Page 96 of Exquisite Things
She laughs. “Who do you take me for? It’s from the prop shop. Anyone breaks in, it might scare them off.”
Maud leaps up. Approaches Lily. “There’s history happening out there. The community is finally rising up. And you want us to stay locked in here with a fake machete to protect us. What happened toliving true?”
Lily’s eyes flicker with heartbreak. “This is different. The gloves are off. I have to protect you.”
Maud raises her voice loud. Like she wants her voice to travel through the neighborhood. A call to arms. “The people rising up aren’t afraid and neither am I.”
Lily shakes her head. “Let’s see how things look when the sun comes up tomorrow. Today, we’re not leaving this house. My home. My rules.”
We spend the day hiding. Lily seats us in front of the television. We rewatchMahogany. We don’t speak the quotes aloud this time. Don’t laugh at the most over-the-top moments. We simply sit in silence. We watchValley of the Dolls. The sound of fighting can be heard over Diana Ross and Susan Hayward. We all fall asleep in the living area. Lily with the prop machete by her side. I get the sense no one wants to sleep alone.
Saturday morning. Crust in my eyes and near my mouth. My head on Oliver’s lap. Changeling paws at me. Fights me for the limited real estate of Oliver’s body. The sound of the radio stirs me awake:Good morning, you’re listening to BBC Radio London. Riots erupted in Brixton yesterday after the stabbing of Michael Bailey. The neighborhood was—
Lily turns the radio off when she sees me enter the kitchen. She’s making the same breakfast she made for me on the day she saved me from the same police attacking us now. I can hear her voice from that day traveling to me:Eat your breakfast. Porridge and—
“Banana fritters.” Lily smiles as she stirs the porridge. Next to her: a piece of paper with scribbled notes on it.
“Rich in fiber and potassium. It’ll give you energy for the dayahead.” I stand by her side. “That’s what you said when you made this for me the day we met.”
“Amazing how you remember such trivial things.”
“Meeting you is the least trivial thing that’s ever happened to me.” I smile. “You saved me.”
She smiles too. “Still trying.”
I pick up the paper. “What’s this?”
She tries to snatch it away. I resist. I decode her messy handwriting. There’s a list of places: the Blitz. Pearl’s. Chaucer. Lily Pond. Queen’s Walk. National Theatre. A list of people: Archie. Azalea. Poppy. Blossom. Bram. Maud. Oliver. I feel my heart beat. “Is this... are these instructions for...”
“My memorial. Yes.”
I want to tear the paper up. To burn it. Make her immortal. “How can you— What I mean is— Well...”
Her jaw tenses. “I won’t live forever, you know. And with everything going on... Well, it’s hard not to think of our mortality at times like this, isn’t it?”
I don’t answer. Of course I don’t. I can’t bring myself to lie. Not to Lily. “This is morbid. You’ve listed friends who are older than you who won’t be around for your memorial. You— You’ll live a long time. I know you will.” I wave the paper in the air anxiously. I want—Ineedher to never die.
She snatches it back successfully. “I plan on going first. I have no interest in watching my chosen family die. Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“I want to be cremated and have my ashes scattered in the Thames. I need to rest in water. And I don’t care if it’s illegal to throw ashes in the river when I go. You find a way.”
I manage to cough out an “okay.” Then I change the subject. Anything is better than talking about her death. “Sounds quiet out there.” I peek out the window. I can see Railton Road in the distance. Some debris from yesterday. But no battle.
“For now.” She releases heartbreak with each breath. Places a hand on my cheek. Her eyes land on Oliver and Maud. “If anything were to happen to any of you, I would never forgive myself.”
Her eyes are misty. Her mouth tight with frustration. She seems to be aging in front of my very eyes. Her anxiety creates new lines on her faces. Or accentuates the ones faintly beginning to appear. I feel an urge to tell her everything. To confess. My father. My immortality. The truth of my history with Oliver. She deserves to know.
“Lily...” I wait for her to look at me. I feel weak in the knees when she does.
“Speak your mind, child.” The porridge is ready. She lets the fritters fry a little longer. Then prepares our bowls.
I ask: “Do you think all secrets must be shared?”
She puts the bowls down on the counter. “Not if we keep secrets to protect the people we love. Or to protect ourselves. Why do you think I didn’t tell you about Alton? Because I loved you too much to burden you with something so horrible.”
“Right.”
