As the lunch shift at our restaurant winded down the following day and I started cleaning up to leave, Lisa approached me on the back line, her aqua blue-lined eyes expanding, "Hey, I'm going to get something to eat after this. You should come."
"Okay," I replied, lowering my head, momentarily stunned. I've got to admit: Lisa was hot – and intimidating. She seemed way too out of my league with her magnificently enticing figure and her supermodel height, but I finished cleaning, turned in my money, and drove her over to another restaurant anyway.
It seemed odd how amiable and pleasant things were all the sudden. We laughed and smiled and began opening up our lives to each other. In natural pauses in our talks, she'd bend over slightly and peer into me with that giant gaze. I felt she was looking into my soul.
Lisa followed me back to my apartment nearby, and even though it was about 4 in the afternoon, we were already drunk. We sat near each other on my hand-me-down leather couch, popped in a movie, and uncorked some pinot grigio. Our kisses were sweet when we moved into each other; her taste, tantalizing and fermented.
That day didn't end how you would likely imagine. We made out for a bit and after about fifteen minutes the sudden reality shocked us both. Just 24 hours ago, she was my enemy and I was hers. We held hands and watched each other.
But Lisa was a wild spirit, her personal chaos beyond anything I had ever encountered I would later learn. "Let's go back to the bar," she insisted.
The night ended with us being escorted out because of her reckless conduct. The bouncer, who was actually another Marine in my reserve unit and an acquaintance of hers, warned me, “Yo, I really wouldn’t go after her, man. That chick is crazy.” I didn’t care to listen.
After returning to my place, Lisa passed out on my beat-up couch, locked in my arms. Our breathing warmed each other on that cool spring night.
We spent our entire next four days with one another at her apartment; nothing sexual happened. We became counselors for each other as we shared the tales of our horrible ex's. Lisa was dumped by her man who came home with inner turmoil from his time at war. I had dumped my girl for the same reason -- but when I wanted her back, too much time and too many transgressions had passed.
On her couch, we stayed awake and talked to the point of exhaustion. When the dull light of a newly awakened sun would creep below the patio blinds, I would jostle her awake and walk her to her bed. I’d kiss her on the cheek and say goodbye, shutting her door.
“Goodnight, pumpkin,” she would reply, heavy eyes closed and face already pressing against her pillow. She’d smile in these moments like I wasn’t watching her.
For the first time in months, I was smiling uncontrollably, too.
And then, inexplicably, Lisa had others cover her shifts for the next several days, and she wouldn’t return my calls.
To be continued.
Connect with Dario online:
Personal Website (Free Writing, Podcast, Dario in the Media, Biography, Books, Blogs)
20 Something Magazine (Editor-in-Chief, Creator)
JMWW Literary Journal (Senior Nonfiction Editor)
The Veterans Writing Project (Instructor, Nonfiction Editor)
LinkedIn (Professional Stuff)
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