Chapters 20 & 21

Chapter 20

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It had been several weeks since Lily first held Alex’s letter. She had read most of it, but not the final paragraph: she simply could not bear to face information that had the potential to disrupt, dishevel, dishearten, perhaps even destroy everything it had taken her years to recraft. If you had asked her 22 days ago, Lily would have confidently told you that this was no longer possible: afterall, she would go days, weeks even without thinking of Alex at all, she had stopped including her in her prayers, and she no longer revisited all the ‘what if’s” that life had thrown at her broken parts—far too many ‘what if’ volleyballs coming at her with such speed that she’d repeatedly forgotten to duck.
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But today, at the moment when memory was intersecting with instinct, Lily was again not sure she would remember to duck. It wasn’t that she hadn’t learned to swerve. There was no way to avoid occasionally hearing about Alex, but her friends knew to avoid the subject altogether and on the occasion when a casual acquaintance mentioned that Alex’s business had grown to a dozen employees, that Andy had made the baseball regionals, or that Mike’s company was being bought out by Warren Buffet, Lily would simply shrug her shoulders and say, “Yes, isn’t that wonderful”. Only once had she carelessly risked an actual encounter with Alex: she was at a Woman’s Conference when mid-way through she realized how easily Alex could be there too. Quickly she had scanned the room, checked the attendant list, and made note of all the exit doors. Only then did she tuck away her vigilance. But that kind of slip was rare: Lily fastidiously and consciously took active steps to move on and forget. She did this because she believed this was best for both of them, and she was positive this was best for herself. The result of these extraordinary efforts—a professional woman’s version of underground hiding-- had paid off, that is, until three weeks ago.
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Now, on a Sunday morning at 7:43 am, Lily sat on her bed with Alex’s scribbly handwriting in front of her. She had just one remaining paragraph to read.
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She stared at the last page of the letter for several minutes before she reached for her reading glasses and placed them on the rim of her nose. She glanced to be sure her warm cup of tea was on the nightstand where she had left it.
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Then, at 7:46 Lily finished the letter.

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“All this time I’ve wondered if I could or would truly accept never seeing you again. I’ve always known how badly I hurt you, but it’s been a slow painful miserable process for me to truly grasp the cost to myself. Ambivalence is a terrible way to live, Lily. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But somewhere in between hearing my diagnosis and re-evaluating my life, my struggle stopped. Just like that. It’s a hell of a time to tell you, Lily—I can only imagine what you are thinking as you read this—here I am a sick possibly terminal pretty hairless thin-to-the bones pathetic facsimile of myself contacting you at the worse possible time, I know, but please call me. It’s complicated, it takes giant boules on my part to do this now, but here’s what it is Lily: I’ve never really left, and if you’re willing, I would like to be where you are.”

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Always,
Alex

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Heat rushed to Lily’s cheeks. She remembered what it felt like when she was in first grade and rode a merry-go-round for the first time: the terror of sitting four feet atop of that bobbing carved horse with its wild teeth, the dizziness when it kept going up and down, around and around and around. She felt that way now—the room was spinning and she was spinning within it. She once again put the letter in her underwear drawer, sat on her bed for what seemed like hours, then, finally, slowly, she stood up, put on her sweats, grabbed Louie’s leash, and without catching her breath, pushed the two of them toward the river for a long walk—three times around the trail. It was all surreal.
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“Alex” she kept saying, “Oh, God, Alex”. She shook her head from side to side in disbelief, unable to entertain even a corner of hope that Alex might really be back. Then, on that river walk, with the sun in front of her, with Louie delighted by the quickened pace, with the path eerily calm, Lily--competent, clear headed, studious, serious, reliable Lily—cried so deep and so hard that her tears surpassed the insurmountable throbbing that had begun at the tip of her head and traveled all the way to her stomach. Once again, no matter what she did or didn't do, Lily would never be the same.

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Chapter 21

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Three days later; while sifting through her mail enroute to class, another letter found its way to Lily’s unsuspecting hands.

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“Hey!” it began, “Ok, so you haven’t answered my letter. I know you, Lily--you would have communicated somehow if you definitely did not/could not/would not want to see me. So I’m now forced to revert to Plan B. I’m enclosing a ticket for the Queen City hullabaloo on May 15. It’s still at Mount Holyoke. Remember when we went, Lily? I’ll be wearing the same outfit. I’ll be looking for you. This ticket is not cheap. Come on now….

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Love
Alex