapid succession of small unsteady steps until Alex was 30 feet in front of her. She stopped, stunned: there was glorious hell-bent Alex, in a wheelchair, a silk purple bandanna around her head, large silver hoop earrings dangling through, thin as a rail, pale and pasty, and still radiant. Paula protectively stood beside her sister, looking like she might cry.
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Once Lily had asked her orthopedic surgeon why she did not remember losing consciousness during arthroscopic surgery. He explained that although she had indeed been conscious and interactive for a full five minutes that she could not recall, her brain shut down before it could store those moments into memory. This is what was happening now as she grasped the reality of seeing Alex. Her brain had totally shut down.

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Lily did not know until afterwards that she flung her purse on the floor and ran to her at full speed, welling tears obscuring her view, reaching her by instinct alone. Lily was kneeling in front of Alex, staring into eyes she would know anywhere. It was just seconds—not more than one or two probably-- before she put her arms around her neck and deeply nestled her face into her--an exhausted dove landing safely after an arduous flight home.
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For a flickering moment Alex looked startled, tentative. But her brain had fared no better: her breathing was irregular but determined. She lifted her thin arms, clasped her hands together, and locked them around Lily’s neck. Neither of them moved or spoke. They were frozen in their embrace, buried in the warmth of each other’s skin, recalling scents and sensations so familiar it was as if no time had passed at all; as if they might stay this way forever, oblivious to everything around them
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Then, Alex laughed--it was the sound of jingling coins in a happy pocket.

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“Oh Lily, oh Lily” she said. “I imagined everything, over and over, but I never guessed that you would run like that. That was so good, Lily."

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Alex’s eyes glistened. “Let me look at you. Oh my God, you’ve lost weight. You look terrific. Oh Lily”.

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And then, as an afterthought, she added, “I don’t look so good, huh?”
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Lily was speechless. She cleared her throat and tried to pull herself together. She muffled a quiet sob that would not stop and she awkwardly wiped her eyes with her scarf. She tried to stand but Alex would have none of it. She held on tightly.

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“No Lily. No. Stay here. Hey,” Alex said, “I bought you a drink. Here. Drink it fast. Then I’ll buy you another”.

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“Alex...”, Lily cleared her throat again and began to speak.

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“Wait Lily”, Alex said. “First let’s remember who we are together. Then let me apologize and you can call me an asshole. And then we’ll talk. Ok?”

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“Oh, and I’d like to let Paula leave this den of lesbians now as long as you don’t mind helping me with my personal needs”.

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Lily smiled. She was shocked at how relaxed she felt. It was as though she had returned to the weeping willow tree of her childhood, where she would linger for hours, playing with her imaginary friends, feeling invisible and invincible.

She threw her head back and laughed out loud,

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“Jesus”, Lily said, “I don’t even get a moment to fall apart before I have to be on bathroom duty?”

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“Life’s a bitch, Lily”. Alex grinned back. “But then again sometimes you get the chance to do it right.”

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Before Lily could say another word, Alex smiled again. “Oh, and Lily… my suitcase. Do you mind if we put it in your car?”