Enchanting Lily by Anjali Banerjee Read Free Book Online

had no idea how to pick up an animal without getting bitten or scratched. She’d never had a pet. Her parents had preferred to control their environment, and that meant no unpredictable creatures in the house. But secretly, Lily had always wanted a pet. And here the cat was, looking at her with those softly illuminated eyes. But she couldn’t attach herself to anything else living, anything that could die on her.
    The moth was in motion again in a frantic whirring of tiny wings, the cat in hot pursuit. As if in a nightmare, Lily raced to catch up, but the cat leaped in an arc, claws splayed out, coming down on Lily’s vintage wedding gown, ripping a gash right down the center of the silk bodice.
    “No, no! Not the dress!” The mannequin tippedtoward her, but she caught it just in time. “Get out of here, you silly cat!”
    “Hello?” a young female voice said behind her. “I heard someone screaming. Were you robbed? Are you okay? I’ll call the police!”

Chapter Eight
    Kitty
    Police? I’m out of here. I’ve been down that path, the one that leads to the animal shelter. I’m not going there again. But somehow I’m trapped in this narrow, dusty space beneath a monstrous slab of furniture. Wish I could’ve caught that moth—
    “No need for the police,” Lily says. “I wasn’t robbed. A cat ripped my wedding gown. I can’t believe this. Classic Versace.”
    From here, I can see only the bottom of the girl who came in—her skinny jeans and red running shoes withnew white laces. She smells of watermelon shampoo and bubble gum, paper and licorice, lip gloss and raspberry perfume. She came from a breakfast of eggs and orange juice, a house of dogs and cats, a sad father who kissed her cheek before he left for the day. Her heart beats with its own kind of loss. But beneath the melancholy lies the resilient brightness of hope, the freshness of youth.
    “So you screamed like you were dying,” she says. “Just because some little cat ripped an ancient wedding dress?”
    I’m not exactly little, per se. I’ve seen smaller.
    “The dress is not ancient,” Lily says. “It’s vintage.” I hear rustling, glimpse her gray sneakers as she walks toward the counter, the wedding gown brushing past me. She’s removed the dress from the statue.
    “I thought vintage was, like, old wine.” The girl’s red shoes follow Lily’s sneakers.
    “Vintage means the best from the past.”
    This is what I smell in this shop, in the sweat and salty tears. Past joy and pain that humans never wash away. An inky presence, carrying a bitter scent of the afterworld, slides toward Lily and the girl, perhaps attracted by their warmth, their aliveness.
    “It’s still about old stuff then,” the girl says. “So you got married in that dress?”
    “A while ago.” Lily’s shoes come toward me again. Shegets down on her belly and peers at me. “Come on out, kitty.” I back up against the wall. From here, I have an exaggerated view of her nose.
    “She’s scared,” the girl says.
    Nothing scares me, except certain machines like cars and something called a Vacuum Cleaner.
    The girl flops down beside Lily. As she leans forward, her red glasses slip down, and she hastily pushes them up. Now I have a view of two hairless human noses that can’t catch a scent to save their lives. Lily and the girl don’t seem to notice the inky spirit sliding past them, trying to take on a shape. This troubled being has lingered here a while. And behind the longtime presence, the amorphous aura of Lily’s former mate hovers, longing to touch her.
    The girl’s wavy reddish hair falls over her face. Another whiff of watermelon shampoo. “So where’s your husband? Does he work in the city?”
    “I don’t have a husband anymore.” The way Lily speaks, the real story hides beneath her words, like mice hoping not to be found.
    “You guys split up?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Bummer.” The girl pushes a lock of red hair out of her eyes.