From the start, she realized there were eyes on her as she moved sparse belongings into Mistral Manor Apartments. It was perhaps inevitable: tall, slim but well defined with a smart figure and great muscle, the hair, the unusual eyes–she was used to hearing she was beautiful. Though she usually felt otherwise, anymore. Lily had been a model several years between high school and what was supposed to be the next step, college and then kept going. She made very good money, traveled here, there, evyerhwere. But it had left her emptier and restless, and with too many of the wrong experiences. In the end she’d developed an indifference to her considerable physical attributes more than any gratitude. And college–well, it never materialized. In the end, her life was re-ordered in ways she had never forseen.

But maybe she appeared more different than she imagined. It was likely the past few years were written all over her face despite her best efforts to be another ordinary citizen. Maybe she wouldn’t blend in there at all. Or perhaps she would, given practice and time.

Her apartment faced east; sunshine flooded her compact living-dining room space. Her bedroom faced west and through her window appeared a rich glow of the sun setting. This was so important that Lily had toured the place twice at those times before signing the lease. Plus there were overgrown lilac bushes outside the main entrance of the U-shaped bulding and they smelled divine; there was a fountain in the courtyard. And, too, the rent was a cost she could manage.

But as she awkwardly unfolded from Aunt Gay’s ancient green MG convertible, three men and a woman leaving the building looked her way, two of the group pausing to stare. Lily glanced swiftly in their direction, then helped her stiff-jointed Aunt Gay out. The woman insisted on driving it though it had been offered to Lily, who’d declined (for the time being). And Lily missed sports cars; she’d had a couple, long ago. That was probably enough.

Once they’d disembarked from the cranky elevator on floor two and entered Lily’s new home, Aunt Gay had already noted her approval. When inside, she released a happy sigh.

“It has a charm and looks well manitained,” Aunt Gay said, running fingers over the original woodwork, eyeing the tall windows. “Blinds or drapes…”

“Blinds for now. You’re being generous, it’s old and a bit rundown at the edges. But I already appreciate it.”

“Old and so on like me, not too bad!” She toured the few rooms. “We can always spiff it up with thrift shop goods and my cast-offs until you save some money.”

“Exactly.”

They stepped onto the balcony off the dining room. It had enough space for a bistro table and perhaps three chairs, all yet to be located. They could see and hear the fountain splashing and noted numbers of flowers brightening the grassy strips around the place.

Aunt Gay put a hand on Lily’s arm and looked steadily at her. “Well, this is it. You can really start on the road to better times. Just remember to not look back; it’ll steal the present.”

Lily hugged her aunt close, her saggy softness a comfort, but she looked out over the new environment and her mind instantly dangled between now and then. Like being on a tighrope, she thought.

“Aunt Gay, thank–“

“No more thanks! We had a good year together despite bumps and a bruise or two. Now you’re at last on your own; life will be okay. We’ll enjoy a meal here and there. I’ll come with neighborhood gossip, you’ll tell me stories.”

“Alright. Yes.”

Aunt Gay patted her arm, then turned to go, a quick prayer said under her breath.

Lily saw her aunt trundle off to her impossibl small and beautiful car as if she was carefree and able to do anything. She might be relieved to be rid of Lily in her home, though they had helped each other. Or she didn’t quite have faith in her niece, though she often repeated words of encouragement. Then again, she could be proud of her–the progress she’d made, slow but sure.

She was ready to begin to move on, anyway. Lily’s diaphragm trembled. She took deep, slow breaths.

A fluffy off-white dog below the balcony noted Lily and proceeded to bark insistently. Its owner knelt to calm the canine with long strokes and a soft voice. The white haired man scanned the area, saw Lily and gazed a long moment. His hand rose in a brief wave. Lily fought an urge to turn away and failed to be friendly, reentering the shady rooms, her first place in over six years.

She was keen to gather more essentials, add her own touch–whatever that might be– to make it a real home. It would take time. But she knew how to be patient, adapt and regroup.

******

Rhonda settled in with her coffee and offered half of her lemon poppy seed scone to Jen.

“I’m telling you, she’s the most exquisite creature this sorry place has seen, Jen!”

“Easy to say, we’ve only been here for three years…but right, I did glimpse her coming back from shopping or so I gathered. She is head turning, for sure.”

“Refreshing. We need some pizzaz here. The question is, what’s she about? She dresses very simply. She’s not friendly at all, so far. And I think I saw her limp a little. Maybe she isn’t well?”

“Does she work, I wonder? It’s been a week–she is always around.” Jen frowned. Anyone who didn’t work was someone she could not relate to, at all. As an emergency department nurse, night shift, she was a worker bee par excellence. As was Rhonda on the cardiology ward, also night shift. “Maybe she works remotely?”

Rhonda fiddle with her bracelet, leaned in closer. “Well, I saw her get on the bus yesterday afternoon. She had a pretty dress on so maybe she went to an interview or another meeting? All she’d have to do is train those big hazel eyes and balzing white teeth on someon: hired!”

“Really?” Jen wiped crumbs off her lips. “It’s 2024 and that’s the way you see it? You can be too much! And how do you know her eye color? PLus, you just have this thing about teeth. Persoannly, I bet she’s a model.”

“Just guessing about her eyes–hair that gorgeous auburn, pale skin-“

“Sounds like you envy her a little, girl.”

Rhonda squinted, touching her own blonde hair. “Nope, Too tall, too skinny, not friendly.”

“Keeps herself to herself, not a bad idea. Nosy neighbors and all.”

Rhonda kicked her friend’s foot under the table. “Okay! Time will tell. Lily is her name, and she’s mysterious. Things get around fast here.”

“Leave it to you to get in the mix, I’m just going to be welcoming. We might get to know her eventually. She just moved in.”

“I want answers, you know I like to investigate things.”

“Snoop about is more like it!”

Below their third floor apartment stood Lily in the shelter of shadows; she’d looked up when her name was spoken rather loudly followed by laughter. She shuddered, quickly entered the main doors, got on the elevator. A heavy box filled with a few books, two fresh candles and a set of three new saucepans was pressed to her chest. Her heartbeat would not quiet even when she sat at the dining table, a tall glass of iced water sweating under her hot hands. She would do this. She would adjust, make do, find her own way. She had done it before in so many ways.

One more week and she’d begin her job as recreation aide at the residential teen treatment facility. She’d be at Mistral Manor less; perhaps no one would bother with her then.

******

It was sometime in the middle of night–closer to morning– that Rod Townsend stumbled from his car, fell, caught himself with his hands as he hit gravel and so protected his face from slamming too hard into it. Good thing. Could not be a photographer for weddings and such and turn up looking like a bar brawl victim. But he was more worried about how to get from there to his apartment. It was a few steps to the main entrance, another few to his door. But he lay exhausted, face pressed against parking lot dirt and rocks, unmoved by scraped, bleeding hands, sweat rolling off his dirty forehead. “Camera equipment can stay in SUV”, he muttered, and closed his eyes. He’d like to sleep. Pass out, rather.

At her balcony, Lily leaned over the railing and watched Rod. As usual, she could’t sleep through the night and any noise served to further awaken her, at which time she’d roll out of bed to pace or read or peer into the darkness, sussing out nighttime neighborhood ways. Tonight she’d sat under a glorious star-pierced sky, that beaming moon. Enjoying some peace.

Until Rod parked, got out, fell over.

She recognized that stumbling, teetering and inevitable descent. He was drunk. Something she knew about–rather, knew once upon a time. How many nights over years had the same occurred to her? But, of course, there was someone who always caught her before the worst falls. They’d travelled in small packs like creatures of the night often do, prowling top nightclubs and worst dives, jazz bars or country or blues, but before the night was done they’d commandeer a fancy restaurant that stayed open later for them and the few other best paying customers. It was Chicago, they were young, gorgeous, fashionable; they had money to toss around without a care.

Until one heady, blithe summer night.

Panic rose in Lily’s chest and she blinked three times, bringing herself back to the present and that very moment. It was quite a sad little man down there, someone from Mistral Manor she’d glimpsed before with cameras strung around his neck. Lily didn;t need to know any photographers again. But she leaned over a little to get a better look at him one story below her. It had been ten minutes or more; he wasn’t moving. Likely to not move until morning, she thought, and sat down to re-engage with the moon’s spell.

The breeze quieted, cooled further, and nothing stirred but wings of a night bird so quietly on task. Her eyelids lowered then flew open again, then lowered again with a finality. Dreaming overcame her. She wandered in that place of doom and ease, error and alteration, the place of hearts revealed and fantasies forged or misbegotten. She was once more alone in a hot car, floating through rapidly rising flood waters, the directions she and the car spun beyond her control, and any better judgment was blurred by alarm then profound drowsiness–it was pitch black about her but a huge circle of gold spotlighted her, no, there were many lights, maybe stars, oh no it was—-

She jerked awake.

He moaned deeply, loudly, the man on the ground.

Lily shook herself rubbed her eyes, and stood, then gazed down below.

“Are you alright? Need help?” she called out quietly but firmly.

He moaned louder, muttered, “Who’s that, help?” His head turned to the other side, hit the dirt hard.

LIly grabbed her sweater, pulled on shorts and ran down the stairs, pushing open double entrance doors. Then stopped, hand to head. What was she doing extending aid to a drunken idiot spread-eagled out there? She had no business helping. She wouldn’t likely be able to get him to his feet–but then what? She might get help from someone else. But who, and at this hour? But she was strong from many years of working out, and the past year of daily swimming and kickboxing.

She walked toward him.

Rod opened an eye and saw bare feet, then ankles and knees and also that there was more to her than he could see. He rolled over, onto his back. His head hurt; he must have hit it when he crumpled. His cheek was sore and when he touched his face there was dampness. That awful blood scent. He closed his eyes again. What on earth was it this time?

She saw him check himself, then fall half asleep again. It was time to get him up and elsewhere, maybe ask himn about the damage.

“What apartment?” she asked as she placed arms around his chest and lifted with all her might. He surprisingly got to his knees. “Can you stand up, then lean on me until you get inside?”

He slumped in her arms at first, then gained shaky purchase as she pulled upward.

“Who are you? Ah, methinks the new gal.” He was slurring every word and gasped as if in pain then took first steps with her assistance. He was only a couple inches shorter than she but felt small and helpless as her hearty strength helped him move forward.

They made their way to the doors, into the building and finally he limped down the hall to his apartment. She hesitated as his key turned in the lock and the door creaked open.

“Are you leaving me now?” he asked.

“I am…after I see you inside and settled. I have to get to sleep.” She watched him walk.

“Me, too…” He clumsily got to his bedroom and sat gingerly upon the bed then called with arms flung out, “I’m Rod Townsend, photographer extraordinaire!”

She appeared at the bedroom door. “Right. I’m the new inmate, Lily from upstairs.” Her right hand flew to her lips.

He laughed. “Inmate! Well put, it’s a kind of zoo here. But pleasant. Sometimes.” He fell backwards.

“I’m going now,” Lily said and partly closed his door.

“Wait!” he yelled. “Why’d you help?”

“I was awake, sort of, I heard you moan!” she half-yelled back.

“How come you… cared…” His voice petered out.

“I know how it is being unable to stand up, drunk as can be.”

“Oh, that,” he said, “huh.”

“Sleep it off, bye,” she said and moved across the floor.

Before she made it out, his bedroom door was opened wide.

“Wait.”

“Why? It has to be three, at least. We’re both tired and I am not too sociable, plus I don’t know you and you are a guy.”

“You know I drank a little much,” he said, words slurring more, ” film people and appreciate alllll help.” He grinned sloppily. “You?”

” I told you, I’m the new…Mistral Manor resident. And I had a brief moment of weakness. Empathy, I suppose. Oh, never mind.” It did feel good to say empathy and mean it.

Rod studied her as best he could, so muddled, head pounding, vision bleary. He leaned heavily against the door jamb, shook his head. “Meaning?”

“I’ve been there. Where you unfortunately are.”

“Ah,” he said, “yeah, there.” And stumbled backward, fell again. Lily went in to make sure he landed softly.

She sat on the floor impulsively, and stared at his black dress shoes. Shined to perfection. He passed out in very good qaulity grey pants and blue button-down shirt, all ruined by dirt and a bit of blood. She felt torn, needing to leave but feeling like watching over him a bit but she guessed he’d live…he was snoring. She stood and peeked at him closer. His pleasant, ordinary face would heal alright.

Lily was about to turn out the light and depart when she stopped a last moment. He looked calm, stupidly innocent, yet he was so guilty of more than drinking too much. He had gotten behind the wheel and driven his car.

So she whispered a few words to his alcohol-deafened ears.

“Inmate number 17994, DUII and vehicular manslaughter in the second degree, served four years, three months and nine days, released one year ago.”

Her breath caught in her throat; she felt she’d fast suffocate. Could he hear her? He seemed to sleep on.

“Sober for over five years now. Afraid and lonely. Tough, strong, smarter. Starting over. Now you know what driving drunk can do, Rod. It kills people. It changes everything for so many. Now you know who I am, or at least partly…Just keep it to yourself, okay?”

His eyelids fluttered. Her heart crashed against her ribs and she rushed to the front door, out to the hallway and up the stairs to her apartment where she crawled into the bed still dressed. Hugged so tightly the pillow.

“I will be alright, I will be alright,” she said as she fought back tears, face half-buried in the gentle heat of her pillow.

Rod’s eyes were open. What had she said? He lay staring at the ceiling as dizziness came and went and soon he was embraced by whiskey-saturated sleep.

******

“Going up to the fourth floor first. How ya doing?” Rhonda asked cheerily as the new woman stepped into the elevator. She’d just left Dave’s Bar-B-Q with take out for Jen and her; the aroma was driving her mad.

Lily gave her that small smile, pushed her sunglasses atop a mass of shining waves. “Good. You? Smells great.”

Rhonda looked way up at her and felt pleased they were conversing. And saw that her slightly almond shaped eyes were blue with amazing golden flecks around the iris edges. Jen wouold be surprised when she saw them, too. Rhonda wished there was more time to chat, get to know her. She’d noticed she was gone daily, possibly to work now.

“Yeah, you should try Dave’s around the corner. You like it here okay?”

“I do, so far, thanks.” Again that smile that was empty of much.

The elevator lurched to a stop and the door opened. Rhonda stepped out and turned.

“We should all hang out sometime; people like to have drinks in the courtyard in the summer.”

“Sure. I don’t drink, though.”

“Maybe one small beer?”

“No thanks.”

They said good-bye and Rhonda thought, Doesn’t even drink a beer when she was also pretty young? Fat chance of us becoming friends, then.

A mystery, she was. Rhonda hurried to Jen’s to share details of the encounter.

The evening was still warm and fragrant. The clean and attractive fountain, in contrast to the once-lovely building, splashed a blessing of water onto red geraniums around its base. Lily rested on a cement bench in front of it, plunged fingers into the refreshing coolness. Song sparrows sang out, crows engaged in fast talk and a stellar jay swooped and landed on the ground nearby. Lily gazed about her as she often did coming or going. This was her life now. She felt safer, almost at ease some days. This sitting under the lowering sun and seeing birds fly and feeling silken water on her hands was so good. Her work was going well; she could teach the teens something about addiction and its terrible consequences, about living in the balance of recovery. In time the past would fade a little more; in time, her grief and guilt would perhaps lessen. So she was told. But there were moments she felt better than expected. Strangely, even at times happy. Like right then.

The big vehicle came to a stop behind her and the door opened. Rod got out and picked up his camera equipment, lugged it a few steps, then stoppped.

“Hi there. Aren’t you that lady?…”

She turned at his voice as she did the first time. B ut this time it was clear and even. Rod was astonished by her in entirety, and her gentle half-smile, her small wave at him and her elegant length as she rose up. She held out a hand to him then laughed–his own hands were full. He lay down some of the bulky equipment, and they shook hands emphatically.

“Lily is my name”, she said. “Good to see you on your feet.”

“Rod–as you must know. Yes, glad to meet you in better circumstances. Thanks…”

Lily nodded at him with another wave meaning that night was nothing, really, then she loped down the driveway with a very slight limp, then into the busy neighborhood in search of a big Java Chip frappucino.

“Naw…inmate…?” Rod shook his head in disbelief. “Lily, such a wonderful name,” he said, wondering where she came from and where she was going. Wondering when he might get a chance to shoot some film of her, if she’d even consider it.