Lily’s relief was cut short by instant wariness. “Why not?”
Her father came out of the kitchen holding his coffee cup. “We need to talk.”
It didn’t happen right away. First, Eddie and Frankie had to be taken to school. Everyone had to finish their breakfast. Uncle Sam and Aunt May decided to take Minnie and Jack to the Chinese playground for the morning. A P’oh declared her intention to go to the Tin How Temple. Aunt Judy arrived just as they were all leaving; she said that Uncle Francis had gone to meet a friend for breakfast. Lily was sure this had all been carefully planned.
At last, the four of them—Lily, her parents, and Aunt Judy—took their seats at the kitchen table. Her mother hadn’t put on makeup, and her face seemed colorless in the overhead light, her lips pressed together thinly. Her father looked more tired than usual, and he was smoking cigarettes one after another, rather than his pipe. Aunt Judy’s eyebrows were drawn together in a permanent expression of worry as she glanced around the table.
“You won’t be going back to school,” her mother said. “I won’t have you anywhere near that girl.”
Lily pretended to misunderstand. “What girl? You mean Shirley?”
Her mother’s nostrils flared. “You know who I mean. I talked to Shirley yesterday—”
“You—what?”
“Shirley told me everything. About how that girl Kathleen Miller went after you. How she is a homosexual and took you to that place. Shirley told me she tried to get you to stop being friends with her, but you refused.”
“That’s not what happened! Shirley’s lying.”
“If that’s not what happened, tell me what did. Don’t lie to me!”
“Grace,” Lily’s father said. “Give her a chance. Is anything that Shirley said true?”
He seemed to have trouble looking at her. His reluctance to meet her eyes made her feel worst of all.
“Shirley doesn’t like me to be friends with other people.” There, she’d said it: the thing she’d been thinking practically her entire life.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” her mother said.
“It’s true. We all know it’s true. She didn’t like it when I became friends with Kath.”
“Then you do know that girl,” her mother said.
“Yes, I know her, but she didn’t—she didn’t do whatever awful thing Shirley said. She didn’t go after me. We—we’ve been in the same math classes for years.” Lily looked at her aunt pleadingly. “I told her about your job, and she was interested. She wants to fly planes. She’s so smart. She’s the one who gave me that magazine I told you about.”
Aunt Judy smiled at her gently, and Lily knew it sounded ridiculous, as if she’d had a schoolgirl crush on Kath. The thought that her parents and Aunt Judy would think that very same thing was mortifying. She didn’t want them to think of her as someone who had feelings like that for anyone, girl or boy, but at the same time, characterizing her relationship with Kath as a crush was completely inadequate. It had been so much more. She wished she had realized it sooner.
“Girls don’t fly planes,” her mother snapped. “What did she do to make you go to that nightclub?”
Lily rubbed her hot forehead with her cold fingers, trying to ease the pressure that was building inside her. Every sentence she spoke was a choice. She had an infinite number of chances to turn back, but she refused to turn her back on Kath.
“I wanted to go,” Lily said finally. Her voice was remarkably steady. “She didn’t take me. I asked.”
The kitchen was silent but for the ticking of the clock. Her father was staring at the cigarette burning between his fingers. Aunt Judy was gazing at her with that same worried expression.
Her mother began to shake her head, as if she could shake off Lily’s words. “No. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes I do.”
“No you don’t! And this just proves that you can’t go back to Galileo. You can’t go anywhere near that girl. I was afraid of this. Lily, if you’d only admit that you’ve made a mistake, we could help you get over this. We won’t let you throw your life away like this.”
“There are studies,” her father said. “You’re too young for this. This is a phase.”
“There, you hear your father. It’s going to pass. It may not seem that way now, but when you’re older you’ll understand. Lily, look at me. We looked the other way when you went to that Man Ts’ing picnic. We know you didn’t mean anything by it, but this—this can’t be excused. You’re already on the record as sympathizing with the Man Ts’ing. If word gets out that you’ve been voluntarily in the company of homosexuals—”
Her mother looked anguished. Her arms were barricaded across her stomach as she leaned forward to make her point, deep lines grooved in her forehead. “Your father still doesn’t have his papers back. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
With a twist in her gut, Lily did understand. Being linked to the Man Ts’ing was bad, but if she never had anything to do with them again, it could be overlooked. Adding in the corrupting influence of homosexuals made it exponentially worse, and not only for her, but also potentially for her father. Her behavior could further endanger him with the immigration authorities because it reflected poorly on him. She looked at him. He inhaled so deeply on his cigarette that a good inch of the paper burned away at once, and dark shadows pulled at the skin beneath his eyes. He still wouldn’t look at her.
“Tell us you’ll accept that you’ve made a mistake and we’ll help you,” her mother said.
Her mother was practically begging her to lie, and the temptation to give in was strong. It would be so much easier, and she didn’t want to endanger her father. But something stubborn in her balked at what her mother was asking for.