The Ballad of Lisa and Lacey (Part VIII)
(for Part VII click here)

            The next day felt different.  It was different.  There was something in the morning light that was — was — Lacey didn’t know what it was  She opened the curtains to find it.  She made the bed.  She washed dishes.  Lisa called from the airport to say goodbye. “I have to run.  Call me if you need me.  I’ll talk to you at Christmas.”  After that, Lacey found two big green garbage bags.  She went through her apartment, filled them up with four months of pizza boxes, trash and her miserable summer. She dragged them thumping down the stairs and threw them out.  She registered for school, went to the grocery store, bought real food, and for the first time in weeks, showed up for work on time.  That was it — time.  Time.  That was what was different.  It sounded funny when Lacey said it out loud, and she wasn’t really sure what it meant, but it was real — like something touchable.

That year, Lacey went home for Thanksgiving and nearly got outnumbered by the parents, but, fortunately, the brothers showed up and turned them into Grandma and Grandpa.  Rescued, Lacey relaxed and very soon she realized that “How’s school?”  “Are you cooking anything?” and “We worry about you.” weren’t accusations.  They were just questions, and there was nothing wrong with being Lucinda Ann, responsible daughter — or Aunt Lucy — or Wayne, Frank and Jerry’s little sister.   In the end, they were all just Lacey, and being Lacey was kinda fun.  She relinquished her room and slept on the basement sofa.  She peeled potatoes, watched football, played video games and stayed away from the stove.  She found some high school friends for drinks and listened to their stories, told a lie or two herself and flirted with somebody’s husband.  And she found herself enjoying herself — remembering that real life was normal.  Yet — and with no regret — she discovered this world was not her world anymore.  Her home — her real home — was three flights up and looked into the street, and she lived her own life there.

She took another shift at the coffee shop for the extra money — four evenings a week instead of three — and spend the other nights studying  hard, turning into a library rat the rest of the time.  There it was again, time.  It seemed to telescope — expanding and contracting to fill the space all around Lacey.  Sometimes, yesterday was several weeks ago and sometimes last month was yesterday. But in it all — all the time available — the beginning was France and the next stop was Italy.

Lacey didn’t go to her parents’ house at Christmas.  She pleaded work and school and even a little illness and promised to come before New Year’s.  Instead, she waited for Lisa, hoping she’d come, thinking she would, planning for her visit.  But Lisa didn’t come.  She sent a set of Versace luggage that arrived on Christmas Eve with a simple Hallmark card that read “Merry Christmas.  See you in May.  L.” And she telephoned.  And for over two hours on the night before Christmas, they were Lisa and Lacey, talking to each other in the dark, surrounded by the night.  Then, in the last week of April — which was two weeks later — Lacey packed a suitcase and waited for Lisa.

The Ballad of Lisa and Lacey (Part VII)
(for Part VI click here)

            Time got lost in the big restaurant and they lingered and talked.  They remembered Europe vividly — retold and laughing.  And when Lisa asked, Lacey told her about Tony and the tight t-shirt and sailing through her exams and how things were good and she was going to be an aunt for the fourth time (last brother.)  Lisa had pictures of her children and Lacey asked questions in the right places.  Ben was going to be a senior (“God, I feel old!”) and Courtney was already picking out universities and working on the second love of her life.  Work?  Work was busy — too busy … but … I’ve been doing that all day, let’s not talk about it tonight.  What about …?  And, so, by the time they were sharing dessert (poached pears/two forks) the evening was gone and the restaurant had filled up.  It was clattery and loud, and both women were having trouble keeping the noise out of their conversation, so they decided to take their coffee on the 6th floor patio.  The city lights were already on and they sat for a moment, admiring the night.

“It’s beautiful up here.”

“I’ve been staying at this hotel forever,  and I’ve never done this before.”

“How come?”

“Just never thought about it.  I was always too busy — uh — doing other things.”

The night was close, warm to the touch.  The faint and full glare of the buildings around them hung in the air, searching their light into the night and hiding the two women together in its intimate shadows.  The sound of the city, low and breathing, was somewhere beyond them — below them — holding them up.  There was a red goblet candle on the table, and they watched its tiny flame trembling between them and wondered what to say next.

“I found an apartment in Rome?” Lisa said tentatively.

“We need to talk, Lis.”

“I know, but I don’t know what …” Lisa’s voice trailed off.

“I need to know what we’re doing.”

“It’s not very complicated.  It doesn’t have to be complicated.  We had a great time, and I want to do it again.”

“That’s not what I mean.  I need to know what we’re doing?  You and I?”

Lisa looked beyond Lacey into the night.

“You’re spending all this money.  I can’t keep up with that.  And then what?  Are you going to disappear again?  Am I just supposed to wait?  God, I’ve been miserable for four months, wondering what was going on.”

“I’m sorry, Lace.  I thought you needed time to think.  You said you did.  Then when you called, I didn’t know what to do.”

“You knew I called?”

“Call display.  Jennifer knew who you were before you hung up.”

Lacey looked stricken.  Lisa reached over, took Lacey’s hand and pulled it across the table toward her.  She covered it with her other hand and held it there.

“Look, Lace, this is me.  I’m filthy rich, I’ve got a great job that’s tons of hard work, but I wouldn’t trade for anything.  I’ve got two beautiful children who are a pain in the ass and I happen to like my husband — just not that much.  But the bottom line is I want something more than that.  Something that’s just for me.  Unfortunately, when a woman in my position climbs above the glass ceiling, everybody thinks they have the right to look up her skirt.  I just refused to give them the opportunity.  I have a lot of people depending on me.  So I take my private affairs outta town.”

“Okay,” Lacey interrupted, “But what am I?  Where do I fit in?  Why are you doing all this for a stranger?”

“We’re not exactly strangers, Lace. We slept together.”

“Yeah, in the same bed.  But we didn’t do anything.  It’s something I’d remember.”

Lisa let go of Lacey’s hand.

“Okay, but…  This is what I want to do.  We feel right, Lace.  We have from the moment I met you.  You’re funny.  You’re happy.  You’re smart.  You’re kind.  You’re full of life.  You understand me — or at least you try to.  You’re all the things I’ve never been and everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“I’m not gay.” Lacey said, shaking her head.

The night was long and quiet and longer still.

“I’m not.”

“Does it matter?”

Lacey looked at the questions in Lisa’s eyes and didn’t have any answers.  But feeling the warm night holding her, watching the desperate little red fire shivering in front of her and seeing Lisa sitting across the table, smiling and warm, Lacey did feel alive, and, strangely, she felt happy.  For the first time in months, she felt as if she were Lacey again — and that she was everything Lisa said she was.  She reached across and clasped Lisa’s hand.

“I don’t care, if you don’t.”

The Ballad of Lisa and Lacey (Part VI)
(for Part V click here)

            The telephone rang on Wednesday afternoon.  It woke Lacey and before she was conscious enough to ignore it, she picked it up and said hello.

“Hi, Lace.  This is Lisa.” There was a giggle, “Remember me?”

Foggy with sleep and fooled by her dreams, Lacey sank her head back into the pillow, relieved.

“Oh, Lis.  Where’ve you been?  I was so worried.”

There was a second of silence.

“Wisconsin?” Lisa questioned.

Lacey didn’t understand and there was more silence.

“Are you alright, Lace?  Did I call at a bad time?”

“Yeah — uh.  No, I’m  good.  No — um — I must have fallen asleep.  I — uh — What time is it?”

“Lace.  It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

Lace?  Nobody called her Lace.  Lisa called her Lace.  Lisa?  Lisa!

“Lisa?”

“Just so. Surprised?”

Lacey was surprised.  She sat up on the sofa, closed her eyes tight, yawned and stretched her free arm out in front of her, fingers wide.

“What are you doing?  Where are you?”

“I’m at home, but I’m coming to see you — tomorrow.  I’ve got some people I need to meet and some papers I have to sign, so I’m going to fly in, in the morning.  I’ll be busy all day but we can have dinner at my hotel.  Okay?  Say, seven?”

Lacey had talked to Lisa so many times in the last few months: in the shower, on the bus, at work, slowly falling asleep.  She had said so many things to her, but now all she could manage was:

“Yeah, that’s good.  Yeah.  Seven.”

“You remember the hotel?”

“Uh huh — yeah, no problem.”

“Okay, it’ll be great.  You can tell me all your good stories and we’ll drink wine and have that chocolate — uh — chocolate, whatever we had last time.  I’m at work, Lace.  I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow.  Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, go back to sleep.  See you tomorrow.  Bye.”

“Bye, Lis.” But the phone was already dead.

Lacey didn’t remember what happened next — it was so long ago.  But the ache was real — she could remember that — and the excitement and the hurt at the very bottom of her belly and how all the anger dissolved away like sugar in the rain when she saw Lisa sitting in the restaurant.  She tried to appear casual.  She stopped and looked deliberately where Lisa wasn’t, but Lisa was already out of her chair, the purpose of her heels sounding on the wooden floor.  When Lacey turned her head back, Lisa was there and she had her hands on Lacey’s shoulders.  She pulled her in like a plush toy.

“Oh, I’ve missed you.  I’ve missed you.  I’ve missed you.” Lisa said, running all the words together.

Lacey knew the voice and the feel, but it was the smell of Lisa’s hair and her makeup that made Lacey cry.  She swallowed as Lisa stepped back and ran her hands down Lacey’s arms to hold her in place.

“You let your hair grow.  I love it.  Come,” Lisa said, turning and pulling Lacey along, “I’ve got the same table we had last time.”

The server was already there, holding the chair out for her.  Lacey stopped and carefully touched the tears out of the corner of her eye and then sat down.

“I’ve ordered Cote du Rhone something or other.  Can you remember what we drank on the river?  Are you hungry?  No? Right, we’ll look at the menus later.  Let’s try the wine and talk for a minute,” Lisa said, sitting down, pushing the menus aside and pointing at Lacey’s glass — all in one motion.  The server immediately poured wine for Lacey.

“Pick it up.  Pick it up.” Lisa reached across with her wine glass. There was a loud “cling” as the two women misjudged the distance between them and the glasses collided.  A couple of people turned their heads to the sound.

“I’m so excited to see you.” Lisa sipped her wine, “How are you?  You sounded terrible over the phone.  I thought I was going to have to come and pick up the pieces.”

“I’m fine, Lis.”

And Lacey knew she was going to Rome.