Chapter 15 - All Done And Still Held
The doors closed behind us and the sound changed. Inside it had been voices and heels on marble and that high ring from the chandelier lights. Outside in the hallway the carpet took the noise down to nothing but our breathing. My dress stuck cold to my legs. Mom kept me against her side with her hand hard on my shoulder, not hurting, just not letting go.
My name is Lily. I was still shaking when we left that room.
A man in a vest by the double doors looked at us and then looked away. He'd heard it. Everyone had heard it. My wet shoes left small dark marks on the carpet and I tried to walk on the dry edge of them so I wouldn't make noise.
Richard came out first. He didn't run this time. His shoes were quiet and his bow tie was crooked from leaning in close to Mom. He stopped three steps behind us.
"Lily," he said. "Come here. This is family business."
Mom didn't turn all the way. She turned just enough so he could see her face. Her hair was coming loose at the back and her navy sleeve was damp where I'd held it.
"You don't get to say that," she said. It wasn't loud. It was the same way she'd said it in there, when we were face to face and the phones were up.
I felt his eyes on me. I looked down at the carpet. I was scared if I looked at him I'd say it again. Sorry. Sorry. The words were still in my throat from the ballroom and I swallowed them.
Eleanor came out next. Her gold dress caught the hall light and her pearls moved when she breathed fast. She had her hand to her chest like she was holding herself together. Two women from inside followed with their phones still up, flashlights on, recording the hall now.
"Elena, stop," Eleanor said. "You are making this worse. Bring her back inside and we will handle this properly."
Mom kept walking. She steered me toward the wide stairs that led down to the lobby. The chandelier up there was smaller and the sconces made warm circles on the wall. I could see our shadows move with us.
"We're not going back in," Mom said.
"You don't walk out on family," Richard said behind us, louder now. "You hear me?"
A woman with a phone said, "Let them go," without lowering it. The little light stayed on my wet hair and Mom's hand. I realized the cameras weren't just in the ballroom anymore. They were the hallway now. That was why Richard stopped at the top of the stairs. He looked at the two phones and then at another one coming up from the lobby.
Eleanor put her hand out toward me. Not to touch, just to show. "Lily, honey," she said. "You serve at these events because we asked you to. You know that's how it works."
My chest got tight. Serve. That was the word for carrying the tray and standing by the wood doors and trying not to spill. My dress was still soaked from it. I leaned harder into Mom's side.
Mom stopped on the landing and finally looked straight at Eleanor. "She's done," she said. "We're all done."
Nobody moved. The phones kept recording. I heard one of them beep like the storage was full.
Eleanor's mouth opened and closed. She glanced at Richard. He shook his head once, not at us, at them, at being seen. He couldn't pull Mom aside. He couldn't lower his voice and make it private. The hall was too bright and too full of lights that weren't his.
We went down the rest of the stairs. The lobby smelled like flowers and wet coats. Mom asked the front desk man for our jackets and he brought them fast without asking why I was wet. She wrapped hers around me. It was warm from her body and too long, and it covered the light blue dress so the cold stopped biting so much.
Outside the main doors the air hit my face. Parking lot lights and rain on the asphalt. Mom's car was two rows over. She kept me at her side all the way across, her arm around my shoulders, her keys already in her hand.
Behind us, through the glass, I could see Eleanor standing by the stairs with her hand still at her pearls, and Richard with his hands in his pockets, not following. The women with the phones were still there, looking down at their screens.
Mom opened the passenger door and I got in. She tucked the jacket tight around my legs and buckled my seatbelt like I was little. Then she got in her side and locked the doors.
We didn't talk until we turned out onto the main road. My hair dripped onto the jacket.
"You okay?" she asked.
I nodded, then remembered she was driving and couldn't look. "Yeah," I said. My voice was small.
May you like
Her hand found mine across the console and held it. "You're not going back to serve her," she said. "Not at parties. Not at anything. I mean it."
I believed her. The shaking slowed down. The ballroom felt farther with every light we passed, but her hand stayed, and the wet dress and the phones and the words stayed where they belonged, behind us, on record.
