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

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “It’s a pretty tree,” he said, more fascinated by Lisa’s descriptions and revelations than by the mural. “I’ve never seen one before.”

  “They don’t grow this far north. I wish they did.” She cast a longing look at the photograph.

  Nathan didn’t get her attachment, but then he didn’t understand his mother’s obsessive interest in their backyard either. “I’ve got to admit, it’s kind of a different look for a bedroom.”

  “What did you expect to see? Posters of rock stars?”

  “I’ve learned not to have expectations when it comes to you, Lisa.”

  She arched an eyebrow, thrust the bowl of popcorn at him. He took a handful, went to her bed and began to sort through pillows. “Quite a collection.” They were in all sizes and shapes. Some looked like animals, others were richly decorated with tassels, braids and beads. One was shaped and decorated like a motorcycle.

  “My mother gives them to me. She likes to shop and add to my stash. I don’t know what I’m going to do with all of them when I—”

  She stopped so abruptly, Nathan was caught off guard. Her face looked flushed. “When you what?”

  “Leave. You know, move on.”

  He wasn’t sure that was what she’d meant to say.

  “Give them away, I suppose,” she said.

  “Talk to me, Lisa.” Nathan was growing impatient for her to move into the real reason he’d come over.

  She tossed him a floor pillow and settled cross-legged onto another, then put the popcorn bowl between them. She looked nervous, not at all like her usual in-control self. “What do you want to know?”

  “Duh. The hospital.”

  “It’s a boring story.”

  “I’ve got all night.”

  “What, no curfew?”

  “You’re procrastinating.”

  “Yes, I am. On purpose. It’s something I hate to talk about.”

  He sat perfectly still, watching the light play on her hair and cheekbones. He wanted to lay her down and kiss her.

  “When I was eleven, almost twelve, I started having bad headaches. I began seeing double, staggering and falling down for no reason. We lived in Miami then. Me and Mom and Charlie.” She stared over Nathan’s head as she spoke.

  “Your real dad?”

  “Not part of the picture. He was long gone.”

  “Go on.”

  “We had a little house in North Miami. There was a yard and my tree. I had school and friends.”

  “And headaches,” Nathan said, reminding her of the original tack.

  “I was put in a hospital. I had all kinds of tests—lots of needles and big scary-looking machines aimed at me. God, I hated it so much.” She shuddered. “In the end, they told us I had a brain stem glioma.” She paused. “Glioma. It’s a pretty word, don’t you think?”

  His heart pounded with increasing dread. “If you say so.”

  “But it’s not a pretty thing, Malone. No, glioma isn’t pretty at all.” She looked at the mural of the trees. “It’s a kind of brain tumor. Most are malignant, and so was mine. It was growing in my upper cerebellum.” She clamped a hand to the base of her neck. “You remember what the cerebellum does from biology class, don’t you?”

  He tried to nod.

  “Refresher course.” She held up a finger. “It coordinates body movements and lies next to the brain stem, which controls breathing and heartbeats and swallowing. My little glioma cells were slow growing—a good thing, but also very stubborn … as in hard to kill.” She plucked at the fringe on her floor pillow while she talked. “They couldn’t do surgery: the tumor was too close to the brain stem. Chemo doesn’t affect the type of cancer I had. That left radiation. So, they mapped out a field on my neck, marked it with small permanent blue dots.”

  She lifted her hair, turned so that he could see the dots. He’d seen them before and recalled thinking they might have been part of a tattoo she’d decided against. Now he saw that they were laid out in a grid pattern, and more marks had been added. Her hair had been cut too, shaved up the back of her neck and into the base of her skull. The outer layer of hair had been left alone, and it covered the marks and the shaved area when it hung loose. He wanted to touch her neck, trace his fingers along the path. “I see them.”

  She let go and her hair fell like a curtain over the telltale grid. “I went for treatments five days a week, for many weeks. Radiation doesn’t hurt; it makes you tired, though. I was pretty scared. I had to lie really still with this monster machine aimed at my neck and the grid. The room had a large glass window and I could see my radiologist, Dr. Glickman, and Charlie from the table. Charlie called the machine a zapper because it was going to zap and destroy the bad cells. He said it was like a video game, and I understood that because he and I would play Nintendo for hours and every time either of us made a kill, Charlie said that was just like the radiation treatments killing my cancer cells.”

  “It must have worked,” Nathan said. “You’re here.”

  “It worked. To a degree. They never said I would be cured. Just that the best we could hope for was halting the growth for a time. Most people with brain cancer live two to five years after treatments, if they’re lucky. I’ve made it six.”

  Nathan’s heart was pounding so hard, he thought it would pop from his chest. He tasted bile. “Meaning?”

  “It’s growing again.”

  Nathan was reeling. Lisa had a brain tumor. The look on her face was open and guileless, her violet eyes, clear and pure. How could such a terrible thing be happening to someone so young and beautiful? “What are the doctors doing for you now?”

  “Radiation again. I go five days a week.”

  That explained her leaving school early and the hospital visits. “Haven’t they figured out some other way to treat this thing by now?”

  “Not yet.”

  Her answer upset him. What had medical science been doing for all this time? What about all the cancer research he’d heard about, even read about? Why couldn’t any of it help Lisa? “What about in other cities? Other countries?”

  “Atlanta has a renowned cancer treatment center. Some of the best doctors in the world are here.”

  “And they still only use radiation?”

  “I won’t do experimental treatments.”

  “But why not? If it will help?”

  “I don’t know if they will help. Most don’t, according to research. Gliomas are … well, just a bitch to deal with. And … and it’s not the way I want to spend what’s left of my life, hopping from one experiment to another. In and out of hospitals. Feeling like crap.” She smiled ruefully. “I’d rather live like I was dying, not die without ever living.”

  “And your mom and Charlie are letting you do this?” Nathan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His mother would have tied him down and made him try every medical hope out there if the same thing were happening to him.

  “I’m eighteen, Malone. I can do what I want. And they let me have control. I don’t have to finish high school, you know. It’s kind of silly in a way. But I want to graduate. For some dumb reason, I really do.”

  Subdued, he asked, “Is the radiation working? Is the tumor shrinking like last time?”

  “Too soon to tell.”

  “But it probably will. I mean, the radiation worked before.”

  She tossed a kernel of popcorn at him. “Hey, Malone, don’t freak out on me. It is what it is.”

  He jumped up, started pacing. “Well, it sucks! Big-time.” Lisa stood up too. “Now listen to me. There are some rules for you that go along with this information I just dumped on you.”

  “What rules?”

  “You can’t tell anyone about this. Not Skeet, not anyone. You hear me?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I won’t have that whole school staring at me and whispering about me every time I walk down the hall.”

  “But—”

  “Would you want Roddy and his little friends making fu
n of you?”

  “They wouldn’t—”

  “Oh please! Grow up. I went through it before. At my other school, kids acted like I had the plague. Half the middle school wouldn’t come near me. Some even did gimp imitations … you know, dragging their leg and scrunching up their faces like a Frankenstein monster.”

  “They made fun of you? That’s sick.”

  “The shrink I saw at the time said—and now I’m quoting: ‘It’s how they cope with their own fears about getting cancer themselves.’ So what? It didn’t make it hurt any less.”

  “But this is high school. Don’t you think people might have matured by now?”

  She crossed her arms. “Do you? Some of the ‘mature ones’ make oinking sounds whenever Jodie walks past. You saw for yourself how they go after Skeet for no known reason. I don’t want them to know one thing about me. You got that?”

  Of course, he understood, but he still couldn’t get over it. Apparently homeschooling had shielded him from a lot of things. “So no one but me knows about you?”

  “Fuller knows.”

  Nathan said, “And Charlie and your mother.”

  “They’ve lived with it for a long time. I’m almost glad the waiting is over. It was like waiting for the other shoe to fall because—” Her voice caught and she looked away. His heart squeezed, but he waited for her to finish. “Because we always knew it would come back. And now it has.”

  It explained a lot to Nathan. Her recklessness and in-your-face attitude. Her disdain of school cliques and rules she didn’t like. Her refusal to let anyone get close to her. Lisa had chosen not to care because it protected her from hurtful things she thought were far worse than cancer. Nathan got something else too. By allowing Lisa to handle what was happening to her, and by giving her the freedom to come and go as she pleased, her mother and Charlie kept her with them. “I’ll keep your secret,” he said.

  “I mean it. If this gets out, I’ll leave this place so fast …” She let the implications sink in.

  Nathan moved closer, so close he could feel the heat from her body. “What I said earlier, about loving you … this doesn’t change anything.”

  She looked incredulous. “I have cancer, Malone. Go find a normal girl.”

  “I don’t care. I love you, Lisa. And I’m not splitting. Get used to it.”

  Nathan watched Lisa leave Fuller’s class every day, and his heart ached because he knew where she was going. He gritted his teeth when he heard others in their class call her “Diva” or speculate on what she might be doing with Fuller on the side for the privilege of walking out each day. Nathan wanted to hurt them. They were stupid. Mean and stupid. He couldn’t wait for the Christmas holidays to come, because he swore to himself that he would spend every free minute with her.

  “Where’s your head, man?” Skeet asked at practices. “This gig is next Saturday and you’re off in la-la land. We need you here, with us.”

  “Sorry,” Nathan mumbled, and forced himself to concentrate on the music.

  Lisa rarely came to rehearsals, which they had increased to include three afternoons a week. When she did visit, she sat in the shadows. He was careful not to look her way if Skeet went off on him, because he knew she’d think it was her fault.

  “Do you get that these guys are paying us money to be good?” Skeet said. “And that if they like us, it can lead to other gigs?”

  “I said I was sorry. Let’s start again.”

  The worst was his mother’s prying. “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded one night at the dinner table.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t tell me that. It’s like you’ve crawled into some dark cave. If school is too much for you—”

  “What’s too much for me is the way you hound me.”

  “Don’t talk to your mother like that,” his father ordered.

  Their loud voices started Abby crying in her high chair. Seconds later Audrey joined in. “Now look what you’ve done,” his mother snapped. She offered each girl a teething ring.

  His father, the peacemaker, said, “Nate, I’ve talked to my boss and they’re making a place for you in the mailroom for the time you’re out of school over the holidays.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want to work over the holidays.”

  “What! I went to bat for you, son. They’re doing this as a favor for me.”

  “Dad, I’m sorry, but not this year.”

  “You said you needed the money.”

  “I’m making a little cash with the band for two parties.”

  “Money you’ll have to split four ways. What’s the matter with you? Why are you acting this way?”

  Nathan didn’t answer. He stood, wadded his paper napkin. “I’m finished with supper. I’ve got a big paper to do.”

  “Don’t walk away from this table,” his mother shouted.

  Abby wailed and threw down her teething ring, and Audrey followed suit. Nathan kept moving.

  * * *

  “If this place was any dorkier, we could register it.” The comment came from Larry as the band was setting up on the stage of the VFW in Doraville.

  The room was old, tired-looking, with cheap paneled walls, long tables and metal chairs, and an open area around a dusty stage for dancing. Tinsel had been taped on the walls, along with Happy Holidays signs, and gaudy decorations hung on an artificial tree that had seen better days. The American flag, along with banners and photos of VFW members, covered another wall.

  “You’ll feel better when they pay us,” Skeet said, flexing his fingers and running chords on his keyboard.

  “Did you see the guy who let us in? He’s older than God. I just hope nobody keels over dead tonight,” Larry said.

  “I’m like, so nervous,” Jodie said. She was wearing jeans and a red shirt with some sequins sewn on the collar and cuffs.

  “You’ll be great, babe,” Skeet said.

  Nathan said nothing. He tuned his guitar and watched the door. Lisa had promised she would come. The event was scheduled to start in forty-five minutes and she hadn’t shown up, but there was plenty of time.

  An elderly man came up to the stage and introduced himself as the president of the group. “You can play the old ones, can’t you? The good country songs?”

  “Jodie here sounds just like Patsy Cline,” Nathan said, his gaze on the door.

  “Yes, we like Patsy. And Loretta and Reba too. Real country, you know.”

  “We won’t let you down,” Skeet said.

  The room began to fill with elderly couples, and the tables grew crowded. The smell of barbecue drifted from the kitchen. At some point the band was introduced, and Nathan and his friends began to play. They were tight and nervous at first, but once Jodie got over her butterflies, they hit a groove and their sound mellowed out. Couples actually began to dance to the music. Everything would have been perfect except that Lisa never arrived. Nathan gave up watching the door and got into the music, torn between loving her and loathing her for jerking him around.

  By ten o’clock the guests were gone, and The Heartbreakers were packing up their gear. Skeet said, “This didn’t last long. Maybe we can play to a younger crowd next time.”

  “The next one’s a birthday party with a Western theme,” Larry said. “The guy’s turning forty.”

  “Not much better.”

  Jodie took a swig from a soda. “It’s all right with me. I got to sing.”

  “Like an angel,” Skeet said. “You all want to grab some burgers? I’m starved.”

  Larry and Jodie agreed enthusiastically.

  Nathan was in no mood for socializing. He pushed outside, carrying two guitar cases and a box with a special mike for his acoustical guitar, and headed for his car.

  “How’d it go, cowboy?” The question came from Lisa. She was wrapped in a long suede coat and leaning against her bike.

  Nathan’s heart leaped with pleasure at the sight of her. He brushed past her, determined not to let her know. How could she
stand there so nonchalant, as if she hadn’t known how important their very first paid engagement was to them? “You’re a little late for the party.”

  “I’m here to make it up to you. Hop on. I have another party for us to catch.”

  He wanted to say, Forget it. He wanted to blow her off the way she’d done to him.

  “Hey, Lisa.” Jodie came up and hugged her friend. “We were great! Sorry you missed it.”

  “I’ll bet you were.”

  Not a word of apology, Nathan thought, but even as he thought it, he locked his gear in his trunk and handed Skeet the keys. “Go on without me.”

  “You sure?”

  “Park at your house. Like last time.” Nathan got onto Lisa’s bike; she handed him a helmet and started the engine. He settled into the hard leather seat, angry at himself for not being stronger and walking away. Furious. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except being with Lisa. Nothing.

  “Where are we going?” Nathan shouted above the road noise and the sound of the Harley’s engine.

  “Fraternity row at Tech.”

  Nathan wasn’t sure he liked the idea of hitting a party at Georgia Tech, but he didn’t want to argue with her. She could have gone without him, but she hadn’t.

  By the time she parked her cycle on the lawn of a fraternity house, Nathan was cold and not in a great mood. Light poured from every window of the old house, music blared out to the sidewalk, and people spilled onto the lawn in drunken groups. Lisa headed inside and Nathan followed. The smell of booze was strong, and Lisa wasted no time in grabbing them both bottles of beer. “Drink up,” she said, tipping her bottle upward.

  Nathan took a sip from his.

  “Hey, Lisa, baby! Long time no see.” A guy came up from behind them and swooped Lisa up in his arms. “Where have you been, sweet thing?”