The Seeds Of A Daisy: The Lily Lockwood Series: Book One (Women's Fiction) (22 page)

July 19, 1971 Monday evening

Dear Diary
,

Things have been going really well with Steve and me. Even though it’s only been one month since we started going out, I can truly say I love him with my whole heart. Now I understand what people mean when they say their hearts are filled with love. Mine feels that way, it really does. When I’m around Steve that’s how I feel. He and I see each other every day. He’s usually finished with landscaping every day by four o’clock. They start at seven to get most of their work done before it gets too hot. After he’s done, he comes to the stand and helps me with the customers and then helps me close up. Papa likes him now, thank God! I guess because he sees that he really pitches in to help
.

Donna will be home in just a few short weeks. I wrote to her all about Steve and she called me and asked me to tell her everything. I told her that when she came home she’d meet him and some of his friends. Some of them are really cute, so who knows? It would be super cool if she fell in love with one of them. Then we could double date all the time. Life is good. Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite
.

Daisy xoxoxo

August 1, 1971 Sunday night

Dear Diary
,

There’s so much to write about. Unfortunately, between work and seeing Steve, I don’t have much time. But I will tell you something totally embarrassing happened last night
.

Steve and I went back to the beach in Hampton Bays. We go there a lot now, it’s our favorite spot. We sometimes walk on the beach and talk and talk and talk. And make out, lots of making out!

Tonight it was pouring, like Mama says, cats and dogs. So we sat in his car with the top up (of course) and the windows closed. We were in the back seat and the sound of the rain on the top of the car made us feel comfy and cozy and away from the rest of the whole wide world. We were making out. I told Steve a while back that I didn’t want to go all the way, but that we could fool around a little
.

So we were in the back seat, Steve was on top of me (with his clothes on, of course), my shirt and bra were off and we were making out and things were getting steamy, just like the windows were. All of a sudden someone knocked on the window, hard! Whoever it was shined a flashlight into the back seat. We were all tangled up and I couldn’t find my bra and my shirt. Then the person knocked louder and I found my shirt and threw it on without my bra
.

Steve opened the window. Standing there with his raingear was a police officer. Thank God, I didn’t know him
.

He looked at us and said, “You kids better be moving on. You can’t park here at night.”

Steve said, “Sure thing, officer.” He jumped in the driver’s seat and we took off. We were laughing so hard, I had to pee. We stopped at The Hampton Grill to use the bathroom and get something to eat. Whew, that was close!

Daisy xoxox

PS. Don’t worry, I found my bra!

“Wow, Mom, this is pretty hot stuff,” I say. I get a déjà vu feeling, and smile. I turn to my mother and say, “Mom, I seem to remember an incident when I was shooting the sitcom
New to Jersey
. I think I was sixteen or seventeen at the time. Do you remember, I was head over heels in love with that actor who played my brother—Benjamin something. Shit. I forget his name. Anyway, do you remember, Mom? You must’ve been looking for me for an hour. Well, you found me, in Benjamin’s trailer. You knocked on the door and demanded we open it up. We were fully dressed, but you were PISSED.” I laugh. “Boy do I wish I’d had this diary back then. Talk about double standards!” I kiss her on the cheek and put more balm on her lips.

“Okay, Mom,” I say. “I’ll read one more entry and then I’m going to hit the cafeteria for a bite to eat.”

I get a text from Donna telling me she has a last-minute singing gig. She says that even though she won’t be able to get to the hospital, Fernando and Tommy will come by. I continue to read:

August 14, 1971 Saturday

Dear Diary
,

Something so awful has happened. The worst thing in the world, as a matter of fact. On Thursday. August 5, the papers carried the lottery for the boys who are going to be drafted
for the Vietnam War. The numbers go from one to like three hundred and sixty something. Steve’s birthday is May 24
^th
and it was number sixty! And because he wasn’t able to start college in the fall and had to wait for the winter semester, he is eligible! We found out yesterday that everyone with numbers under ninety five is eligible for the draft!!!! We were both devastated. He has to go into Brooklyn to take the physical, but since he is in perfect condition, I’m sure he’ll be drafted
.

We sat at the diner all night tonight, discussing his options. I told him that he should go to Canada and avoid the draft. That I would run away with him. That I didn’t care; I just wanted him to be safe. I cried so much I felt like my heart was going to break
.

At this point I stopped reading out loud, in case Mom could understand. This was certainly not what she needed to hear. But I continued to read to myself:

Steve said his father would never forgive him if he left for Canada. That he would label Steve a coward, and that he couldn’t do that to his father. Later on, we sat in his car and held on to each other. I cried so hard that I got his shirt all wet. I will write more when I know what is happening. Tonight I am praying with all my might that Steve can stay home with me
.

Daisy xoxoxo

Wow, that was some pretty heavy stuff for a sixteen-year-old. I wonder whatever happened to Steve.

I look at the clock; it’s getting late. I want to grab a bite to eat. I’ll probably be better off in the employee cafeteria on the third floor than in the restaurant in the lobby.

“Mom, I’m going to get something to eat. I’ll be back soon. I love you!” I say, and kiss her.

I stop in at the nurses’ station and ask Trisha if she and Eden could please reposition my mother as soon as possible.

Doris looks up from the chart she’s writing in and says, “Oh Lily, I just heard from housekeeping. They’ll be bringing up your mother’s air mattress bed in about thirty minutes.”

I thank her and tell her that everything good I’d heard about her was right. She absolutely beams at the compliment. I feel good, thinking I handled that exactly the way my mother would have.

As I make my way to the elevator, I remember David Rosen. It would probably be a good idea to see if he’s in his room. Maybe he can shed some light on what happened in the accident.

I get off on the fifth floor and walk straight to his room. It is dark and quiet. The old man isn’t in his bed, but I do see a figure in the other bed, the one next to the window. I walk over quietly and see a guy who is maybe in his early thirties. His face is badly bruised and swollen. It is hard to tell exactly what he looks like normally. Half his face and head are covered in gauze, and both his arms are in casts. He looks pretty messed up.

I approach him and see that he is sleeping, so I stand by his bed for a minute, just watching him. Who the hell
is
he? I turn around, and start to walk out.

“Who are you?” The voice is very weak. I turn around and walk back to the bed.

“I’m so sorry to bother you—I didn’t mean to wake you up—I’m Lily Lockwood—Daisy’s daughter.”

“Now I can see your face. I recognize you.” He grimaces in pain. It looks like it hurts him to talk. He pushes a button on a wire that I’m sure regulates his morphine. And within a couple of seconds, his eyes glaze over and the tension in his face relaxes.

“I certainly don’t want to bother you; I want to know what happened in the accident, that’s all,” I say.

“How is she? No one will tell me anything,” he asks.

“Well, not too good,” I reply. “She’s in a coma, but she finally opened her eyes yesterday. There’s been brain damage, and they did a bunch of scans today.”

I see his blue eyes fill with tears.

“How do you know Daisy?” I ask softly.

He takes a few seconds and sighs. The morphine must be kicking in, because his eyes roll back and he falls asleep.

I
’m awakened on Sunday morning by the sound of gardeners mowing the lawn. The smell of fresh-cut grass permeates the room, and I inhale deeply. I don’t want to get out of bed, not just yet. I put the pillow over my eyes to block out the strong morning sun that floods my mother’s bedroom. I think about everything that happened yesterday: Jamie’s visit; seeing Natalie’s text. It was such a weird coincidence that his cell phone was right there, in front of me, when Nasty Natty’s fateful message came through. Jamie must have gotten my text when he landed in New Mexico, because he’s left me four voicemails denying the whole thing and claiming he has no idea what the text was about—that the text he saw
was
from the production company telling him they needed him to come back. He even told me to call them to verify his story. Yeah, right! From now on, I plan to delete all his texts and voicemails without reading or listening to them.

Before I left the hospital last night, the first shift of private nurses had already come on duty. I left them detailed instructions about moving my mother, caring for the bedsores, and creaming her skin. It feels good to know there will be another set of eyes on her at all times.

On my drive home last night, I saw a twenty-four-hour drugstore in Riverhead, and figured it would be a good idea to pick up body lotion for my mother. The brand they had at the hospital smells so medicinal and feels slimy. My mother would hate it. At the drugstore, I was able to buy an all-natural lotion with plenty of vitamin E, aloe, and a great scent.

While I was there, I passed the aisle that had pregnancy tests. I figured what the hell; I might as well buy one. I was sure Auntie D. was right, that going through a shock or trauma can deter your period or cause you to skip the month altogether. I’m sure that’s why I’m late.

I get out of bed, go into the bathroom, take out the home pregnancy test box, and read the instructions. Seems easy enough. All I have to do is pee on the little white wand thingy, and then put it on a flat surface and wait two to three minutes. I took the test once before, last year when I was a few days late. Jamie and I sat there staring at the wand the whole three minutes, waiting to see if it came up with a plus or negative symbol. Thankfully the negative symbol appeared. We were ecstatic and proceeded to celebrate by having a quickie, without a condom, right there on the bathroom floor.

I decide that instead of staring at the wand, I’d use the next three minutes to call my mother’s private nurse. I walk out of the bathroom, making sure to keep my eyes straight ahead to avoid looking at the wand. If the nurse reports that everything is going well, I’ll use the rest of the morning to try to locate the documents Dr. Comb-Over insists upon seeing.

I dial the cell number the agency has given me for the first private nurse.

“Hello?” A voice with a thick Jamaican accent answers.

“Hi, this is Lily. You’re taking care of my mother. I’m just checking to see how she’s doing.”

“Oh, my name is Celia. Mum is doing fine. I’ve been making sure she is turned frequently and I am attending to her wounds.”

“Great. Has the doctor come by yet?” I ask.

“Not yet, miss, but I can call you when he does,” Celia says.

“Do me a favor; please ask him to call me when the results come in. I’ll be at the hospital later,” I say. “Oh, and Celia, can you make sure to speak to my mother and read to her, please?”

“What shall I read her?” she asks.

I think for a minute. “Please go down to the gift shop and buy any fashion or entertainment magazines you can find and read them to her. I’ll reimburse you when I see you.”

I peek into the bathroom to see if anything has appeared on the wand. I’m too far away to see. I don’t want to move closer, for fear of jinxing it.

“Yes, I can do that, ma’am, no problem,” Celia replies.

I thank her, and hang up. I stand by the bathroom door. I am too afraid to go in and too nervous to walk away. I’m frozen. I will gather all my strength, walk over to that tiny wand, and read the results. I inch my way over, stop, turn
around, and stand outside the bathroom. This is ridiculous; I take a deep breath and walk right over to it.

HOLY CRAP, I can’t believe my eyes! There’s a blue + in the results window. I stare at it. Maybe the light in the bathroom isn’t bright enough. Maybe I’m just not seeing it clearly. Yeah, that’s it. I take the wand to the bedroom window and hold it up to the light. The few steps to the window doesn’t change the results. The + sign is as clear as day. I am definitely pregnant.

I stare at the wand for a good ten minutes. This whole thing feels like something out of a bad soap opera. I take the wand and go downstairs to the kitchen. I place it on the counter while I make coffee and cereal. I stare at it while I eat breakfast.

The damned thing doesn’t change.