Midnight Lily

  And I'd known he needed to get better. I'd known that he needed to go back to his life and find a way to reclaim it. I just hadn't anticipated it hurting so much when he did, and I wasn't a part of it, nor could I ever be.

  The coffee shop was warm and bustling with activity. I ordered a latté and found a table in the corner. At least I had something to look forward to with the charity event. My grandmother would be comfortable with me attending because it was across the bridge in Marin, where she was staying at a rental home.

  I pulled out my phone and quickly googled the 49ers, looking for any recent pictures of Ryan. I knew I should stop. It only brought me pain to see photographs of him. But it also brought me pride and happiness to see him doing well. There were some recent photos from a bar on one of the tabloid pages. I caught a glimpse of Ryan in the background of one of the shots, sitting at a table, looking off to the side. He was smiling. I used my index finger to trace the tiny outline of his face on the phone screen. I thought back to the moment I'd realized he was suffering from some sort of mental disorder.

  The moment my heart had dropped into my feet and I'd felt like I might sink to the floor right in front of him. The picture of the man on the cover of the magazine, a stranger I didn't know, but labeled "Holden Scott." I hadn't understood exactly, but I'd known he wasn't lying to me by the look on his face. He believed himself to be Holden Scott. He didn't know who he was. And suddenly his confusion—his sadness—had made some sort of sense. And what was I to do? I had already fallen in love with him. I still loved him. "Boy Scout," I murmured, wondering if the smile on his face in the photograph was real, wondering if he was truly happy.

  Wondering if he still thought about me.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ryan

  I threw my jacket on the couch and kicked off my shoes. I'd taken Jenna out to dinner and had a good time. She'd told me all about her trip, making me laugh with funny stories about the co-worker she'd gotten stuck sharing a hotel room with after her room reservation had been mistakenly cancelled and they'd had no other rooms available.

  I collapsed into a chair. I liked her and enjoyed spending time with her, but it also felt strange. And the intensity I'd felt when I'd first spent time with Lily wasn't there. But should it be? I'd been half out of my head when I'd fallen for Lily, when I'd kissed her, when I'd made love to her. That whole time seemed almost like a dream now—as if none of it had really happened at all. As if I'd never even flown to Brandon's lodge in Colorado. As if my life had stopped the moment Holden's hand slipped from mine and only just recently resumed. And yet, inside, I still felt half asleep—as if a part of me remained missing, incomplete.

  I looked around my apartment. Everything was neat and tidy. Growing up, my house had always been trashed, had always smelled like garbage, rot, and dog shit. I hadn't thought about it too much until I'd started hanging out at Holden's house. I hadn’t known that some homes smelled like baked goods and fresh laundry. I hadn’t known that some parents lit seasonal candles that smelled like vanilla or spiced apple or lavender fields. It'd made me intensely aware of the stench of my own house. It'd made me wonder if I smelled as foul as my home to people at school. Even though I tried my best to keep my clothes clean, washing them in the bathtub with bar soap when my dad wasn't home if I had to, surely stink like that soaked into a person's skin after a while.

  It was why I was so fastidious now. I vacuumed and dusted regularly, changed my sheets once a week, and made sure dirty dishes weren't left in the sink. I would never live like an animal again. I'd never smell like an animal again.

  Walking back to my bedroom, I undressed and tossed my dirty clothes in the empty hamper in my closet. My gaze caught on the duffle bag I'd thrown in the corner and still hadn't unpacked. I wasn't sure why I grabbed it now. I set it on my bed and pulled on a T-shirt and boxers and then went and stood in front of it. A strange feeling of loss moved through me. No, that trip had been all too real.

  The trip at least . . . Lily, I still . . . I raked my hands through my hair and then unzipped the bag. I rummaged through it, but there was nothing except clothes—dirty clothes that were long overdue for a wash. Gathering them up, I walked to my small laundry room and tossed them in the washing machine. A pair of jeans fell out of my hands onto the floor. Sighing, I picked them up and went to toss them in the machine, too, when I stopped, holding them up and then reaching inside one pocket. Why I did that, I wasn't sure. The pocket was empty. I switched hands and reached inside the other pocket, pausing when my fingers came upon something hard and smooth. I grasped it and pulled it out and stood for several long moments just staring down at it: the white arrowhead Lily had given me. It looks so delicate, and yet it could take down a large animal or even a man. Her words echoed through my head and I sucked in a breath. "Lily," I whispered. I held the arrowhead up to the overhead light and then grasped it in my hand. It was solid. It was real. I clenched my eyes shut. Was she?

  Was it possible I'd been running through the forest alone, an entire make-believe scenario going on as I collected actual objects and drew stick figures on rocks to support the fiction of my own life? Jesus, had I been that fucking nutty? I cringed. Walking back into my bedroom, I set the arrowhead down on the top of my dresser and took a deep breath. Crazy people rarely question their own sanity.

  I took a quick shower and then, still unable to get that arrowhead off my mind, went into the living room and opened my laptop. I googled Whittington and got the same results as the first time. I scrolled through the site I'd originally looked at. Sitting back, I chewed on my bottom lip, thinking about everything I hadn't considered yet. Lily had told me about two escapes. I searched for any information on either one of the two but didn't find anything. It could be that Lily had actually read the stories in old newspaper articles she'd found inside the hospital and the stories just weren't put online for some reason, or it could be that I made the whole thing up. Back to square one.

  After a brief pause where I stared at the screen of my laptop, I did a search for the owners of Whittington. I thought I'd remembered reading that it had been a privately owned hospital. It took me about five minutes of clicking to find the information: Whittington and its surrounding property was owned by Augustine Corsella, a real estate mogul from Colorado who had made the purchase in 2008. He was deceased, but it appeared it was still owned by the Corsella family. I scrolled through, looking for more information on him, but there wasn't anything I was interested in. Yawning, I closed the laptop and put it aside, disappointed in my fruitless online search. But what had I really been looking for anyway? Something. Anything.

  I had the arrowhead though. It was something, wasn't it? Wasn't it?

  I thought for a moment, remembering the myriad of things Lily had said to me.

  I logged on to my iTunes account and did a few searches. Love songs from the forties she'd said. "All of Me" started playing, filling the silence of my living room. I listened to it from beginning to end wondering if this was one of the ones Lily would have liked. As the collection of songs played, "I'll Be Seeing You" and "Tenderly" and "Some Enchanted Evening," I stared vacantly at the ceiling, my head resting on the back of the couch, my hand in my hair. And I wondered if these songs were supposed to be so very sad and create the intense ache in my chest.

  And what of the lingering sadness that was ever-present in my heart? Could I miss someone who had never existed? Could I pine for a dream? I was back to myself, and yet without her, everything just felt . . . off. Exhausted by my own thoughts, I climbed into bed, Lily's face the last thing in my mind as I fell into a dreamless sleep.

  **********

  "Hey there, handsome," Jenna said, standing up from the stair of my building where she had been sitting, waiting for me. She was wearing a slim black skirt and a white blouse, obviously having come straight from work, like I was.

  "Hey," I said, smiling. "What are you doing here?"

  "I found out earlier today I have to fly to St.
Louis tonight—emergency packaging problem." She rolled her eyes and I chuckled.

  "Sounds serious."

  "It's solvable. Hopefully. Anyway, I can't go to dinner tomorrow night and I'm bummed. I thought maybe we could spend a little time together now before I have to go home and pack." She tilted her head, looking hopeful.

  "Oh, uh, yeah, okay."

  She grimaced. "You're busy. I should have called. This isn't a good surprise. And I looked up your address and just showed up, which is probably crossing the line. I'm being too forward. God." An embarrassed blush rose in her cheeks, and it was endearing.

  I couldn't help but smile as I held up my hand. "No, no. I don't mind. It's a good surprise. I was just going to the gym. But I'd rather spend time with you." I nodded toward my building. "Let me just change and then we can go grab some food?"

  Jenna let out a breath. "Yeah, cool." She still looked unsure and so I leaned in and kissed her cheek.

  "Nice to see you, by the way."

  She grinned. "Nice to see you, too." I took her hand and led her up to my apartment.

  Half an hour later we were strolling along a street near the marina headed toward a casual Italian restaurant I hadn't been to for over a year. "Oh, I wanted to ask if you're available two weeks from now? Friday?" Jenna asked, turning to me slightly as she walked.

  "I think so," I said, stopping in front of the restaurant and holding the door open as she passed through. "What's going on Friday two weeks from now?"

  "One of my biggest clients is helping host a charity thing in Marin. I told her I'd be there."

  "What's the charity?"

  "Guatemalan whatnot. They're building a school or something like that."

  I chuckled and raised one brow. "A cause close to your heart, then?"

  She laughed. "Not really, but there'll be free champagne. What do you say? Do you have a tux?"

  My mind was momentarily blank as I recalled a very different reaction to people in need. There's always someone society chooses not to see. There's always someone who is invisible through no fault of their own. And yet she hadn't existed? Confusion and despair tugged at my heart, but I did my best to push the feelings aside. Refocusing on the woman before me—the real woman—I quickly thought back to what she'd asked me. A tux . . .

  "I could get one."

  "Awesome."

  The hostess led us to our table, and we ordered wine.

  "So what are you doing this weekend then?"

  I cleared my throat. "Actually, I have to clean out Holden's house. I was considering doing it this weekend. It's been a year and a half, and I still haven't touched anything."

  Jenna's mouth opened slightly. "Oh, geez. I didn't realize you were that close to Holden Scott."

  I nodded. In truth, Holden had left everything to me—his money, his house, all his things. I'd thought about it and decided I was ready to go through some of it, at least get rid of his clothes, meaningless stuff like that. I'd do a little at a time, take it slow, see how I felt. At least that's what Dr. Katz had advised at my last session. "Yeah. Yeah, I was. We were best friends since childhood. We both grew up in Ohio."

  Her eyes grew wide. "Oh God, Ryan. I'm sorry. What are you going to do with his stuff? I bet some of it would go for insane prices if you auctioned it."

  "I wouldn't auction Holden's stuff," I said a little too defensively.

  She put her hand on top of mine on the table. "I just meant that it could bring in some cash that you could use to help people. Was he a supporter of some charity or another?"

  I sighed. "Yeah. I'll think on it." God, even talking about it like this was making me tired. Could I really even do it?

  Jenna paused, giving me a small smile. "If you can wait a few days, I can come along and help."

  I resisted grimacing. "No. No, thank you, Jenna. This is something I have to do on my own."

  Her face fell as she pulled her hand away. "I understand."

  "Thanks." Thankfully, the waitress interrupted the ensuing awkward pause with our wine. I fiddled with the silverware sitting on the table in front of me. "Listen, Jenna," I said. She stilled as if waiting for bad news. "I think I should tell you something about me. I mean before this goes any further. I don't want you to feel duped down the road and—"

  "You're dating someone else," she said.

  "What? No. No, nothing like that. No, it's about me."

  She appeared to relax. "Okay, what is it?"

  I paused, searching for the right words. "When Holden died, I . . . lost it for a while. I," Jesus, this was hard, "went a little crazy."

  Jenna tilted her head, looking confused. "Okay. Well, I think that's only natural. I mean, it had to have been a huge blow. Now that I know you were best friends . . . it must have been devastating."

  I nodded. "Yes, but . . . I don't think I'm communicating the severity of my breakdown. The truth is, I didn't just go a little crazy, I went a lot crazy." I let out a small laugh containing little humor. "I think you should know. And I won't blame you if you want to run in the opposite direction."

  She watched me for a moment, and I shifted in discomfort, looking down. "Ryan, are you trying to tell me you're damaged goods?"

  I met her eyes. "Uh, yeah, I guess that’s what I'm trying to tell you. That’s exactly what I'm trying to tell you."

  She reached out her hand and put it over mine once again. "I'm sorry you went through such a hard time. And I'm sorry you lost someone you loved. But I think the fact that you took it so hard shows you're someone I want to know better, not someone I want to run away from."

  I opened my mouth to say something and then closed it again. That was really nice. I wasn't sure I had properly conveyed the extent of my insanity, but I also wasn't sure I owed her all the details either. I felt better just having given her the bare bones.

  Jenna raised her glass. "Okay, so, to new beginnings," she said. "To wonder and magic." The candle on the table flickered and for a moment, the light hit her eyes and they appeared almost violet. Lily. I blinked just as the light shifted, and they returned to their true hazel color.

  I smiled and it felt a little bit wobbly. Holding my glass up and inclining my head, I said, "To Disneyland."

  Later, I drove her back to her apartment and walked her to her door. And then, because she was pretty and nice, because she'd made me genuinely laugh for the first time in almost a year, and because she'd made me feel like I might not be damaged goods, I kissed her. Her lips were warm and soft and tasted of a new beginning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lily

  "What do you think?" my grandmother asked.

  I looked around at the plain room in the rental house, just a bed, a dresser, and a bedside table. The linens on the bed were white. Sterile. It didn't look much different than the room from which I'd just moved. At least it didn't smell like disinfectant. "It's nice," I said.

  My grandmother smiled. "Well, it's just temporary anyway, but get yourself settled. I took the liberty of ordering a few dresses for you. They're in the closet. Try them on when you feel up to it, darling."

  I stiffened, not turning as I nodded my head. "Thank you," I murmured.

  When I heard the door click closed behind me, I walked over to the closet and opened the door. Hanging inside were two garment bags. I took them out and unzipped the bag on top. Inside was a long, black, sleeveless gown, simple yet elegant. I relaxed slightly. Okay, so I hadn't picked it out myself, but it was lovely, I'd give my grandmother that. And it was even my size. Putting it aside, I unzipped the second bag. My eyes widened as I pulled the stunning dress free from its plastic closure. It was a one-shouldered, floor-length ball gown in a shade of purple so deep it appeared almost black when turned away from the light. It was reminiscent of a gown from the forties, something Lana Turner or Rita Hayworth would have worn to a Hollywood movie premier. I loved everything about it. I quickly stripped out of my jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt and pulled it on. Even with the white straps of my bra show
ing, it was beautiful and fit as if it had been made just for me. I twirled, watching as the skirt swung out around me. Something about that brought a sense of happiness I hadn't felt in a long time. A surge of hope filled my chest. Life can still hold miracles, even very small ones. And maybe if there were enough small doses of joy, sprinkled just often enough, I'd survive. As if the path of my life was a dot-to-dot puzzle, the spaces between the dots of joy filled with uncertainty and perhaps even pain. But eventually I'd make it to the end and there would be some sort of picture. Some sort of point.

  There was a knock at my door. "Come in," I called, expecting my grandmother. The door opened and my body froze. It was my grandmother's butler, Jeffrey. He smiled.

  "Hello, Lily. My, how beautiful you look. What's the occasion?" He came up behind me, and I met his eyes in the mirror—the color so dark brown they almost looked black.

  "I . . . I was just trying on a dress for an event Grandma's taking me to." I cleared my throat. I didn't like this man. He made me nervous, but I would not stutter in front of him. I would not give him that.

  He smiled again, his eyes moving down my body. I resisted the urge to cover myself with my arms, resisted the urge to pull away. "Lovely," he murmured. "So lovely. So grown up." After another tense moment, he pulled back, as if coming out of a trance. "Well, I just came to say hello and let you know I was here if you need anything." I nodded, not breaking eye contact.