Part 11 (1/2)
”Get dressed,” Lips...o...b..said. ”I know what to do.”
Chapter Twenty-One.
The following Monday, a little after eleven, I was looking over the subpoenas for the grand jury witnesses when I sensed someone walking though the door. I looked up, and my heart lightened. It was my daughter, Lilly, auburn-haired like her mother, green-eyed like Sarah and me. She was wearing an orange University of Tennessee T-s.h.i.+rt covered by an open, black jacket and a pair of jeans. She was trim, athletic, ridiculously young and vibrant, and smiling the radiant smile that always turned me into a ball of pliable putty.
”Hi daddy,” she said brightly.
”Lilly! What are you doing here?” I stood and bashed my thigh against the corner of the desk as I hurried around to embrace her. Pain shot through my leg, but I ignored it and limped the last couple of steps.
”I came to take you to lunch,” she said.
”Why aren't you in school? Have I missed something?”
She hugged me tightly around the neck and kissed me on the cheek. She'd done it thousands of times, but the touch of her lips against my skin and the warmth of the embrace always warmed me.
I cupped her face in my hands. ”Has anyone told you lately what a drop-dead gorgeous young lady you are?”
”I don't think I've heard 'drop-dead gorgeous' lately.”
”That's a crime. Give me the name of every boy you've seen in the past month, and I'll put them all in jail. So what are you doing here? This is your third year in college and it's the first time you've ever showed up unannounced.”
”I've been missing you. And there's something I need to talk to you about. Can you get away for an hour or so?”
”Absolutely. Where do you want to go?”
”Someplace private.”
I ordered take-out from The Firehouse in Johnson City and we drove to Rotary Park off Oakland Avenue. Something was bothering her, because she was quiet and seemed distracted in the car. Lilly was rarely distracted, and she was never quiet. I'd been on hour-long walks with her in the past during which the only syllables I uttered were, ”uh-huh.” When we got to the park, we walked through the woods to one of the small pavilions and sat down at a picnic table. The day was overcast and a bit chilly, and the canopy of oak leaves rustled in the breeze above our heads.
”Is this private enough?” I asked, opening a Styrofoam container of salad and sliding it across to her. She smiled half-heartedly and started picking at the salad with a plastic fork.
”So what's on your mind, Lil? Is everything okay?”
”I guess it depends on your definition of okay.”
”Spit it out. You know you can talk to me about anything.”
”I'm afraid I've let you down.”
Her bottom lip began to quiver slightly and her eyes became translucent with tears. I couldn't imagine what she'd done, or what she thought she'd done, that would upset her so. Lilly had been entirely too easy to raise, a child that was as close to perfect as I could have hoped for. She was a tremendous student, she worked hard at dance and theater, and she loved to read. She'd never been moody or rebellious, she didn't drink, smoke or use drugs, and she'd managed to stay away from boys until after her senior year in high school. She'd started dating a young man named Randy Lowe just before she went off to the University of Tennessee, and they were still together. She was almost a prude in some respects, so much so that one evening when she was fifteen years old, I offered her twenty dollars just to say ”s.h.i.+t.” She blurted out the syllable and stuck out her hand. The word sounded so strange, so out-of-character, coming from her lips that it was hilarious, and I laughed so hard that my stomach cramped. I paid up, though, and it was the only time I'd ever heard her curse.
I reached across the table for her hand as tears began to run down both of her cheeks.
”What is it, Lil? Tell me.”
She looked down at the salad, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Her eyes rose up to meet mine.
”I'm pregnant,” she said softly.
The words were so unexpected, so utterly shocking, that I stopped breathing for a second. I released her hand and straightened up, momentarily unable to think, to feel, or to understand. The phrase echoed in my sub-consciousness like I was standing at the precipice of a deep canyon listening to an echo, but instead of fading, it grew louder.
”Excuse me,” I said, and I stood and walked a few steps away from the table, trying to gather my thoughts. Pregnant? Lilly? Impossible. Caroline and I had had the pregnancy conversation with both Jack and Lilly dozens of times. Don't get pregnant. Don't get someone pregnant. If you're going to have s.e.x, use some kind of contraception. You're not ready for a child. Get your education, find a career, get married, then have a baby if you want one. Set the parameters for the child's life, don't let a child set the parameters for yours. I stopped ten feet from the table, turned, and asked the dumbest question I possibly could have asked.
”How? How did this happen?”
”I made a mistake.”
”A mistake? I don't think I'd call this a mistake, Lilly. This is more along the lines of monumental blunder. What are you going to do now? What are you going to do with a baby?”
”I'll love it, daddy. The same way you love me.”
I walked back over to the table and stood over her. Part of me wanted to hug her and part of me wanted to smack her.
”It's a little more complicated than that,” I said. ”Have you thought this through at all? What about school? What about dance? And theater? What about your career? How are you going to feed this baby and clothe it and shelter it? Dammit, Lilly! How could you be so stupid? What about your future?”
”Stop yelling at me!”
”I'm not yelling!”
”Yes you are!”
”No I'm not!”
”I'll have the baby and raise it. We'll work it out somehow.”
”You don't have the first clue about how to raise a child. It's not like they come with instructions.”
”You and mom will help me.”
”Your mom and I have lives of our own. We have plans of our own, and right now our plans don't include raising another child.”
”Fine, then I'll raise it myself.”
She got up from the table and started walking down the path toward the parking lot. I stared at her for a minute, still incredulous.
”Where are you going?”
”I'm going back to school.”
”How are you going to get back to your car? Walk?”
She kept going.
”Lilly! I'm sorry, alright? Come back here and let's talk.”