Lily Love (16 page)

“Can’t you see?” I plead with him. “We’re flirting with this affection we have for each other around these huge events in our lives. Am I nuts? I feel a little crazy.” With a heavy sigh I slouch back in my seat, mentally exhausted. I don’t know if I’m making sense to anyone else, but it makes sense to me. Later on, I don’t want Tate to be reminded of the worst time in his life when he thinks about me. It makes me cringe to think about what he’d say when someone asked him how he met me. “Great story! I met her when I found out my mother was dying.” Fail.

“I hear you,” Max reassures me, “and I feel you. However, you can’t predict what may or may not happen. You can only control how you react moving forward. If you feel like you need to draw a line, then draw it. If Tate’s the man he sounds like, then he’ll respect that. You have to decide what you’re comfortable with, and go from there. Talk to him tonight. Tell him how you feel.”

“What if I’m overreacting?” I lament. “What if I read him wrong and he doesn’t feel the same way? I’ll make an ass of myself.” I mean, it is pretty presumptuous to waltz into Giff’s and suggest that we tone down the attraction we have to each other, when neither of us has copped to it.

Max sighs in frustration. “You aren’t getting it, girl. I spent five seconds with the dude and could see how much he’s into you. You aren’t assuming anything; you’re setting the pace, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” He gives me a mischievous smile and starts to hum the song “Falling Slowly.”

“You’re such a girl,” I tease. He responds by adding words and volume to his serenade. “Shh,” I snicker, as the moms around us perk up and start staring. He leans his head back and belts out the chorus with gusto. I bury my face in my hands and start laughing. That’s how Lily and her OT find us, laughing like a couple of lunatics with the rest of the waiting room watching curiously.

“Mama, Maxy, Mama, Maxy,” Lily croons. The change in her chant surprises me. Her speech therapist smiles in surprise as well. I know she chants for the people who mean the most to her, and it makes my heart swell to hear Max included. Her therapist marvels at the consonant combination of short A and long E. It’s not lost on Max either; I notice the way his face softens when she says his name. She’s got him wound tight around her pinky finger.

“Lily Love,” Max answers. Lily launches herself into his arms and peppers his cheek with kisses.

“My Maxy,” she declares, and rests her head on his shoulder. I swear there is a collective sigh among the moms. Max is oblivious; he’s all wrapped up in my girl.

“Your Maxy has to go to work, Lily Pad,” I explain. “You and I are going to meet up with Daddy.”

“You gonna be okay?” Max asks as he places Lily back on her feet.

“Oh yeah, I’m good,” I say. “It’s his night with her. She’s getting used to his new place. No worries.” When Peter first left, our Lily exchanges gutted me. It would take me the entire course of Lily’s absence to recover. Now they’re so routine, there is barely any discomfort. I suppose that has a lot to do with the fact that I’m beginning to fill my free time with things other than mourning the loss of what I thought would be my life. New friends, a renewed interest in writing; I’m learning to bend with the changes, not break, and it feels hopeful.

“Call me after dinner,” Max calls out as we walk away. I look over my shoulder and stick my tongue out at him in defiance.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want that thing in my mouth either,” he teases. In choreographed unison, every mouth in the waiting room drops. My face blushes scarlet.

“Wha . . . I . . . pshh . . .” I stammer through meaningless gibberish as Max walks past us, laughing hysterically.

“I crack myself up.” He snickers on his way out. “Call me.” He’s gone before I can collect myself enough for a comeback.

“Who was that?” Lily’s OT asks. I forgot she was standing there. I’m so scattered, I’ve been completely ignoring her.

“That’s my friend Max,” I reply. She lets out a slow whistle.

“Some friend you got there, Ms. Hunter.” She stares at the door wistfully, perhaps willing him to return.

“Indeed.” I smirk at her reaction to him; it’s commonplace with the ladies. “The best kind of friend there is.”

That is the God’s honest truth. He is the best friend I’ve ever had.

Peter’s car is parked in the driveway when we arrive at the house. I wait for the sting of nostalgia to rear its head, but time has proven effective in wearing down its sharp edges. To say I’m relieved sounds cold, but I am relieved for the progress marked by the absence of longing. It was not my intention for the future not to include Peter. But whether or not it’s intended, all that is left of our connection is our daughter.

When I pull into the garage, Peter appears in the doorway. All the talk of where to draw lines has me inspired to go over some things with Peter. First order of business: this is not his home anymore. I think it would be best to assert some boundaries that include taking back the key to the house. I don’t want it to be an argument, but it seems like there’s been some wavering on where each of us stands lately. I don’t want to invite any more confusion into my life. At the end of the day, we’re still a family. It’s best to be one on good speaking terms and not one fraught with angst and bitterness.

“Hey,” he greets me as I step out of the car. “How’d it go?” He opens the back door to release Lily from her booster seat. She clings to him like a little monkey, covering his face with kisses. Seeing her with him is a good reminder why we will do well to be careful with each other: Lily.

“It went well; we’re getting by. Learning to let our friends help out,” I say. I leave Max out of the equation to prevent another argument about it. Peter knows that he stayed over to help with Lily. He wasn’t thrilled about it, and he happily let me know exactly what he thought, but he understood why it couldn’t be him.

Lily hops out of the car and looks back and forth between Peter and me. I wonder what’s going on in that beautiful head of hers. Is she confused to see us together in some moments and apart in others? Does she understand?

“Maxy make pan-a-cakes,” Lily proclaims proudly. Peter scowls. Ass.

“Yes, he did, Lily Pad,” I affirm for her.

It would be nice if Peter could think of her and not his pettiness right now. It irritates me when Lily tries to engage him in her way and he’s too self-involved to notice. It’s funny how details like that don’t make themselves known until you see things from another perspective. Max had no problem meeting Lily on her level and enjoying her. I didn’t notice Peter’s unwillingness to do that until now. It’s always about her coming to him, and that’s just not fair.

“You could at least acknowledge her, Peter. How is she going to understand reciprocal conversation if we don’t teach her how to use it?”

Peter ignores my comment and escorts Lily into the house. It’s not my job to smooth things over between him and Lily anymore. I give myself a mental reminder and resist the urge to intervene further. He’s going to have to learn how to talk to his daughter without me there to facilitate. It’s my fault as much as it is his. I was overbearing and controlling where Lily was concerned. He didn’t do much because I didn’t let him. He didn’t argue, but clearly that didn’t make either of us happy. Why is it that these things only become apparent in hindsight?
So we aren’t destined to repeat our mistakes. I know this, but it irritates me how masochistic the whole thing is: you’ve got to screw up royally in order to learn how not to. I follow them into the house and freeze when I see Peter rummaging through the fridge.

“Don’t you have a Coke or something?” he asks as he looks.

“No,” I answer. “You were the Coke drinker. I don’t buy pop for me or Lily.” I fold my arms over my chest and wait while he closes the door.

“Well, that sucks,” he states matter-of-factly. “Maybe you could keep a couple in here for when I come over.”

Breathe, Caroline. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . .

“Peter, you don’t live here anymore. I’m not going to keep drinks here for you.” I fight the urge to add, “You stupid ass.” Hello? Is anyone home? We’re in the process of divorcing here, not setting up camp in each other’s space.

“No, I guess that wouldn’t make sense.” He sighs.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Lily yells. She’s making a play for our attention; I know this is derived from anxiety, and guilt punches me in the gut. She doesn’t need to be an audience to our conversation. I take for granted that she doesn’t understand as much as other children her age. However, she is keenly aware of people’s feelings, and is very sensitive to them. She has to be picking up on the tension. Shame on me for forgetting that.

“It’s okay, Lily Pad.” I squat in front of her and take her hand. “Why don’t you go get your bunny and a couple of books to take to Daddy’s?”

Lily leans in and touches her nose to mine, gently sweeping back and forth. “Ugga-mugga,” she murmurs.

“Ugga-mugga, baby,” I reply, as she disappears upstairs to fetch her things.

“What does that mean?” Peter asks.

I’m not going to get irritated.

I’m not going to get irritated.

Okay, I’m flipping irritated!

“It’s from
Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood
,” I answer. Peter stares at me blankly. “Her favorite TV show? C’mon, Peter, you aren’t that disconnected. It’s how Daniel’s parents say, ‘I love you.’ ” I look at him in disbelief when he shows no sign of recognition at all. “You should watch with her and get caught up.”

“I don’t spend as much time with her as you do, Caro,” he defends. “I can’t know everything.”

“Are you serious?” I snap. His audacity has me seeing red. “Knowing your kid’s favorite TV show, that’s too much for you?” I look over my shoulder to see if Lily is coming back. At this point, I just really want him gone. “Do yourself a solid and take some time to get to know your daughter, without using me as an excuse not to.”

Peter flinches like I’ve slapped him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like I blamed you,” he says. “Everything is so different now; it’s just a lot to get used to.”

“I know it is,” I agree. “It’s a lot for us, but even more for Lily. She can’t take a backseat to any of our problems; in fact we need to amp it up and make sure she feels as safe and secure as possible. A big part of that is helping her feel understood.” I try not to sound condescending, but it’s hard when I feel like I shouldn’t have to be saying any of this in the first place.

“You’re right.” He nods. It’s my turn to stare blankly. This is way out of character; it’s never this easy. “I’ve been self-absorbed and insensitive to both of your needs.”

Warning bells go off in my head, the moment “both of your needs” leaves Peter’s lips. I eye him suspiciously.

Where in the world did that come from?

“You don’t need to worry about me, Peter. It’s Lily’s needs that we both need to focus on.” I hope that redirecting him back to Lily will inspire him to get back on track. Whatever he may perceive as my needs can’t possibly measure up to what they actually are. We haven’t been in tune with each other like that in more years than I can count.

“Don’t be like that, Caroline,” he insists. “I get it now. Lily’s tantrum, you breaking your wrist—it was the wake-up call I needed. I was premature to leave; I should’ve stayed and fought harder.”

His pleading catches me completely off guard. It’s just like him to change his mind and expect me to jump right on board with whatever he has in mind. It makes me so mad I snap in my frustration.

“It’s not like you left last week. You moved out months ago, Peter. Our divorce papers are drawn up, for chrissakes! It’s a little too late for you to have a change of heart.”

“It’s not too late to go back, Caro,” he argues, and steps toward me.

I step away. There isn’t an argument he can present that would make me want to return to a relationship that made us both so unhappy. Realizing that has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. In the end, it came down to happiness, not love. The antithesis of what we’re conditioned to believe—all you need is love. It was a rude and painful awakening to discover that fraud. There was never a loss of my love for Peter, just my ability to make him happy.

“I don’t want to go back, Peter,” I admit, and my heart aches as I watch his face fall. It’s the first time I’ve been able to say that and mean it. It’s painful, realizing that you’re ready to leave someone you loved so much in the past. More than anything, I feel resigned. It’s time for me to let go. “What we were before didn’t work. I don’t want to go through that again.” Seeing him hurt is so hard, and I don’t want to cause him more pain. I just want him to understand that we need to focus on the future, and moving forward.

“What happened to us?” he murmurs. I don’t know if he means it to be rhetorical, but I offer up my insight anyway.

“Sometimes love just ends.” My voice breaks. I’ve said the same to Max, but admitting it to Peter hurts so much deeper. “It’s not always somebody’s fault; it’s just the way it is. I don’t know why ours ended, but it did, and now we have to move on.” It’s the sad truth, and knowing that makes it hard to stake any faith in love. If it doesn’t last, then what’s the point?