The Last Good Place of Lily Odilon (9 page)

He ran over the facts as he understood them. About a year ago, Lily ran with a party crowd and they frequently got into minor trouble—they were caught smoking, ditching school here and there, and once got busted at a kegger and cited for underage drinking. One night, for some reason, they decided to do something different and break into Lily’s stepfather’s dental clinic—not too difficult, since Lily knew where to get the keys and the alarm code—and huff some laughing gas. Obviously things got a little wild at some point, based on the destruction found later: files dumped, broken glass, instruments scattered.

What the cops put together from the scene, since Lily had no memory and none of the other kids had stepped forward, was that Lily had OD’d on the gas and her friends, probably in a panic, had left her. It was lucky for her that someone had seen the light through the plate-glass windows and called the police. The police called Lily’s stepfather and they all arrived on the scene to find the office wrecked and empty, except for an unconscious Lily. Later, at the hospital, the doctors informed Lily’s parents that in addition to the damage from the gas, she’d hit her head on the way down and had “some pretty awesome head trauma,” as Lily put it later to Albert.

“I was a veg for nearly four months,” she’d told him, as if this was a normal thing. The only good thing about it, she said, was that her stepfather had declined to press charges against her for the break-in and the major damage.

Then after her release from the hospital, Lily had cleaned up her act. She ditched the old crew and was working through a couple of kinds of rehab and giving her senior year of high school a second shot.

By the time Albert moved to Little Solace, the story had mellowed from juicy gossip to a local legend along the lines of “Don’t you know the deal with
that
family?” The Morales clan had first heard the story from their Realtor when Albert’s parents were buying the house.

Then Albert had met Lily, and they were happy … and then Lily split without warning, maybe because she and her stepfather were still not OK about the break-in after all this time, and they’d had a fight, and she was afraid.

Sighing because his head hurt, Albert shut off the TV and the lights. In the dark, he put the letter with the postcard back in the envelope, the envelope back in the book, and the book back on the shelf, and then he unwedged the chair from the doorknob and crawled into bed.

He closed his eyes, and the lines of Lily’s handwriting were tattooed on the insides of his eyelids. He wondered what Lily thought she remembered about her accident. He also wondered if she was losing her mind. Maybe the danger was coming from herself and her half-remembered lost months. Drain damage.

Except
, said the part of his brain that wouldn’t let him give in to the easiest explanation,
except there’s the argument the neighbors overheard. The argument the police seem to think was between me and Lily but which she now seems to be trying to tell me was with Kogen. Kogen, the guy who lied about me and Lily fighting.

Lily really was in trouble. They both were, maybe more than he had first realized.

While he slept, a plan started forming.

The next morning, Albert’s parents acted as if nothing had happened the night before at the dinner table. He was too preoccupied to care, or wonder why. When it was time to leave for school, he set off in the usual direction with his backpack slung over his shoulders.

After about six blocks, when he was sure he was far enough from the house, Albert took a right where he would’ve normally gone left. He had a vague idea of heading toward a park on the other side of town, and a more specific idea about cutting school for the day.

It was a fine, sunny morning, an unusual February day that hinted at a spring still at least two months away. Despite all that was on his mind, Albert enjoyed the simple activity of walking with the warm sun baking the top of his cold head.

By the time he arrived at the park, Albert had come to a couple of conclusions. Neither conclusion made him too happy, but it felt good to have made any decision at all. He felt more in control now that he had a clear plan of attack. First, he decided, he needed to get into Lily’s room and search it for clues. “Search the room for clues” was the way he phrased it to himself, and it felt idiotic, but there was no other way to put it when he didn’t know exactly what he was looking for. He just needed something to satisfy himself that there wasn’t some piece missing.

The reason he had to be sure was because of his second conclusion: that he had to find Lily, and then convince her to go to the police.

The fact that the first part of his plan was illegal still wasn’t as frightening as the second part, the idea of just picking up and leaving to track Lily down. What he was thinking about was usually called “running away,” although Albert felt like there were major differences between his reason for leaving and some juvenile delinquent’s. Still, he doubted his parents would give a crap about how he rationalized it. The police probably wouldn’t care, either.

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered aloud to himself, sounding like the occasional drifters who slept in this park when the weather was nicer.

Albert sat on an empty bench, outwardly so that he could eat the apple from his lunch but really to gather his courage. He had the rest of the day ahead of him, when everyone was either in school or at their job—or seeing patients at their successful dental clinics. It was an excellent time to put the first part of his two-part plan into action and let himself into Lily’s house while it was—probably, hopefully—empty. He hoped he remembered it right, that she’d told him neither her mother nor her stepfather was ever home during the day.

He should’ve felt faint just thinking about it, but in spite of what his father liked to say, Albert was
not
a drooping flower. He was going to do this crazy thing. He closed his eyes and was able to visualize the flat stone in the garden where he’d seen Lily retrieve the key to the house’s back door. Then he saw himself with that key, slipping easily inside the empty house, stepping down the hall and into her bedroom.

Nothing could be easier.

He opened his eyes. Now all he had to do was leave this bench and go do it for real.

After several more minutes, Albert’s legs got the messages his brain was sending and he stood up abruptly, hurrying back out of the park and toward Lily’s house before he could change his mind. Or come to his senses.

At the far edge of the park was a duck pond, though this time of year the water was drained out and the paddleboats were all locked away somewhere until spring. At one edge of the empty pond was the unoccupied boat rental and snack shack, and beyond that was a small parking lot. There were only two cars in it. Albert had to cross the lot to leave the park. He scanned both cars without much interest, keeping an eye out for the mostly harmless panhandlers this park was know for. The first car, a beat-up orange VW Beetle, was empty. The tan Saab near it wasn’t.

Albert’s eyes happened to meet those of the man slumped in the driver’s seat, and the shock of recognition locked their gazes.

Shit
. It was the cop, Andersen.

Knowing it was probably useless, Albert ducked his head and walked faster. But Andersen was out of his car quickly and easily closed the distance between them. There was nowhere for Albert to go, so he stopped.

“I’m pretty sure school is currently in session,” Detective Andersen said when he was almost on top of Albert, by way of greeting. If he was upset at being spotted following Albert, he wasn’t showing it.

Albert shrank, feeling like a naughty child. The idea that this guy had been following him—and might have caught him at something worse that ditching—made him cold all over. But trying to be cool, he said, “You mean it isn’t Saturday?”

“What are you doing off school grounds, Morales?” Andersen asked, ignoring Albert’s smart remark.

“I got lost,” Albert said, resuming walking.

Andersen fell into step with him. “Shall I call your mommy to come pick you up at the station, then?”

Albert stopped again. “What I mean is, I was actually on my way to school.”

“You’re a little late. Why don’t I give you a ride?” Andersen said, jerking his head back toward his car parked behind the empty duck pond.

There was nothing Albert could do but follow the detective across the parking lot to his car. It sucked and Albert didn’t trust him, but it was better than having Andersen call his mother like he’d threatened to do. Once there, Andersen unlocked the car manually and held the door open for Albert, shutting it for him before walking around to get in on the driver’s side.

Andersen started the car and rolled slowly out of the park and onto the main road. Neither of them spoke. Finally, Albert couldn’t stand it any longer. Even though he knew this was a game and by caving in first he would lose, he asked, “How did you know I was there?”

Andersen glanced at him, then back at the road. He pursed his lips, but said nothing.

“Or was it just my lucky day?”

They were just a couple of blocks from the school now. The cop said, “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a person of interest to me and my case and we’re keeping a nice, cozy watch on you.”

“Gee, that
is
a cozy thought,” said Albert absently, his heart only half interested in goading the guy. His plan for the day had quickly gone into the toilet. Here he was, nearly back at school instead. And with the added bonus of being in more trouble with a guy who already didn’t seem to like him.

“I’m not a truant officer,” Andersen said, “but I think you’d better be in school when you’re supposed to be in school. Don’t make things harder on yourself than you have to.”

Albert nodded. “I already missed my math test, so I’m good. Anyway, I like to wait until it’s at least seventy outside before I start skipping hardcore.” They’d coasted to a stop in front of the school. “Thanks for the ride.”

Albert unfolded himself from the car before Andersen could say anything else and nudged the door shut behind him. Heading up the steps toward the wide front doors of the school, he felt Andersen’s eyes on his back the entire way. He made himself walk slowly.

It was a weird feeling to know that this changed nothing: he was going to skip school again on Monday and break into Lily’s room, just as he’d planned. He would just have to be more careful this time not to get caught.

“W hy are we stopping?” Olivia asks. “I recognize that gas station up there. We’re almost to the turnoff.”

Albert sinks to his knees, holding up a hand to tell her to give him a moment. He can’t speak, because his asthma is acting up again. He’s annoyed and alarmed … this came on when they hadn’t even been straining. Ignoring the slow transformation of Olivia’s expression from impatience to concern as she watches him pull for air, Albert tries to concentrate on his breathing alone. The crappy part isn’t just the slow constricting of his chest as he struggles for air, but the fact that the more he has to fight the harder it is not to panic, and the more he panics the harder it is to breathe. Not having an inhaler adds an extra negative psychological effect. It’s as if his body knows there’s no help if he can’t get this under control.

“Are you okay?” Olivia asks, bending to bring her face closer to his.

He ignores her question and tries to relax, willing the bad moment to pass. After a while, it does.

“Sorry,” he says when he can speak again. His voice is weak. “Give me another minute and I’ll be fine.”

“Take your time,” she says, turning to look up the road ahead.

“It’s never been this bad. Normally I only use my inhaler about three times a year. Must be the …” He gestures at the trees and the overcast sky.

“Stress?”

Not bothering to explain what he really means, Albert nods his head.
Whatever
. Then he gets to his feet. “I’m ready. Where are we?”

“I don’t remember the name,” she says, stamping her feet to keep warm. “But after this, we take another jog, north and east, I think. There’s a turn-off, and just a string of those wide-spot-in-the-road tourist stops—food and gas and a motel, I think—before we’re at the lake itself.”

“You’re sure about the turn-off?” Albert asks.

“I’m positive I’ll know it when I see it.”

“Anything more definite?” His words are kind of a croak.

“Stop worrying,” Olivia offers as an answer. “If we get that far, I can take us right there.”

As he waits for his breathing to go back to normal, Albert wonders if the next town will have any kind of pharmacy. He pictures himself throwing a trash can through a window in order to steal himself a new inhaler. The picture in his mind is really vivid—from lack of sleep or lack of oxygen, he doesn’t know. So clear, in fact, that he can almost see the worn countertop and the blood pressure machine in the corner of the darkened drugstore. He sees himself in the back room where the drugs are, passing over the more popular OxyContin and Valium in order to fill his pockets with names like Maxair, Xopenex, or Ventolin.

“It always comes back to a break-in, doesn’t it?” Albert half laughs, half wheezes.

“Maybe we’d better rest awhile longer,” Olivia says. There’s a confused expression on her face. Obviously she has no idea what he’s talking about; she can’t, not being inside his head.

“I’m fine now,” he says, still wheezing a little. “Let’s just keep going.”

But she doesn’t think he’s ready, and he’s not sure she’s wrong. Neither of them say anything for a while as she lets him catch his breath. Ten minutes later, they’re on their way again, both silent, engrossed in their own thoughts.

“My mom is probably losing her mind worrying … first about Lily, and now about me, too.”

Albert’s little asthma attack has slowed them down further. They’re just now getting to the town and onto what they hope is the last leg of their journey. Olivia has spoken suddenly.

Albert opens his mouth to respond, then thinks better of it. He’s tired as well as weakened now, and he doesn’t feel like starting anything, even by accident.

She must have felt his hesitation because she says, “Whatever it is, just say it.”

“I wasn’t going to argue with you. She probably
is
worried. But I don’t know her; you do. And I was just thinking that both you and Lily must have good reasons for not letting her in on any of this.”
I know I do
, he adds silently, thinking of his own parents.

“You could’ve just said that.”

Albert waits for the rest of whatever she has to say, and after a moment, Olivia goes on.

“My mom chose Perry because he was able to create for her—for us, too, but mostly her—the kind of family she thought we needed to be.
Our
family didn’t have that devoted father and husband, so she went out and got us one. A doctor, too—unlike the rat bastard who ran out on her and two little girls.” Albert sees her make a face in the darkness. “I’m just reciting here—I don’t remember ‘the rat bastard’ well enough to actually hate him.”

“That sucks.”

She shrugs. “My point is, she’s really wrapped up in the good doctor because she’s built this whole
thing
around him—tennis lessons for her, piano for us, new clothes whenever we need them, vacations and dinners at good restaurants and cable television and a nice house. I’ve heard over and over about what Perry has done for us. ‘Your father’—she doesn’t mean the sperm donor, she always calls Perry our father—‘pulled us out of the
gutter
. Without him, we’d be back in that one-room on the far side of Walker Avenue, with no braces or buttons or bows.’” Olivia bites absently at the tip of her middle finger, as Albert has noticed she often does when she’s thinking. “She’s said
that
one a million times, too.”

“Buttons or bows?” Albert asks.

“Exactly. What the hell does that mean? She’s always telling us how lucky we are that he’s such an upstanding guy, willing to be daddy to two girls who aren’t even his. He’s tight with the cops, plays golf with the mayor, and will probably run for city council next year. Let me ask you,” she says to Albert, her voice wavering, “do you think she’d want to believe her sainted husband is a perv? And lose everything?”

“I guess not. It doesn’t sound like it.”

“After the crap Lily put them through … she’s been a kind of nightmare ever since she hit thirteen, seriously. Drinking, smoking, and running around, not to mention everything last year. Mom
isn’t
going to believe it.” Olivia goes on as if she’s convincing herself. “And even if I told her … I’m afraid if she did come around, it would be too late. She wouldn’t be able to protect Lily from Perry, even if she did believe Perry was the problem. And I couldn’t protect either of them.”

“Or yourself,” Albert says, because that matters, too, and he wants her to know. “Maybe being worried out of her mind isn’t the worst thing that could happen.”

“Yeah. Well. I just know I’m not going to give her a chance to let us down. It’s too important.”

He doesn’t know what to say to this last thing, so he ignores it. “Everything would be so much easier if we had Lily’s journal.”

Olivia slaps him on the back, two strong blows that sort of hurt. “True. But it’s kind of late to worry about that, isn’t it?”

They fall silent. Albert draws a deep breath of sharp winter cold into his lungs and is grateful for how easy it is.

He thinks about what Olivia said about not giving her mother a chance to let down her daughters. It had sounded harsh to him—the words themselves, but also the absolute, emotionless way she’d said it. Olivia isn’t sure she can turn to her mother in a crisis involving her stepfather and sister, with all that’s happened, so she isn’t about to take a chance. He wonders what the woman has done to make Olivia so sure it isn’t worth the risk, that their mother won’t come through when it matters.

While Albert is thinking about all this, he can avoid the fact that he’s done the same thing with his parents, and for similar reasons. He knows very well that his parents strongly believe that people in authority are to be trusted and obeyed—this goes for cops and teachers and priests, and doctors, too. If Albert had given them the whole story, he’s positive they would have told him he was mistaken about what he thought he knew and insisted he go to the authorities.

(And if he’d still had Lily’s firsthand version of what had happened, the one that only she possessed? Even confronted with
that
, Albert’s big fear is that his mother would probably slap his face in disgust and call Lily a liar, and that his father would go with whatever his mother said. It seems like it would be too much to expect them to believe Lily’s word over her successful, friendly, handsome stepfather. Like Olivia, Albert isn’t willing to risk finding out. Olivia’s right—it’s too important.)

They would have pushed him to tell everything to the same authorities whose head investigator on the case is Andersen, a friend of Kogen’s, part of his regular Saturday golf foursome. After seeing what Kogen was willing to do in order to keep Lily’s story buried, Albert has a bad feeling that if any of these responsible adults find out where Lily might be before he and Olivia can get to her, Kogen will go to Lily and make sure she never comes back to tattle on him.

As they walk, they pass a phone booth. Albert feels a twinge of guilt and thinks briefly of calling his parents, just to tell them he’s okay. Then he remembers about things like wiretaps and line traces, and he can’t think what he’d say that would make it worth the risk.