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A hat is just one more way to define a person. Lily Vanderhoof appreciated the many styles of hats, but not the symbolism. Women with the fanciest feathers, jewels, flowers, embroidery, or ribbon certainly lived in the most lavish houses. A way of life she could only dream about while sipping iced tea and wearing an old fashioned 1920’s cloche from the last decade.
Outside the diner window, the eight-fifteen evening train had arrived in Hub City. Her small town swelled with folks from all over Wisconsin since every track intersected the city like spokes of an old wagon wheel. Travelers paraded across the street in the latest fashionable headwear, piquing her discontent.
The bell hanging from the door chimed and she spun in the booth. A woman wearing a straw hat entered, crossing the black and white checkered tile floor to her table.
“So, you’re Lily Vanderhoof? Can’t see why you’d catch Ira’s eye.”
Lily examined her. Under the brim, loose strands of golden-brown hair were similar in color to hers, although much thinner. Yellow flecks streaked the woman’s blue eyes, cautioning her as much as the choice words and that smug grin.
“Uh...do I know you?” Lily tipped her head to the side, pushing a loose bobby pin snugly into her hair.
“You should, that’s why I followed you to Flo’s.” The woman stood with her arms folded and her legs stiffly rooted on the floor. “Besides, I overheard you’d be here. I thought it was time you knew.” The woman yanked a hand from her tight fold, filling the air with a floral scent. Remnants of talcum powder speckled her forearm. The familiar aroma of Cashmere Bouquet Lily’s older sister used. “I’m Bessie. A friend of your fiancé, a very good friend.” Her voice lightened with amusement. “In all honesty, he’d be much more than a friend. You see...”
Lily backed away. She wouldn’t oblige such an unwelcome gesture. Bessie’s demeanor told her everything. A bitter, scornful woman who wanted her out of Ira’s life. Lily had been with him for three years. Why now finally show up? Her engagement must have enraged the woman.
“Look at you sitting there in that moth-eaten cloche. You must have played on Ira’s good-hearted nature, didn’t you? You should be ashamed of yourself luring away a fruitful man.” Bessie jabbed her finger in Lily’s face, demanding attention. “You are the other woman. The poor damsel in distress waiting to be rescued. Not me.” Bessie directed her finger at her own chest. “I was the first. His first.”
Lily circled her hands firmly around her glass of ice tea. “His first what?” She glared at Bessie and the dress swaying around her shapely frame.
“Don’t you dare question what I’ve been telling you.” Bessie swung her hand onto her hip. “I’ve got proof.”
“I don’t need any seedy detail.”
“I’ve seen his scar. Have you?”
Lily’s heart sank into the depths of her stomach. Ira’s scar. The one he’d gotten as a teenager running into a barbed wire fence while a neighbor girl chased him. The mark she’d seen only one time, an inch-long slit right under his ribs. An intimate fact to the woman’s story she couldn’t push aside. If she would ever use profanity it would be now, but a good Catholic girl couldn’t do such a thing. “Leave.” Her hand jerked, knocking the glass across the table and dousing the woman’s skirt. “You’ve said enough.”
“Ugh! You simpleton.” Bessie pushed her shoulders back, displayed a satisfied smile, and exited.
Lily solemnly vowed from then on to detest straw hats. As the surge of adrenaline subsided, her hands trembled and a burning sensation stirred behind her eyes. She ran to the lavatory, slamming the door shut while tears wet her cheeks. Hopes of marriage with Ira shattered over a few words from a stranger. She should have asked when this happened. And more importantly, if their “friendship” was still happening. She blotted her eyes with a tissue. Her assumption the woman told the truth couldn’t possibly be right. Ira would disprove the story. If he didn’t, she’d be an unfortunate twenty-one-year-old in a similar situation as her unmarried sister.
She stood in front of the oval mirror above the sink. Could he have ignored all the years they’d been together and still be unfaithful to her? The image in front of her reflected definite signs of crying. Her eyelids were puffy, the whites of her eyes bloodshot, and in the center of her blue irises were dilated pupils. The slight brim of her cloche wouldn’t hide them. Before Ira arrived, she had to compose herself. She splashed cool water on her face. A few droplets dotted her tan cotton dress and the bow around her neck had loosened. She tightened the knot, held her head high, and marched back into the diner.
Ira sat in their usual corner booth wearing a white button-down shirt and black suspenders. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, exposing his tanned muscular forearms from manual farm labor. A plaid flat cap, which had compressed the blond curls on his head, rested on his knee. He didn’t appear any different.
However, her previous anticipation for the evening diminished, and the smell of homecooked food turned her stomach upside down. The woman mentioned she’d heard Lily would be at Flo’s. Could it have been Ira who said she’d be here? Maybe he didn’t want to marry her after all. As she neared, she ran her fingers under her eyes. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.” She took the seat across from him.
“Just got here.”
A fresh glass of tea replaced her spilled one on the table. “Good. I have something—”
“Wait.” He raised his hand motioning at the waitress. “I haven’t eaten since dinner.”
“Ira.” She paused until he looked at her. “I need to talk to you.”
He rubbed his stomach. “Can’t it wait until we order? Besides here she is. I’ll have—”
Lily turned toward the waitress. “Please come back later.”
“I’d like the roast chicken dinner with mashed potatoes, corn, and a cola...please.” He glanced at her. “Do you want anything?”
“No! I don’t want...” The knot in the back of her neck tightened, she placed her hand over the spasm. “I’m sorry, nothing for me.”
The waitress walked away.
Ira drummed his fingers on the table. “You’re a bit of a flat tire. What’s the matter?”
She crossed her legs and tugged her skirt over her knees. “I can’t help it when your dame stopped by to introduce herself.”
“Dame? What dame?”
“The one with a smashed hat and worn-out lips.” Lily covered Ira’s hand and the drumming stopped. “She said her name. I don’t recall... I think it started with a B.”
Ira took his hand away and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Bessie?”
She swallowed slowly and couldn’t force the lump any further down her throat. “How do you know her?”
He shrugged. “She’s an old classmate and neighbor of mine. What did she say?”
“That you were intimate.” Lily narrowed her glare at him. “She even told me about your scar since I didn’t believe her. Is it true?”
Ira’s eyes darted everywhere, but at her. “We weren’t even engaged then.” He bit his lower lip.
“We’ve been engaged for less than two months. Apparently, any time before that was fine with you.” Her skin changed from warm to clammy, and dizziness ensued. She braced her forehead with a shaky hand and rested her elbow on the table to keep from toppling over. Ira exhibited no shame. If it hadn’t been for Bessie, he never would have said a thing about it.
“How many times did you? And why didn’t you tell me?”
“Once and the way I see it...I could have denied everything, but I didn’t.” His leg bounced under the table, causing the silverware to rattle. “As far as you know, she could have innocently seen my scar the same way you did on that hot summer day.”
“I’m not naïve.”
“She’s got nothing to do with us.”
“Then it should’ve been easy to tell me about her.” Her voice cracked. “How do you think I feel hearing such a thing from a total stranger? Don’t you think I wonder what else I don’t know about?” She touched the tear falling on her cheek. “Do you love her?”
“Ridiculous.” He broke his gaze and peered out the window. “I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”
She waited for him to offer more than two pathetic words of apology, but it wasn’t his character. He could have told her he wished it never happened, or it was the worst mistake he had ever made. Maybe he’d given up on them. “I’m not sure you even know what you said you’re sorry for. Is there anything else you’d like to say?”
He pulled his cap on. “You can tell the waitress to cancel my order or eat it yourself. Let me know when you’ve come to your senses. I’ve said all I’m going to say.” He stood. “What more do you want from me?” And he stomped away.
Her hands jerked upward into the air. “Go be with her, you’re two-of-a-kind!” She cupped her mouth. Surely, her shrill voice drew attention. A heat burned deep inside like the scorching sun under a magnifying glass. She couldn’t face the people in the diner. Holding her hand to her forehead, she ducked out the nearest door in the back.
Each click of her high-heeled shoes ricocheted between the alley walls. Discarded trash along the edges left a crooked path to maneuver under the scarce light of the half-moon. She crossed First Street into the next back street. Her pace slowed, breathing quickened, and an ache arose in the emptiness of her chest. Both shins tingled like a pricked pincushion, while her calf muscles squeezed together as tight as a wringer-washer. The unbearable pain forced her to a standstill. She leaned against the red brick while massaging the knot in her leg.
Across the alleyway was the ladder to her favorite rooftop, a hideaway she’d stumbled upon at the age of nine the day she’d run away from home. By nightfall, the hunger pains made her go home. But the solitude above always brought her comfort. She lifted her skirt above her knees while taking hold of the railing. The cool metal scraped upon her palms. She carefully climbed the first set of twelve steps. Her pulse throbbed. The remaining set of twelve steps left her winded as she eased her way over the wall and onto the roof.
Although the two-story building wasn’t the tallest in the city, the lower facade allowed her to sit on the cement ledge. Below rounded streetlights blinded her. On the next block over a dark-colored truck drove through the intersection and turned toward her house. It might have been Ira. Whenever he walked away after a disagreement, he’d always come back. How could he have acted so casual about such a serious act? His proposal to her hadn’t erased what he'd done.
She yanked her engagement ring off her finger and held it over the edge. The seconds ticked by. No matter how hard she tried to toss the band, she couldn’t. She shoved the ring back on.
A part of her wanted to give up and let him go, but she couldn’t do it. She loved him and had grown to count on him to look after her. He had promised their own house on a piece of land from his family’s eighty-acre farm. The thought had become a comfortable one, especially since her family had accepted him as a good, faithful, Catholic man. If her family found out about his indiscretions, they wouldn’t allow her to make her own decision and their impression of him would be spoiled. She needed time to figure out if her heart could be forgiving.
The hair on her arms stood as chill air ran over them. Clusters of darkened clouds swept in while the wind picked up strength. The sky split open like a ragged seam on a worn pair of trousers. Raindrops pelleted upon the rooftop, and she descended the ladder. The buildings barely blocked the gusts of wind while the downpour stung her exposed skin. Maybe the rain symbolized a new beginning for her like a baptism washing away the original sins of the soul. Her heart needed the purification from her tainted future with Ira. She would never forget this awful night.
Her soaked clothes were heavy by the time she trudged the few blocks home. A shadow from the roof overhang cast the back-porch steps in darkness. As she strolled up the stairs, her parents’ voices and figures became clear through the kitchen screen door. An unusual tone in her father’s speech caused her to wait on the landing.
“...with the lack of work, once we get this last shipment out, there won’t be anything.”
Mother picked up the percolator and poured coffee into Father’s cup. “Maybe they’ll get another order.”
“Doubtful. We need to prepare for the worst. It could be weeks, even months.”
“We have a little money set aside, don’t we?” Mother touched his hand.
“Not much.”
“We’ll make do. We always have.”
“With lard sandwiches?” Father banged the cup onto the saucer. “I hate it when we don’t have enough for the children.”
“The garden’s coming along nicely.”
“Don’t be so optimistic. We know how much they despise boiled cabbage.”
“Frank, please look at me. Try not to be so hard on yourself. We’re better off than some.”
Father lowered his head. “How long can we continue like this?”
Lily eased her way down the steps and went around the corner toward the front door. Her father’s news came at the worst time for their family. One way or another, she had to move out and not be a burden for her parents. The small amount of money she contributed with her job at Livingston’s Women’s Wear wasn’t much. Even her older brother Arthur, who had two jobs, made little to assist with their two younger siblings. A marriage with Ira would have given them relief, but could she still marry him after what he’d done?
A slight creak came from the door as Lily glided through. The overhead chandelier lit the parlor, streaming light into the sitting room between matching tattered chairs. A sewing kit rested on the seat of Mother’s chair while Father’s had a magazine draped over the arm. A program emitted from the radio in the corner and an unplayed board game lay at the rug’s edge. Muffled voices trailed down the hallway along with the lingering scent of supper. She crept up the stairs to her bedroom.
Lily slipped into her nightgown and slid under the covers. Her body tensed on the cool sheets. The events of the night replayed in her head and finding a comfortable position seemed impossible. Could she marry a man who may not be faithful? What other choice did she have when her family couldn’t continue to bear her burden? The situation with Ira and the lack of work in her small town didn’t offer many options. She squeezed her lids tight over her swollen eyes, praying for a peaceful night. Finally, her body sank into the mattress with her hands folded together as if she were lying trapped in a coffin.