The 9th Life of Lily Luckett

Grief weighed her down like the anchor of a sinking ship. She often felt as though she were drowning in the torrential tears that streamed heavily down the terrain of her face. Eyes caught afire and puffy from overnight suffering. Mind numb from thoughts stampeding in protest of unanswered questions - the main one being "why?" - and the chest pleading for Grief to let loose his tight grip. Grief as the titanic, seeping deeper and deeper into the sea of her whirl-winded emotions. 

He's as the wind, this one they call Grief. At times still and silent, invisible and seemingly invincible, but never distant. The only sign of him then was water as it welled her eyes; tears held back by the exhaustion of crying several times too many.  Other times Grief was sudden, strong and mighty - a gusty, unrelenting force that ripped and uprooted her very core. It was then she felt Grief truly revealed himself for the man he is: a brutal thief of joy suited in the facade of phony sophistication. For he leaves in due time,  they told her - never prolonged his stay but would "bed-n-breakfast" for as long as his host would allow. After checking in and awaiting the room service of our pain, he eats away at our suffering and washes it down with our salty tears - this they told her not. That he was a drunkard of sorrow and glutton of guilt, she soon realized. It's not until we let go that he checks out.

"Yet, how can you be deemed gentlemanly, if you are not welcomed in the first place? My heart is not your home! My heart is not your resting place!" Lily retorts. 

To this, Grief replies, "I may not be welcomed but I'm always wanted. The wanted intruder I am, for without me, you would neither feel the pain of loss, the strength of enduring, nor the joy of overcoming it. Life after me is easier to bear my dear. I'm not welcomed but I am wanted."

The tap-tap-thump of knuckles against her car window pulled Lily from her train of thought that went chugga-choo-choo quite the distance. She used the window crank to slowly wind down the window of her 1980 rusty, but trusty Honda Civic. The window was lowered enough for her to peep the young man who stared at her with concerned yet, taken-aback hazel eyes and sun-kissed hair the color of honey. He was all dressed in a black suit with a striking purple bow tie. Lily took notice of his high cheekbones, 3-days old shaven beard, slightly crooked nose, thin lips, squared jawline and protruding adam's apple. Holding on to the steering wheel as if to catch herself from falling in deep admiration she inquired -

"Can I help you?"

"You can help us all Miss," he replied, holding out his hand to the long line of cars behind hers.

Lily looked back suddenly, with that "not again" thrust of expectation, causing her long, sun-bleached, purple-tipped, thick-n-wild dreadlocks to whip around her neck. Her mouth dropped open in meager astonishment. Her gaze lowered to the layout of her backseat: A blanket neatly folded to one corner, a picture of her grandmother resting on top, a toothbrush and toothpaste in the left cupholder and an empty can of coke can in the right. There was a small backpack stuffed with belongings with a black dress thrown on top. Lily turned around to meet his eyes questioning her "back seat condition". Shame seduced her and it showed in her face. Immediately the stoplight flicked green.

"Miss, is everything o---"

Before he could finish, Lily sped off, turning right onto 33rd street. Fleeing the scene was what she did best. The engine of her car crackled up under pressure as though it were laughing at her hysteria. She thumped the steering wheel in unremitting anger. The muffler huffed and puffed with every press of gas, emitting dark, murky smoke. She huffed and puffed with pissed-off frustration. It wasn't her first time completely zoning out in the middle of nowhere. The death of her grandmother had crippled every part of her. In a fit of fiery frustration, she floored the gas pedal, zooming through the community. 

In a half a blink, a cat ran out in the middle of the street staring at the fast-approaching vehicle. Lily jolted her car in the opposite direction only to lose hold of the steering wheel, causing the car to spiral out of control. The impact was made when the driver's side of the car collided with a street light. Lily's breath left her instantly. The whistling warp of time surrounded her as life was thrown back in her body and time rewound right back to her being in front of the stoplight. The light was red. With a hammering heart and shaking hands, Lily stretched over to the glove compartment. She took out a piece of paper where she kept a tally of her previous lives lost. This was her 8th strike. The light changed to green, she drove off carefully and turned onto 33rd street as before. Her fingers fidgeted with the cross-shaped necklace around her neck. A minute in and there was that cat again, sitting comfortably in the middle of the street. Lily stopped her vehicle, came out and grabbed the striped cat by the thick of its neck.

"Don't you know you can get yourself killed, little tiger?" she mumbled. 

"So you're stray huh?" she questioned, looking to see if it wore a name tag. The cat had a patch of white fur surrounding its left eye.

"I have a thing for strays, seeing I'm one myself. I'm going to call you Tabby, you Tabby cat."

She placed Tabby in the backseat of her car and continued the path. The radio played "Three Feet From Gold"-

When in the ditch dig one more inch, you never know how close you are. Many reach and for fear do flinch, to miss that which they came so far. When in the ditch dig one more inch, time's bearer of things old and new. To keep the faith is a certain cinch, life gives gifts to the believing few.

Upon making a turn, Lily became flooded with childhood memories. This is the street she grew up on. This is the street where the school bus picked her up and dropped her off. This is the street where she was dropped off after the death of her parents. 

"That damn sign is such a sacrilege to Grams' place, right Tabby?" She cringed at the bright red and white for-sale sign which stood in the front yard.

"Too bad I don't have the say or money to change that. Who's going to listen to the long-time runaway granddaughter living from her car anyway?" Her uncle who had inherited the house through probate court gave her permission to look through and take whatever she needed. Tabby meowed and purred, perching high by the rear back window. She nibbled on a cracker she found.

"C'mon Tabby, let's go." Tabby stood still. Lily lured her in with a swishing sound, to which Tabby jumped and curled up in her lap. 

From the front passenger seat, Lily pulled over a lightweight wheelchair and swung it over to the ground where the door was open. After much tug-of-war, she was able to open it all the way out. Using one hand to grip the steering wheel and the other to secure the wheelchair handle furthest from her, she used all her might to slide up and over into the wheelchair. Tabby made an easy transition into her lap. In order to close the door to "rusty but trusty," she pushed it up by the handle, then slammed it shut. At that point, Tabby sprang out of her lap. Lily made her way to the front door.

"Oh, there you are little tiger. What you got there?" 

Tabby was scratching away at one of the garden pots in the front yard. To Lily's surprise, the edge of something stuck out. She pressed down the breaks to her wheelchair, leaned over to move the pot and eagerly dug away the dirt. After a little digging, she came to a little black book. Lily brushed off the excess dirt. Wear and tear made their mark upon its surface. Lily ran her finger over the large L engraved in front. With all her life dipped in doubt, she'd never been so sure about something as the thought that this little black book was meant for her. Tugging at the front cover, Lily came to realize it needed some type of key.

Hurriedly, she unlocked the wheelchair and rolled it to the front door. She looked under the welcome mat where her grandmother always kept a spare key. 

"Crap, it's not there." She did the next best thing and went next door. 

"Mrs. Weavers should still live here," she reassured herself. Lily rang the doorbell and sure enough, Mrs. Weavers came to the door.

"Who is it," Mrs. Weavers asked, looking straight ahead.

"It's me, Lily Luckett."

"Oh goodness gracious, little Lily? Well, you're not so little anymore are you?" Mrs.Weavers felt her way through the air, touching Lily's face and finally embraced Lily. 

A mix of warmth and worry overcame Lily as she realized Mrs. Weavers had grown blind. 

"I take it you're here for the house key. Your grandmother told me to hold on to it for you just before she passed." 

"Oh, she was expecting me?" Lily asked. 

Walking away and signaling Lily to come in, Mrs. Weaver's responded, "She's been expecting you for ten years dear." The old lady used a cane to guide her way to the kitchen. There she retrieved the key from beneath a sugar canister. 

"Here you go dear." She handed Lily the key. 

"Thank you Mrs. Weavers." 

"You're welcome dear. I would say it's nice to see you but it's even nicer to hear your voice. Would you like something to drink?" 

"No thank you Mrs. Weavers, but I'll take you up on that once I'm through going through Grams things." 

"I'm holding you to it," Mrs.Weavers smiled while walking Lily to the door. 

As soon as Lily was about to make her exit Mrs. Weavers said, "Hold on Lily, do you mind putting these throughout the neighborhood for me?" 

Lily looked at one of the papers handed to her. It read: Missing Cat 20,000 reward. On it was the face of a cat with a patch of white fur around its left eye. Without a doubt, it was Tabby. Lily gasped in disbelief. She'd been 3 feet from gold all this time. 

"He's my beloved cat Blossom," Mrs. Weaver's continued. "I would do anything to have him back home with me." 

At that moment Tabby hopped in Lily's lap. Lily was elated and deflated at the same time. Nonetheless, the exchange was made for Tabby and a check for 20,000 paid out to Lily Luckett.

Lily wheeled away over to her grandmother's front yard and happily removed the for sale sign. Twirling the cross-shaped pendant between her fingers while looking down at the little black notebook, Lily made another gasp of astonishment. Rubbing her thumb over the small hole for a lock, she removed the necklace from her neck. It was a long time gift from her grandmother. The base of the cross fit in the tiny hole of the little black book. Lily turned it as she would a key. Sure enough, it opened. The first page outlined her grandmother's will to leave her entire estate to her granddaughter Lucy Luckett. Just then, a man wearing a purple bowtie approached Lucy, introducing himself as the realtor. It was Lily's hazel-eyed stoplight stud.

She could feel Grief slowly packing for his next trip. This 9th life has a lovely look, Lily thought.