Keep Me in Your Heart: Letting Go of Lisa / Saving Jessica / Telling Christina Goodbye

by Lurlene McDaniel

  Confused, and burning with desire, Nathan watched her hurry up the walk. He just couldn’t figure her out. They’d had a good time together. She wasn’t one bit put off by his mother. Lisa’s own family seemed nice enough, if unconventional, so he didn’t think they were the problem. So what was it? What made Lisa run?

  I stand and watch you from afar. I wish upon you, like a star.… The words of his own poem returned, and with it, all the confused longing he’d felt the night he’d first written it. “Still, I love you better than you know,” he said aloud, and swore to himself he would get inside her heart. Somehow.

  “Did you have a good time?” Lisa’s mother asked when Lisa let herself into the apartment. She was sitting on the worn sofa, scratching off silver finishes from a stack of lottery tickets.

  “Mom, why do you waste your money this way?”

  “Simple—if I don’t play, I can’t win. When I strike it rich, you and Charlie both will be eating your words. Now tell me about your dinner at Nathan’s.”

  “I had a great time.”

  “Well, he’s cute as can be and he sure seems nice.”

  “He is nice.”

  “And his family?”

  “They’re nice too, although I don’t think his mother likes me.”

  Jill sank against the sofa. “That’s crazy. Why wouldn’t she like you?”

  “Just a feeling.”

  “Have you—” Jill faltered. “You know … said anything to him yet?”

  “I’m not going to do that.”

  “I don’t get why you’re so secretive. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Mom, please don’t lecture me. You all agreed to let me play by my own rules.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Just then Charlie came into the room. “Let her be, Jill. She knows what she wants.”

  Jill’s expression turned sour, and she scraped furiously at another ticket.

  Charlie handed Lisa a piece of paper. “Your call came Wednesday. I didn’t tell you until now because I wanted you to have a good holiday. You’re set up for two-thirty, five days a week.”

  “Two-thirty! But that means I’ll have to leave school at one-thirty, and for weeks I’ll miss half of the only class I really like.”

  “Your teacher will understand. If you have a problem, I’ll speak to him.”

  “Fuller knows already.” Lisa struggled against the lump in her throat. “I—I just thought I’d have more time to be normal.”

  Charlie squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”

  Lisa fought back tears, pushed past him, and went to her room. She didn’t want to cry. Not over something no amount of tears could ever change.

  Fuller never looked up from his lecture notes the first day that Lisa walked out of his class a half hour early. All eyes in the room watched her, including Nathan’s, and although Lisa had been polite to him in the halls, she acted as if Friday night had never happened. Every time he looked at the Christmas tree, he saw her carefully hanging ornaments and smiling at him. She’d had a good time, he was sure of it; but now she had returned to her cool, elusive self. She was still a dream he chased.

  On Friday, he caught up with Jodie and Skeet holding hands in the hallway and asked Jodie if she knew what was going on with Lisa.

  “She doesn’t confide in me,” Jodie told him, her expression sympathetic.

  “I thought you were friends.”

  “We are, up to a point. She’s nice to me, but she keeps to herself. Sorry, Nathan.”

  “Will she bring you to practice tomorrow?”

  “My mom’s dropping me. She doesn’t have to work this Saturday, and she wants to hear me sing. She won’t stay long. That’s all right, isn’t it?”

  “Sure. Yeah. Whatever.” Nathan’s pent-up frustration almost got the best of him. “Sooner or later I’m going to figure it out,” he said stubbornly.

  “I hope you do,” Jodie said. “And when you do, will you tell us? I can’t figure Lisa out either.”

  The Saturday practice went well, although Nathan’s heart wasn’t in it. He missed Lisa’s presence and kept wondering where she was and what she was doing. And who she might be doing it with. That line of thinking had come about because of his mother’s questioning. The minute Nathan had appeared in the kitchen to grab breakfast, Karen had asked, “So, is Lisa coming by today?”

  “I don’t know.” He stubbornly held out hope that she might stop by, since she knew they would be rehearsing.

  “If she comes, will she be riding that motorcycle?”

  “It’s how she gets around, Mom.” Of course, his mother had noticed Lisa in the garage on Saturdays, but she’d not connected Nathan’s feelings for the girl until he’d brought her home for dinner, so now her motorcycle was an issue.

  “I think motorcycles are very dangerous. It’s a wonder her parents let her have one.”

  “Does this mean Abby and Audrey won’t be getting matching cycles when they’re sixteen?”

  “Don’t be impertinent.”

  “Well, don’t rag on Lisa.” He hunkered over his cereal bowl, willing his mother to let him eat in peace.

  “Do you like this girl, Nathan?”

  “I like her.”

  “As a girlfriend?”

  “A guy can dream.”

  His mother looked exasperated. “I can’t believe she’s your type. There are so many nice girls out there.”

  He dropped his spoon with a clank into his now empty bowl. “What’s my type, Mom? Have you already picked out the perfect girl for me?”

  “Well, no … it’s just that Lisa seems so …” She searched for words, and Nathan felt his blood pressure going up. “Well, so much more mature than other high school girls I’ve met.”

  “I’m seventeen! I know what I like, and it’s not some Barbie type.”

  “It’s not about your ages,” Karen added hastily. “It’s an attitude. A disposition. I don’t know how to describe it.”

  “Well, then please don’t.” He stood, then dumped his bowl and utensils in the dishwasher.

  “Nathan, I’m not your enemy.”

  He grimaced.

  “I care about you. The wrong girl at this time in your life could be disastrous. Lisa’s pretty and she’s sophisticated. Just because you two may be the same age, and in the same grade in high school, doesn’t mean she’s on the same wavelength as you. Why, she’s probably dating much older boys. I—I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  He exited the kitchen with his mother’s words running around in his brain, and now, hours later, the words were still wedged there. Hadn’t Skeet told him months ago that Lisa went out with college guys? Hadn’t he known her reputation all along? Why would she even give a second look at a dork like Nathan? Yet the kiss he’d taken from her hounded him. She’d returned his kiss. Their mouths had fairly sizzled with it. And she’d treated him with a kind of tenderness that defied her hard-boiled image.

  “Hey, Nate! You listening?” Skeet’s voice jarred him out of his mind game.

  Startled, Nathan looked up, somewhat surprised that he still was standing in his garage. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Tell me again.”

  “Larry has gotten us an audition at the VFW in Doraville, for a Christmas party. You think we’re ready to tackle a whole evening of music for a live audience?”

  Nathan looked from face to face of his band. Each looked excited, expectant, waiting for him to decide. A dance party for old codgers wasn’t exactly the Grand Ole Opry.

  “It pays,” Larry said. “Not a fortune, but money’s money.”

  “It’s a place to start,” Jodie offered.

  “And the crowd may be hard of hearing, which couldn’t hurt,” Skeet joked.

  Nathan shrugged. “Why not? Set it up.”

  Skeet, Larry and Jodie passed around high fives. “I’ve already given them an audition tape,” Larry said. “That’s why they asked us. They’ll be printing up letters for the membership and wan
t to know what we call ourselves. Any suggestions? We’ve got to have a name.”

  After a few minutes of reflection, Nathan said, “How about The Heartbreakers?”

  The others tested it aloud. “Works for me,” Skeet said, throwing his arm around Jodie. “We can always change it later if we want.”

  Nathan agreed.

  Nathan was never certain when the idea to follow Lisa came to him. It just did. He rejected it at first. Juvenile. Stupid. Boneheaded. But another week of watching Lisa pick up and leave class early set him on the path to see what was going on with her for himself. He chose Friday as the day to do it, skipping Fuller’s class altogether and waiting in the parking lot for her to emerge from the school building and climb onto her cycle. He’d never ditched a day of school in his life—mostly because homeschooling gave him plenty of freedom and he’d never needed to—but things were different now.

  He sat hunched behind the wheel of his car and only straightened a little when Lisa appeared half a parking lot away. She snapped on her helmet, took off with a roar. He eased his car out of the lot and onto the street, careful to stay well behind her and keeping traffic in between. “You’re pathetic, Malone,” he said out loud, annoyed that he’d been reduced to a common sneak, but he didn’t turn back.

  He watched her pink helmet bob as she wove in and out of moving cars. She turned into a large parking garage and he crept inside once she was well out of sight. He’d been concentrating so hard on keeping up with her that he didn’t know exactly where he was—just near some large buildings. To be safe, he drove up to the uppermost level and found a space. He looked around. The place was totally generic, with no signs to indicate anything except floor level and section. Cautiously he emerged from his car, crossed to a bank of elevators. He rode down with a group of strangers, stepped out when they did and was surprised to see himself inside a hospital lobby.

  Lisa went to a hospital every day? That didn’t make sense. The place looked mammoth. The atrium soared above him, and sunlight pouring through skylights turned the area yellow gold. A giant decorated Christmas tree filled up one corner of the lobby near a gift boutique.

  “May I help you, young man? You look lost.”

  He turned to see an information desk and an elderly woman dressed in a pink uniform. “I—I’m not sure,” he said, walking over.

  “Are you here to see a particular doctor? Perhaps have testing done?”

  “I—um—was supposed to meet a friend here, but I can’t remember where she said to meet her.” The lies were falling easily off his tongue, so Nathan forged ahead.

  “Well, if the person’s come for day surgery—”

  “No. I don’t think so. She comes every day, though.”

  The woman looked thoughtful. “Perhaps chemotherapy. Or maybe dialysis. But that’s usually every other day. Radiation is a possibility. How long has she been coming?”

  Every word fell like hammer blows on Nathan’s heart. He backpedaled. “You know, I passed her car in the parking garage. I’ll just wait for her there.”

  The woman smiled, gave her attention to another man who had stepped up to her desk.

  Nathan retreated to the garage, his heart pounding. Was Lisa sick? He thought about it. She didn’t look sick. She never acted sick. Why would she come here every day? A job? He could handle that. He’d known a girl who was a teen volunteer at a hospital. She had wanted to be a doctor. But why would Lisa be so secretive about a volunteer job?

  There had to be an explanation. Maybe she was seeing a psychiatrist. That would be ironic, because he was the one acting nuts! And people didn’t see shrinks every day, if he remembered correctly. All at once, he was out of conjectures. He would have to find her cycle in the huge garage, wait for her, and confront her. Humiliating as it would be, asking her was the only way to really know.

  A big black cycle with a painted red heart was easier to spot than a specific car, and Nathan found her Harley two floors below where he had parked. He wished he’d worn his watch, but he hadn’t, so he wasn’t sure how long he waited, but eventually, he heard the click of boot heels on concrete coming closer.

  He was leaning against the concrete wall in front of her cycle when she saw him. She blinked, confused over seeing him out of context.

  He stepped forward. “Hi, Lisa.”

  “How did you—”

  His cheeks flamed red. Suddenly, revelation seemed to wash over her. “Did you follow me?”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “I have to know why you leave school early and come here every day.”

  Impulsively, she swore at him, adding hotly, “Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to follow me?”

  “I took the right.” Nathan stepped closer until he was almost nose to nose with her. “I took it because … because, you see … I love you.”

  His confession sounded so anguished, his expression looked so vulnerable, that Lisa was reminded of the glass angels on his fireplace mantel. With the right well-chosen words, she could break him, and now was the time to do it if she was ever going to be free of him. Except … Emotion clogged her throat, moisture filmed her vision, blurring his face, turning his features shimmery. She whispered, “That makes no sense. You hardly know me.”

  Nathan watched Lisa’s eyes fill with tears. He touched her cheek, fully expecting her to shove him backward. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d said. He did love her. “It’s not about knowing, Lisa. It’s about feeling. Believe me, I wish I didn’t feel the way I do about you. I think about you all the time—first thing in the morning. Last thing at night.”

  She seemed to crumble from the inside out. Her shoulders heaved and he took her slowly into his arms, pressed his cheek against her thick dark hair, let her cry hard and long. If he could have stretched the minutes into eternity, he would have; he wished they could be someplace else, anywhere other than a cold, lonely hospital parking garage. Cars circled past them, but no one seemed to notice them. Nathan was glad for that.

  When her sobs lessened, Nathan stroked her hair, lifted her chin. She was beginning to shiver from the cold, and her whole body trembled.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said. “Crying makes me look awful.”

  “Not to me.” He had no tissue to offer her. “My car’s up a couple of floors. Let me take you someplace warmer. Want some coffee?”

  “My ride …,” she said, looking at her cycle.

  “I’ll bring you back for it.”

  He was amazed when she didn’t argue. He took her to his car, got her tucked inside, turned on the heater full blast and slowly wound his way down to the street level. There he got his bearings, drove to the closest coffee shop and walked her inside. The shop had an empty sofa in a corner, so he settled her there, bought them both steaming cups of fresh coffee and sat next to her so that he was touching her. “Talk to me,” he said.

  Her hands were icy cold, and she warmed them around the cup. He wanted explanations, and she was loathe to give them. Her opportunity to cut and run had passed and she knew it. “I’ll tell you everything.” Her voice held the raspy sound of weeping. “Just not right now. I—I need some time to pull it all together in my head.”

  He was disappointed, but he sensed a change in her, a difference that he hoped wouldn’t disappear. He told himself to be patient. “Tell me when and where,” he said.

  “Come to my apartment later. Mom’s playing bingo tonight and Charlie will be out with some of his friends.”

  “What time?”

  “After seven.”

  “And you promise to be there?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “And you’ll let me in?”

  A tiny smile crept into her heart over his distrust. She knew he was already in. “I’ll let you in.”

  Nathan was cheerful at dinner that night, making conversation without his parents’ having to pry things out of him. He offered snippets from his day, omitting his ditching adventure without even a qualm of conscience. All he c
ould focus on was getting out of the house and going to be with Lisa. He cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher quickly, and as soon as his mother reappeared from bathing the twins, he announced that he and Skeet were headed to the mall and a movie.

  He had been on rocky ground with his mother for a week, their discussion about Lisa standing like a wall between them. Nathan was glad she didn’t give him her usual third degree when he went out—he could recite her line of questions from memory—and he was grateful for the break. He was also grateful that his father had been working long hours at his office and hadn’t been sucked into the mother-son conflict.

  Nathan drove to Lisa’s, parked in front of her building, went to her door and knocked. He felt great relief when she opened the door.

  “I made us popcorn,” she said. “You want a cola?”

  He did. The place was lit by two lamps, and from the back hall he heard the television. “Um—how are you feeling?”

  She gave him a funny look. “I feel fine, Malone.”

  For a minute he thought she might have reverted to her old ways. “Me too,” he said.

  That made her smile. “Want to see my room?”

  “Seems fair. I showed you mine.”

  Lisa’s room was especially large, with a bathroom on one end and a wall of closet doors on the other. He realized it was really the apartment’s master bedroom, which made him wonder why she’d gotten it instead of her mother and Charlie. “Nice,” he said, panning the room, taking in everything at once.

  His gaze rested on the room’s focal point, a photographic mural of treetops filled with fiery red blossoms. It ran the length of the room’s longest wall, across from a quilt-covered queen-size bed, which was under a window and heaped with decorative pillows. There was a desk, no computer, floor pillows, and a short bookcase stuffed with books and CDs. He walked to the mural, touched the paper and its crimson flowers. “Looks real.”

  “It’s the tops of royal poincianas—flame trees,” Lisa said from behind him. “When we lived in Miami, there was one in our backyard, and every spring it put out these incredible red-orange flowers. I loved it. I used to have tea parties under it. The tree’s leaves are very tiny, so when I stood under it and there was any kind of breeze, the shadow patterns looked like lace on my skin, and I felt like a princess. The branches grow up really high and form a canopy, like an umbrella. When I was a kid, I thought it would one day touch the sky, and then I planned to climb up it and touch the sky too.” Lisa ran her palm along the mural, caressing the paper flowers as she talked.