J—
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It's been nice visiting my heart. Lisa effortlessly took it three years ago. Even if she crushed it in her hand, she never let go. She idly waits for me to walk away. And she's doing it again.
But I'm not leaving today.
Not after making love in the living room.
Not after taking a bath together in Teddy's soaker tub.
And probably not after this trip to the grocery store.
"This is why I get grocery delivery." I huff, blowing my hair out of my face while Lisa deposits groceries into the basket of the motorized shopping cart. I can't believe she talked me into this. There's probably a little old lady being forced to push a big cart around the store because Lisa insisted we make a trip to the store, followed by her refusal to let me navigate the store on my crutches.
"I'm so turned on right now," she says while reading the label of the salsa verde. "You handle that scooter like a boss."
"Stop," I giggle, shaking my head.
"I'm banking at least fifty different wet dreams."
"Lisa … stop!" I speed ahead of her before someone hears her and associates her with me. I live around here, but she can be obnoxious without embarrassing future repercussions.
"Jennie Banana, are you pretending we're not together?" She hollers so anyone within a three-aisle radius can hear her.
It reminds me of when she called me out to our neighbor after I screamed, "Lisa Fucking Manoban," during an orgasm in her apartment.
"I've threatened to tie you to the bed but never followed through. Today feels like that day. Don't you agree?"
Jesus. I hate her almost as much as I love her. Almost.
I snag items from the shelves without completely stopping and toss them into the basket.
"Jennie …" She's catching up, so I speed up.
When I make a quick right, there's a grunt, a crash, and a shatter.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry." I try to stand, but Lisa grabs my shoulders, guiding me back to the scooter seat.
"There's glass, Jennie. Just stay put," she says.
Several bystanders and an employee converge on the scene of the accident. A woman, probably in her fifties, hugs her elbow and winces from the pool of pickles, pickle juice, and glass on the floor.
"You have no business being on that," she seethes, scowling at me while Lisa helps her up with her good arm. "I bet that's a fake boot. You're pathetic."
"She's not. Just reckless," Lisa murmurs. "Is your arm okay?"
"I don't know. It hurts, and YUCK! I smell like pickles. This is a brand-new shirt."
Biting my lips together, I fight something between tears and laughter. It's almost an out-of-body experience. Did I really just mow down a lady and her jar of pickles with the store's motorized shopping cart?
Lisa Manoban continues to bring out the worst in me. Once a drug. Always a drug.
The lady moves her arm back and forth a few times.
"Probably just a bruise," Lisa says, digging her wallet out of her front pocket. "Will five hundred cover the blouse?" She holds up a wad of cash.
She stares at it, then at Lisa, and smiles with a tiny nod. When her gaze shifts to me, her resting bitch face returns.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper.
Lisa puts her hand over mine on the handle and reverses the cart. "We have enough groceries for today. Let's go check out."
"No. Let's leave it and go home."
"What? No. It was an accident. All is good."
No. It's not good. And here I thought her embarrassingly suggestive comments would ruin it for me to ever return to this store. I never imagined it would be a hit-and-run.
Okay, I didn't run, but only because my crutches were in the back of my car, and I couldn't run.
On the way home, I keep my sunglasses on, and my head turned toward the window, but I feel Lisa's occasional glance in my direction. I know she's grinning.
My phone vibrates.
Teddy: I'll be home tomorrow. You doing okay?
Jennie: I'm good. How's ur mom?
Teddy: She seems to have rebounded
Teddy: My sister's here, so I'm coming home for a few days to take care of some business
Teddy: I'll be back here next week or sooner if anything changes
Jennie: Safe travels
Teddy: Thx
"Everything okay?" Lisa asks.
"It's Teddy. He's coming home tomorrow. His mom is doing a little better, so he's going to take care of some things before going back there next week."
"That's good."
"Yeah," I murmur.
We pull into the driveway, and Lisa jumps out like it's a fire drill, bringing me my crutches before I can open my door.
"My lady," she says, opening the door.
I roll my eyes. "Chivalry won't work this time."
"No? Why not?"
"Because I nearly killed someone at the grocery store, and it was all your fault." I climb out and tuck the crutches under my arms.
Lisa wraps her arms around me and kisses me hard. I lose my balance, so she hugs me tighter and kisses me harder while my crutches fall.
I turn my head for a breath of air. "You never play fairly."
"Play fairly?" She ensures I'm stable on one leg before she bends down to retrieve my crutches. "I'm not playing anything. I just wanted to kiss you because you're irresistible when you pretend to be mad at me."
"I'm not pretending."
"Baby …" she draws out the word, angering me that I find it sexy. But I do. "You kissed me back with a good amount of tongue and a soft moan. If that's your idea of being mad, I might work harder to keep you mad."
"I see you're still arrogant."
She chuckles, opening the back hatch to get the bags of groceries. "And you're still mistaking my confidence for arrogance." She closes the door and twists her lips. "It's not even confidence. More like bold hope."
I follow her to the door. "Bold hope?"
"Yes. I always hope you want me to kiss you, and I've managed to be bold enough with my efforts that it's easily mistaken for confidence or, your word, arrogance." She holds open the door while I hobble into the house. "But there's always a little doubt in my mind because I know you're not a sure thing."
Lisa takes the bags to the kitchen. "But I'm pretty damn elated when I get to be with you and when you kiss me back. Best feeling in the world."
Never ever, ever has she played fairly. Lisa knows my biggest weakness, and she plays on my weakness. She makes me question my feelings, my decisions, and my entire life.
"I'm going to look for a flight back to Kansas City. Hopefully, something early in the morning. And tonight, I can clean the house so it's in tip-top shape when Teddy gets home tomorrow. After I put away the groceries, I'll mow the lawn if there's gas for his mower. He shouldn't have to mess with any of that if he's only coming home for a short time."
"It's an electric mower. And you don't have to mow the lawn."
"I know, but I want to," Lisa says, glancing over her shoulder while she unpacks the groceries.
She's a good person, and that truth messes with my thoughts as common sense and raw emotion clash in a battle of wills.
Lisa does everything she promised while I sit helplessly in my chair and try to focus on my next work project, but it's hard because she's leaving. And I don't know what comes next, what everything means, or if it means anything. We're "moments." But when will we have more moments? In three weeks? Three months? Three more years? I feel utterly inept with words.
Fucking up words is supposed to be Lisa's thing. Not mine.
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"Your dad's here," I say when I see him on the front door camera the following morning.
Lisa's been hellbent on making sure the kitchen is spotless from breakfast. "Tell Teddy I'm thinking of him, and I hope his mom continues to get better," she says, lifting her bag onto her shoulder.
"I will." I stand by the front door with my heart in my throat.
"I'll call you," she says, framing my face.
Finding my bravest smile, I hold my breath. It feels like the slightest misstep could send my emotions into a tailspin.
"My dad was serious about you coming to Kansas for a visit and dinner."
I nod several times.
"You're going to be out of that boot and running laps in no time."
"Hope so," I manage to say with some control.
"When will you know about Spain?"
Spain. Why did I tell her about that?
"I have no idea. Could be in a few weeks or a few months. Since my accident, my boss has been pretty vague about it. I fear she's working up the nerve to tell me I didn't get the promotion. She just doesn't want to tell me until I'm literally back on my feet."
She kisses me, and I feel the emotions all the way to my toes. I've done it again. I've let her consume me. "Or …" She brushes her nose against mine. "Your boss is waiting until you're fully recovered so she can give Spain a start date. Stay positive. Okay?"
Positive?
I'm in love with her, and she's calling the possibility of an ocean separating us "positive?" I can barely handle the 554.6 (yes, I googled it) miles between us. An ocean? I can't imagine.
"Positive. Got it."
Again, she kisses me. This time tears burn my eyes, threatening to expose all of my emotions. I moan into the kiss, encouraging her to keep kissing me, buying myself a little time to shore up the dam.
"Bye, baby," she whispers while running her thumb along my lip.
"Bye."
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