AUTHOR'S NOTE: Let me just say for the record that this chapter is simply
serving as a transition to later chapters. There were some things I needed
to cover now in order to develop the plot later. I've read this over
several times, and come up with the same result: blah. It isn't
interesting. Well, at least not to me. But don't let me influence the
thoughts of my audience. Read it and decide for yourself, but just
remember that it's transitional.
Part IV
The clicking of the girl's heeled shoes on the wooden stage as they went through the numbers to be performed that night sounded like claps of thunder inside of Lily's aching head. She was sitting on a movable platform toward the back of the stage, nursing her throbbing headache and wincing at ever click and clatter as she watched her fellow dancers rehearse. She should have known better. She was well aware of what large amounts of alcohol and four hours of sleep could do to a person.
She sighed and massaged her temples, but was suddenly and painfully startled as the band decided to join in the rehearsal with their drums and cymbals. "It's only for a week," she told herself, "you've just to go survive a few more days and then it will all be over."
"Miss Fox?" She looked up to see Junior Mantovanni, son of the dearly departed founder of the theatre, demanding her attention. He oversaw all rehearsals to insure that everything was up to snuff and that everyone did exactly as they were supposed to in the exact fashion that he desired. "Miss Fox, if you would kindly join us, we are ready for you now."
She detested the snobbish, little, control-freak of a weasel that Junior was, but she smiled graciously, trying to forget the throbbing, and stood up slowly to join them. She walked over to the front of the stage, waited for the cue from the band, and then began singing. She forced a huge smile, stifling the grimaces that tried to emerge. She stumbled through the first song, off-key at one point, missing a few words in the next line. Finally, in the middle of the last chorus, she stopped, her smile fading and the grimace appearing as she muttered an, "Oh, bloody hell," under her breath.
"Stop, stop, stop!" shouted Junior, silencing the band and everyone in the room.
"Oh, bloody, bloody hell," Lily continued muttering.
"Miss Fox?" he said accusingly.
"Yes, Mr. Mantovanni?" she forced a half smile.
"Forgive me for asking, but just what in God's name is wrong with you?" he spoke sharply, his eyes narrowing with disapproval.
"I, uh," she fumbled for words, no logical cover-up lie coming to mind. "I, uh, I just-"
"She's sick!" came a voice from the back. A girl near the back of the stage stood up, coming to Lily's rescue.
"What was that Miss Monroe?" Mantovanni inquired.
Faye Monroe, Lily's best friend and current saviour came up to her and took her arm. "She terribly sick," Faye lied, "but she was afraid to tell you. She didn't want to have to let the company down by not being here. Instead, she thought she'd be noble and self-sacrificing by attending rehearsals no matter how badly she was feeling. I'm no doctor sir, but I do believe that she has that Spanish Influenza. You do know how it's been going around. And, though I know it's not what she wants to do, I think it best for her to rest for a little while. Maybe if she recuperates somewhat, she can be well enough to make this evening's performance."
"Well, fine. If she's that ill, let her rest for a while. We wouldn't want her missing out on any more. Miss Monroe, you are excused also to see that she is on the road to recovery." Mantovanni looked none too pleased about having to excuse his money-maker from rehearsal or the two following shows, but he released her so that she wouldn't be forced to miss a greater number if her condition got worse.
"Thank you, sir," said Faye, "Come on, Lily." "Thank you," repeated Lily as Faye helped her off stage.
Faye waited until they were in Lily's room and well out of earshot before she said, "What the hell is the matter with you? What's going on that you aren't telling me about?"
Lily slowly sat down on her bed, once again cradling her head in her hands. "God, Faye," she moaned, "is it absolutely necessary for you to shout? I can hear you. There's nothing wrong with my ears. And there's nothing going on, either."
"That is a big, fat lie, Lily Fox, and you know it," threatened Faye, "hey - it isn't that newsboy, that Spot what's-his-name kid, is it?"
Lily wrinkled her brow. "How the hell do you know about that?"
"Maggie told me. She told me you asked about him, and plus he sent some of his 'ambassadors' around here the other day, remember? And besides, I knew something was going on. You've been missing steps, tripping over you're feet, and today, you've obviously not normal. So are you going to tell me, or do I have to threaten your life?"
"Go to hell," Lily retorted, angered that she was being questioned and still reeling from the pain in her head.
"If I do, I'm taking you with me," Faye countered, giving Lily a harsh stare as she stood her ground, refusing to leave until the secret was revealed.
"Alright, alright," Lily finally said sighing, resigned and giving in, "yes, it is none other than Spot Conlon, newsie and dirty street urchin who chain smokes, has an alcohol and an anger management problem and has slept with half of the women in New York. The fearless leader of the Brooklyn newsies frequents our performances, sneaks into my window at night, and last night, he took me out to a party at a pub where I danced with boys I didn't know, drank too much, and stayed out far too late, which brings us up to my current predicament of feeling as though I am going to die. There, are you satisfied?"
Lily closed her eyes so as to shield herself from whatever menacing look or stern words she expected Faye to fling at her. The certain reprimand and scolding she was going to receive for her childish and silly behaviour. However, she found herself much surprised when the only thing to come from her friend's mouth was a burst of laughter. "I knew it!" Faye shrieked between giggles, "I just knew it! Lily Fox, have you gone mad!"
"Quite possibly," Lily answered.
In return, Faye said nothing. And how could she? She was laughing so hard that she couldn't speak.
"Faye, wait, hold on a moment. Two things: first, could you please stop the shrieking before my head explodes? And secondly, why the hell do you find this so humorous?"
"Oh, Lil, calm down," Faye answered, "It's not like it's a deathly serious matter. It's just a little funny that you, my dear, are keeping company with a newsie, and the most egotistical, pig-headed, cocky newsie in the city, maybe even the world, at that."
"Yes, well, it's not for long. A week, right? I've got a week before he loses interest in me and I'm rid of him. So, today being Wednesday, I figure that I've only got two, three days at most left of this foolishness. And then things can return to their happy state of normalcy, and I can continue living my life as planned," Lily explained.
Faye smiled as she headed for the door. "Sure Lily," she said, "a week. And what's a week in the course of a lifetime? Almost nothing. Now, I've got to go back down there because I'm not fortunate enough to have the Spanish Influenza like you do. And speaking of your deathly illness, you better continue to behave as if you are deathly ill after I risked my hide for you down there."
Lily massaged her forehead, over her eyebrows, as she said, "I'm sure that won't be a problem, Faye."
"Alright, feel better Sickling," Faye said smiling and closing the door behind her.
"She thinks I'm crazy," Lily said out loud to herself after Faye had left her. "She pretends that she doesn't, but she does. I'm sure Maggie does too, and so will everyone else in the building after they get wind of my little nighttime adventures with the now infamous Mr. Spot Conlon. And why shouldn't they? I are crazy. I am absolutely out of my mind!"
She let herself fall backwards from her sitting position until she was lying on her bed. She cringed as her head hit the pillow. "Aargh. But what does it matter how sane or insane you are if you are dying?" She kicked her shoes off and crawled under the covers of her bed. Hugging her pillow to her, she said, "It's only a few more days. Just a few more days."
~***~
Wednesday passed without the death that Lily felt coming on and expected. Much to her surprise, she had managed to feel a great deal better later that day, and true to Faye's word, she did make the evening performance. Wednesday night arrived, and Thursday and Friday soon came and went. Each night Lily found herself awaiting Spot's entrance through her window, and each night she was not disappointed.
The times of his arrivals varied, but each night he showed up without fail. They passed the late hours talking of the day's happenings, retelling humorous stories, sharing their wants, hopes, and dreams, though each took caution never to reveal too much about their past. On Thursday, they went on a moonlit walk, and Spot took Lily on a 'tour de Brooklyn a la Spot," showing her his favourite places, his haunts, and even the Brooklyn Newsboys' Lodging House.
The time not spent talking, laughing, or walking was passed in each others' arms, exchanging embraces, touches, and kisses, the night falling down around them. Lily found herself becoming even more attracted, to Spot, to this kid who could be telling her to shut the hell up one moment, and softly stroking her face and calling her beautiful the next. She never knew what to expect from him, and she liked the unpredictability ever so much, far more than she knew she should. She loved to challenge him, match wits with him, to see if she could get a rise out of him. She lived to see his blue eyes flash with anger. And she especially loved how he would lose his temper, say something horribly mean, and then, within a few moments, tell her, "hey, ya know I didn't mean dat," and be kissing her again. And then time would stand still, and all would be silent, and could cease to exist if they wished it to.
It had all been like a dream, as though she had walked around outside of her body for a week. Everything with Spot was so exciting, so different, and surprisingly so sweet. She would wait in eager anticipation for the day to fly by, for the sun to set and surrender to her precious night. For the few nights they had spent together had held such magic, the both of them entranced in a spell, lost inside their own world that they had created. And how Lily wished these nights could go on forever.
She had, in fact, become so wrapped up in her time of magic and mysticism that she had almost forgotten about their deadline. Their week was coming to an end, and before she knew it, Saturday had passed and Sunday was upon her. When she realized what day it was, she felt a pang of sadness and nostalgia in her stomach. Their time together had not yet fully drawn to a close, but she missed it already. She almost didn't want it to end, no matter how foolish and physically tolling it must have been. However, after much thought, she was sure Spot wouldn't feel an inch of remorse when he would come that night to tell her they were through. So, she gathered up her resolve and determined to let him go and have him forgotten by the end of the next week.
~***~
That night, she waited for him, just as she had waited for him every other night. However, this night, instead of the usual excitement she felt, there was only the dull pang of dread and sorrow. She sat still on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped in her lap. She rubbed one thumb over the other, the skin around the nail of each rough and peeling: the handiwork of her bad habit of biting her cuticles when she was nervous or anxious.
She heard the patter of footsteps on the fire escape, and looked up to see Spot climbing through her window. He smiled after he'd made it through, and Lily tried her best to smile back at him, though it was weak and not very convincing. Her face had betrayed her by not allowing a bit of the false bravery to grace her expression. Spot leaned over to kiss her forehead before sitting down beside her on the bed. A kiss on the forehead, not on the cheek or on the lips. Lily could feel that it was coming.
"Hey, I'se got somethun for ya," Spot said, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket in which some thing was wrapped.
Lily worked up all of her nerve to ask, "Is it a farewell gift?"
"A farewell gift? What dah hell are ya talkin' about?" Spot questioned with a confused tone in his voice.
"Well, it's been a week..." Lily started.
"Has it?" Spot asked, thinking, "Ah, well I guess it 'as. I hadn't noticed. Now are you'se gonna open dis or not?'
Lily was puzzled. Had Spot come there to end things between them or not? And if yes, why did he come bearing gifts. She gently opened the folds of his handkerchief to reveal two glittering gold wrapped bars. "Spot!" she said smiling, "this is chocolate! Where did you get this?"
"Uh-uh, I ain't gonna tell," he paused to think for a moment, "but on second thought, jis so ya won't accuse me o'swipin it, I guess I haf tah tell ya dat I won it in a pokah game last night. An' since I ain't too sweet on dah stuff, I figgared I'd bring it tah you."
"Well, you figured right," Lily said, happily tearing into a gold foil wrapper and forgetting about her apprehension and dread. She broke off a piece and put it into her mouth. She sighed in elation as she chewed it.
"So I take it dat ya like it?" Spot asked.
"Like it?" Lily said, still chewing, "It's divine. Here, you've got to have some." She broke off a piece and offered it to him. He shook his head. "Oh, come on, Conlon," she said, bringing the candy closer to his face. He turned his head around, and pushed her hand away. "Please," Lily pushed further, "just a little piece, please?"
Spot frowned, wrinkling his nose. Lily then grabbed his head, and force fed him the chocolate. She laughed as he chewed unhappily. When he finished, he said, "You'se gonna pay for that."
"Oh yeah," Lily retorted, "just what are you going to do to me, Mr. big, bad, I'se Spot Conlon, I'se dah leadah o' dah Brooklyn Newsies, huh? Huh?"
"Yeah, you'se gonna pay!" And with that, Spot pounced on Lily, knocking her backwards on the bed, causing her laughter to increase in intensity. He crawled directly on top of her, tickling her.
"Spot!" Lily said breathless, gasping for air in between laughs, "Spot! Stop it! Stop it right now!" She writhed and kicked, trying desperately to do anything to cease the torturous tickling. Her sides ached from his fingers and nonstop laughter, but Spot was merciless, and ignored her pleas for relief.
He finally stopped, much to her relief, and leaned over to kiss her. Sweet kisses that tasted of chocolate as their mouths mingled. Lily sighed a deep sigh, despite her aching torso, and once again, felt herself melting into him, melting into his soft lips, and strong hands, his warm chest and steady breaths - now chocolate perfumed. Oh, what was it about this boy? At that moment, she didn't know, and she didn't care to find out. She cared about nothing. The only things that mattered were she and Spot, and that he would stay with her and continue kissing her.
Spot broke their kiss, sat up, unlaced his shoes, and took them off. When he returned to Lily, he let his lips touch hers for a few seconds, and then allowed them to wander down her face to her neck. He kissed down her neck and then lingered at the notch below her throat. "Spot, what are you-" Lily asked laughing, but soon realized where he was headed when he began to unbutton the buttons on her blouse. Her mood altered, and her expression changed to one of fear as she silently mouthed, "no."
It wasn't because of her effort to not be another notch in Spot's belt that her body revolted. They had passed the week deadline without falter, which had almost fully convinced Lily that she was not just another of Spot's flings. No, it wasn't because of her former self-promise, nor was it because of any sudden attack of moral consciousness that her body grew tense and afraid. It was a familiar feeling of fear and dread that locked her in its clutches. Her muscles grew tense and her breathing began to speed up. Spot's once warm and welcome touches became like icy violation, cold fingers dragging across an unwilling skin. Terror seized her, making her its prisoner, binding her to the bed with invisible shackles. "No!" her insides screamed, "No, no, no, no!" Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let one fall.
She sat up suddenly, pushing him off of her. "Spot, no," she said, "I can't.." The look that he gave her was unreadable. It was confusion, hurt, maybe, but his eyes also flashed that distinct shade of possible anger.
Lily looked away from him as she sat on the other side of the bed in silence, holding herself to make the shivering chill go away. She expected him to lash out at her or to leave, to find himself someone more willing now that she hadn't given him what he wanted. But Spot remained as silent as she. Lily could not imagine what he must be thinking, what he must be preparing to say, but she knew that she didn't dare break the silence.
After what seemed like an eternity, Spot finally spoke. "Is it me, Jo?" he said.
Lily looked at him, and then looked away before she said reassuringly, "No, Spot, of course not."
Spot was silent again. "Ya ain't gonna tell me, are ya?" he finally said.
Lily didn't look at him this time before she said, "No."
Silence. She didn't see his face, but she could feel his sad expression. She could feel his confusion and his hurt, and she suddenly felt as though she had done him a great injustice. He had done nothing wrong to her. How was he to know that she'd react the way she did? Now she'd made him uncomfortable, made him feel like he'd done something horrible, certainly hurt his pride, and maybe even offended him. Suddenly she couldn't stand the waiting in silence anymore as the tenderness she felt toward him welling up inside of her. She drew in a ragged breath. "Spot, I'm sorry..." she said softly.
"Nah," he said, "What do ya got to be sorry for? You ain't done nothin'."
She looked at him, her eyes wide and hopeful, and weakly smiled. "Spot, can we..."she started to say, "Can you..can you just stay here tonight?"
"Do ya, I mean, after dat little.., ya still want me to stay here wit you? You shoah dat's alright?" Spot asked.
Lily closed her eyes, and softly laughed. She could feel her cheeks start to become red. The terror of earlier had been replaced with embarrassment as she considered how rash and foolishly she had acted.
"Oh, sorry," Spot murmured, noticing her discomfort. "Of coise, I'll stay," he whispered."
Lily crawled over to his side and let herself become enveloped in his arms again. "Jis one t'ing, though," he interjected, "I'se got tah get up early tomorrah mornin', so don't ya be snorin' and intahruptin' me sleep."
Lily laughed and rolled her eyes. "Spot?" she said,
"Yeah?" he answered.
"Shut up."
~***~
To be continued...
Part IV
The clicking of the girl's heeled shoes on the wooden stage as they went through the numbers to be performed that night sounded like claps of thunder inside of Lily's aching head. She was sitting on a movable platform toward the back of the stage, nursing her throbbing headache and wincing at ever click and clatter as she watched her fellow dancers rehearse. She should have known better. She was well aware of what large amounts of alcohol and four hours of sleep could do to a person.
She sighed and massaged her temples, but was suddenly and painfully startled as the band decided to join in the rehearsal with their drums and cymbals. "It's only for a week," she told herself, "you've just to go survive a few more days and then it will all be over."
"Miss Fox?" She looked up to see Junior Mantovanni, son of the dearly departed founder of the theatre, demanding her attention. He oversaw all rehearsals to insure that everything was up to snuff and that everyone did exactly as they were supposed to in the exact fashion that he desired. "Miss Fox, if you would kindly join us, we are ready for you now."
She detested the snobbish, little, control-freak of a weasel that Junior was, but she smiled graciously, trying to forget the throbbing, and stood up slowly to join them. She walked over to the front of the stage, waited for the cue from the band, and then began singing. She forced a huge smile, stifling the grimaces that tried to emerge. She stumbled through the first song, off-key at one point, missing a few words in the next line. Finally, in the middle of the last chorus, she stopped, her smile fading and the grimace appearing as she muttered an, "Oh, bloody hell," under her breath.
"Stop, stop, stop!" shouted Junior, silencing the band and everyone in the room.
"Oh, bloody, bloody hell," Lily continued muttering.
"Miss Fox?" he said accusingly.
"Yes, Mr. Mantovanni?" she forced a half smile.
"Forgive me for asking, but just what in God's name is wrong with you?" he spoke sharply, his eyes narrowing with disapproval.
"I, uh," she fumbled for words, no logical cover-up lie coming to mind. "I, uh, I just-"
"She's sick!" came a voice from the back. A girl near the back of the stage stood up, coming to Lily's rescue.
"What was that Miss Monroe?" Mantovanni inquired.
Faye Monroe, Lily's best friend and current saviour came up to her and took her arm. "She terribly sick," Faye lied, "but she was afraid to tell you. She didn't want to have to let the company down by not being here. Instead, she thought she'd be noble and self-sacrificing by attending rehearsals no matter how badly she was feeling. I'm no doctor sir, but I do believe that she has that Spanish Influenza. You do know how it's been going around. And, though I know it's not what she wants to do, I think it best for her to rest for a little while. Maybe if she recuperates somewhat, she can be well enough to make this evening's performance."
"Well, fine. If she's that ill, let her rest for a while. We wouldn't want her missing out on any more. Miss Monroe, you are excused also to see that she is on the road to recovery." Mantovanni looked none too pleased about having to excuse his money-maker from rehearsal or the two following shows, but he released her so that she wouldn't be forced to miss a greater number if her condition got worse.
"Thank you, sir," said Faye, "Come on, Lily." "Thank you," repeated Lily as Faye helped her off stage.
Faye waited until they were in Lily's room and well out of earshot before she said, "What the hell is the matter with you? What's going on that you aren't telling me about?"
Lily slowly sat down on her bed, once again cradling her head in her hands. "God, Faye," she moaned, "is it absolutely necessary for you to shout? I can hear you. There's nothing wrong with my ears. And there's nothing going on, either."
"That is a big, fat lie, Lily Fox, and you know it," threatened Faye, "hey - it isn't that newsboy, that Spot what's-his-name kid, is it?"
Lily wrinkled her brow. "How the hell do you know about that?"
"Maggie told me. She told me you asked about him, and plus he sent some of his 'ambassadors' around here the other day, remember? And besides, I knew something was going on. You've been missing steps, tripping over you're feet, and today, you've obviously not normal. So are you going to tell me, or do I have to threaten your life?"
"Go to hell," Lily retorted, angered that she was being questioned and still reeling from the pain in her head.
"If I do, I'm taking you with me," Faye countered, giving Lily a harsh stare as she stood her ground, refusing to leave until the secret was revealed.
"Alright, alright," Lily finally said sighing, resigned and giving in, "yes, it is none other than Spot Conlon, newsie and dirty street urchin who chain smokes, has an alcohol and an anger management problem and has slept with half of the women in New York. The fearless leader of the Brooklyn newsies frequents our performances, sneaks into my window at night, and last night, he took me out to a party at a pub where I danced with boys I didn't know, drank too much, and stayed out far too late, which brings us up to my current predicament of feeling as though I am going to die. There, are you satisfied?"
Lily closed her eyes so as to shield herself from whatever menacing look or stern words she expected Faye to fling at her. The certain reprimand and scolding she was going to receive for her childish and silly behaviour. However, she found herself much surprised when the only thing to come from her friend's mouth was a burst of laughter. "I knew it!" Faye shrieked between giggles, "I just knew it! Lily Fox, have you gone mad!"
"Quite possibly," Lily answered.
In return, Faye said nothing. And how could she? She was laughing so hard that she couldn't speak.
"Faye, wait, hold on a moment. Two things: first, could you please stop the shrieking before my head explodes? And secondly, why the hell do you find this so humorous?"
"Oh, Lil, calm down," Faye answered, "It's not like it's a deathly serious matter. It's just a little funny that you, my dear, are keeping company with a newsie, and the most egotistical, pig-headed, cocky newsie in the city, maybe even the world, at that."
"Yes, well, it's not for long. A week, right? I've got a week before he loses interest in me and I'm rid of him. So, today being Wednesday, I figure that I've only got two, three days at most left of this foolishness. And then things can return to their happy state of normalcy, and I can continue living my life as planned," Lily explained.
Faye smiled as she headed for the door. "Sure Lily," she said, "a week. And what's a week in the course of a lifetime? Almost nothing. Now, I've got to go back down there because I'm not fortunate enough to have the Spanish Influenza like you do. And speaking of your deathly illness, you better continue to behave as if you are deathly ill after I risked my hide for you down there."
Lily massaged her forehead, over her eyebrows, as she said, "I'm sure that won't be a problem, Faye."
"Alright, feel better Sickling," Faye said smiling and closing the door behind her.
"She thinks I'm crazy," Lily said out loud to herself after Faye had left her. "She pretends that she doesn't, but she does. I'm sure Maggie does too, and so will everyone else in the building after they get wind of my little nighttime adventures with the now infamous Mr. Spot Conlon. And why shouldn't they? I are crazy. I am absolutely out of my mind!"
She let herself fall backwards from her sitting position until she was lying on her bed. She cringed as her head hit the pillow. "Aargh. But what does it matter how sane or insane you are if you are dying?" She kicked her shoes off and crawled under the covers of her bed. Hugging her pillow to her, she said, "It's only a few more days. Just a few more days."
~***~
Wednesday passed without the death that Lily felt coming on and expected. Much to her surprise, she had managed to feel a great deal better later that day, and true to Faye's word, she did make the evening performance. Wednesday night arrived, and Thursday and Friday soon came and went. Each night Lily found herself awaiting Spot's entrance through her window, and each night she was not disappointed.
The times of his arrivals varied, but each night he showed up without fail. They passed the late hours talking of the day's happenings, retelling humorous stories, sharing their wants, hopes, and dreams, though each took caution never to reveal too much about their past. On Thursday, they went on a moonlit walk, and Spot took Lily on a 'tour de Brooklyn a la Spot," showing her his favourite places, his haunts, and even the Brooklyn Newsboys' Lodging House.
The time not spent talking, laughing, or walking was passed in each others' arms, exchanging embraces, touches, and kisses, the night falling down around them. Lily found herself becoming even more attracted, to Spot, to this kid who could be telling her to shut the hell up one moment, and softly stroking her face and calling her beautiful the next. She never knew what to expect from him, and she liked the unpredictability ever so much, far more than she knew she should. She loved to challenge him, match wits with him, to see if she could get a rise out of him. She lived to see his blue eyes flash with anger. And she especially loved how he would lose his temper, say something horribly mean, and then, within a few moments, tell her, "hey, ya know I didn't mean dat," and be kissing her again. And then time would stand still, and all would be silent, and could cease to exist if they wished it to.
It had all been like a dream, as though she had walked around outside of her body for a week. Everything with Spot was so exciting, so different, and surprisingly so sweet. She would wait in eager anticipation for the day to fly by, for the sun to set and surrender to her precious night. For the few nights they had spent together had held such magic, the both of them entranced in a spell, lost inside their own world that they had created. And how Lily wished these nights could go on forever.
She had, in fact, become so wrapped up in her time of magic and mysticism that she had almost forgotten about their deadline. Their week was coming to an end, and before she knew it, Saturday had passed and Sunday was upon her. When she realized what day it was, she felt a pang of sadness and nostalgia in her stomach. Their time together had not yet fully drawn to a close, but she missed it already. She almost didn't want it to end, no matter how foolish and physically tolling it must have been. However, after much thought, she was sure Spot wouldn't feel an inch of remorse when he would come that night to tell her they were through. So, she gathered up her resolve and determined to let him go and have him forgotten by the end of the next week.
~***~
That night, she waited for him, just as she had waited for him every other night. However, this night, instead of the usual excitement she felt, there was only the dull pang of dread and sorrow. She sat still on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped in her lap. She rubbed one thumb over the other, the skin around the nail of each rough and peeling: the handiwork of her bad habit of biting her cuticles when she was nervous or anxious.
She heard the patter of footsteps on the fire escape, and looked up to see Spot climbing through her window. He smiled after he'd made it through, and Lily tried her best to smile back at him, though it was weak and not very convincing. Her face had betrayed her by not allowing a bit of the false bravery to grace her expression. Spot leaned over to kiss her forehead before sitting down beside her on the bed. A kiss on the forehead, not on the cheek or on the lips. Lily could feel that it was coming.
"Hey, I'se got somethun for ya," Spot said, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket in which some thing was wrapped.
Lily worked up all of her nerve to ask, "Is it a farewell gift?"
"A farewell gift? What dah hell are ya talkin' about?" Spot questioned with a confused tone in his voice.
"Well, it's been a week..." Lily started.
"Has it?" Spot asked, thinking, "Ah, well I guess it 'as. I hadn't noticed. Now are you'se gonna open dis or not?'
Lily was puzzled. Had Spot come there to end things between them or not? And if yes, why did he come bearing gifts. She gently opened the folds of his handkerchief to reveal two glittering gold wrapped bars. "Spot!" she said smiling, "this is chocolate! Where did you get this?"
"Uh-uh, I ain't gonna tell," he paused to think for a moment, "but on second thought, jis so ya won't accuse me o'swipin it, I guess I haf tah tell ya dat I won it in a pokah game last night. An' since I ain't too sweet on dah stuff, I figgared I'd bring it tah you."
"Well, you figured right," Lily said, happily tearing into a gold foil wrapper and forgetting about her apprehension and dread. She broke off a piece and put it into her mouth. She sighed in elation as she chewed it.
"So I take it dat ya like it?" Spot asked.
"Like it?" Lily said, still chewing, "It's divine. Here, you've got to have some." She broke off a piece and offered it to him. He shook his head. "Oh, come on, Conlon," she said, bringing the candy closer to his face. He turned his head around, and pushed her hand away. "Please," Lily pushed further, "just a little piece, please?"
Spot frowned, wrinkling his nose. Lily then grabbed his head, and force fed him the chocolate. She laughed as he chewed unhappily. When he finished, he said, "You'se gonna pay for that."
"Oh yeah," Lily retorted, "just what are you going to do to me, Mr. big, bad, I'se Spot Conlon, I'se dah leadah o' dah Brooklyn Newsies, huh? Huh?"
"Yeah, you'se gonna pay!" And with that, Spot pounced on Lily, knocking her backwards on the bed, causing her laughter to increase in intensity. He crawled directly on top of her, tickling her.
"Spot!" Lily said breathless, gasping for air in between laughs, "Spot! Stop it! Stop it right now!" She writhed and kicked, trying desperately to do anything to cease the torturous tickling. Her sides ached from his fingers and nonstop laughter, but Spot was merciless, and ignored her pleas for relief.
He finally stopped, much to her relief, and leaned over to kiss her. Sweet kisses that tasted of chocolate as their mouths mingled. Lily sighed a deep sigh, despite her aching torso, and once again, felt herself melting into him, melting into his soft lips, and strong hands, his warm chest and steady breaths - now chocolate perfumed. Oh, what was it about this boy? At that moment, she didn't know, and she didn't care to find out. She cared about nothing. The only things that mattered were she and Spot, and that he would stay with her and continue kissing her.
Spot broke their kiss, sat up, unlaced his shoes, and took them off. When he returned to Lily, he let his lips touch hers for a few seconds, and then allowed them to wander down her face to her neck. He kissed down her neck and then lingered at the notch below her throat. "Spot, what are you-" Lily asked laughing, but soon realized where he was headed when he began to unbutton the buttons on her blouse. Her mood altered, and her expression changed to one of fear as she silently mouthed, "no."
It wasn't because of her effort to not be another notch in Spot's belt that her body revolted. They had passed the week deadline without falter, which had almost fully convinced Lily that she was not just another of Spot's flings. No, it wasn't because of her former self-promise, nor was it because of any sudden attack of moral consciousness that her body grew tense and afraid. It was a familiar feeling of fear and dread that locked her in its clutches. Her muscles grew tense and her breathing began to speed up. Spot's once warm and welcome touches became like icy violation, cold fingers dragging across an unwilling skin. Terror seized her, making her its prisoner, binding her to the bed with invisible shackles. "No!" her insides screamed, "No, no, no, no!" Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let one fall.
She sat up suddenly, pushing him off of her. "Spot, no," she said, "I can't.." The look that he gave her was unreadable. It was confusion, hurt, maybe, but his eyes also flashed that distinct shade of possible anger.
Lily looked away from him as she sat on the other side of the bed in silence, holding herself to make the shivering chill go away. She expected him to lash out at her or to leave, to find himself someone more willing now that she hadn't given him what he wanted. But Spot remained as silent as she. Lily could not imagine what he must be thinking, what he must be preparing to say, but she knew that she didn't dare break the silence.
After what seemed like an eternity, Spot finally spoke. "Is it me, Jo?" he said.
Lily looked at him, and then looked away before she said reassuringly, "No, Spot, of course not."
Spot was silent again. "Ya ain't gonna tell me, are ya?" he finally said.
Lily didn't look at him this time before she said, "No."
Silence. She didn't see his face, but she could feel his sad expression. She could feel his confusion and his hurt, and she suddenly felt as though she had done him a great injustice. He had done nothing wrong to her. How was he to know that she'd react the way she did? Now she'd made him uncomfortable, made him feel like he'd done something horrible, certainly hurt his pride, and maybe even offended him. Suddenly she couldn't stand the waiting in silence anymore as the tenderness she felt toward him welling up inside of her. She drew in a ragged breath. "Spot, I'm sorry..." she said softly.
"Nah," he said, "What do ya got to be sorry for? You ain't done nothin'."
She looked at him, her eyes wide and hopeful, and weakly smiled. "Spot, can we..."she started to say, "Can you..can you just stay here tonight?"
"Do ya, I mean, after dat little.., ya still want me to stay here wit you? You shoah dat's alright?" Spot asked.
Lily closed her eyes, and softly laughed. She could feel her cheeks start to become red. The terror of earlier had been replaced with embarrassment as she considered how rash and foolishly she had acted.
"Oh, sorry," Spot murmured, noticing her discomfort. "Of coise, I'll stay," he whispered."
Lily crawled over to his side and let herself become enveloped in his arms again. "Jis one t'ing, though," he interjected, "I'se got tah get up early tomorrah mornin', so don't ya be snorin' and intahruptin' me sleep."
Lily laughed and rolled her eyes. "Spot?" she said,
"Yeah?" he answered.
"Shut up."
~***~
To be continued...