The Red Rose Blossoms Twice (work in progress!)

I guess the first thing you need to know about me is that I’m a widowed mother of two. My husband Jacob Fairfield was killed in a helicopter crash four years ago; he was a Navy pilot out of Oceana. We still live here in Virginia Beach, mainly because my parents live nearby and my kids are in a good school. I work for the Virginian-Pilot and write some freelance. I can run the family on that income, plus legal stuff I get from Jacob’s government job.1

I graduated college about five years ago with a degree in journalism; Jacob and I married that fall, and a few months later he got transferred to San Diego, where we lived for two years. Soon after the move my daughter Michelle was born, and two years later came Ben.2

Soon after we returned to Virginia Beach, Jacob departed forever from this world on that deciding helicopter flight. Michelle was three at the time, and Ben almost two. They have limited memory of their father – though I will never forget and try to remind them at every opportunity of what a wonderful man he was.3

For a long time, I lived the classic single-mother lifestyle: I rose early, scooted the kids off to school, rushed to the office, worked until afternoon, picked up the kids, immersed myself in a flurry of housework and cooking dinner, spent a little time with the kids until bedtime, then snatched an hour or so for myself before hitting the sack. I didn’t have a lot of free time, and I admit that was largely by my own choice. My job allowed me a relatively flexible schedule, but lately I’d become somewhat of a workaholic. Friends chided me for not enjoying myself enough – I didn’t date and hardly ever went anywhere interesting without the kids. Frankly, I didn’t have much heart for life at that point. I wasn’t depressed or anything, just feeling rather lackluster. Without Jacob, my life centered on raising the kids, and backing up my mothering with enough money to keep them fed and clothed. 4

On a warm May evening, I was puttering around on the computer in the living room when the phone rang. Michelle and Ben, now eight and six, had finished their mac-and-cheese dinner and were about to diligently begin their homework. Michelle, cleverly pouncing on the opportunity to delay cracking the books, skipped into the kitchen to answer the ringing.5

“May I ask who’s calling?” I heard my daughter recite sweetly in her telephone voice.6

A second later, “Mom! It’s for you.” And Michelle pranced around the corner to hand me the receiver. “It’s a man named Kevin Durham.”7

The name gave me a jolt. Kevin Durham was a name from my past; we’d been friends and even dated in high school. The last I’d heard of him, he was going into ROTC at the University of Georgia. I honestly hadn’t given him, or any of my old classmates, much thought since marrying Jacob. Why was Kevin calling me?8

Realizing I hadn’t answered Michelle, I reached out and took the receiver. “Thanks, hon,” I murmured. “Hello?” I said automatically, my heart beginning to thump.9

“Hey, Lisa,” the warm, familiar voice answered. “It’s Kevin. Remember me?”10

I laughed. “You’re not exactly the type one could forget.”11

How long it seemed since I had heard his voice! And yet, the feelings came back as if they had happened yesterday.12

“So – how are you? It’s been awhile.”13

“Yes, it certainly has,” I replied, thinking of everything that had gone on since we’d last spoken, some nine years ago. “What are you doing now?”14

“Just got transferred back here, after a tour in Guam. I got in a few days ago, and I decided to look up some old friends, see if they were still around.”15

“Yeah, well, I’m still here – took a side trip to San Diego for a few years, but as you can see I wound up right back where I started.”16

“Got a family, I see,” Kevin commented.17

“Uh-huh. A daughter and a son, six and four.”18

“And a husband, I assume?”19

Ah, yes. That sensitive topic. “I did…until four years ago. He died.” I had kept track of the time passage well. I also sometimes astonished myself with how blunt I could be.20

“Oh.” Kevin sounded at a loss for words. He never had been much good at the sympathy game, and I felt a little bad for subjecting him to my miserable world. Then he went on. “I’m sorry,” he said in a subdued voice. “What happened?”21

“He flew out of Oceana – and his helicopter crashed.”22

“I read about that,” Kevin answered. “A Sea Dragon, right?”23

“Mm-hm.” Unbidden, images flew back through my mind, of Jacob’s last day at home, the gruesome newspaper photo of the crash site, the funeral.24

Either Kevin could tell I didn’t want to talk about it or the good Lord chose to intervene right at that moment; but thankfully, the topic changed.25

“So you’re working now, I guess?” Kevin asked me.26

“Yeah, for the Pilot. I have a column. It’s…pretty fun, I guess,” I said, a bit choppily though attempting to sound more cheerful. I didn’t succeed right then and there, but between Kevin and my willpower, I managed to become almost lighthearted by the time we’d talked for a quarter of an hour. He always did have that effect on me.27

“Been back to the high school lately?” Kevin asked. “Football games, concerts or anything?”28

“I actually have been meaning to go to a concert – but you know how that goes,” I said. “Never quite got around to it.”29

“We should go to one. Spring concert hasn’t happened yet, has it?”30

I considered. “I don’t think so. The school year’s been shifted forward, so they’d probably have it soon.”31

“Would you want to go with me, if I found out when? Well, I’m not sure your kids would necessarily enjoy it…”32

“I could get a babysitter. That sounds great – I haven’t been out of the house without them in ages. Not that I don’t love them, but there’s only so much a mom can take.”33

He was silent a moment. “You don’t date or anything?”34

For some reason my heart jumped. “No,” I answered placidly. “There hasn’t ever really been a reason to.”35

“What, don’t guys ever ask you out?”36

“I think I scare most people off before it ever gets to that point,” I said, half-humorously.37

“You haven’t scared me off,” he countered. 38

Whoa. I almost blanched. Was he serious? My thoughts flew, and then I checked them. If he meant what I thought he meant – and I told myself I was being ridiculous – if he meant that, and if he asked me, what would my answer be? Was I willing to let someone else come into my life this way? I wasn’t sure; but I could not deny that something was pulling at my heart in an odd way.39

I hadn’t answered Kevin, and he plunged ahead. “I’d like to take you on a date, to dinner, the concert, or whatever.” A pause. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine – I just…”40

He stopped speaking. Every part of me had frozen, it seemed, except my heart, which continued beating for all it was worth. It thumped inside my chest, and I felt as if it were rattling all my rational thoughts from their foundations and jarring them violently inside my head. The seconds felt like hours. I could not think straight, or even hardly at all.41

I did not know what to say. My only instinct that remained steadfast through all the inner confusion cried at me to say yes. Say yes! Or the tentative, wavering miracle of his voice on the phone would disappear from my life completely, like the Ghost of Christmas Past. I held my breath. How I wished I could break through my hesitation!42

The silence was piercing; I had to say something. “I – I don’t know,” I said softly.43

My fear seemed to give him courage. “Lisa, I know we didn’t quite have a smooth relationship back in high school. We were…you know, teenagers. I was kind of restless – still am, I guess – but that was a long time ago and I know I’ve changed since then. I guess you probably have, too. But I remember how you were – and I’ve wished for awhile that we were still in touch. Anyway…” I heard him exhale on the other end of the line. “It’s been forever since I saw you, Lisa…and I miss you.”44

“I miss you too, Kevin.”45

Neither of us said anything for several seconds. Then he spoke.46

“So…?” I could hear his smile.47

“Okay.”48

“Awesome! I’ll call somewhere and find out about the concert.”49

“That should be fun. I’ll look forward to it,” I smiled. “Um…I should probably go now. Got to get the kids to bed.”50

“Great. I’ll call you later.”51

“It was good talking to you. Bye.”52

“Bye.”53

After I had turned off the receiver, I sat at the computer for a long time, watching the fish swim by on the screensaver. I thought to myself, now I too was going somewhere. And as the fish wiggled off the screen into nothingness, I wondered where my own life was taking me.54

“Where are you going, Mom?” Ben asked me curiously, as he watched me flip through the address book in search of the babysitter’s phone number.55

“I’m going to a concert, at my old high school,” I explained, scanning the list of friends and relatives, most of whom I hardly talked to anymore. “With my old friend who went to school with me there.”56

“Kevin Durham?” Michelle chimed in. That girl had one sharp memory.57

“Right.”58

“The guy you talked to for a really long time?”59

I smiled. “Right.” The thought came that my children had probably never seen me on the phone so long at one time. Undoubtedly, they suspected that something strange was going on, and they probably needed some sort of explanation.60

“Are you going on a date, Mom?” The question made me start and look up from the addresses at my daughter. She had a look of perfectly innocent curiosity on her face. Well, she deserved a good answer.61

“Yes, sort of,” I replied calmly, looking back over the same page I had just covered, but not seeing it. That was definitely not a good answer. I looked backed at Michelle. How much did she already know, anyway? And how could I explain to her the complexity of love and when I hardly understood it myself? “People go on dates…to try and figure out who they want to get married to.” As soon as the words came out I wanted to hit myself. Ouch. Blunt. But this was the truth, and the kids might as well understand the whole concept.62

I shot a quick, worried glance at Ben to catch his reaction. He didn’t seem to comprehend. I was about to elaborate when he spoke up in a slightly confused voice.63

“Did you and Daddy ever go on a date?”64

Relief. At least he was not reacting negatively. Curiosity could be easily handled. “Yeah. We dated for two years while I was in college.”65

“Are you going to maybe marry Kevin Durham?” inquired Michelle, her forehead creasing into a small frown.66

Careful, Lisa. “I don’t know. Usually people decide after one date if they want to keep on going out, and then after a long time, sometimes they decide to get married. And this isn’t a really serious date, anyway – it’s more like two old friends spending time together to have fun.” And to rekindle an old flame, I couldn’t help adding to myself, with an astonishing brashness I knew was completely uncharacteristic.67

“Did he used to be in your class?” Ben asked me.68

I sat down on the kitchen barstool, address book in my lap. “Mm-hm. We first met in our Spanish class in ninth grade.” Then I had a thought. “Do you want to see my yearbook?” I asked them.69

They were enthusiastic, so I led them upstairs to my closet and dug out my senior yearbook. They happily turned the pages as I stood over their shoulders and watched the old familiar faces flip by, losing myself in a sea of memories. They’d first found and gawked at the photo of Lisa Angeles with her long brown hair at age seventeen; then they started over at the beginning and laughed at once-popular hairstyles all through the A’s, B’s and C’s. When the D’s began to appear a few pages later, I scanned the list of names for Durham, Kevin. I could vaguely recall his senior picture – his laughing blue eyes and jauntily mussed hair. And his warm teasing smile. It was ages since I’d opened this yearbook. How had he changed since then?70

My thoughts were interrupted with a jolt when my eyes found the spot, and suddenly beheld an eighteen-year-old Kevin laughing up at me from the glossy page. “There he is,” I pointed out to my kids, unable to resist snatching the chance to get a good look at the photo.71

The image of him in his tuxedo coat and bowtie carried me back to spring of our senior year, when I’d gone with him to the senior prom. I remembered my uncomfortable but stylish high heels, the sweet-smelling rose corsage he’d bought for me, and the way the mild spring breeze gently ruffled my midnight-blue satin dress as we walked hand-in-hand through the park after leaving the dance. I felt again my stiff shoes in one hand, and his warm grasp in the other; the cool grass underneath my stocking feet, and I saw the stars peeking through the trees at us. We strolled in the dark and talked in low voices until the wee hours of the morning. What was the future to us that night? All we could feel were the trees, the sky, the moon, and each other…72

“You’re going on a date?” the voice over the receiver squawked incredulously.73

It was after work the next evening, and I smiled wryly at my neighbor’s astonishment. Marcie Greene lived next door with her husband Carl. The couple had no children of their own, but had fallen absolutely in love with mine. They were all too happy to baby-sit when my parents were busy.74

Yes, I was going on a date. But I wasn’t about to admit it, not under such pressure. “You could call it that,” I replied evasively. 75

“Wow. Lisa Fairfield, on a date,” Marcie teased. “Cows will be learning to fly any day now!”76

“Oh, please.” But a tiny part of me could not help smiling.77

Marcie laughed at me. “So, who is it? Anybody I know?”78

“I doubt it. Just an old friend from high school.”79

“Go on,” she urged, and I mildly recounted our history. 80

“Ooh, rekindling a little romance, are we?” she crowed.81

“Look,” I said, suddenly feeling irrationally annoyed. “Don’t make more of this than is there – he just called as a friend, and he wants to go talk over old times. That’s it.” The ridiculous part was, I didn’t even believe myself as I said the words. I knew there was a lot more to this than met the eye. Kevin clearly wanted something more than a normal friendship – my only question was, did I? Part of me was scared – terrified, even – of letting any minute inkling of feeling eke out of my heart; but another part leaped with uncontrollable joy every time I mentally replayed Kevin’s voice on the phone.82

Hi, it’s Kevin. Remember me?…You haven’t scared me off…I miss you…You don’t date?…I want to take you out.83

I miss you.84

Oh Kevin, I miss you too!85

“Lisa.” Marcie’s voice penetrated my thoughts. Yikes – I’d gotten distracted. How incriminating.86

“I’m here,” I answered cheerily, hoping against hope that my friend hadn’t drawn the wrong conclusions.87

“Lost you there for a second,” Marcie said. “So when is this meeting of old friends going to be?”88

“Next Thursday,” I answered. I’d searched the school’s web site and found the concert date – Kevin had said he’d check on it, but during a dull moment at work that morning I’d succumbed to curiosity.89

“Let me see – yeah, I’m free. I’ll be happy to take the kids. So…do they know about this date thing?” I could hear the teasing smile in her voice.90

“Yes, I told them,” I answered, almost laughing. “Why not?”91

“Course not. But you know some kids don’t react well to having their parents date again.”92

I paused, my light demeanor gone. “They don’t really remember Jacob,” I said slowly. “I don’t think they really understand the depth of what’s going on.”93

“Ha! So you admit there’s depth,” Marcie announced victoriously.94

I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see. “I didn’t say there was a lot, just some. I mean, come on, I haven’t done anything with anybody in years.”95

“Exactly, which is why the whole neighborhood will be thrilled to hear about this.”96

“And I suppose you think you’re going to tell everyone I know.”97

“Sure. Oh, hey – do your parents know?” Marcie asked curiously.98

“Not yet. Look, Marcie, I’m grown up. I’m twenty-seven. And this doesn’t need to be a huge gossip topic,” I added, my patience with her inquiries quickly disappearing. “If – by any rare chance – this does turn into something bigger, then the world can find out. But until then I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself. I’ll tell my parents, and anyone else I feel needs to know. You don’t have to worry about it.” I immediately regretted the sarcastic edge that had crept into my voice. 99

“Okay. Just trying to help,” Marcie surrendered. Only then did I realize how defensive I’d sounded.100

“Sorry. I don’t take heart-to-hearts very well,” I hastily apologized. “Thanks…for agreeing to baby-sit. I guess I’ll let you go now.”101

Marcie chuckled. “I’m happy for you, Lisa,” she said. “You’ll have fun, and I don’t mind baby-sitting at all. Talk to you later. And be sure to tell me all about it!”102

I wasn’t going to make any promises. “Bye, Marcie.”103

After we hung up, I stood by the phone for a while, just thinking. Brooding over my situation. Scheduling a baby-sitter made everything seem real, so deciding, so…fateful.104

Whoa – fateful? Why on earth should that word, of all words, jump into my mind? Was I really that much of a cynic when it came to love? 105

“Don’t be silly, Lisa,” I muttered out loud. “You’re turning this into some kind of sappy romance novel.”106

And then I realized how strangely classic the scenario was turning out to be. It was like something out of a movie. Depressed single mom hooks up with her high school sweetheart. And with a jolt, I remembered the inevitable end of the movie: the hero marries the heroine.107

Oh, please. “Well, of course,” I thought. “It’s a ‘movie’ ending. A ‘fairy-tale’ ending. And ‘fairy-tale’ means ‘hopelessly unrealistic’.”108

This I knew. And yet – what if such an ending were to come true, anyway? Feeling too overwhelmed with everything to bother curbing my imagination, I let it fly off to fairyland. I conjured up an image of me curled up in Kevin Durham’s strong, soft, comforting arms. My heart skipped a beat – but something inside me cried out sharply. Abruptly, the daydream faded.109

Shaken, I put a hand up to my mouth. What was I thinking? The last time I’d felt anything like that kind of inner warmth was…but never mind. Better not to think about it.110

Jacob! All the feelings came back as if they were yesterday. They had been doing that a lot lately. Why? Why me? Suddenly fighting tears, I closed my eyes hard and took a deep, tremulous breath.111

...The Saturday morning three years ago was warm for March. Jacob was on duty that weekend, the kids were out of school, and I had just called my parents’ house to give my weekly update on the family. As I absently listened to my mother chat about her garden, a one-and-a-half-year-old Ben, in a grass-stained T-shirt, persistently tapped my arm. Through the open kitchen window I vaguely heard raindrops pattering steadily on the backyard lawn furniture. Through all these sounds, the television remained a continual buzz.112

Michelle sat cross-legged, dwarfed in Jacob’s green cushioned recliner, with an air of importance as she watched the news. A grim-faced anchor was reporting a breaking story.113

“A Navy spokesperson has just released details on the four Oceana pilots who were on the ill-fated Sea Dragon helicopter that went down in North Carolina this morning…News stations have been asked to delay broadcasting of names until families of the missing have been notified…” All of a sudden, my thoughts froze.114

And that was when my ears detected the low hum of the call-waiting signal...115

BEEEEEEEEEEP!116

Slap.117

Five minutes before the alarm clock went off again – it was mornings like this when I regretted the thought process required to turn off the alarm setting.118

Just a couple more minutes, I thought, not ready to face the morning yet. I turned my face away from the nightstand and sighed heavily into my pillow. For some reason, I did not feel the slightest bit rested since last night; I supposed that my thoughts must have kept me from sleeping well. Then I remembered what I’d been so occupied with. 119

Kevin. His name wandered, dream-like, through my drowsy mind. Try as I might, I could not come up with a clear picture of his face. But then, it surely must have changed a lot over the years.120

Somehow, distracted by daydreams, I felt no motive whatsoever for getting up. Seconds later, though, a loud cry from Ben’s room indicated that the kids were awake. That meant I needed to be downstairs, making breakfast and packing lunches.121

I stiffly sat up. Catching the image of my face in my vanity mirror, I paused a moment, studying my features as if I were someone who hadn’t seen me in years. The last sight Kevin could possibly have had of me, I mused, was graduation. I hardly remembered what I looked like back then. Now, in the mirror, sleepy brown eyes with circles around them told of my fitful night; sandy hair, flat and flipped at an odd angle, was frizzy and desperately needed to be washed; a smudge of mascara adorned my right cheek. It was clear I’d been too exhausted last night to bother with hygiene. What was he doing right now, I wondered?122

All of a sudden, my bedroom door banged open, and Michelle entered, looking as if she’d just stepped out of the shower while wearing her pajamas. Her hair dripped and a wet patch of her nightgown stuck to her. Her eyes sparked with fury.123

“Mom!” she wailed angrily. “Ben squirted water on me!”124

Please, no, I thought. “Where is he?” I sighed.125

“I don’t know,” Michelle shrugged.126

“Were you two fighting?”127

Michelle looked away. “Kind of.”128

“What did you do to him?”129

“Nothing!” she said defensively.130

Ben’s head appeared behind her, and he pushed his way into my room. “She hit me with a pillow!” he accused.131

“Not hard.” Michelle countered, elbowing him. Then her face turned plaintive. “He wasn’t going to get up on time,” she informed me.132

“I was too!” he shouted – far too loud for my ears to handle at this hour of the morning.133

“No, you weren’t!” she returned, matching his volume to the decibel. A minor scuffle ensued.134

“Hey – hey, stop it, now!” I leaped out of bed and positioned myself between my warring children. “Look. Quit fighting. Go to your rooms and get dressed, and stay in there till I call you for breakfast. Go!”135

When I had herded them out, I closed the door, leaned against it and sighed. I didn’t have time for dreams – what on earth was I thinking? Those two monsters were my beloved children, my sole purpose in living; and I simply could not allow anything to enter my life that would cause me to put them second.136

I stepped into my bathroom and turned on the shower. As I proceeded with my morning routine, the words to an old song I’d once heard flashed through my head: “It feels so right, it can’t be wrong.”137

I couldn’t even have recognized the song’s tune. But mushy and untrue though they were, that line struck a chord. I so wanted to believe it! Whenever I thought of Kevin Durham, my heart beat faster. My feelings and sentiments were awakened to historic levels. I was able to imagine, for the first time in years, the prospect of me with someone I loved – forever. My every sense told me that this could work out in a wonderful way. But some thought, some instinct – some fear – held me back from hoping.138

Slipping beneath the warm spray of water, the dreary thought came that I’d felt these familiar effects before, all too often as a teenager. Could my feeling for Kevin be only the dying remnants of an adolescent crush? The more I considered, the more I convinced myself that was the most probable explanation. 139

But, part of me persisted, what if it was more than that? I was certainly no adolescent anymore; and neither was he. He’d expressed sentiment for me, hadn’t he? What if my emotions were truly legitimate? How could both of us be wrong? I did, after all, know much more about love than I had at seventeen. What if Kevin and I were – I held my breath. Dared I think it? – meant to be?140

Yikes! I immediately shook that tantalizing possibility from my head. No. Not now, not yet. Such shallow hopes might be fulfilled someday, but one phone conversation was definitely not grounds for their existence. Dating was a frightening-enough concept; the last thing I needed was to scare myself wondering about the future.141

“I wish I knew what to do,” I whispered, feeling helpless as the water pounded on my head. The thought of Kevin was so tempting – but could I reasonably expect anything to turn out right if I went for it? I turned off the shower, stepped out, and wrapped myself in a towel, no closer to mental clarity than I had been.142

“I’ve got to talk to Mom,” I told myself decisively. I reached for my bathrobe.143

I passed the mirror on my way to the closet. I still looked tired and my hair was wet, but at least now my appearance reflected some care. Staring at the reflection of my face, I could not help wondering what Kevin would think of me when he beheld me for the first time since high school. I’d gained weight; my hair was now in a completely different and hassle-free cut, and I’d long since given up my blonde highlights. No aspect of me even hinted of my young, pretty, carefree teenage self.144

Something told me I’d know him anywhere. But would he even recognize me?145

Later that Tuesday morning, I sat in my cubicle, Starbucks latte cup in hand, pondering the finishing touches on my column. The Virginian-Pilot newspaper office had become a sort of refuge for me during the past few years; because I had only taken the job there after Jacob died, the building was not filled with memories in odd places, as the house was. The familiar sound of keyboards clacking busily, combined with the scattered conversations of coworkers, was a welcome distraction from the rigors of my life – and besides, writing was my passion. I could always find a written outlet for my thoughts and emotions, whether it was something for the paper, my slowly progressing novel, or any number of random compositions. Sometimes I toyed with the idea that I could be a famous writer – goodness knows I’d been through enough that it could be exaggerated to make a good autobiographical tragedy.146

I sighed as I swiveled in my chair to set my cup on the desk behind me, my loosely contained thoughts swirling out of control again. I’d attempted to call my mother for advice on the way to work that morning, but no one had answered. She was probably shopping, I mused. Oh well. What was she going to tell me that I didn’t already know? Be smart; keep your priorities straight; make your decisions carefully. Maybe something good will happen; maybe it won’t. I’d heard it all before, done it all before – shoot, I’d even been married before. Shouldn’t I know how to handle an attraction to the opposite sex?147

Maybe. But knowing that certainly didn’t make anything any clearer.148

As I sat there, lost in thought, my telephone rang. I absently reached to pick it up.149

“Lisa,” said the voice that had been echoing in my head for over a day. My heart began to speed up.150

Calm. Be calm. “Hi, Kevin,” I answered.151

“What’re you doing?” he inquired casually.152

“Trying to finish up my column,” I told him, and we made small talk for a few minutes.153

Then he came to his point. “Well, I just called to tell you about the concert. I’d have called sooner, but I was on an all-night duty thing yesterday and…well, I was tired.” The way he said it made me laugh. He continued, “The concert’s Thursday – kind of short notice I guess – and I was thinking maybe we could go to dinner someplace beforehand.” He paused. “Is that okay with you?”154

“Yeah. Sounds fun,” I said in as peppy a voice as I could muster. Something in me panicked – what if our conversation of a few days ago hadn’t meant all I thought it did? What if this wasn’t supposed to be a date at all? It would be just like me to overreact like that. Please, please, I begged silently, tell me I didn’t imagine the whole thing.155

“Are you okay?” he asked me.156

“Mm-hm. Yeah, I’m fine.” But I knew I didn’t sound the least bit fine. Even he, who could not possibly have had a chance to reacquaint himself with my normal voice, could tell something was wrong.157

“Are you – I mean, you do really want to go out? You’re not just trying to be nice or anything, are you?”158

Sweet relief flooded my senses. “Oh…yes, of course I do. I…” Maybe I ought to tell him, I thought. Here was someone who might actually understand. Then I realized the ridiculousness of pouring my heart out to him – what was I thinking? Take it slow, Lisa; you’ll kill yourself. “I don’t know. I’m just a little nervous, I guess. I mean, I haven’t seen you in years. You know. But I really am looking forward to this, Kevin.” This, though mild, was at least true. I had no doubt that my genuine feeling came through in my voice.159

“Good, I’m glad. So am I,” he was smiling. “I haven’t been to a good concert since – I don’t know, forever. And I bet a bunch of other people from our class will be there too. It’ll be fun.”160

“What time are we looking at? So I can tell the babysitter?” I asked him.161

“Well…I usually get home a little after four,” he considered. “What about you?”162

“My schedule’s pretty flexible,” I told him. “Whenever you want to go, really.”163

“Okay, how about five? We could eat someplace near here and then go to the school around seven.”164

“That works,” I agreed.165

“So…what’re you writing about?” he asked.166

Did he care about local politics? I wondered amusedly to myself. “The new high school,” I answered. “It’s supposed to be done this summer, but you know how these things go.”167

“Willow Lake? It’s still not built?” he said incredulously.168

I couldn’t help laughing at him. “No – Carol E. Hunter High,” I said. “Willow Lake’s been in business for years. You haven’t done such a hot job keeping up with the news, have you?” I teased.169

“No, not really – I’ve been a little busy across the ocean defending all you journalists’ right to complain,” he returned with a laugh.170

It felt incredibly good to banter with him again. All doubts about where my life was going – as well as any inhibitions about using my work phone for personal business – disappeared completely, at least for the hour or so that we talked.171

After we hung up it took me almost half an hour to refocus my brain on work, and even then I periodically found myself lost on a train of thought completely unrelated to what I was supposed to be thinking about. Random songs kept singing themselves in my head. The unfortunate story that happened to be in my hands that day suffered through so many readings, re-readings, additions and deletions that it probably resembled a middle-school book report by the time it got to the editor. But I almost didn’t care – that afternoon, my thoughts rested on subjects much loftier than the city’s petty politics. I indulged myself in my own personal daze of happiness. I was my happy, sprightly seventeen-year-old self all over again.172

Walking across the parking lot that evening, my feet barely touched the asphalt, as if I were stepping on clouds; my keys unlocked the car of their own accord; new energy that was not mine turned the ignition and pressed the gas pedal. Whoops – that’s a wall back there! I felt almost intoxicated with life. Such feeling of heavenliness was probably dangerous – reckless driving could easily result from that old teenage invincibility.173

Oh, but I loved it, every minute.174

My car seemed like it belonged to someone else; every turn and merge on my route home was somehow made without the help of conscious thought. My mind danced light years away from this routine commute. I felt like I’d just returned from outer space – every billboard and road sign struck me with a new curiosity, like I’d been away for decades and come home to a transformed town that was only vaguely reminiscent of the world I once knew.175

Slowly, as I turned onto my home street, reality began to creep back into me. I felt again the air conditioner chilling my feet beyond comfort and the low hum of the engine vibrating steadily through the car as I passed all my neighbors’ driveways. Without quite realizing I was home, I turned the wheels sharply and crunched slowly up my own driveway. But, before I pressed the garage-door opener, I braked to a stop and sat in the center of the driveway for a minute, staring at the yard. My yard – my house – my life.176

I vaguely took in the green, grassy lot, spotted with crabgrass and yellow dandelions. The brick mailbox, identical to the others up and down the street. The spring-blooming azalea bushes by the front door, now green and flowerless in the beginning of summer. The white ranch-style house, with ivy in the gutters and windows like blue-curtained eyes, which I called home.177

This was my quarter-acre section of the world. It was me; I was responsible for it, the people who lived here, and everything else that affected this, my tiny sphere of reality. Sometimes – in fact most of the time – this conscientious determination was what kept me going. But now, the sober memory of my accountability made me bury my head hopelessly in my arms. Too many issues! Too many things to think about! My heart just wasn’t in my life right now. What does it all matter? I thought, as my eyes grew warm and full. Who cares if my yard is taken over by weeds, if my house falls into disarray? I have no one. No one to talk to, no one to give my heart to. Nothing to put my heart into. Nothing, no one, who even makes my heart want to be in anything.178

I don’t know how long I sat there, still holding the brake down with my foot, letting warm tears squeeze out of my closed eyelids. I craved…something. Freedom, maybe, from all the pressure, the uncertainty. My life was dull. Why, why couldn’t it just cut sharp and be done with it, let all the pain out at once? Why must it drag all the heaviness and like a torturously dull knife over my spirit, constantly, letting out only drops of emotion at a time, and leaving the rest until moments like this, when I could hold it in no longer?179

After awhile, the urgency dripped away and the tears stopped coming. I breathed deeply, lifting my head from the steering wheel where it had been resting. Outside the window, outside of the air conditioned car, the early summer sun still shone. The sky was still blue, dotted with happy white clouds. Flowers bloomed. Everything in the world was joyful except me.180

I glanced at my gas gauge. The line was millimeters from empty. I’d have to get gas soon.181

I felt my tears almost come back as I closed the front door behind me and saw Ben and Michelle’s cheery faces peer around the corner.182

“Hi, Mom!” Michelle bounced into the front hall to give me a hug, followed by her brother.183

What right did I have to feel neglected and lonely? I demanded silently as I knelt and hugged them, nodding thanks as I did so to Marcie as she slipped past me out the door. Of course I always had my kids, and better ones I could not ask for.184

That was true, and yet as I trotted upstairs to change clothes I knew that they did not count. The love between a mother and child was not what I missed. There was a hole in me somewhere that needed a peer mind, someone I could confide in and trust, connect to and love – with all my heart and soul. As I thought these words, they struck a chord; I’d said them to someone before.185

Before I could chase the despondent thought from my mind, I felt a strong rush of longing for Jacob. 186