Page 61 of Flying

The group fans out making it feel like an old game of Red Rover, with arms linked and little space between us allowed for anyone to cause harm to the chain. I feel strong because of the group rallied around me. I want to stay with them, and frankly, they don’t deserve my repeat disappearance.

Emotions are bouncing inside me from pride and determination to fear and back when a soft and familiar voice takes the microphone. It’s Prudence, and I extract my hands from River and Stef’s to turn, only for them and by default the rest of the line to follow suit.

“Lily Jayne Long, let me tell you and everyone else here something that I don’t think has been said enough around these parts. Lily, you are focused on others, you create opportunities to make others better. We see it with how River is changing The Featherweight: he is caring for tourism and the planet. We see it in how impassioned you are about your friend having her moment.”

Pru’s black cotton dress flows and her hair is wrapped in a beautifully patterned scarf of many colors. She’s wearing lipstick in a deep ruby shade that emphasizes the power behind her words and yet she doesn’t sound angry, she is empowered. The woman sounds like when preachers ask for testimony.

“You were hurt. You were never apologized to by anyone, and you were not shown a fragment of the kindness and care you’ve given others. Carmine, you remember during the few months that Lily and Grant were married. How many times did she come in to buy the same exact ingredients over and over trying to learn to make a dish that we all know Landan just pays someone to make for him? Hmm?” Prudence narrows her eyes with a fierceness at Carmine that cannot be measured. The butcher who has personally taken apart livestock for over thirty-five years cowers in his chair.

She continues, “How about you, Albert? Hmm? Did a week go by that Lily didn’t show up to the library to volunteer to shelve books for you when you broke your leg? She was there so consistently we had a conversation with you about adding her to the payroll behind Belinda’s back. And what did you do? You agreed with Belinda to hold her to a fine for a single book you have no less than eight copies of on shelves still.”

Pausing to look my way she adds, “Lily, I paid that stupid fine by the way. It’s gone.” Albert shrinks down a bit in his seat and looks at the sky muttering about his hope to be abducted by aliens. Although, to be fair, he often seems to hope he could be abducted by aliens. It’s why there are eight copies of his favorite alien conspiracy theory novel.

Next, she turns towards Miss Nicole and says, “How about the many years where Lily was the star ballerina student? Then, when she knew dance wouldn’t be her future, she became your assistant. The months she was married, she took over the toddler classes for you. Lily was on hands and knees scrubbing those pristine studio wooden planks so that when your older students arrived there was never a hint of the inevitable urine accidents those babies left you. She hand-washed costumes, re-sewed the sparkles onto the accents. She showed up every Tuesday morning without fail, did she not?”

With a firm nod, Miss Nicole agrees. “And she makes a mean cup of coffee too. Let me rest this bum knee that kept me from my own ballet dreams. She would heat up my lavender rice packs and get things nice and cozy, then take over all the movement examples when I needed for advanced classes. Never failed to arrive when asked. Always did exactly as was needed for us.”

She taps her cane against the already set up dance floor for tomorrow’s party and meets the angry eyes of Mayor Kelly across the way with a shrug she adds, “What Jimmy? It’s just facts. The girl could work her ass off. She understood how to demonstrate movement, and she’s built a damn good following teaching others to use their bodies at any age. She’d be a great addition to what we have here. Her internet fame could pull in those college students from nearby towns and increase some of our revenue. I’m not going to lie because you have a bone to pick. Take that up with the Morgans. Cry aboutWayne Gretzky’s photo some other time. I’m sure The Great One has other signed items we can get for poor Grant.”

Prudence is roundly eviscerating the town’s lead businesses in an effort to protect me.

“Lily, you are a good woman. We will revisit this conversation when the time is appropriate. And I expect,” she holds a stare long and hard against the crowd firm in her convictions as she demands, “these stories will be kept in mind next time. And if Belinda wants to say anything, and refuses to show her face, then she can bring it up with me. Don’t think I do not know how to find any of you. Ask Landan.” Her eyes narrow on a willowy figure trying to blend in, eyes hidden under a floppy hat, long willowy limbs covered by a black hoodie and leggings, hair in an uncharacteristic ponytail. “Landan’s surely heard from Grant about our little run in on NJTransit a few months ago together, no?”

Once the town meeting ended,Daisy and Gatsby were returned to their pondside home and thankfully not given free reign of the park. This should have been the moment we all remember the birds are never well behaved, yet, nobody could think about the fowl when there was town gossip afoot.

Delia, Nessa, and I got to work on the buffet tables. We laid down intricately woven white tablecloths, then silver chafing dishes borrowed from the team at Coffee Crumbs, the needed items to grab yourself a plate on the front end were boxed and under the tables.

“Don’t forget there is fire,” Nessa cautions, leading Delia and I to exchange a look.

“Ness,” Delia tries to be firm but cautious, “you aren’t planning anything are you? You know Susan will skewer us, right? This is not the day to create chaos. This is the formal bridal shower slash engagement party, the one with grandmothers and aunts present. Not just us? Right?”

Nessa smiles sweetly and says, “Delia, why would you underestimate me so? Of course I know. That’s why I am pointing out thatyour pretty ribbons are going to get windswept into the flames if you do that spacing!”

After confirming the weather overnight and covering things with weights and tarps to protect the set up, we make our way towards the girls’ apartment. Silently I’m cursing myself because I forget that she does have a serious fear of fire.

I go to apologize for putting her back in the role of the pot stirrer when she cuts me off, “You’re thinking that just because I am the prankster that I’m always going to regress to that role. You know, that’s pretty resoundingly unfair with my doctorate and thriving businesses. I am always going to start some shit, because life is too boring without the chaos. But thankfully, there aretwopeacocks in the square, I do not need to be the one who causes chaos. They will. Guarantee it.”

forty-three

Lily

Last Sunday in April | Day of Stef’s Shower

We arrivefor the final shower prep and I’m so glad the weather held overnight. The tarps are still perfectly in place, and the bags with items to put out are under their respective tables in the bins as we left them. Everything looks good to go for the catering and bartending teams to set up their portions. River’s expanded team for events are here hauling dishwasher racks of glassware from the building.

Susan hired The Featherweightanda place called Manila Cuisine from Bergen County to work together. Over in one corner, Carmine is chatting with the other team’s head chef as he prepares the whole pig roast. I see him animatedly discussing the set up of the cooking process, as well as them comparing notes on chef’s blades. From afar, this looks like a tiny, balding man, with a beer belly covered in a stained apron animatedly holding a cleaver near an elderly Filipino grandpa’s face. Carmine is the ultimate source of his own mafia rumors.

In another corner, I see Miss Nicole with a slew of tiny ballerinas in white leotards and sparkly tutus practicing their performance for later. Exactly as expected, a little girl who is doing the shifting from foot to foot peepee dance during her explanation is off like a bat outof hell towards the first store she can reach. Unfortunately, when she returns her white leotard is replaced with a black one, and there are no tights on, and her babysitter is carrying a large plastic bag behind them.

“Going to run these to wash now, Miss Nicole! Let her keep practicing. No more juice boxes, kid! Hear me?”

Giggling to myself, this is exactly what I would have said if I was the sitter in charge too. Some things never change, the realization that I like this familiarity warms me. Looking around the square I am impressed by how little has changed since yesterday, but how much brighter it all looks and feels.

‘Helps when you aren’t lost in your own head, huh Lil?’I hear Dorothea’s wisdom in my head.

I smile as I gaze towards The Featherweight, thinking about River and the few short weeks that feel like a lifetime of waking up together in the rose room. The violet media room antics. My gorgeous, thriving living wall he gifted me. River thinks I didn’t notice, but I saw him working with Rosie from La Vie en Rose flower shop to fill the boxes outside our cottage.

Every time I see those buds taking shape my heart skips a beat just a little more. This is Taylor Swift-Cottagecore-Instagram worthy stuff like he knows half of my livelihood depends on. A line of work that, if I’m being honest, has lost its shine. I find myself staring wistfully at Miss Nicole’s and the tiny dancers for a moment.

---