I could have sang at that moment, but instead I bit my lip and slipped the keys out as quietly as I could. I rose to my feet and turned on my heels. Just then, Rory snored so deeply that he began to choke. His eyelids fluttered, and he took a gasp of air. The bottle that was barely perched on his fingers fell out of his hand and made a loud thud. He began to squint. I didn't know if he was waking or if he was still passed out, but this time, I ran. Without regard for noise, or caution.
I raced down the stairs, and halfway down, vertigo kicked in from the concussion. I missed a step and tumbled down to the bottom. The fall wasn't too painful, but it was noisy. And when my eyes met the top of the staircase, there he was: looking down on me.
“Lilly?” he asked, confused and half awake.
“I'm not telling anyone,” I said, as I shot up and made a run for the door. I hoped my words would persuade him not to chase me. In a welcome stroke of luck, my purse rested at the small entry table where I rested it when I walked in and discovered Rory the night before. I snatched it on my way out the door. I banked on the fact that Rory didn't want to be seen so he wouldn't follow me outside.
The streets were quiet as most families were in their homes for dinner. I ran to my car barefoot, my dress stained with blood from my head wound, and hoped no one had seen.
I sped out of our neighborhood and down the county highway to the motel where Bobby had stayed. Tears streaked my face as I finally was able to let out the mix of emotions I had held in for the entire night. I had started with so much hope and peace, swinging from a tree with views of my favorite place in the world. I was going to be Lilly Gale again. The girl with endless possibilities and a passion for life. The girl whose heart belonged to Bobby Lightly.
But I was assaulted with the reminder of who I really was: the woman who made a cowardly choice, and who paid for it with the loss of all the things that made her, her. Whose complete lack of fulfillment was mirrored in a drunk husband who had killed his mistress, her closest friend.
I pressed the gas as hard as I could, nearly spinning out at turns, running stop signs and red lights, until I swerved into the motel driveway, planting my car on a random location in the parking lot. My eyes scanned the place for Bobby's signature pickup, but of the few cars there, none were his.
I fixed my hair in the side view mirror and tried to compose myself before walking in to the front desk.
An older man who had his feet propped up laughed at an episode of I Love Lucy on a small TV behind the counter. The lobby was just as humid and hot as it was outside, but he had a little fan hitting him directly, keeping him from perspiring as much as me.
“Hello.”
He put his feet down and turned to face me.
“Hello, ma'am. Looking for a room?”
“No, um, actually, I am looking for someone who was staying here.” I tried not to sound anxious, but I oozed with restless energy. The sweat soaking through my dress and pouring from my brow didn't help.
“He give you a room number? A name?”
“Ye . . . yes. Well, not a room. But his name is Robert Lightly, goes by Bobby. He's . . . I'd say six feet maybe taller. Brown hair and eyes.”
“Ooooh, yeah. That nice looking fella. Looked like he should be playing football or baseball or something.”
I let out a big sigh. “So he's here?” I asked, wide-eyed and hopeful.
“Oh, no ma'am. I'm sorry. He left a few hours ago. Kept coming over as asking if we had gotten any calls for him—” he stopped. “Was it you?” Before I could answer, his eyes scanned me. As if he hadn't really looked as me before. “Are you okay? You look a little . . . you have some blood—”
“I'm fine. I was just gardening and it's just been a long day. So you said he left?” I asked, clenching the edge of the counter.
“Yes. I'm sorry. He checked out 'bout . . . three, four hours ago. He's gone.”
I thought I would collapse. The finality of those words gripped me, squeezed the air out of my lungs, and tried to drag me down to the floor.
“Do . . . you . . . did he say where he was going?”
“He's a charming fella. We had a talk . . . told me all these places he had been to. He said he . . . ah . . . was headed west. Seemed kind of sad when he left though. Checked out late. That's all I know. I'm sorry.”
He waited. But he didn't wait long enough. He didn't fight for me. He didn't try one last time.
I turned around and trudged to the door.
“Ma'am. You sure you okay? You don't have any shoes . . .” the man's voice drifted into the background as I headed out of the motel.
I was gone. Bobby had left me vacant all over again.
At first I tried to contemplate my next move in the parking lot, but I noticed the manager peeking outside the door at me. So I put the car in gear and drove away.
The sky was a dusty blue as the sun finally disappeared into the horizon. After a few minutes, I found myself sitting in my car at an empty four-way intersection on the county highway. Desolate. Abandoned. Scared.
If I kept going straight, I'd reach town eventually. But there was nothing there for me.
In the distance, on the road adjacent to me, two lights beamed in the distance. They grew larger and brighter as they neared me. I thought I should proceed, but I couldn't put my foot to the gas pedal. I had no place to go. At least here, things were quiet. I rested my head on the steering wheel in utter defeat as the lights from the other car illuminated mine.
But the light didn't disappear. I looked up to wave them along, and I saw a dark silhouette backed by blinding light. Tall, strong, walking towards my car. I squinted against the rays of light that emanated from this person to get a better view. I knew the gait instantly, but it couldn't be. I looked up at the vehicle: a light blue, weathered pickup truck.
I let out an almost hysterical celebratory laugh to myself, but at the same time, I thought I had snapped. This couldn't be. He left hours ago. And I had just learned my life was not a story where the hero rescues me. It was a tragedy where we could never be together.
“Lil? Lil? Is that you?” Bobby asked, shielding his eyes from my headlights. He began to jog over to the car. His voice. Thick like honey. Warm like melted butter. Sultry like velvet. He became more real as my sense of hearing perceived him. I thrust the door open, and stumbled out of the car, half-tripping towards the floor as I ran to him. I couldn't contain the swell of contrasting emotions that came over me as I called out his name and fell into his arms.
Touch. I could feel him all around me. A pillar of strength holding me up.
Smell. Of grass and sun. Of fresh air and salt.
“You're here.” Was all I could muster.
“I'm here, baby,” he whispered into my hair.
“They said you left. I tried so hard to get to you in time,” I panted into his chest, gripping him so tightly I thought I might cut off his oxygen.
“I tried. I waited longer and I tried to respect what you wanted to do — what I thought you wanted — but I got a few hours out and I turned around. I was just heading to you. I can't believe I just found you out here . . . I'm not letting you go this time.”
Finally feeling secure, my chest heaved uncontrollably as I cried against him.
“Lil, what's going on?” He stepped out of my grip to look me up and down. “What the hell happened? Are you okay? You said you tried to get to me?”
I didn't know where to start. How to tell him all the things that happened in the short time we had been apart. It felt like I had lived an entire life without him, coming back to him changed by what I saw in Rory.