The Serpent King(75)

“In,” Lydia commanded, pointing. “Back inside.”

He gave Lydia a wounded look. “That’s a nice way to—”

“In. Side.”

“Denny, darling,” her mom said gently. “Girl talk.”

Her dad raised both hands in surrender and backtracked. “Okay, okay. I’m retreating. I’m making no sudden movements. Don’t hurt me. Glad you made it home safe, Lyd.”

Her mom waited until she was sure Lydia’s dad was gone. “So? How long?”

Lydia picked at the chipped polish on her toes. “About a month. Since Dill’s all-nighter applying to college.”

“I knew it. You two thought you were being so sly with your knock-knock jokes.”

“Well.”

“You have some timing.”

Lydia sighed. “No shit.”

Her mother made a little sound of disgust. “Lydia. Come on with the language. At least try.”

“Sorry. Anyway, back to the subject at hand. Yeah. Timing. Bad. I know,” Lydia said. “It’s not like we planned this. It just sorta seemed like the right thing to do. I mean, I don’t regret it, but leaving was supposed to be easier than this. I don’t know what to do.”

Her mom picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. “What can you do? Enjoy your time together. Let it—whatever it is—be beautiful while you have it. Maybe you won’t end up together forever and that’s okay. But the heart wants what the heart wants. When it wants it.”

“The heart sucks.”

“He’s your first boyfriend, isn’t he?”

“Of course. Who else was I going to date here?”

They rocked for a while. “Dill’s a good first boyfriend. He’s liked you as more than a friend for a long time,” her mom said.

“Really? How do you know?”

“Oh sweetie. It was plain as day. Did you really not know?”

“I had my suspicions I guess. But I knew I was leaving so I never really thought about it as a thing that could happen. I just…couldn’t.” Lydia slumped down in the rocker. “What if you’d known that you and Dad would be separated? Would you have jumped in anyway?”

“Of course. Life is short, sweetie. I’m sorry you’ve had to see that firsthand. You can’t live with your heart locked up in a safe.”





He was still ringing with the day’s excitement when his mother arrived home. He had told himself that he would wait until closer to the start of school to tell her, but as he made dinner, he began to doubt his resolve.

He drained the spaghetti and put some on a plate. He spooned some of the canned sauce heating on a saucepan on the stove over it. He handed his mother the plate.

“Thanks. You seem to be in a good mood.”

He served himself some spaghetti. “I am.”

“I’m glad you’re doing better lately,” she said between bites. “The Lord hears prayers.”

“Yeah, he does.”

“How was work today?”

“Fine.” A stab of guilt. You have to tell her.

“When do you—”

“No, wait. Hang on a sec, Mom. I didn’t go to work today. There’s something I need to tell you.”

She put down her fork and fixed her exhausted eyes on him. The air grew still.

“I visited MTSU today with Lydia.”

Her face hardened. “Why?”

Tell her you just did it for fun. Harmless fun. But then he saw himself standing on the stage at the talent competition. He saw himself kissing Lydia. And he knew he couldn’t betray who he was now. He was more now. “Because I’m going there next year. I got in.”

“We agreed you weren’t going to do that.” Her voice was soft, but not like a pillow. Like a pile of fine metal shavings or powdered glass.

“You agreed. I didn’t. I just didn’t disagree. But now I do. I’m going.”

“We cannot afford this, Dillard. You will bankrupt us.” She spoke slowly and carefully, like she was explaining to a toddler not to touch a hot stove.

“I got need-based financial aid. I’ll get loans that I’m responsible for to take care of the rest. But I’m doing this.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“I’m not asking you for permission. I’m telling you because I love you. This is happening. Maybe someday I’ll explain exactly why this needed to happen. But not now. Now all you need to know is that it’s happening.”

She breathed deeply, deliberately. The air rattled in her throat. She looked away and closed her eyes as if praying. Not as if. Of course she’s praying. For what? The words to persuade me? The grace to accept my decision?

She stood and pushed away her half-eaten plate of spaghetti, almost daintily. She turned and walked to her bedroom. She shut the door carefully, slowly. As if she knew Dill wished she would slam it.

Dill sat in the hush, listening to their clattering refrigerator. It felt like the moment between when he finished his song at the talent competition and the lukewarm applause that followed; like when he first kissed Lydia—like every time he kissed Lydia; when he knew he had done something painful, brave, and beautiful. And if you’re going to live, you might as well do painful, brave, and beautiful things.