LILY WHITE

TWO

TOMMY

It's come time to go to the Keeves' again. Every summer since I was 10, every May we arrived, every August we left. This year is no different.

Except, it is, just a bit.

The morning light cuts right through the curtains like a blade, but I'm already awake, staring at the ceiling as if it'll give me some kind of answer. I don't even know what I'm asking anymore, just that I hate how my thoughts always circle back to her, to Lillie. I've spent the last few months convincing myself that this trip wouldn't be so bad this time, that I wouldn't let her get under my skin again, that I don't hate her to the extreme anymore, that it's gotten better, but the knot in my chest tightens the closer we get.

I can hear my parents downstairs, voices too cheerful for this early in the day, too joyful. They act like nothing's wrong, like this place is some kind of haven where we can all be happy together. Maybe it is for them. Maybe it's only me who feels like every inch of this house, this town, is covered in the ghosts of things we don't talk about.

I drag myself out of bed, forcing my body to move even though I'd rather stay here, buried under my covers, somewhere more familiar, somewhere safer. But that's not how it works. We go every year, and every year I have to pretend I'm fine, that everything's fine. And every year, Lillie's there, waiting, like she's still that same girl from when we were kids, all smiles and hope. As if its nothing for us to be there, but she doesn't know that it is, she doesn't know what I know.

But everything's changed.

I've changed more than everything.

By the time we're on the road, my parents are in full vacation already, talking about how nice it'll be to see everyone again, how they've missed this place, the place they grew up in, the place they fell in love in.

I lean my head against the window, watching the landscape run by, the speed makes everything blurry, I'm trying to drown out their voices. It's not like they know what I'm thinking anyway. They never ask. They never even notice the shift in my mood when we're nearing their beach house. I don't know if that makes it easier or harder to deal with. Maybe both. Maybe it's better if they don't know how much it still messes me up, maybe it's better if they think I'm still completely clueless.

It takes us four days to get to California from North Carolina, I sleep most of the time in the car, it seems to distract me from the dread that comes when I'm awake.

We stop at restaurants two times a day, Karlie and my mom like to sing on the road while my dad drives. We stop for gas more times than I can count. I don't understand why we can't take a plane, but my parents seem to enjoy the road trip, they've never asked me my opinion on any of this. I take a pillow to my head and I don't say a word unless it's to ask when we're stopping again.
                 -
Four days and a couple more hours later, we are here. And then we pull up, and I see her. Lillie.
She's standing there, just like she always is, waiting for us like some kind of  dog. My jaw tightens the second I see her, a wave of bitterness rising in my throat before I can stop it. I hate it. I hate that even after all this time, she still has this power over me, pure anger. She doesn't know. She couldn't possibly understand what it's like to look at her and feel that resentment.

She doesn't know how much I've hated her for years.
She doesn't know it's only recently been lowered.
My mom's out of the car before I can even unbuckle my seatbelt, calling out to Lillie like she's seeing her long-lost daughter. I've always noticed how attached to Lillie my mother has been.  Her voice is too bright, too friendly. It turns my stomach. I stand at the door.

It's stupid. It's childish. But I can't help it. I can't just let it go, this thing between us. I don't even know if it's fair to hate her like this. She's never done anything to me directly, not really. But that doesn't change the fact that every time I see her, I remember why things are the way they are.