Bad Directions

Prologue

They just landed on the tarmac of the Memphis Airport. Lilly usually hated to fly and this time was no different. However, Lilly didn't want to fight with her dad since he was paying for their week long trip in Memphis, Tennessee. It just surprised Lilly that her dad suggested flying not only because he knew that Lilly hated to fly, but her dad usually preferred Amtrak as well.

"I'm an example of a bad example," Monoxide's sorrowful voice flooded out of Lilly's earbuds. Twiztid had always been her favorite since middle school - ten years of them getting her through the growing pains of middle and high schools, then the transition to college. Twiztid was a favorite of hers at her job - listening while planning events, designing websites, photography, planning scrapbooks and writing. Lilly loved being a graphic designer for Rainbow Crafts.

Yet, lately Lilly had been feeling stagnant and Twiztid's LDLHA-IBCSYWA had been speaking to her lately. She had one year of college left and she just wasn't sure of her life or what direction she'd go.

"You should stay here and save until you can afford living elsewhere," her dad always said. She was, but it just didn't seem appealing...

"It wasn't that bad, was it Lilly?" dad asked with a smile, which broke her train of thought.

"No..." Lilly sighed. Her ears were still clogged and she had a skull-splitting headache. Though the whiskey and cola she had fifteen minutes into the flight calmed her down. Ever since Lilly was a young girl, she had a fear of flying from the height to dying in a fiery crash. She shuddered at the thought of dying that way - nose diving and grasping for air; though, she supposed, it would happen too quickly for that to occur.

"Told you," her dad laughed.

"Daddy," she said softly, "why did we fly instead of taking Amtrak?"

"I figured it would be a change of scenery," he replied as he unbuckled the seat belt and got up. Lilly followed suit. She couldn't wait to get off of the plane.

After Lilly unpacked her belongings; neatly she placed her band tank tops and shorts into the dressers and after lounging her Twiztid shirt (her favorite one too - the logo in green skeleton lettering and the faces of Monoxide and Madrox on the back in green), black jean shorts and underwear on the dressing chair, she eyed the bed and thought it looked comfortable. Her and her dad were staying in Memphis for the week, so Lilly wanted to relax a bit. She was glad she didn't pack a lot of clothes, but she never did. Lilly never packed a lot when it came to traveling, especially when she traveled by plain and train. For her job, she wore business casual and for everyday wear: Goth. Lilly liked black and it was easy because everything matched.

Lilly was never a girly-girl. Maybe the reason was because she was raised by her father after her mother died giving birth to her 23 years ago. Up until Lilly was twenty, she spent a lot of time with her grandmother, but her grandmother wasn't fashion conscious either. Lilly missed her grandmother terribly, but she was still happy she had her dad.

She laid down on the bed because flights had always made Lilly tired. She closed her eyes and thought all about the neat things she and her dad would do tonight.

"Hey, Lilly," she heard her dad say as he knocked on the door. "Are you ready to explore Beale Street?"

Lilly opened her eyes and called out, "Yes, dad!" She got up off of the the bed and walked to the door. On her way to the door, she grabbed her purse and cellphone. Lilly opened the door, smiled at her dad and together they headed towards Beale Street. She knew tonight was going to be a lot of fun.

"I have very bad news to share with you, Lilly," my dad said as he sat at the table. My heart sank because what I have feared since dad began losing all that weight, the whooping coughing, tiredness; I began to pray that it wasn't what I thought it was.

"Okay, dad," my voice trembled.

He sighed and looked down at the table. "I have cancer, Lilly."

"How long?" Even though I was 23, the thought of my dad dying terrified me. I didn't want to cry.

"Six months. It's pretty advanced. Apparently, they missed it before and it has spread. Not much they can do for me." I gave my dad a hug and we both cried.

Six months. Chemotherapy, radiation, listening to my dad's struggles, meeting with hospice to prepare for the end. As a college student that worked two jobs and had no family - my mother died after giving birth to me and grandparents have died long ago - it was an exhausting time. A week before my father died, I think he gave up. He couldn't move and breathing was labored. I was instructed to give him Atovan to ease the anxiety, but he never did turn around. He was dazed and mumbled for a few days. The hospice nurses said it was the end; they took all the tubes out of him and set up the special bed for his dying at home. My father died peacefully two days later.

He never did get to see me graduate college. I'm glad he saw me graduate from high school and through the years of college, but now I had the drive to finish for him. He had always said that I should work here and live with him after I graduate, to save up and move elsewhere. He knew I've always hated it here. But, now I have no one here and as I prepare to graduate, I'm going to make a big move.