Gifts and Consequences (6 page)

Tyler had hoped to get Lisa in the back seat by the time the night was over, but this was not at all what he had in mind.

Why am I scared to chip a tooth?
thought Lisa, trying to keep her teeth off the barrel. 
In a few seconds it won’t matter
. 

Her eyes were still closed.  The trigger didn’t give to her thumbs so she squeezed harder and heard a knock at the door.

Lisa paused with the gun between her lips.  Had she imagined it?  Maybe she was dead and the door was the way out of this world.  Maybe it was death coming for her. 

No, it can’t be Death.  Nothing ever works out for me that good. 

With the iron-tasting gun in her mouth she waited.  A few seconds later the knock came again, louder this time.

She went to the window and lifted the corner of the flannel blanket.  Hoping to see a sickle and black cloak, she was convinced she’d see a beer bottle grasped in a flaccid hand with the accompanying drunk swaying on her doorstep. 

You picked the wrong time to come back home, Buck, you P.O.S.

What Lisa saw was neither a sickle nor beer bottles, but sneakers.  A man or teenager stood at her front door.  Teenager, judging by the DC tennis shoes.  She tucked the gun behind her back and cracked the door.

A boy from school, Charles or Charlie, was standing outside.  “Lisa?  Is that you?”  He squinted into the murky apartment.

“Yeah,” she replied opening the door one more inch.

“Lisa, I scored some tickets to an amazing show tonight.  It’s the tribute to Nirvana in Buffalo.  A bunch of huge bands are going to be there—Green Day, Sheryl Crow, Alicia Keys.  MTV is even doing a special on it.”

Her grip tightened on the revolver.  Why couldn’t life just leave her alone? 

“You can go to hell and die,” she told him, startling herself.  She had never used profanity when talking to another person, but she had had enough.  “And take Tyler O’Hara with you.”

Charlie had always seemed like a nice guy.  No one would call him a dork, but they wouldn’t say he was one of the cool kids either.  Maybe because of his acne.  He had some friends who were cool and some who were nerds, but he never seemed to care about social status.  Why would a nice guy like Charlie agree to some idiotic plan to humiliate her?

His eyes grew wide and he said, “Oh, I’m, I’m sorry.  You already had other plans.”  The door had drifted open a few more inches and he had seen her dress.

Lisa blushed deeply, and narrowed the opening.  She laughed, and said, “The one night in seventeen and a half years that I have plans and you decide to torment me.”

“Oh, okay.”  He shuffled his feet on the sidewalk.  “You sure you can’t change your plans?  It’s gonna be unforgettable.”

Lisa hung her head and shook it in frustration.  “It’ll be unforgettable, alright.”

Nobody moved or spoke.

“Just give it up, Charlie.  All I ever wanted was to be left alone.” 

Charlie’s eyes shifted nervously, but he didn’t say anything.

“Just leave me alone,” said Lisa in a whisper.  She started to close the door.

“Okay.  Well, I’m sorry you’re having a rough time.  I hope your night gets better.”  He held out his hand and she recoiled.  He paused, then slid a flower through the narrow opening.  A white daisy. 

Lisa looked at it, but it didn’t even occur to her that he was giving it to her until he said, “This is for you.”

She stared at it. 
It’s a trap
, she thought.

When she reached for it she’d get a shock and Charlie’s friends and Tyler would come out of their hiding places and laugh at her.  Or he would withdraw it or drop it on the ground just as she reached for it.  Or something.  It was always something.  That would never change.

But Charlie would not be dissuaded.  Lisa had to either take the flower or close the door on it.

I’ve got nothing to lose
. 

Lisa reached slowly for the daisy.  Charlie remained still.  She took the flower from his hand and leaned against the door to close it before the trap could spring.

In the near-darkness Lisa stared at the flower in one hand and gun in the other.  The aroma of the flower rose to her nostrils and she heard Charlie’s shoes scuffing away.  And his words: “I’m sorry you’re having a rough time.”  More than anything his words.

Lisa put the flower to her nose.  She didn’t smell the sweet fragrance of a flower.  She felt the shock of kindness.  For the first time in her life someone had treated her like she wasn’t worth nothing.  She couldn’t remember ever experiencing the warm, heavy sensation before.

Outside, a car door closed.

“Charlie!” she called as she cracked open the door.  The gravel parking lot stretched in front of her apartment; Charlie was sitting in his car straight in front of her door.

He saw the door open and rolled down the window.  “Yeah,” he answered, sticking his head out the half-opened window. 

“Do you…mean it?”  She thought,
I’m sorry you’re having a rough time
.

“Yeah, of course I mean it.  I’ve got the tickets right here.”  He fumbled through his pockets. 

“Can I have just a few minutes to get ready?”

“Sure.”  He stepped out of the car and hurried toward the apartment.

Lisa said, “It’ll just take a minute,” and closed the door, almost hitting him in the face.

She put the gun back in the box on the top shelf of Buck’s closet, then checked her makeup in the bathroom mirror.  Even the minimal amount looked gaudy, but there was no time to fix it.  After pausing momentarily at her computer, Lisa opened the door and walked out with her head down and arms crossed over her noticeable chest.

Charlie said, “You look great.  I’ve never seen you looking nice before.”  He quickly added, “I mean dressed up and stuff.”

Lisa didn’t know if he was socially awkward or if she was as much of a reject as she always thought.  She clutched the flower in her hand.

She tried not to shy away as he walked by her side and reached around her to open the car door.  She got inside but didn’t know if she should close it or let him do it.  Just as she reached for the door, Charlie shut it and jammed her finger on the handle. 

“Oh shoot,” he said and opened the door.  “Are you alright?  I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine,” she said, tucking her fingers into her armpit.  

“Okay, stand clear.  Closing in three, two, one…” 

Lisa managed a laugh.  Two minutes into the date, she was already having the time of her life. 

He backed his car out of the lot and onto the street.  “So why are you all dressed up?”

Lisa considered before answering.  Not meeting his occasional gaze she said, “I had a date that I thought was important.  But a better offer came along.”  Her cheeks flared red and her stomach sank as she considered how close she had been.

Just when she thought there was no way the night could get any better they pulled into the arena parking lot.  A tall boy was furiously kicking the flat tires of a red Mustang and shouting words that she had only ever heard from Buck.  The dark orange hair was unmistakable.

She knew it wasn’t nice to feel happy about another person’s bad luck, but just for tonight she decided to give herself a little flexibility.

Back in her apartment, the cursor blinked where she had added a single word to her diary.

Saturday, May 7, 2011 –
NOT
My Last Diary Entry

#####

Four hundred miles away, Marcus leaned on his desk and took a few seconds to catch his breath. 
I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.

Through GPS trackers, hidden microphones in Lisa’s apartment and Charlie’s car, and a surveillance van in the parking lot of the concert, they’d seen the whole show.  Even Lisa’s computer entries were monitored.

“Reality TV has never shown anything to match that,” Jonathan raved, standing from the chair where he’d witnessed the evening.  “Charlie is a rock star.  That boy’s a hero!”

Sweat soaked the armpits of Marcus’s baby blue shirt.  “That was too close, Jonathan.  You can’t toy with people’s lives like you did with that girl.”

“Actually I can,” answered Jonathan.  “Besides, the deeper the despair, the sweeter the rescue.  You can’t argue with that.  Every ounce of life that girl experiences from here on will be sweeter because she has literally tasted the iron chill of death.”

“And how could you live with yourself if Charlie had been a minute later?  Is that a story you could have told Susan?”

Jonathan and the four techs froze, but Jonathan recovered quickly.  “But he didn’t show up one minute later.  Or one second later.  He didn’t miss one more traffic light on the way to her house, or stop to tie his shoe on the way to her door, or even change his mind and decide to scalp the tickets.”

With the exception of Susan’s illness, life was a series of successes for Jonathan.  He was the anti-Lisa Knapp.  “You are not God,” said Marcus.  “Act like Him all you want, it won’t bring Susan back.”

The techs still hadn’t moved, and now diverted their eyes.

“Careful, Marcus,” said Jonathan.  “That’s crossing the line.”

Maybe he’s right and I should just shut up and do my job. 
Changing the subject, Marcus said, “What do you want us to do with the O’Hara kid’s wallet and cell service?”

 “Tell Oscar to drop the wallet outside a homeless shelter and give the kid his cell service back.  Not that it will do him any good, unless he saved all the pieces of his phone.”

“Jonathan, take a look at this.”  It was Will, who sat in front of his dual monitors five workstations away. 

I don’t think that’s a sweater.  It’s more of a cardigan
, thought Jonathan looking over Will’s shoulder.  A newspaper story was displayed on his monitor about a baby in Warren, Michigan who had died after falling out of a second-story window. 

“Watch Dexter closely,” said Jonathan.  “This will be do or die time.  Get it?  He works in a cemetery.”  No one laughed.

Jonathan rubbed his tired eyes.  “We hit a couple home runs tonight,” he said to Marcus as he walked to the elevator.  “Let one of the techs take the day off tomorrow.  I’ll stop in to see how Dexter takes it, but we won’t start any new projects until Monday.”

Jonathan’s house was forty minutes from the office.  Details of the night’s events ran through his mind, along with Marcus’s words. 

Did I go too far? 

No one got hurt except Tyler, and he had earned it. 

Marcus is just stressed.  He’ll be fine by Monday.

Jonathan wasn’t about to change his whole operation just because of one close call.

He turned his thoughts to Susan to distract himself from the nagging feeling that was trying to encroach on the success of the night.  He was usually home earlier than this to make sure he saw Susan before she went to sleep.  The daily visit was his number one priority, and it limited him to traveling only the eastern half of the country.  No doctor had told him so, but he felt that if she saw him just before bed every night it would reinforce her memory of him. 

It was close to nine o’clock when he finally greeted Tamika, the home care nurse who sat at the end of the hallway. 

“Is she still awake?” he asked hopefully.

Tamika nodded, “Yeah, you made it in time.”  She handed him a daisy.

Normally he asked for an update before he went in, but he didn’t want to waste any more time.  He paused outside the door and took a breath.  When he entered the room they repeated the familiar pattern.  Kiss on the cheek, flower, comment about her and Mary picking daisies.

He asked if she knew who he was and she smiled at him as if it was a silly question.  “You’re my husband.”  She opened her mouth to speak again but nothing came out.  She kept smiling, but her brow furrowed, “Just give me a second.  You’re, um…”  She chuckled, getting embarrassed and continued, “It’ll come to me in a minute.”  Another nervous laugh.

 He couldn’t stand to see her struggle.  “It’s ‘Jonathan’.  Remember?”

“Yes, Jonathan, that’s right.  I knew that.”  She chuckled nervously again.  “I know who you are, Jonathan.  I just…couldn’t think of it.”

“That’s fine,” he assured her, taking her hand and sitting in his chair.  “I don’t want you to worry at all.”

Any conversations were always initiated by Jonathan; Susan was content to sit in silence.  “It’s late at night,” he said, “but I have a story if you want to hear it.”

“Oh, of course.  I love listening to stories.”

“Bob was a speed reading instructor and owned an Internet company,” he began.

After telling the short tale he wiped an invisible smudge from Susan’s cheek and left her room.