Enchanted Ivy

Lily plucked a fresh shirt out of their suitcase. 'I'm fine,' she said automatically. She changed shirts and then waved at the ceiling. 'What are you doing?'

'Since we're here for a few days, I thought I'd make it feel more ...' Mom trailed off, finally noticing the expression on Lily's face. 'Oh. I didn't think.' Mom looked down at the Sharpie in her hand. Blue and black ink covered her fingers. 'I'm so sorry, Lily. I know how important this weekend is to you. I didn't mean to add to your stress.'

Of course she didn't. She never meant to. Sighing, Lily looked up at the ceiling with its thousands of tiny leaves. Buds poked between the branches. She thought she saw creatures, too: squirrels and birds, tiny winged men and wide-eyed elf girls. 'It's beautiful,' she said.

Mom sank down on the mattress and stared up at her leaf mural. 'I just had to ... you know. It wasn't ... quite ... home.'

Sitting down next to her, Lily rubbed her neck, feeling at least seventy years old. 'We'll buy some white paint before we leave. It's fine. Really, it could be worse.' At least Mom hadn't gotten herself mauled by a monkey-thing and herded by unruly bookcases. Lily was in no position to judge. 'We shouldn't have left you alone here until you settled in.'

Mom patted her knee. 'Don't be silly. You have your test.'

Lily hesitated, unsure how to tell Mom that the test was insane. She was so used to shielding Mom from bad news. Lily flopped back onto the mattress. Springs poked into her back. 'Ow.'

'Seriously ow,' Mom said, poking at the bed. 'When you come here, you can bring your futon and a lot of pillows. We can make it look more like home, once it's your own room.' She waved her hand at the ceiling.

'I still don't think they let you draw on the walls.'

Mom winced. 'I let you down.'

'It's okay. Really.' Funny thing was, staring up at the ceiling of swirling leaves did make Lily feel better. She felt calmer. 'It's been a strange day. After you left Vineyard Club, I met this boy with orange and black tiger-striped hair....'

'Hmm.'

'Not as nice as green hair,' Lily said quickly. 'Don't get any ideas.'

'Nothing is as nice as green hair,' Mom said solemnly. She leaned back on the mattress beside Lily. Their hair overlapped. 'Is he cute?'

Lily sat up. 'Mom!'

Mom laughed. 'You're such an easy target. How can I resist?'

'Ha. Very funny.' Lily lay back down slowly this time so that the springs didn't stab her spine again. 'Yes, actually, he's very cute. He's also a liar.'

'I'm intrigued. Tell me more.'

Lily launched into a description of the day, but she stopped when she reached the part about finding her father's book. She rarely mentioned Dad to Mom. There was usually no need—he wasn't part of their lives, and with Mom's memory ... it was best not to mention him.

Mom touched her shoulder, near the bite marks. 'Did someone hurt you in the library?' she asked gently. 'You can tell me, Lily. I'm your mother. You don't need to protect me.'

Yes, I do, she thought, but she didn't say it out loud. She never said anything like that out loud. 'I saw a book ...,' Lily began.

Mom patted her reassuringly. 'And it had no pictures?' Her voice dripped with false sympathy.

Lily laughed. Mom would get along well with Tye, she thought. Sobering, she said, 'It did have pictures, as a matter of fact. Of trees. And kind of magicky tree spirits.'

'And puppies and rainbows?' Mom asked. 'Are you certain you were in a college library?'

'Dad wrote it,' Lily said quietly.

Mom fell silent.

Lily told her about all the fake dissertations. 'Dad's wasn't the only one. There were dozens, maybe even hundreds. Why would anyone take the time to write a several-hundred-page joke? It doesn't make any sense.' She propped herself up on one elbow so she could see Mom's face. Expressionless, her mom stared at the ceiling. 'Mom? What is it?'

Mom picked up a marker, crossed the room, and began to draw vines on the white plaster around the window. Uh-oh, Lily thought. Clusters of grapes and leaves blossomed over the vines. The marker tip bent as she bore down on the wall.

Lily jumped off the bed. 'It's okay, Mom. You don't need to remember. I didn't expect you to. Please, stop.' Dammit, she thought. She shouldn't have said anything.

A doglike face emerged between the vines and grapes. 'You should know more about your father,' Mom said. She drew faster. 'I should be able to tell you what his smile looked like, what his voice sounded like, what he liked for breakfast, what made him laugh....' In slashing strokes, she drew a curved, snakelike neck. 'But. I. Don't. Remember.'

Lily wrapped her arm around Mom's shoulder. 'It's all right. Really, it doesn't matter. Forget I said anything. Let me tell you about some of the Reunions jackets I saw. Much worse than psychedelic zebra.'

Shrugging her off, Mom continued to draw. She added bat wings to the snakelike body. 'All I remember from the day he died is the ambulance. I don't remember our car or the accident. I don't even remember where we were.' She added clawed talons. 'I don't remember the day we met. I don't remember the day he proposed. I don't remember the day we married.' She drew scales shaped like tears. 'I know we once walked through a garden of red and yellow tulips with a fountain in the center.' She switched pens and sketched linked ovals around the animal's neck—a chain that was held in one talon. 'And I remember how he made me feel. Safe. Like he'd be my knight in shining armor. Like he'd fight dragons for me.'

Mom finished the final link of the chain, and then she sank down on the floor and hugged her knees. Lily dropped down beside her, wrapped her arms around her mother, and stared at the drawing of the Chained Dragon gargoyle that she'd seen on the arch of the University Chapel.

'Wow,' Lily breathed, and then fell silent.

For a long while, they simply sat like that, without looking at each other, eyes fixed on the dragon. Questions swirled in Lily's head, but she didn't dare ask a single one.

A half laugh, half chirp burst out of Mom's lips. 'It's very ...' She waved her hand as if the gesture would finish the sentence. Lily watched Mom attempt to dredge up a smile, but the fake smile faded after only a few seconds. 'Oh, Lily, sometimes I think the only reason I hold on at all is you and your future. You're going to pass this test. I know it. And then you'll have everything I can't give you.' Turning to her, Mom gripped Lily's wrists. 'You can't know how much that means to me. I need to look forward. I can't look back.' Mom was crying now. Silent tears. 'I'm getting worse, Lily. I can feel it. Every day, I slip further away. But when I think about you ... your future ...'

'I'll pass! I promise!' Lily hugged her. 'I have the next clue already: the Literate Ape. I can win this. It's only a weird treasure hunt. Piece of cake.' The Feeder hadn't really hurt her much, and the bookshelves had only scared her. She could do this. 'Please, don't cry!'

Mom turned her head aside, as if she thought that if Lily couldn't see her cry, then it didn't count as crying. Stroking Mom's leaf green hair, Lily looked up at the drawing of the Chained Dragon and wondered what the Old Boys had in store for her next.

Shutting the door, Lily leaned against it. She wanted to bang her head repeatedly, but she bet that would alarm Jake. She smiled wanly at him. 'She'll be fine,' Lily said. Mom had sworn up and down that Grandpa would be checking on her soon.

'Of course,' Jake said. As Mom began to sing again, Lily saw pity in his very blue eyes and felt as if he'd seen her underwear drawer, complete with the pairs reserved only for laundry emergencies. She guessed he must come from one of those oh-so-perfect families without any hint of ... without anyone like Mom.

'I need to find the Literate Ape,' she said. And the shreds of my dignity and self- respect, she added silently. At least she hadn't told him that she'd considered quitting. She ducked her head, unable to meet his eyes anymore. Her face felt hot. Passing him, she headed downstairs. He fell into step behind her. She felt his sympathy-filled eyes soaking into her back, labeling her pitiable. She didn't look back at him