Chapter Text
It was hot for September, but Lily was still wearing tights. Her job required tights if you wore a mini-skirt—and always wore a mini-skirt. The tips were much better, but as a drop of sweat slid down her thigh, Lily wondered if it was worth it.
Her hair, loose and long and vibrant auburn, didn’t help the sweating situation. It was too humid, the skyline blurred in wispy clouds behind a haze of blue, made small by the miles between her train platform and downtown Chicago.
Lily did not want to go to work, but Lily seldom wanted to go to work. She especially didn’t want to go today, after getting shitty tips the night before. But she needed the money, and the shift was almost all friends tonight, and it was Hogwarts University’s first day, which meant more crowds, and hopefully better tips.
Once she got there it would be fine. Lily dragged her foot in circles; the rubber of her sole scrapped the concrete. At least the Snowy Owl had air conditioning.
It was going to be a good day. If she wanted it to be, it would. The thought of asking Marlene to make her fries and then getting those fries (after a drawn-out argument about eating something besides fries) brought a smile to her face. The train pulled up, and Lily stepped into the last car.
It smelled fine. No one was smoking, and she easily found a seat that wasn’t covered in unidentifiable dampness. It would be a good day.
“I told you to make this fucking drink almost half an hour ago!” Lily Evans whisper-shouted at the bartender, Fabian Prewett.
“Told me?”
“Cut the shit. I need a whiskey sour, on the fly. I mean now!”
“Fuck off.”
Fabian Prewett had trained Lily on the bar as soon as she turned 21. They knew each other as children, but Fabian had left the state for school and returned, to young Lily, a whole new man. She’d had a huge crush on him: 23, a college graduate with a production assistant job on the side, tall and brown-eyed and protective. Once they finished training they hooked up—the first person at the restaurant Lily slept with. Four years later they both still worked at the Snowy Owl, and they were still best friends.
Lily was strongly considering slapping him.
Instead, she spun away with such aggression her hair hit Fabian in the face. Close enough to a slap. She pushed open the door to the kitchen, shouted, “Door!” and dropped her tray of plates in the sink.
“Where the fuck is that kid? I shouldn’t be bussing when it’s this busy!”
It didn’t matter if anyone answered; she needed to shout. They were packed, everyone had chosen this Wednesday night to order appetizers and dessert, and there was only one busser on the floor. There should have been three on the schedule, but no, Abe refused to staff beyond a skeleton crew, no matter how many times Lily told him it was stupid, against the advice of any good restauranteur.
They only stayed open because they were popular with the HogwartsU crowd, kids too unsophisticated to know there was better food or too scared to go anywhere but the richest parts of the North Side.
With the same aggression she pushed the door open again, shouted, “Door!” and stepped out to see a whiskey sour waiting for her on the bar.
“Thank fucking Christ.”
Fabian flipped her off.
Lily picked up the drink and fixed her face with a conspiratorial smirk. Once she was a few tables away she met the disgruntled patron’s eyes and winked, holding the drink like it was a treat she’d managed to sneak away for him.
“Here we go, babe. Sorry about that, our bartender is having a bad night.” She rested her hand on his chair and just barely brushed his back with her thumb. “Do you boys need anything else?”
They were so eager, so easy. The last thing they purchased was a round of $35 shots of tequila, and one for Lily, too. She took it, she laughed with them, she pocketed the $130 tip, and she even let one of them touch her leg. It didn’t bother her; she knew what these types of men—boring, middle-class professionals whose biggest life risk was moving from Elgin to Chicago—were after. They wanted to feel exciting by association, they wanted to pretend they would take a risk. These types of men rarely left their numbers, and they’d never asked her out straight up.
Lily wasn’t cut until one am, but she still went out.
She’d had taken her bra off in the Uber over while Regulus fretted about looking stupid in his work slacks. Marlene had told him to shut up, at least he didn’t smell like onions and a frier. Regulus protested He’d changed the white button-up that was soaked in dishwater out for a mesh long-sleeve (Lily had recommended it over the fishnet) but still felt underdressed.
The fear was completely unfounded. It was just past two when they arrived in a dingy basement apartment. The room was dark, aside from LED lights strung around the ceiling, and the music was some reggaeton group Lily had never heard before.
Marlene peeled off from the group to find Dorcas, her long-term girlfriend, and Mary, her more recent lover. Lily, Regulus and Fabian found a bottle of tequila.
“‘M not making drinks,” Fabian said.
Regulus started to pour, one, two, three shots into one cup.
Lily grabbed his arm. “I’ll make the drinks.”
After two strong drinks Lily and Regulus found themselves on the coffee table, dancing together the way only queer people who aren’t the least bit attracted to each other can: almost uncomfortably erotically.
“He’s here,” Regulus whispered as they wrapped their arms around Lily’s neck. “He’s standing with Dorcas.”
Lily glanced at the corner of the room, and at first, she couldn’t see anyone besides Dorcas and Marlene. Dorcas stood a few inches taller than Marlene, with long butterfly locs and sharp features. Behind her, Lily spotted Barty Crouch, slumped against the wall, all black clothes, slight and tall, hair in his face. Even from a distance, Lily could tell his vibe was harsh, serious. It was admirable.
“Stop staring.”
“We’re talking to him.”
She grabbed Regulus’ hand and pulled him off the table.
“No! I need another drink—Fabian, where’s Fabian?”
“Calm down. He’s just a man.”
“Of course you would say that. You’ve been with half the men on the north side.”
“I dabble in all the… sides.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Fuck off.”
“Great comeback.”
“Hey, guys!” Lily spoke over Regulus, a fake smile stretched over her face. Regulus’ love interest glared at her. She smiled harder. “How’s it going?”
Marlene patted Lily on the arm and Dorcas looked at her with concern.
“Goin’ great,” Marlene said. “This is Barty. We grew up in Bucktown together.”
“Hi, Barty, I’m Lily Evans.”
She held out her hand, and after an uncomfortable pause, Barty returned the gesture with a strong handshake.
“And this is my friend, Regulus Black. It’s so good to meet you.”
“We’ve met before,” Barty said, but he extended his hand to Regulus nonetheless. They shook. Lily’s smile returned to a normal, yet self-satisfied, grin.
“I’m gonna get another drink,” Lily said. “You guys want anything?”
Regulus and Barty, who had not said a word to each other, both ignored her.
“Great. Love it,” Lily said.
“I’ll join you,” Marlene said.
Marlene and Lily left Dorcas to facilitate the conversation.
“She’s much better with people than me,” Marlene said. She held a blunt to Lily’s lips as she spoke, pulled away when she finished and took a hit herself. Lily was sitting on the counter, swinging her legs, Marlene standing in between them. Lily patted Marlene’s shaved head.
“That’s why you’re a chef,” Lily said sweetly. “They don’t need to be good with people.”
“Did you intend for that to be nice?”
“Did it not come off that way? I wish I cared as little as you, but even if I don’t need everyone to like me I need everyone to be happy. Comfortable, at the very least.”
“That’s why you’re a waitress. You love to serve.”
Lily sighed as she grabbed Marlene’s forearm and brought the blunt back to her mouth.
“Anyone hot here? Or do I have to seduce you?”
“Oh, I’ve got plans tonight.”
“Who?”
“Mary. Her place.”
“Mary is so pretty.”
“You can’t come with.”
“I wasn’t asking!”
“Sure, sure. Gender preference?”
“Any. Tall. I’m into tall tonight.”
Lily spoke with a musicality to her words and shimmied her shoulders along with it.
“Next to the bedroom, they’re tall. Shit, never mind, that’s a Cubs hat. Hm.”
Both women scanned the room, but most people Lily already knew, or were already coupled. Near the front of the large room, a living room, kitchen, and dining room all at once, she spotted a stranger. Tall, long dark hair, layers of jewelry, and holding a joint. Her type. Lily stared, one leg wrapped around Marlene. When they looked her way she wiggled her fingers in a tiny wave.
Lily had gotten lucky. Her companion, Ash, lived only a few blocks away and actually had art on their walls. Their apartment was full of plants and cast in warm light, they even lit a few candles. They’d talked a few moments about the music they liked, and Ash let Lily pick out a record to put on. It was a decent selection, not totally to her taste, but she was happy with her choice of the xx’s self-titled album.
Ash had asked Lily to tie them to their bed, and she obliged. It did become a bit distracting to listen to an album she knew. Lily was trying not to let her mind wander to the interior design while she sat on their face. The bed frame looked Ikea in a cheap, thoughtless way.
Maybe she’d smoked too much.
She decided to take her pleasure into her own hands and grinded forcefully against Ash’s nose. At last, Lily felt the build, a small gasp was forced from her throat. She came. Time to get out of there.
The front door to her home creaked when Lily closed it. She paused, listened, and heard nothing. It was a bit past four am, and Lily was in the uncomfortable place between sobering up and tipsy. A light flickered in the corner of the living room. Lily took her shoes off and crept down the hall to the kitchen.
Lily squinted into the bright fridge light and poured herself a glass of water blindly. After she drank the whole glass and poured another, Lily slumped against the counter. Both arms crossed over her head, forehead on the cool sticky linoleum, she let herself rest.
The train rumbled a block over. Lily ran her hands through her hair, drew from her last reserves of energy, and pushed herself up.
She climbed onto the counter. Dropped multivitamins, calcium, Lipitor and Omeprazole one by one into the pill sorter. Placed them on the counter with a glass of water. Two cans of food for the cats, who ran down the stairs at the sound of metal on metal. The stove needed to be scrubbed down and the fridge cleaned out. She’d do it when she woke up.
Lily walked back into the living room to the flickering light. A tall, slim candle encased in glass rested on the windowsill next to a framed photo. Lily and Petunia, nine and ten years old in blue and pink pastels on Easter Sunday, sat in front of their parents. Their father wore the worst chartreuse vest with a matching tie. Their mother was beautiful, though. She wore a sundress patterned in delicate yellow florals over white, the sleeves just a few ruffles hanging off her shoulders. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, but a few tendrils of blonde framed her face. They were laughing.
Her mother didn’t like these photos. No one matched, there wasn’t a single photo in the set where they all looked at the camera. Lily murmured a Hail Mary, one of the only prayers she remembered, and crossed herself. She licked her fingers and snuffed out the flame of the candle.
“Goodnight, ma.”
The cats followed her upstairs, and the same creaks sounded off as always. Lily forced herself to brush her teeth. As soon as she closed her door she stripped down and threw herself into bed. The cats meowed at each other, and in the distance, a siren sounded off.
The next day started the same as the previous one. Lily’s dad was downstairs when she crawled out of bed. It was 9 am and he’d already gone to church and brought back another prayer candle. She could hear his and Molly Weasley’s voices drifting from the front porch. Molly was Fabian’s older sister, a stay-at-home mom with three boys. She was a bit overbearing.
Lily took a bite of a muffin that had been left on the counter for her and started to prepare the percolator for coffee. Her eyes burned with tiredness, but she didn’t have a headache, just a deep exhaustion that even a strong coffee would only stave off. She checked her phone. Thirteen texts from Regulus. Two from Fabian.
02:13 AM
RAB: wtf u left me
RAB: dorcas is making me talk abt my life?????
RAB: i see u n marlene fuckin grinding on the counter
RAB: ur a whore
03:37 AM
RAB: we’ve been talking for over an hour!!! He’s in the bathroom now. Do you think he’s ditching me? Oh my god.
RAB: he’s so sexy did you see his hand tattoos? He told me his friend did them in some basement party when he was 17 bc he wanted to piss his dad off
RAB: it’s so sexy. I could never
03:42 AM
RAB: okay he’s back
04:55 AM
RAB: lily!!!!!! Lily!!!!!!!!!
RAB: we talked the whole night!!!
RAB: we exchanged numbers!!!!!!!! He texted me to ask if I got home safe!!!!
RAB: I need him to wrap his fucking hands around my neck
RAB: pls tell me about your hook up asap
Lily turned the stove off and poured her coffee into her favorite mug. She added cinnamon, honey, and a splash of milk. She’d send him a voice message in a bit.
03:25 AM
Fabiolo: don’t tell me you went home with ash
08:57 AM
Fabiolo: you get home okay?
09:15
Lily: I did, and I did.
your sister is at my house
Fabiolo: were they good? they look like they’d fuck like someone from a cw show
Lily: what does that mean
Fabiolo: don’t the cw characters give you uncanny valley feeling
Lily: ash is a person
Fabiolo: so are the cw characters
they’re all style no substance
they’re so boring
makes you wonder if they’re secretly ai
Lily: ash or the cw?
they have a nice apartment
Fabiolo: was it good tho?
Lily: yeah I mean I came. It was chill
Fabiolo: like a pg-13 sex scene on cable tv
Lily continued to eat her muffin, closed the chat, and answered Regulus in a stream-of-consciousness voice memo. She covered squealing about Regulus’ talk with Barty, bragging about her hand in it, tying Ash up, and Fabian’s commentary on how boring they were. Fabian kind of had a point. They made bondage feel remarkably vanilla. Or maybe Lily was becoming desensitized to casual sex.
One of the cats rubbed against her leg. Lily patted it and took her coffee out to the front porch. The sky was clear and the leaves were still green, summer breathing its final breaths.
“Hey, dad. Molly. Morning.”
Lily took a seat on the steps, back to her father and Molly. The youngest of Molly’s children ran about in the yard, Percy, along with two of the neighborhood children Molly watched occasionally, Oliver Wood and Penelope Clearwater. They were talking so loudly and unintelligibly that it came off to Lily as screaming.
“Good morning!” Molly said cheerily. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Lily leaned forward enough to see past the straight-up to the sky, bright blue and cloudless.
“It is.”
“Catch the sunrise, Lily?” Her father asked.
“No, dad, I think I just missed it. Caught the open flame you left just in time to stop the house fire, though.”
“Ah, you passed my test.”
“Failure was not an option, apparently. Or, I guess it was if I want to be orphaned and homeless at 25.”
“Oh, that isn’t something to joke about,” Molly said.
“I have to joke about it. I laugh to hide the pain,” Lily said dryly.
Lily could not see Molly but was confident she was shaking her head. What did Molly know, anyway, both parents alive, her children with grandparents in the same building and uncles up the road? If Lily had a child—which felt less and less likely each year—they’d have a grandpa, barely an aunt, and whatever strange family her lover brought along.
Why should she want what Molly had, anyway? She was so different from Molly, sarcastic and a party girl. Molly’s life would not make her happy, so there was no purpose in envy. Her chest ached for no reason.
“Are you up to anything today?” Lily asked as she turned to face her father and Molly.
“Just watching the kids,” Molly said with a soft smile.
“I’m going down to the beach with a clean-up team,” her father said. “I’ll make dinner for both of us.”
“I work the lunch shift, so I dunno if I’ll be home in time.”
“I’ll wrap it up for you, sweetheart.”
“I can get something at work, don’t worry, dad.”
She hated it when he worried. It was bad for his blood pressure.