Free Desperate by Daniel Palmer Page B

waited. Eventually, the door opened fast enough to create a little gust of wind, and Lily came barging out. She pushed right by me, making no eye contact, head down, green suitcase in hand. Without a word, Lily marched on down the hall, feet clomping in those heavy boots as she crossed right in front of the threshold to the living room where Anna sat waiting for me to fix this.
    “Gage!” Anna cried out as Lily bounded down the stairs. “Do something!”
    I vaulted down the stairs after her, calling Lily’s name over and over again. Not paying enough attention, I lost my concentration, followed by my footing. My feet began tripping over nothing, and I would have gone for a nasty tumble had my arms not gone into reflex mode, extending outward to brace myself against the stairwell walls. By the time I got outside, Lily was marching up the street, her suitcase swinging back and forth, following the motion of her arm.
    “Lily, wait!”
    I went chasing after her as if she had dropped a twenty on the ground.
    “Lily, please!”
    Lily came to a stop, her back still to me, in front of the house belonging to my eighty-three-year-old neighbor, Mrs. Trumbull. A curtain in Mrs. Trumbull’s home parted ever so slightly, enough for me to notice. We must have looked like we were having a lover’s quarrel. Great, now Mrs. Trumbull—who knew Anna, who gave us Tupperware containers of homemade applesauce—would think we were swingers.
    I came up behind Lily, feeling ashamed. “Lily, I know you’re upset with me.”
    No response. Lily kept her back to me, but at least she wasn’t walking away. I took this as an opportunity to keep talking.
    “I was wrong,” I said. “The second I saw your reaction, I knew that I was wrong. My love for Max clouded my judgment. I rushed to the wrong conclusion, and for that I’m so very sorry.”
    “I don’t want to be the source of any trouble,” Lily said.
    She wouldn’t turn around. Wouldn’t make eye contact. How was I going to reach her if I couldn’t get her to look me in the eye?
    “I know, Lily.”
    “I can’t be here if you think so little of me. This is hard enough as it is. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
    “I’d like you to think that you’ll give me a second chance,” I said. I risked placing my hand on her shoulder.
    Lily turned her body, ever so slowly, until we faced each other.
    “Please accept my apology,” I said. “I believe it happened the way you said it did. I don’t think you gave me the present with any intention to hurt me.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    Lily’s brokenhearted look shattered me. I felt like a bully who had just found his conscience. My throat felt too dry to speak.
    “Anna and I are grateful that you’ve come into our lives,” I said. Lily’s suitcase hovered inches above the ground, dangling as a signal to me that she had yet to accept the apology. “I’m still grieving for my son, Lily.” I felt tightness in my chest, and my stinging eyes began to blur until I cleared away the tears. My breath turned ragged, short, and shallow. “Anything that reminds me of him hits a place so deep in my heart, I can’t explain it. It’s like attacking my soul, my everything. It’s so real. So visceral.”
    “What’s visceral?” Lily asked.
    That made me stop, and I managed a weak smile.
    “It’s an SAT word,” I said. A short silence followed, as my mind transitioned from that emotional place where I stored every single thought and memory of Max and Karen, to return to the present, where Lily stood before me, her suitcase swinging back and forth like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. “It means a deep, inward feeling.”
    “Oh, I just got my GED. Sorry to stop you. I just didn’t know what you meant.”
    “What I mean is that I’m really and truly sorry to have accused you of anything. And that I hope we can put this incident behind us and start over. Please.”
    I reached for her suitcase, but Lily pulled