She Wants to be an Actress

SHE WANTS TO BE AN ACTRESS

by

Pat Turman

©2024, all rights reserved

WHEN FROM THE DARKNESS OF ERROR

When from thine error, dark, degrading, With words of fiery persuading, I drew thy fallen spirit out; And thou, thy hands in anguish wringing, Didst curse, filled with a torment stinging, The sin that compassed thee; When thou with memory's shame, Didst unfold to me your story Of that which was before I came…

--Nikolay Nekrasov

PART ONE

Chapter One

Mike always felt awkward around good looking people. Of course, he resented them. Most unattractive people do. Looks had always been an important indicator of status in society. But now, looks were THE most important status symbol, Mike thought. They were the key that opened the door to all the other status symbols.

“Have you ever done this kind of work before?” Mike skimmed down her application.

“No. Not really.”

“Well, I’ll be honest. You don’t have a lot of experience but that’s okay. We can train you. When can you start?”

“As soon as possible.”

“How ‘bout tomorrow night? Come in at five?”

“Sure. That sounds great.”

“Great! Welcome to McDonald’s, Lisa. I’m Mike.”

Mike extended his hand, which Lisa shook.

“I’ll let you meet Sylvia. She’s one of the managers here. She’ll get you your uniforms,” Mike informed her.

“Okay, and thank you.”

“Wait right here.” Mike, smiling pleasantly, stood up and left. He walked back to the counter where Sylvia, having paid attention to the whole interview, looked at Mike with a mischievous smile.

“What?” Mike said defensively, “We needed help. She’s gonna help.”

“That’s gonna be trouble. You wait.” Mike watched as Sylvia went up to Lisa and introduced herself. Lisa got up and followed Sylvia outside, heading for the shed in the parking lot that stored all the uniforms. Sylvia, along with Mike, was also in the lower class of unattractive people. That wouldn’t be the case if she would lose some weight, Mike thought. Hell, that was true for him too. Mike remembered how a couple of years ago after his surgery he’d lost about 15 pounds. And he hadn’t shaved while in the

hospital. Being skinny and more masculine, he saw something he’d never seen in his whole life up to that point: girls were looking at him approvingly. So that’s how it worked. Mike had always wondered about the polite, civilized way the sexes treated each other in normal society. So how did they go from that to being consenting adults who actually have sex (which had to be a fact: everybody he knew or saw was a product of it, and people continued having babies all the time)? How did one get from one side of that enormous chasm to the other? It seemed an impossibility to him. That is, until after he had his appendix out and girls started finding him somewhat attractive.

The world of sex is by invitation only. In Hollywood, washed up actors are never told to their face that their services are no longer required. Their phone just stops ringing. And in civilized society, unattractives are never told they’re not invited they are just simply ignored. And for the first time he was not being ignored by the opposite sex. And it made him

very uncomfortable. Maybe it was a personality trait. Maybe he lacked the adventure gene. Maybe it would be one of those things he would regret on his deathbed. But whatever it was, he shaved his beard and quickly put back on the weight he’d lost. And even gained an extra 20 pounds besides just for a little insurance. He went back to the safe world of being just another invisible face in the crowd that the vast majority of humanity is completely indifferent and oblivious to.

Virgil wandered into the front wearing his drive-thru headset. He pushed the button on his belt which allowed the cars outside to hear him through the drive-thru speaker.

“$7.89 at the second window.” He released the button.

“That girl was hot! She’s gonna work here?” Virgil walked up to Mike and asked excitedly.

“Yep. Closing five nights a week.”

“Cowabunga! She’s just my type.”

Mike eyed Virgil suspiciously.

“Have you ever even had a girlfriend?”

“Geez, dude! What do you think?”

Mike thought not. He’d never seen Virgil with a girl. Virgil was about 5 foot five, skinny as a rail, and a redhead. And though he was 19, he looked like he was about 11. He was working at McDonald’s supposedly for money to pay for community college. Mike had once asked Virgil what he was studying. The first time, Virgil said he was studying computer animation. The second time he asked, Virgil was going into law enforcement to be a forensic detective. Mike knew that Virgil’s favorite show was the Simpsons. His second favorite was reruns of CSI.

Mike watched as Sylvia came back inside alone.

“Is she all set?” Mike asked her. “Yep, starts tomorrow night at 5. I’m running late.”

Sylvia grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “Don’t forget to call Martin and tell him he’s got a new trainee tomorrow night.”

“I won’t. See you tomorrow.”

Sylvia left as Mike continued to glance down at Lisa’s application. Virgil went and grabbed a beverage cup, size small. He put it under the chocolate milkshake dispenser and filled the cup about half way full. He took a big gulp and then threw the cup in the trash.

“Bring up a couple a boxes of fries from downstairs. Then give Ernesto his half hour break,” Mike ordered, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Can’t I take my half first?”

“After Ernesto. He got here first.”

“Hey, Ernesto!” Virgil yelled.

“Don’t forget the fries first,” Mike reminded him.

“Get ready to take your half!” Virgil yelled again as he sulked off, affecting an air of exaggerated disappointment for Mike’s benefit.

CHAPTER TWO

When Virgil got to the bottom of the stairs where the main freezer was, he glanced behind his shoulder and looked in the workers lounge. He saw that Soapboy was in there alone. Virgil didn’t stop but kept going towards the freezer. He opened the door and visibly shivered as a rush of cold air hit him in the face. Virgil didn’t like Soapboy. That was the name he & Bud calledAlan because he carried a small container of soap in his back pocket. The truth was, Virgil didn’t knowAlan. But Bud didn’t like him and called him Soapboy to his face. And that was good enough for Virgil.

Bud was Virgil’s best friend (his only friend, really). It wasn’t entirely reciprocated but what did that matter? Bud was everything Virgil was not: good looking, strong, confident, funny, good with women. If Virgil had been more perceptive, he would’ve seen that what he admired about Bud was mostly a façade that most people saw through. And besides, it never

would’ve occurred to Virgil not to conform with mainstream thinking and opinion on any subject at hand.

Not that Virgil was stupid. He wasn’t. He was smart enough to know that his parents wanted him out of the house. He had graduated from high school over a year ago and was taking some courses at the local community college to appease his parents. He had asked Bud many times if he could move in with him but so far Bud wasn’t going for it. Theirs was a symbiotic and at times even a parasitic relationship. Bud had recently been made an assistant manager at McDonald’s. But it had absolutely no bearing on the two buddies’relationship. Even before that, whether at work or when they hung out, Bud bossed Virgil around. So nothing really changed when Bud began to get paid for doing to Virgil what he’d always done. Bud was Virgil’s only friend and therefore needed Bud, not the other way around. That was the parasitic part.

It wasn’t that Virgil was shy. Far from it. He just wasn’t liked by people. Maybe someday he would learn to temper his natural bravado and easy gregariousness into something a little more self-deprecating that the rest of the world would find attractive. Or maybe not. But If he ever did, he would find a whole new world opening up to him. But in the meantime, he was compensating for a low self-esteem by always having to one-up everybody. If you saw a really exciting football game over the weekend, then he saw a better one. If you had a girlfriend who was hot, then he had his eye on a girl who was even hotter (even though he was a virgin and had had only one girlfriend his entire life: a girl he briefly went steady with in the 8th grade who for the life of him couldn’t figure out why she liked him). But Bud put up with it. Or rather he didn’t. Because Virgil was always more than willing to accede to Bud’s superiority in everything. And why wouldn’t he? In Virgil’s eyes, Bud was the ideal. If Virgil couldn’t be popular, good looking, strong,

good with women at least his best friend was all that and more. And why wouldn’t Bud want to be around somebody who practically worshipped the ground he walked on? He never had to rein in his tales of conquest for fear of implausibility when it came to Virgil. Virgil always bought them hook, line, and sinker. And so that was the unspoken contract between the two: Bud let Virgil be his friend in exchange for Virgil swallowing Bud’s bullshit. Most people heard Bud’s fish tales for what they were. But Virgil believed every word of them. And in the end, we all just want a witness.

Stomping up the stairs, Virgil quickly made his way to the fry dispenser and loudly dropped them on the floor.

“Hey Ernesto!” Virgil yelled, “Take your half!”

“Lemme finish these Macs!” Ernesto yelled back.

“Go ahead! I’ll finish them!”

“You need to finish putting up those fries,” Mike informed him as he dropped two baskets

of raw fries into the hot vat of grease. He hit the timer at the top of the dispenser.

“And be careful carrying those up. One of these days you’re gonna fall flat on your face,” warned Mike. Virgil was busy opening the boxes and rotating the raw bags of fries into the freezer next to the fry dispenser. It’s amazing how they’re willing to work so hard and so fast when they know their break is coming, Mike thought.

“I ain’t gonna fall,” Virgil told him as he frantically tossed the fry bags into the freezer. “Most times I carry three boxes.” Mike knew this wasn’t true. Each box weighed over 40 pounds. As short as Virgil was, two boxes planted Virgil’s face right in the middle of the second box. Which meant Virgil was completely blind to anything that would be in front of him when he carried them.

“Yeah, sure you do,” Mike said, “I remember the last time you tried to carry three boxes.” Copying Bud (Bud regularly carried three boxes up from the freezer), Virgil got half

way up the stairs before losing his balance. He turned and dropped all three boxes down the stairs when he felt himself starting to lose control of the weight.

“Okay, Ernesto! Take your half!”

“Cut up those boxes first. And take’em out to the cardboard bin.”

Virgil didn’t argue with Mike’s ordering him around. But he did take on an exaggerated air as if to say to Mike “I have to do everything around here!” which Mike ignored completely.

“Six Macs!” Ernesto announced as he slid the tray onto the metallic counter that separated the kitchen from the front of the store. Virgil, still visibly upset, picked up the boxes. Alan, coming back from his half from the lounge downstairs, had to step aside in order to give Virgil enough room to carry the empty boxes to the back. He was desperately trying to pull them apart and fold them down as he walked.

“Watch out, Soapboy,” he warnedAlan as he went by him and out the back door into the night. Alan didn’t say anything as he walked up

into the kitchen. Mike gave him a look asAlan punched back in and grabbed the small container of soap out of his back pocket.

“Ernesto, go ahead and take your half.

Alan’s back,” Mike ordered.

Ernesto went over and punched out the time clock. He stood next toAlan a second and watched him wash his hands. Alan put the soap back in his back pocket.

“Excuse me.”

Ernesto stepped aside soAlan could grab the paper towels from the towel dispenser to dry his hands.

“Hey Bud, you think you could give me a ride home tonight?”

“Yeah, no problem, Ernesto,”Alan said cordially as he dried his hands.

“Thanks, Bud.”

Ernesto walked into the front as he pulled out his Marlboro Lights and let one drop into his hand. Mike was now in front packaging the six macs Ernesto had made. He watched Ernesto put the cigarette in his mouth but not light it.

“Ernesto, what did I say? Wait til you get outside before you take out your cigarette.”

“Sorry, Bud.”

Ernesto didn’t slow down but he did take it out of his mouth and hid it in his hand as he made his way to the exit in the lobby. He opened the door and slipped into the night just as an older couple was coming in, the grayhaired man holding the door for the gray-haired woman. Ernesto stood by the door as he lit his cigarette. He lived for his cigarette breaks. He filled his lungs with smoke and slowly, blissfully exhaled. Finally content, he laughed at himself as he walked over to the dark side of the building and leaned up against it.

Or rather he laughed with himself. And at everybody else. How clever of him to call everybody he worked with “Bud” except the guy named Bud. Bud, he always called “Chief.” He exhaled and laughed some more. He looked up at the sky. It was a warm night. Even though it was practically pitch black, no stars were visible. No clouds were visible either but

he knew they were up there. And the fact of no moonlight contributed much to the unusual degree of darkness. He wondered where his sister was. She had run away when she was 15 and nobody knew where she was. Ernesto wished his older brother would run away. He was a drug dealer just like his father had been. When Ernesto was nine, he had seen his father crying like a baby when the cops came to haul him off to jail. It was the worse night of Ernesto’s life and the memory of which fueled him to stay away from drugs and alcohol. His only vice was the three packs of cigarettes he smoked every day.

He pulled out another one and lit it with the old one. He tossed the old one down and stubbed it out with his toe. He looked at his watch. 24 minutes left of his half hour break. He would go back in in a few minutes and wolf down his dinner (usually consisting of a big mac and fries). That would give him time for one more cigarette before his break was up. He laughed to himself again. This time at Soapboy.

He didn’t call him that to his face. Nor did he call himAlan. He called him Bud (which is what he called everybody except Bud). Soapboy. What a dumbass. But he was dependable, Ernesto had to admit that. Whenever Ernesto was low on gas, he would take a bus to work instead of driving. He didn’t like taking the bus at 1:30 in the morning but he knew he wouldn’t have to. He always asked Soapboy for a ride home (Soapboy never called in sick). And Soapboy always said yes, even though it was 30 minutes out of his way.

“Why do you take advantage of him like that?” Mike asked Ernesto one night.

“What? If he didn’t wanna do it, he’d say no. I’m not forcing him.”

“Yeah but you kinda are. He would help anybody.”

“Yeah, so let’im help me. He likes helping people. And I’m letting him do it. He should thank me.”

Ernesto admired his own cleverness for coming up with a rationale that he didn’t really

believe. He crushed his cigarette under his shoe and made his way back into the restaurant. Was it his fault Soapboy was a sap?

CHAPTER THREE

“Lizzy, you think you could look at the computer tonight? I can’t get on to Google.” Lisa pushed the two pieces of bread down into the toaster.

“I don’t know anything about computers, Dad.”

She wanted to say: “Well, if you stopped watching porn, you’d stop getting viruses on your computer.” But she couldn’t really blame him. Since her mother had died, her dad had been single. And he would stay single. Because the truth was, he was hideous. Because he only had one leg and was wheelchair bound 24/7.

“It won’t hurt you to look at it.”

“Fine. You wanna eat in here or the living room?”

“Living room. Hannity’s coming on.”

She picked up a frying pan full of scrambled eggs and scooped half in one plate, half in the other. She set the empty frying pan down.

“I told you, watch yer Fox News when I’m not around. It’s bad for you, Dad.”

“It’s NOT bad for me! What’s bad for me is a socialist president who thinks the government should support every liberal too lazy to get a job.”

“I don’t wanna argue. Go ahead and watch it. I’ll go in my bedroom.”

The toast popped up and Lisa put one piece on each plate. She grabbed the knife and scooped out a slab of butter, spreading it on one of the pieces of toast.

“Okay. We’ll just sit here at the table and we can talk then instead. Liz, so you never told me why you quit your job at the hospital. They’ve got hospitals here in Denver too, you know.”

“Fine. We’ll watch your show.”

Elia Kazan said it best: The greatest film actors talk soft and think loud. And nobody did that better than Montgomery Clift. Watch him at the end of A PLACE IN THE SUN. You can tell just

from the look in his eyes the exact moment he realizes his own guilt.

After watching Hannity’s hour long episode devoted to how race relations have worsened under Obama, Lisa picked up the empty plates off her and her dad’s TV trays.

“Lemme do the dishes then I’ll change your dressing.”

“Can you go ahead and fix my nightcap for me, Liz?”

“Dad, it’s too early. You’re drinking too much.”

“I’m sorry. It helps me keep my mind off...your mother.” Lisa sighed with deep consternation.

“Okay, fine.”

She took the plates into the living room. “Uh, no,” she thought, “It doesn’t keep your mind off Mom. It makes you think more about her.” Worse were the nights he talked her into making him more than two rum & cokes. On those nights, without fail, he would be crying and

howling about how he had let her down as she helped him to bed. She thought that there move from Dallas about a month ago would help him break some of his bad habits but it hadn’t been the case. She set the dishes in the sink and pulled down the door to the dishwasher. She took a tall glass out. “Funny,” she thought, “He thinks about Mom more now than he ever did when she was alive.” Her Dad was hideous now but 20 years ago he had been very good looking. So good looking that he was able to bed just about any woman he set his mind to. Even though he was married and was raising a daughter. That would be one of the regrets he would be lamenting before the night was over.

Watch Clift in INDISCRETIONS OF AN AMERICAN WIFE.

There’s a scene where disappoint registers on his face. And it’s the exact moment he sees Jennifer Jones on the train and realizes she’s leaving him for good.

“I let you down. I let everybody down.”

“Dad, you didn’t let anybody down.”

She grabbed the rum and coke out of his hand and set it down so she could pull his shirt off up over his head.

“One more, Lizzy. Please.”

“Dad, you already had your one more. Now it’s time for bed. You promised.”

“Waste. All waste.”

He picked up his mixed drink that was about a third full and took a guilty gulp, the ice cubes rushing towards his mouth. They fell back to the bottom of the glass as he set the drink back down. Lisa helped him on with his pajama top.

“Worst is, I let her down. Why couldn’t it’ve been me, Lizzy? Why?”

Joe burst out crying.

“Dad, stop beating yourself up over it. It wasn’t your fault!”

Joe was buttoning his pajama top up crooked, the wrong button into the wrong hole.

“Here, let me do it.”

Lisa undid the two buttons Joe had already done and started over. This gave him the opportunity to pick up his mixed drink. Tilting it back, he drained the remaining liquid into his mouth.

“Just forget me, Lizzy. Please, stick me in a nursing home somewhere and go live your life. You can come see me once a month, or even less.”

The tears started fresh again. Lisa hardly noticed, focusing on the last button.

“Stop talking nonsense. There. You okay sleeping in your shorts?”

Joe was wearing black jogging shorts over his underwear that he hadn’t changed since he last took a shower three days ago. She didn’t wait for his answer. She slid down one of the arms of his wheelchair and maneuvered it around to the side of his unmade bed. This was a routine they both knew like the back of their hand after Joe’s leg had been amputated over a year ago because of his diabetes. He’d also loss toes on his remaining foot. And since he didn’t

watch what he ate or drank or even monitor his diabetes, odds are he’d lose the other leg as well.

This is what they were both thinking as she helped get his leg under the covers. She pulled the covers up to his head.

“Think about what I said, Lizzy.”

“Dad, I’m sick of hearing it.”

This time she made no effort to disguise her irritation.

“What would Mom think if she saw you like this?”

She instantly regretted saying it. Joe tried to repress it, but he burst out crying again.

“I’m sorry I let everybody down.”

She walked to the bedroom door.

Everybody talks about Brando. And he was a great actor who changed acting. But Clift was the first method actor in movies, not Brando.

“Goodnight, Dad.” “Goodnight, my angel.”

She turned off the light and closed the door behind

her.

CHAPTER FOUR

If the male workers at MacDonald’s had been more observant, they wouldn’t have taken Lisa’s friendliness for anything more than what it was: common human decency and consideration. But the male animal can be especially adept at somehow perceiving female courtesy as a reflection on himself, thereby imagining advances when none are intended. Lisa was used to it. Boys, and then men, had been paying too much attention to her since she was 11.

“This button right here. Hit the item you want removed, then the delete button, then the item again. See?” Mike pointed up to the televised screen that kept track of all the orders. The medium coke that had been there a second ago was now gone.

An impatient voice came into the ear of the headset that was draped over Lisa’s head.

“I don’t want a medium coke, just a small. Hello? Did you get that?” Lisa pushed the

button attached to her belt that was the part of the “headset” allowing her to speak into the small microphone in front of her face.

“Yes mam. Anumber one with a small coke. Anything else?”

“That’s all.”

She looked up at the total on the screen. “$4.29. Please drive around to the second window please.”

Lisa cringed. Mike let a gentle, amused smile creep onto his face.

“Just say $4.29 at the second window,” Mike instructed her.

She pulled a small cup from the dispenser, filled it with ice, then stuck it under the dispenser arm labeled “Coke.” Next she pulled a paper bag from under the cash register, opened it, and took it over to where the prepared sandwiches were kept.

“Excuse me. Sir? There’s no big macs up here.” Timothy looked up at her.

“You need a Mac?”

“SIX MACS, TIM!!” Mike bellowed as he walked up behind Lisa, “and we’re down one of them.”

“SIX MACS, DOWN ONE!” Timothy yelled back at him. Mike looked down at Lisa. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it. Go get your fries ready.” Lisa gave him a look as if to say she wasn’t so sure. Still holding the bag, she started toward the fry station.

“Leave the bag,” Mike patiently instructed. She turned and looked at him.

“Always put the sandwich in first, fries on top.” She set the bag on the counter and went over to the fry station.

Suddenly she heard a loud THUD behind her. Startled, she turned around to see Virgil draped over three boxes of fries, having brought them up from the freezer downstairs. He locked eyes with her as he frantically gasped for air, trying to catch his breath. Sweat was quickly beading up on his forehead and starting to roll off his face onto the box of fries.

She was startled again when, still looking at her, he yelled “See Mike? Three boxes!!”

“That’s great, Virg!” Mike yelled from the counter area in front of the kitchen, “When you’re done congratulating yourself, put’em up. And don’t forget who predicted your heart attack after you killed yourself just to impress…”

Mike cut himself off. Lisa and Mike looked at each other from across the floor, both wondering if Mike had hurt Virgil’s feelings. Lisa looked at Virgil but either Virgil didn’t hear what Mike had said or he was too exhausted to care. He still lay draped over the boxes still trying to catch his breath.

“You okay?” Lisa ventured to ask. Unable to speak, Virgil nodded yes and forced himself to get up and walk to the back, where he could either catch his breath or die but not in front of Lisa.

Lisa watched him slowly walk to the back room. She looked at Mike who was shaking his

head. “Don’t worry, he’ll be all right. How those fries coming?”

Lisa turned her attention back to the fries. Less than 30 seconds on the timer before the new batch was ready to be pulled out of the liquid grease. As she watched the timer count down, she wondered: Why were guys always trying to impress her? And why would they think carrying a large amount of weight would be impressive anyway? Only thing she could figure was it must be some sort of primal instinct left over from centuries ago. The same instinct that made her dad make a career out of cheating on her mom.

Mike turned around to look as a crowd of customers entered the store.

“Bud! Get out here!”, Mike yelled. The sound in Lisa’s ear told her a customer had just driven up to the drive-thru. She pushed the button on her belt that activated the microphone. “Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I help you?”

As she made her way back to her drive-thru station, she almost bumped into a worker

coming out of the manager’s office. She paused to look up at him, momentarily arrested by his good looks and well-fit physique. As he leered down at her, not bothering to hide the animal lust in his eyes, she instantly took a dislike to him. He sensed it and he instantly knew this would be a conquest that she would never allow, and so he took an instant dislike to her as well.

“Bud! You’ve got customers!” Mike yelled again. Bud tore away his mutual gaze with Lisa and walked to the front counter, the number of customers increasing.

Bud spent most of his time thinking about sex. When he wasn’t thinking about sex, he was thinking about Soapboy and how much he hated him. He wasn’t obsessed with Soapboy, because he was obsessed with sex. But Soapboy ran a close second. And it’s easy to see why he was obsessed with sex. He was a good looking guy. He’d had a lot of it. At 6’2”, with bleach blonde hair and rippling muscles (he tried to spend two hours in the gym every day), he was the walking

definition of a stud. And he had had more casual one night stands than George Clooney. He couldn’t understand why anybody wouldn’t want to spend two hours a day in the gym. Why wouldn’t anybody do whatever it took to make themselves as appealing to the opposite sex as possible. What could be more important? And that’s why he hated Soapboy. Because he instinctively knew that Soapboy didn’t think the same way. And he didn’t understand it.

And now here was this new girl. He knew her type. Yeah, she was hot but she knew it. And because of it she thought she was better than everybody else. He hated women like that. She was just a tease. Aball buster. But she’d come around in the end. That he was sure of. All he had to do was be himself. It worked with other women, it would work with this one. Let her see his confidence. It’s what made him a bad boy. And women love a bad boy.

“Hey, Bud,” Mike called out, interrupting his reverie, “This is Lisa. Lisa, this is Bud. Big Bad Bud we call him.” Bud gave her a winning smile and extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Lisa.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Joe laid there in the dark staring up at the ceiling fan. Every night it was the same after Lizzy put him to bed. Usually, thanks to the rum, he fell asleep right away. But tonight was different. He’d only had one rum & coke instead of his usual two (or three when he could talk Lizzy into it). There was only enough rum for one drink, Lizzy told him, saying that she’d forgotten to go to the liquor store but that she’d go there tomorrow. Joe wondered if she intentionally forgot.

So instead of sleeping he thought about his plan. He had one last ace up his sleeve and the thought of it was the only thing that gave him peace of mind and a sense of control. It was his oasis in the middle of the desert.

One of these days, when Lizzy was at work (he’d have to make sure she was out of the house at least a couple of hours), his plan was to drag one of the kitchen chairs to his bedroom closet. There was just enough room for him to

squeeze his wheelchair into the closest as he inched the chair forward. Then would come the tricky part.

Once he had the kitchen chair at the back of the closet, he would have to transfer himself from his wheelchair to the other chair. Then somehow he would have to stand up on the chair. He wasn’t sure how he would do it. Maybe put his foot on the chair and kind’ve swing himself up, once up, grab the shelf above where the clothes were hanging. Or maybe sit in the chair and somehow bend his knee so that his foot was on the chair and then find something to pull himself up with. He didn’t know how he would do it (he wouldn’t know until he actually did it), he just knew that he WOULD do it.

He was determined. Because on top of that shelf was a metal box that had his Last Will and Testament. Only he had the key to it (or maybe Lizzy had a spare, he couldn’t remember). And in the bottom of that metal box was a fully loaded 9mm handgun that he had carefully

smuggled into it when they had moved in last year.

When he handed her the box to be put up, he was expecting her to notice how heavy it was and to discover the gun. But to his surprise, she never did and just put it up into the closet without saying a word.

He imagined pulling the gun out and shooting himself while still standing on the chair in the closet. Of course, he would fall but what did it matter? One bullet to the head and he would be dead before he hit the ground. The thought of not existing anymore seemed like a blessed gift to be given.

He hadn’t always hated life. When Janey (Lizzy’s mother) was alive, he’d enjoyed life. He’d enjoyed all kinds of life: brown-haired, tall ones, pretty ones. The night she was murdered, he was enjoying a red head at a Best Western that he knew from work. He was in the advertising game and she was a secretary down the hall. Ayear of flirting, idle chit chat, and

bad not-so-subtle innuendos finally paid off that night at the Best Western.

It was the most horrible night of his life. Lizzy was off at college. Or maybe she was staying at a friend’s house, he couldn’t remember. The stupid phone in the hotel wouldn’t stop ringing. They never got that right in movies. Why is that?

In movies, whenever a phone or the doorbell rings, the couple immediately stop having sex and one of them gets up to answer it. The truth is, nobody stops having sex to answer a phone or a door. But when they keep calling and calling and calling. He had to answer it. It was the police. He wondered how they found him. Only person besides the red head who knew where he was was his best friend and colleague Jeff.

They wouldn’t tell him over the phone that she’d been murdered. When he got home, it was like things went into slow motion. The ambulance. She was already in the ambulance, ready to be taken away. The police made him

look at her, her face bloodied and bruised. If he had come home ten seconds later, he would’ve had to gone to the morgue to identify her.

Ten seconds. What had her last ten seconds been like? The police later said she’d most likely caught the intruder in the act of burglarizing their home. Before he killed her, he’d raped her. Cause of death: blunt force trauma to the head. He watched the ceiling fan turn round and round in the dark as new waves of despair washed over him.

I’m sorry, Janey. I wish I’d been there. I truly do. I’d probably be dead with you but that’d be okay. He was especially despairing because he knew he could never do it. He couldn’t do it to Lizzy. If he killed himself, she’d never forgive him. God, why did she drag me here all the way from Dallas? He knew he was a burden to her. Why can’t she just put me in a nursing home somewhere?

The guilt she caused was made worse because the older Lizzy got, the more she looked like her mother. And the silent questions

that she’s never asked but he imagined were running through her head since that night: “Why were you cheating on my mother? Why weren’t you there?” Sometimes he hated her for her silent accusations.

CHAPTER SIX

“Dude, you don’t have to clean that,” Bud said, smirking. He and Ernesto exchanged looks asAlan pulled out one of the grills from its position. It had wheels on it, but still, weighing about a ton,Alan had to struggle to get it pulled out. Bud and Ernesto just watched, not offering to help. Bud looked at his watch. “It’s 15 minutes ‘til closing time. I wanna get outta here in 45 minutes. You’re fucking up my plans, Soapboy.”

Alan took a wet, soapy towel out of a bucket and rung it out. “I don’t mind doing it myself. You don’t have to help,”Alan said as he began cleaning the back of the grill with the wet, soapy towel.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” “Then there’s no problem.” Alan dunked the towel back in the bucket of soapy water. He swirled it around and pulled it back out.

“Uh, no, there is a problem. Instead of doing that, you should be starting to close down.

Like I said, I wanna be outta here an hour from now. You’re making me late.” Alan applied some elbow grease to a stubborn stain.

“You don’t have to stay pass that. I’ll help you close,” he grunted as he concentrated on removing the stain.

“You’ll help me close.”

“Sure. What do you want me to do?”

“Towels.”

“Okay. No problem.”

Bud looked at Ernesto and shook his head. He stormed off, not understanding this weirdo. And not understanding why he was so pissed off at him. And being pissed off and not understanding why only made him more pissed off.

Bud headed for the office (he liked hanging out in there) trying to think what else besides towels he could haveAlan do for him. He stopped when he saw Mike standing at the office door, having overheard his andAlan’s conversation.

“He’s not doing your towels for you,” Mike informed Bud.

“But he said he would.”

“Do your job.”

“You don’t understand, he “

“Do your job.”

“Listen! I’ve got plans tonight, okay? He agreed to do my towels so I could leave early. Ask him if you don’t believe me.”

“I am listening and the answer’s no. Do your job, understand? He’s not doing your towels for you. I’m taking my half. Go up front, please, and assist Lisa in drive-thru.”

Mike walked out a couple of steps onto the floor.

“Ernesto! Take your half!” Mike yelled, “And tell Virgil to get back up here! His half’s over!” Mike disappeared back inside the office as Bud headed for the drive-thru.

“Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I help you?” Lisa asked, waiting in front of the drive-thru register for the customer to speak. Bud walked

up next to her, adjusting the belt after putting on his drive-thru head-set.

After working at McDonald’s only a couple of weeks, she’d already made some general observations about customers, none of them good. As she waited for the customer to place the order, it occurred to her that they are in the biggest rush in the world to get their food, pay for it, and leave. Unless you were standing there waiting on them. When you were waiting on them to take out their money, or decide what to order, then they had all the time in the world. Bud pushed the button to speak into his mic.

“Go ahead and order when you’re ready.”

“You guys have tacos?”

“No. I’m sorry, sir. Only what’s on the menu that you see in front of you,” Bud informed him.

“Go to Taco Bell where you belong, stupid Mexican,” Bud retorted. Needless to say, this was said after he released the button on his mic so the customer couldn’t hear him. Lisa looked at him but didn’t say anything.

“Okay. I’ll just have a quarter pounder with cheese.”

Bud pushed the button on his mic:

“Did you want fries and a drink with that, Sir?”

“Yeah.”

“What to drink?”

“Sprite.”

“$3.14 at the second window.”

Lisa grabbed a bag from the shelf under the register and took it to the sandwich bin. Bud followed her.

“Can I get three quarter pounders, please?” she yelled, making sure they could hear her in the kitchen on the other side of the sandwich bin. “I’m waiting on one.” Alan confirmed her order.

“Three quarter pounders, waiting on one.”

Lisa put the empty bag on top of the sandwich bin until the sandwich was done. Bud walked back to the kitchen and watched a second asAlan prepared the three quarter

pounders. The cold grill was still pulled out from the wall whereAlan was cleaning. He pulled the burger clamp up that allowed a piece of meat to be cooked in only a minute. Under it was a well-done quarter pounder. Alan took his spatula and scooped the piece of meat off the grill and onto the bun with the condiments already prepared. He put the sandwich in its container & set it on the sandwich bin that separated and also connected the kitchen from the front of the store.

“Quarter pounder up!”Alan yelled. “Hold on,” Bud instructed him. Bud took the quarter pounder from the bin, opened the lid, and hocking up the biggest loogy he could muster, spit on top of the well-done piece of meat. He closed the lid and put it back on the bin.

“I hate Mexicans,” he explained toAlan. Without hesitating for a second,Alan picked up the sandwich and tossed it into a trash container under the condiment table. Without even looking at Bud, who was staring at him

incredulously, he put another piece of meat under the burger clamp. He flipped the two pieces of meat on the grill. He noticed Lisa in front of him on the other side of the sandwich bin. “Sorry, it’s gonna be another minute for the quarter pounder.”

“Better park’em,” Bud barked at Lisa. Lisa walked up to the drive-thru window and yelled to the customer outside in his car: “I’m sorry, sir. It’s gonna be a minute for the quarter pounder. Do you mind pulling up to that space ahead? We’ll bring it out as soon as it’s ready.” As the car drove forward, she pushed the button on her headset. “Hi. Can I take your order?”

Alan got out a new bun and started dressing it with condiments as Bud stood there staring at him. “You trying to make me look bad in front of the girl, right?” Bud asked in a low voice. Alan didn’t say anything. He put mustard and ketchup on the bun. “Hurry up with those quarters, Soapboy.” Bud walked away asAlan pulled the cooked piece of meat off the grill and onto the bun. He put it in its container and

tossed it on top of the sandwich bin. “Quarter pounder up!” he yelled.

“You didn’t hear but I told him to throw it away. That’s why I spit on it,” Bud tried to explain to Lisa. He hoped she was buying it but she wasn’t. She knew what she saw. As she pulled out a medium lid below the drive-thru cash register, she hoped he would just drop it. Why is it the jerks are always attracted to her?

“Hey, I know a great restaurant: Ernie’s. You ever eaten there? I could take you there. What’re you doing next Saturday night?”

Lisa didn’t answer. She put the lid on the coke and leaned out the drive-thru window. “Hello. Seventy-nine cents, please,” she told the customer. The customer handed her a dollar bill and Lisa handed him his coke and a straw. She made his change and handed it to him. “Thank you,” she said as he drove off.

Bud silently watched her during all this. “I just asked you on a date. You could at least “

“Look, I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything, okay?”

It was best to be as blunt, and even rude, with this guy as possible from the very beginning. Make it crystal clear.

“The answer is no. The answer will always be no. I’m sorry.”

Just then Mike walked out of the office, a half-eaten apple pie in his hand.

“Bud, go down and tell Virgil to get his rear end up here,” Mike exclaimed, obviously irritated.

“Calm down. He’s right there,” Bud indicated, pointing at Virgil who came into the kitchen and went over to the sink to wash his hands.

As Virgil washed his hands,Alan who was cleaning the grill right next to him, stood up and stretched his back. He grabbed the bucket of hot soapy water and took it to the other side of the pulled-out grill and continued cleaning.

“You see whatAlan’s doing? That’s what you guys need to be doing: cleaning,” Mike said loud so that the whole crew, both in the kitchen and in the front could hear him. He took

another bite of his apple pie and went into the office, closing the door behind him.

Lisa pressed the button on her head-set.

“Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I take your order?”

Bud leaned down onto the front counter, thinking.

“Dude, why do you carry soap around in your back pocket?” Virgil askedAlan as he watched him clean. Virgil asked loud so Bud could hear up front.

“I’ve got eczema on my hands. McDonald’s soap is too harsh and it aggravates it.”

“Whatever you say, Soapboy,” Virgil chortled loudly, looking at Bud for approval as he threw the paper towel from the dispenser into the waste basket. But Bud was still leaning on the front counter, not even paying attention to Virgil.

He'd never been rejected like this, Bud thought. Stuck up bitch. He made up his mind right then and there: He would have her. He would make it his goal to seduce her. Just sleep

with her once. And then afterwards tell her what he really thought of her. Tell her how much he hated her. Tell her his whole plan to seduce her. And then never give her two seconds of his attention again.

Virgil walked up next to Bud from the kitchen, who was still leaning on the counter and staring straight ahead.

“So, what’d she say? Where’re you taking her on your big date?” Virgil asked innocently.

“Shut up, will you? Gimme six macs,” Bud ordered without once looking at him. Virgil walked back to the kitchen, it dawning on him that Lisa had turned him down. Virgil was a little shaken up because it was a possibility he’d never considered.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lisa loved running. She had built herself up to running five miles a day every day. When her and Joe had moved to Denver about a year ago, she’d found a quiet, suburban neighborhood not far away from the apartment they were living in. Almost every morning she drove to the neighborhood to jog her five miles.

After she parked her car at a local elementary school, she got out and looked around at the houses nestled in the trees. It was a beautiful summer morning. There wasn’t the slightest breeze as the trees were as still as a picture. She locked her car and put her keys in her back pocket. As she walked across the empty street, she quickly stretched her arms and shoulders.

She loved how new and reborn it all seemed in the morning, especially in the summer. There was a pristine quality, the way the morning light hit the trees and the sidewalk and the street signs. Even the shadows and the air itself had a

luminous quality only seen and felt on a summer morning.

She set her stopwatch for one hour and started running along the side of the street. A mourning dove cooed lazily over her head. She liked to run slow the first ten minutes, to establish a breathing foundation. So much of running had to do with breathing correctly. If you didn’t establish a good breathing foundation from the beginning of the run, you were in for an hour of being miserably out of breath.

As she rounded a corner onto a new street, she startled a big black crow who struggled to become airborn as it laboriously flapped its large wings and made its way onto a low hanging branch of a big willow in the front yard of a house across the street. She didn’t like to have a set path when she ran. She left it completely up to whim as to when to turn down a new street or simply keep running straight. The neighborhood she’d found was big enough to allow her to do that.

As she settled into her breathing routine, she replayed the conversation she’d had with her dad the night before. She looked down at her stopwatch. She’d been running seven minutes now. Close enough to ten. She increased her pace. After establishing her breathing foundation, the next step was just to run without trying to deliberately slow down or speed up. Just run at whatever pace was most comfortable. But as usual, she was speeding up despite herself. This always happened when she thought of her dad.

Her father, an ex, non-practicing Catholic, had been raised in the Church but as an adult, had probably been to Church only a handful of times over the span of four decades. And last night as she was putting him to bed, he kept mumbling over and over for her to forgive his sins.

“I forgive you, Dad. Now get some sleep, okay?”

Sin? What the hell does that mean? She subconsciously tilted her head down as a car

passed her going the other way. She didn’t believe in sin. Slow down! You’ve still got 50 minutes left! She forced herself to slow down, slow her breathing down. In fact, she didn’t believe in God. Where was God? In nature? Well, nature was cruel. She thought back to when she was a little girl. She’d found a baby bird in her back yard. It couldn’t fly yet. Her mother had told her that its parents were feeding it, only neither of them were around ‘cause birds were afraid of humans. But she watched it constantly and no parents came to feed it. Not being able to fly, it was trapped inside the enclosed wooden fences of their back yard. Finally, her dad had put on his work gloves and after spending 30 minutes trying to catch it, finally trapped it in a corner and was able to pick it up. She remembered vividly how the little creature violently flapped its wings and screamed bloody murder as her dad took it out the back yard and into the adjacent alley. She followed him as he took it maybe a hundred yards away. Then the strangest thing

happened. As she watched him look around for a nice bush or some other hidden place to set it down, the little bird had fallen asleep in his gloved hand. It slept so peacefully, a much too temporary respite from the incredibly cruel world it was being thrust back into. Her dad set it down as it came back to life. “C’mon,” Joe had said to her as he put his hand behind her back and motioned her forward.

“But what about the bird?” she asked him, looking back behind her.

“Let nature take its course. It’ll be fine.” But, of course, it wasn’t fine. When they got home, she’d waited about an hour before grabbing a piece of bread and sneaking out to go feed it. When she got to it, she was shocked to find it dead, its eyes plucked out. If there was a God, then he was cruel. Only a cruel God would allow that to happen. And only a cruel God would allow her mother to be brutally murdered for no reason. Lisa looked down at her stopwatch.

Minutes 20 to 30 were spent running at a fast pace, deliberately trying to get out of breath. Her watch told her she’d been running for 18 minutes. Close enough. She increased her speed. Not too much (she still had over 30 minutes left of running) but enough to force her to be out of breath. She increased her breathing rate accordingly. That’s why there was no God. It made more sense to believe there wasn’t a God than to believe in a God that was malevolent.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. She remembered the night her mom was murdered. Actually she didn’t remember the night because she didn’t find out until the next day. She was sleeping over at a friend’s house and her Dad didn’t know who to call to get a hold of her. She found out the next day when she came home.

The next morning, after her friend’s mother dropped her off, she knew something was wrong when she first entered her house. For one thing, it was deadly quiet. And she could sense a

coldness in the house that she’d never experienced. It was like a silent spirit whose only intent was to do evil. She gave an involuntary shudder.

“Lizzy, is that you?” It took her a moment to place the voice coming from the other room.

“Hey, Uncle Tony. What’s going on? Where is everybody?”

“You better sit down, sweetie. I’ve got some terrible news.”

Breathe in, breathe out. She turned a corner and saw a couple of people about 100 yards directly ahead of her walking along the sidewalk. They started to get closer as a result of her running faster than they were walking.

As she got closer, she saw they had a little dog ahead of them on a leash. When they heard what sounded--to them--like a dying moose approaching from behind, they turned around and looked at her. Breathe in, breathe out. She gave them a wide berth as she ran around them. The little terrier mix (she could now see what breed the dog was) barked at her as it tried to

escape from the clutches of the woman who had a firm grip on its leash.

“Good morning,” the man greeted her. Too out of breath to reply, she gave a friendly wave and continued on her way. She turned left at the next corner and looked down at her watch. She’d been running for 31 minutes. She slowed down. She glanced behind her and the couple was nowhere to be seen. They must have gone straight instead of turning down her street. Minutes 30 to 40 were the same as the first ten minutes: She deliberately ran as slow as possible so that she could catch her breath.

Breathe in, breathe out. That’s it. Now she was catching her breath. Slow down. She deliberately ran under a sprinkler as it shot water mostly onto a front lawn but also onto the sidewalk she was running down. The cold water helped cool her off.

Her Uncle Tony had been assigned to be at the house that morning when she finally came home. To tell her that her mother had been murdered. It’s funny but she didn’t really

remember much right after that. She remembered Uncle Tony driving her to his house (where he lived with his dad’s sister). When they got there, her dad was there with her little cousin Jenny. She saw a side of her dad that she’d never seen before. He was inconsolable. He simply fell to pieces. There was no other way to put it. It was her aunt that held everything together. Her aunt is who got in touch with friends and family and made the funeral arrangements.

And it was her aunt who had made her an atheist.After they’d all been sitting in her uncle’s kitchen for a couple of hours, her dad afraid to leave because it would make what happened more real, more final, herAunt Jennifer came and sat down in the chair next to Lisa’s. She picked up Lisa’s hand and held it tightly in her own.

“Liz, honey, I know this is a terrible, terrible thing that’s happened. Just remember we can’t know the reason why God let’s these things happen. Someday soon, when you see your

mother in Heaven, only then will you understand why this had to happen. Only then will you understand why this was God’s Will.”

God’s Will? God’s Will? For the next few days and even after the funeral, she kept thinking about God’s Will. What kind of God would want this to happen? Only an evil God. Only a God full of hate. She couldn’t believe in a God that was so cruel. Her aunt’s words had been meant to console her. But they had had the opposite effect.

She looked down at her watch. 35 minutes had expired. Close enough. She had gotten her breath back. She increased her pace. Or rather, didn’t force herself to run slow.

That had been, and would always be, the worse day of her life. That was the day she lost her mother. That was the day she began taking care of her father. That was the day her childhood ended. Slow down! She forced herself to slow down when she realized she was practically sprinting. And that was the day God died.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bud opened the office door and stared at Lisa as she finished taking an order. She pushed the mic on her headset:

“$7.29 at the second window. Please drive around.” She released the button.

“Mike’s off tonight. I’m closing,” Bud informed Lisa. That’s when she knew it was going to be a long night. She grabbed a medium sized bag and took it to the counter area in front of the grill. Bud followed her.

“I’m down two cheeseburgers!” Lisa yelled back to the kitchen.

“Down two cheeseburgers!”Alan acknowledged.

“HeyAlan,” Bud yelled with Lisa standing next to him, “gimme 12 regs, cheese 10 of ‘em!”

“12 regs, cheese 10!”Alan parroted back. Lisa walked over to do her fries.”

“Alan,” Bud yelled even louder, “Pull that grill out and you and me will give it a nice cleaning.” Bud looked over at Lisa to see if she heard him.

“Yeah, okay,”Alan said to Bud, surprised at Bud’s offer. Bud walked over to the fry station and stood next to Lisa.

“How those fries coming, Lisa? We got enough for now or should I send Ernesto down to get more?” Bud peeked into the freezer to see if the fries were well stocked, knowing full well they were.

“Why Ernesto? Why not send Soapboy. Oh, I just noticed. Soapboy isn’t here tonight. Why is that?” Lisa asked Bud.

“Listen, he knows it’s all in good fun. We don’t mean nothing by it.” Bud gave her the most charming smile he could muster. “You sure you don’t want to take your half? You could even make it 45 minutes or an hour if you want. Virgil sure does,” he smiled at her.

“Take my half, I just got here,” Lisa reminded him.

“That’s okay, you can take another break later.”

“I’m not ready for a break.”

“Well, you just let me know. Whenever you want works for me, Beautiful.”

“Listen, I know what you’re doing and it’s not gonna work.” Bud looked at her, perplexed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“12 regs up!”Alan yelled from behind them.

“Excuse me,” Lisa said as she walked to the counter area to bag the cheeseburgers. Bud walked into the grill next toAlan.

“SoAlan, is it true you want to be a priest? That’s great. We need more religious people to knock some sense into people.” Bud said it loud, making sure Lisa heard him on the other side of the bin as she put her order together.

“Not a priest, a pastor,”Alan corrected Bud. Lisa went over to get her fries.

“Pastor, priest, whatever. You ready to pull that grill out and clean it?” Bud askedAlan, still loud so Lisa could hear. “And if you wanna

wait and do it tomorrow, that’s cool too,” Bud added, not quite as loud.

“No we better do it tonight. No sense putting off tomorrow what you can do today.” Lisa smiled as she took her order back to drivethru. She opened the drive-thru window.

“7.29 please.” The customer paid her and drove off into the night with his order. It was obvious to her that Bud was trying to get her to like him so that she would sleep with him. The truth was, he wasn’t very good at seducing women. Probably because he didn’t have to work at it very much. He was use to them trying to seduce him.

She also knew that the only reason he was trying to seduce her was because he knew she wasn’t attracted to him. She was the fish that was getting away, which made him try all the more to catch her. She just wished that he would leave her alone.

She considered faking an illness and going home but decided against it. Why did guys take it so personally when they found out women

weren’t attracted to them? And MacDonald’s was full of guys with testosterone up to their eyeballs. What did they want from her? To be her boyfriend? To have sex? Both? Virgil, who was always trying to impress her with his strength. Little 5’8”, 150 pound Virgil.

Welcome to MacDonald’s. Can I take your order?

And then Ernesto. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. He wasn’t in your face like Bud. In fact, he’d hardly said two words to her since she’d started working here. But as she went about her job every night, she would notice him staring at her. And not just occasionally. And he didn’t bother to hide what was on his mind. That was what disturbed her the most. She knew that look. Most guys had only one thing on their mind. But at least they took the trouble to try and conceal it from her. But not Ernesto.

Welome to MacDonald’s. Can I take your order?

She was reminded of one of her favorite Hitchcock movies, Rear Window. Miss Torso, living across the courtyard from Jimmy Stewart, is throwing a party. In the space of about 30 seconds, she deflects several half-hearted drunken passes by three or four different men.

Grace Kelly remarks: “She’s having to do a woman’s hardest job: juggling wolves.” Yep, that’s kinda how she felt working with all the guys, closing every night in a fast food restaurant.

Welcome to MacDonald’s. Can I take your order?

Wolves, all of’em. Well, not all of them.

Not Mike. She actually liked Mike the best. Not romantically but as a person. Like a lot of guys who thought of themselves as unattractive, he simply refused to be in the game. He figured

he had no chance with Lisa so why try? So Mike wasn’t a wolf. And neither wasAlan. Alan wasn’t a wolf. He gave her the same amiable disposition he gave everyone else. No more and no less. He was an odd duck. He let Bud and Virgil pick on him and bully him and didn’t seem to mind it. She knew now that he was extremely religious. Afew times over the past weeks they had found themselves alone together in the Workers’Lounge, because they had been told to take their half-hour breaks at the same time.

The first time they were alone together, she felt awkward: like she had to think of things to say to break the silence as they ate their food. She asked him a few general, not-too-personal questions which he answered politely before going back to his sandwich. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the silence between the questions. But what he had told her explained a lot: He was 23, still living at home with his parents.

“So how long you been working at McDonald’s?” she had asked him.

“About three years.”

“That’s a long time.”

He smiled at her. “I know.”

“You don’t want to go to college or anything?”

“I’m saving up my money to go to Seminary School.”

“Hmm, never knew anybody who wanted to be a preacher.”

“Pastor.”

“Sorry, pastor.”

“It’s okay.”

They sat in awkward silence for a while as they continued eating. She decided to take out her phone. He didn’t seem to mind as he sat staring aimlessly into space eating his Big Mac. That was the first time they had been forced to eat together. The few times after, they had exchanged pleasantries before Lisa gave her attention to her phone as they ate in silence.

So no,Alan wasn’t a wolf. And neither was Bill. Actually she hadn’t met Bill yet. He’d been on vacation when she first started and was supposed to start back tomorrow night. But she wasn’t worried about Bill. For one thing, he was a guy in his 50s who was married with adult children. He’d gone on vacation to visit his grandkids. For another, from what she’d gathered, he andAlan were good friends. And if he was anything likeAlan, that would be great. One less wolf to juggle.

Welcome to MacDonald’s. Can I take your order?

CHAPTER NINE

Bill McKenzie hated kids. He couldn’t admit that to anybody—even to himself—until after he’d retired. He’d spent 18 years as an elementary classroom teacher and 12 years as an assistant principal. And now he worked at McDonald’s. He tied his apron in the back and punched in.

Most of the time as an educator, he had been miserable. It was a thankless job. He’d worked with a few great teachers in his time but he knew he wasn’t one of them. Being a great teacher required an almost superhuman dose of selflessness. He was glad to be out of it. And he was glad to be working at McDonald’s. People thought he worked here because he needed the money. But it wasn’t true. He didn’t have to work at all. His first principal who’d hired him right out of college at the age of 22 had told him to start investing in annuities, which he did. 30 years later, he’d built up enough of a nest egg for him and his wife that

he was able to retire while in his early 50s. But what was he gonna do, sit home and watch The Price is Right?

The first few months at McDonald’s hadn’t gone so well. But he soon got into a groove and he found himself enjoying it. It was work but it was a type of physical work that didn’t require him to expend any mental energy. He enjoyed that after 30 years of the opposite. But what he enjoyed most about it was people left him alone at McDonald’s.

He wasn’t responsible for anybody but himself. And after 30 years of being responsible for the education of a seemingly countless number of kids, it was life changing. Whenever he described what it was like being in public education, he’d always said it was like herding cats. But being a teacher and/or a principal was actually much harder than that. It was more like herding cats underwater...while wearing a blindfold...with 300 pounds of weights strapped to your back. And being able to quit and take a job where he was only responsible for himself

and that didn’t require thinking? That was like taking the weights & blindfold off, swimming up out of the water, and being able to walk around on good solid ground for the first time in 30 years.

“Can I get two fish filet, Bill? Down one of ‘em!” Sylvia suddenly yelled back at him.

“Two fish, down one!” he responded. He went over to the small freezer where the frozen fish filets were stored. He opened the door and saw that there were two open boxes. This rankled him. Stupid kids. He always hated coming back from vacation. Things weren’t clean, stuff wasn’t put up right. Nobody knew how to do their job.

Most of the kids that worked at McDonald’s weren’t making a career out of it. It was a summer job or a way to pay for college or for some other reason. The vast majority were only interested in receiving a paycheck. But they didn’t want to actually have to work to get paid. So be it. Dealing with stupid kids wasn’t his

problem anymore. And it felt good. The one exception wasAlan.

Bill likedAlan. He was glad when towards the end of his shift,Alan showed up for work.

“How was your vacation?”Alan asked as he punched in. He went over to the sink and pulled the small container of soap from his back pocket.

“Good. Got to see the grandkids.”

“How are they?”

“They’re fine. It was nice to get home though.”

“Well, that’s good,”Alan smiled. As much as the two workers liked each other, they really didn’t talk a lot. During the course of the day, Alan might ask Bill more details about his vacation but probably not. And that would be just fine with Bill. Their fondness for each other was based on the mutual respect each had for the other’s work ethic. Which they both knew was something rare at McDonald’s.

AsAlan tied his apron on, Bill busied himself filling the ketchup dispenser. Alan, as

was his custom whenever he first clocked in during Bill’s shift, commenced to draining the grease trap that caught all the grease from the grill. AsAlan carefully slid the trap out from the side of the grill (it was easy to spill and grease on the floor was not only a hazard but a mess to clean up), someone out front yelled back “six macs!”

Now even though technicallyAlan was working the grill that made the macs, and Bill was working the grill that made the quarter pounders, Bill was considerate enough to see thatAlan was occupied and would’ve been inconvenienced to make the macs himself. So without either one saying a word to the other, Bill volunteered to doAlan’s job and make the macs for him. AndAlan would find a way to show his appreciation at some point later. And so it went.

“Six Macs!” Bill turned to yell back at the strange voice in front. At first Bill thought nothing of the stranger’s voice in front saying they needed Big Macs. Employee turnover at

McDonald’s was high, of course, so there were always people being hired at the same time others were quitting or being fired.

But Bill froze in his tracks when he looked in Lisa’s eyes. They both did. They stood staring at each other for a second. And it was that moment when you recognize somebody from your past but you can’t remember where. And then it all comes flooding back like a dam bursting in your brain. That instant came for both of them at the exact same time.

As Lisa turned away, she felt as if she’d had a bucket of cold water splashed on her. She couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t she ever be free of her past? It was like a nightmare where you’re running from the monster but no matter how fast you run, the monster catches up to you.

“Anything wrong?”Alan asked Bill, who was still standing there motionless after Lisa had gone back to her drive-thru register.

“Need help with the macs?”Alan asked. Like coming out of a trance, Bill instantly went to work on the big macs.

“No. I got’em.”

“Do you know that girl?”

“No. When did she start here? What’s her name?”

“I don’t know. Must’ve been right after you started your vacation. Her name’s Lisa. You don’t know her?”

“No. I don’t know her.” Bill frantically busied himself with the macs. Alan went back to his grease trap.

Bill was lying, of course. But what he couldn’t tellAlan was how he had known her. That was when she’d called herself Leeza.

CHAPTER TEN

The Director couldn’t believe it. He just might get lucky tonight.

“More wine?” he asked Lisa, holding the bottle over her glass. She put her hand over the top of it.

“No thank you, I’m good. I’ll take some more bread though,” she said smiling as she wrapped spaghetti around her fork and took a bite.

Lisa’s date held his finger in the air.

“Waiter, more bread please?”

“Coming right up,” the male waiter managed to mumble as he walked hurriedly past their table.

“I just want you to know again, I thought your audition was amazing. Sure you don’t want any more?” he asked as he poured some more wine in his own glass. Lisa smiled and shook her head no. Her own glass was still half full, which she took a sip of.

“So does that mean I got the part?”

“I haven’t decided yet. So why Mayella? What made you audition for that part?”

“To Kill a Mockingbird” is just about my favorite book. And Mayella’s such a great character.”

“Yeah, it’s a great book. So what made you decide you wanted to be an actress, Lisa?” he asked her as she took another sip of her wine.

“I just like the idea of pretending to be somebody else.”

He nodded politely.

“I guess that’s something all great actors have in common. And yes, I do think that someday you could become a great actor.”

“But I’m not getting the part.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I haven’t decided yet. But even if you don’t, there’ll be other parts. In fact, the board is seriously considering mounting Streetcar next season. Why don’t you come over after dinner? You could read Blanche for me.”

“Oh, I love that part. I’ve never seen the play, just the movie.”

He took another drink of wine.

“So what do you say, Lisa?”

“You know, that sounds great, but unfortunately I’ve got plans for later tonight. Will you excuse me for a minute?”

They smiled at each other as Lisa got up from the table and walked towards the Ladies’ Room. Who does this guy think he is? She decided that as soon as she got back from the Ladies’Room, she would tell him that she needed to go because her father was sick. Amazing. She’d heard of the Casting Couch, of course. But she thought that was something that only took place in Hollywood, not in some small amateur dinner theatre in the middle of the country.

While Lisa was in the restroom, the waiter finally brought over the bread.

“Anything else I can get for you?”

“No, I think we’re ready for the check.”

“You got it,” the waiter said before walking off.

The director finished off his glass of wine. He thought how he could rectify his mistake. He shouldn’t have come on so strong so soon. One thing was for sure, she wasn’t getting the part of Mayella. She was all wrong for it. Mayella had to be homely, not used to attention from the opposite sex. He would find something for her. And she would be appreciative and come around to him eventually.

Not that he was or had ever been an important director. When he’d taken the job as director/artistic liason of theArvada Playhouse, it had been to supplement his income as the junior drama teacher at Front Range Community College. He once had a friend who had studied at theAmericanAcademy of DramaticArts, and even landed a few commercials. But he himself didn’t even have a SAG card. He himself had never even been to New York. But she didn’t know that. He would definitely find something for her in Mockingbird.

The waiter brought the check and set it on the table.

“Thank you,” he smiled up at the waiter.

As he watched Lisa walk back to their table from across the restaurant, he couldn’t help but be impressed again with her physical beauty. Yes, he would find something for her, take her under his wing, maybe even give her a major part or even the lead at some point down the road. Who knows? Maybe she even has talent.

Lisa walked up to the table as the Director stood up.

“Are you about ready? I don’t think I told you about my sick father.”

“Look, like I said, we’ll find something for you, okay? Everybody has to start at the bottom. But you’re gonna rise fast. You’re gonna play a lot of great, important characters. I am sure of it. Will you let me help to make that happen?”

“You’ve got my number on my head shot, right?” Lisa asked.

“Yes. I’ll call you in the next day or two.” Lisa looked at him knowingly.

“I’m sure you will.”

She let him put her coat on her shoulders as he picked up the check off the table and followed her to the front of the restaurant.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I just don’t like the black and white.”

“Dad, who cares? You’re missing the point. It’s about the story. Besides, black and white cinematography can be just as beautiful as technicolor. If not more so.”

So what. Joe couldn’t get past it. It just always meant old. Like a Model T that you had to crank to start. Why would you want to crank it when you could use a key in the ignition? Why would you want to watch black and white when they made movies in color?

“You know, that guy called again. He’s left three messages. Aren’t you gonna call him back?” He looked over at Lisa to see her reaction to his question.

Irritated, Lisa said “Yes, just quit nagging me about it.” They watched as Blanche Dubois, played by Vivien Leigh, gave a sad speech about how and why her ex-husband had committed suicide.

“Listen to how she uses her voice in this movie. How her register changes depending on her character’s mood or emotion. I would say this is just about the greatest acting job of a female in a movie ever. Vivien Leigh should’ve won 10 Oscars for this movie,” Lisa informed him, transfixed to the TV as Mitch held and kissed Blanche.

Joe didn’t say anything, he didn’t want a lecture, but he hated this movie. Too damn depressing. Most of these old black and white movies were depressing. The ones that Lisa liked the most, of course. No laughs. No action. Just people talking or arguing with nothing happening. Other than going crazy or killing themselves. Why would anybody wanna watch that? You got that in real life.

“It’s interesting cause Kazan surrounded her with the bestAmerican method actors of that era. But that’s not how she was trained. She’s British. Yet she gives the greatest, most method performance ever in this movie. Just amazing.”

Joe didn’t understand his daughter. All she does is watch movies and go on and on about acting, even goes and auditions for plays. Then when the guy calls to say he wants her in his play, she doesn’t call him back. The same when she quit her health care job.

“I still don’t get why you quit such a good paying job.”

“Dad, don’t start. I told you how many times: I didn’t quit. I got laid off!”

“There are other hospitals.”

“Dad-“

“How ‘bout being an actress? As beautiful as you are. Just call the guy back.”

“Did you know that of all the actors who are in the ScreenActors’Guild, only about 10% are employed at any one time? And these aren’t people like me with this pipe dream of ‘oh, I wanna be an actor!’ These are real-life, honestto-God, certified actors in the guild. These are people who have made the decision to make it their profession and who have moved to L.A. or New York. And of those 10%, most of them are

just barely squeaking by: doing a commercial here, off-off Broadway there and who have a civilian job just to make ends meet. It’s like going to dental school, getting your degree, and then not being able to get a job in your field ‘cause the market can only employ 10% of all certified dentists. You listening to me? You’d have to be insane to try and make your living as an actor.”

“Well then go back into health care,” Joe exclaimed, irritated at her excuses. “You’re certified, right? As a nurse practitioner, right? You’ve been trained in that.”

Lisa picked up the remote and turned the channel.

“Here. Watch what you want. I’m going in the other room.”

“Lizzie…”

“Dad, listen. I will try acting, okay? But I have to do it my way. I have to do it when it feels right.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it. Watch your movie.”

Lisa turned the movie back on. They sat in silence as they watched Mitch and Stanley almost get into a fight. Presumably after Stanley reveals to Mitch Blanche’s sordid past.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Mike’s off again tonight. I’m closing,” Bud informed Lisa. “Okay,” Lisa politely replied.

“You know, you’re really coming along in drive-thru. You’re really getting the hang of it,” Bud smiled at her.

“Thanks.”

“Well, hopefully it’ll be a slow night and we can get outta here early,” Bud stated before walking towards the back of the store.

Lisa didn’t mind Bud closing instead of Mike. Sylvia was also closing tonight so it helped having another female there. And even if Sylvia hadn’t been there, Lisa wouldn’t have been worried. She knew what Bud was trying to do.

He was trying to get on her good side with flattery so that she’d sleep with him. Which meant he was being very pleasant and gentlemanly towards her at the moment. But she also knew that at some point, the other shoe

would drop when he realized it wasn’t working. At which point his true colors would come back out and he would go back to being a jerk. But she was enjoying the respite in the meantime. She just had to be careful to never do anything that he could interpret as her being interested in him.

Contrary to what Bud had predicted, it was a busy night and they actually closed about ten minutes late. After counting the money in her register, Lisa started tearing down the shake machine. Everybody else was immersed in performing their nightly ritual that was part of the closing procedure. Most of the crew, to the extent they could, avoided work during their shift. But closing time was the one singular moment when they were all hard at work.

Because the sooner they finished, the sooner they could go home. It usually took between an hour and an hour and a half to finish closing once they locked the doors.

She took the bucket of shake machine parts to the back sink forAlan to wash. It was his job

to wash all the dirty dishes and parts to get ready for them to open in the morning. As she took the bucket of parts to the back, she realized Bud and Virgil were back there withAlan. She quietly sat the bucket down and watched, knowing that they were unaware of her presence.

Alan was washing dishes with his back to Bud and Virgil, who were about 10 feet behind him and facing him. Bud, still not aware that Lisa was behind him, threw a dirty towel and it hitAlan in the back. Alan ignored it.

“There you go, Soapboy,” Bud chortled, “There’s another one for you. Hurry up with my towels.” Alan reached down and picked up the dirty towel. He placed it on top of the other dirty towels that were overflowing out of the towel bucket and continued washing the dishes.

Virgil also had a dirty towel in his hand, only his was sopping wet. Before he threw it, he looked at Bud as if to say “Watch this!” He threw it hard, hittingAlan in the back of the head, making his hair in back instantly wet.

“There’s another for you, Soapboy!” Virgil said mockingly.

Something inAlan snapped. Both Bud and Virgil were surprised whenAlan turned around, grabbed the sopping wet towel and hurled it at Virgil as hard as he could. Virgil ducked as it smacked hard against the walk-in freezer door and slid to the floor.

Alan then picked up a dirty towel out of the towel bucket and threw it at Bud as hard as he could, which found its target and hit Bud right in the face. But whenAlan threw it, he slipped and fell on the floor.

“What are you guys doing!!??” Lisa demanded. Bud and Virgil turned around and saw Lisa for the first time. But they quickly brought their attention back toAlan after what could only be described as a half yell, half scream.

They looked and saw that he was still lying on the floor. His face suddenly contorted and his eyeballs vacillated to the back of his head. He let out another horrible scream. To the

horror of everyone watching (by this time Ernesto and Sylvia had run to the back after the scream),Alan lay on the ground as his body was racked in uncontrollable spasms. He let out a continuous shriek that sounded like an animal being tortured. Everybody watched, not knowing what to do until finally Sylvia said “Somebody call 911!” Bud rushed out to go call.

“What is it!?” Virgil asked her. It’s an epileptic fit!”

“What do we do?!” Virgil asked in dismay. “Nothing,” Sylvia told him. Just make sure he doesn’t hit his head. I’ve seen my uncle have one. Somebody move that bucket!” Lisa reached down and moved the bucket of towels out of the way.

“Just leave him alone, it’ll be over in a minute.” Bud ran back in from the front.

“Ambulance is coming,” he told Sylvia.

The shrieking and convulsive spasms subsided rather quickly. Alan looked up at everybody staring at him. He looked around, as

if to wonder what it was he was doing on the floor. As everybody watched him intently, a siren was barely heard in the distance.

PART TWO

CHAPTER ONE

One thing you had to say aboutAlan was that he was very ordinary. He had no grandiose dreams, no need to express himself, nothing that compelled him to stand out from the crowd. And the fact that he was so comfortable being average and ordinary was in its self extraordinary. The only dream he had, his only goal, his sole reason for existing was to do God’s Will. Especially after he learned he had epilepsy.

When he was a kid, he was bullied a lot. Most kids his own age didn’t like him. Besides being bullied physically, he was many times ostracized by his classmates. He was the uncool kid. And if you sat down next to him in the cafeteria or befriended him, it meant you were uncool as well. That isn’t to say he didn’t have some friends. But they were usually other kids who weren’t popular and had nothing to lose by beingAlan’s friend.

And the main thing that made him bullied and ostracized wasn’t because he looked or acted different or tried too hard to be your friend (which is a reason many kids are bullied), it was because he didn’t care. He seemed to have a sense of himself that was independent of what his classmates thought of him (His teachers noticed it and said he had a maturity beyond his years.)

Bullies want some recognition by their victims of their superiority. ButAlan either wouldn’t, or couldn’t do that. And that made him hated even more. Alan was perfectly content to sit alone in the cafeteria. Or to have nobody to play with on the playground. And whenever a kid bigger, stronger, and meaner gave him a bloody nose after school, the next dayAlan didn’t even hold a grudge. How dare he not even hold a grudge? And what made it even worse were his teachers.

Because his teachers, sensing thatAlan was a victim of all this (but not quite sure to what extent kids are expert at hiding things from

adults) had an instinct to protect him from the other kids. Which of course made him even more hated. He was the Teacher’s Pet. The degree to which he was hated by his classmates was the exact degree to which he was loved by his teachers. And what teacher wouldn’t? He always did what he was told, never got in trouble, never even disrupted class by talking. And he always paid attention to what the teacher was saying when other kids were acting out, in varying degrees, out of boredom. Not only did his teachers want to protect him, they also worried about him. They worried if he was too fragile for such a harsh, indifferent, even cruel world. His parents, to their credit, thought this was all nonsense. Not that they didn’t loveAlan and want the best for him. But unlike many parents of their generation, they were determined not to be overprotective.

His dad even went so far as to buy him some boxing gloves and a punching bag when Alan was 10. The best way to deal with a bully

was to give him a taste of his own medicine, his dad reasoned. He’d set the bag up in the garage forAlan (and was even willing to sacrifice the car forAlan; there wasn’t room for the punching bag and the car in the garage so now the car was parked outside in the driveway). One Saturday morning in the kitchen, Mr. Mishkin,Alan’s father noticed the punching from the garage had stopped as he drank his coffee and read the morning paper.

He went into the garage to investigate when he sawAlan, gloves still on, sitting in the middle of the garage almost as if he was meditating.

“Why did you stop hitting the bag?” Mr. Mishkin asked with an air of concern.

“There’s a bug.”

“Alan, what’re you talking about?”

“There’s a bug on my head.”

“So?”

“I can’t get it off.”

“Why not?”

“Cause if I do, I’ll kill it.”

“What do you mean? Why will you kill it?”

“It’s in my sweat.”

“Alan, I still don’t know what you’re talking about. Show me this bug.”

Mr. Mishkin took his coffee and bent over in front ofAlan.

“See?”Alan pointed to his forehead with his boxing glove. Mr. Mishkin looked intently at Alan’s forehead.

“Okay, now I see it.” OnAlan’s sweatdrenched forehead was a small nat struggling to free its self from the sweat it was immersed in.

“You’re right, if you try to remove it with your gloves on, you’ll kill it, it’s so tiny. So what now?”

“I want to sit here ‘til my sweat dries. Then it can fly away.”

“I gotcha,” Mr. Mishkin nodded his approval. He took a sip of coffee. BeforeAlan knew what happened, Mr. Mishkin swatted him on the forehead. Not hard, but hard enough to kill the bug. Alan didn’t budge, but just looked up at his father with ever-widening eyes.

“Now there is no bug,” Mr. Mishkin smiled. “See? Problem solved. Okay back to the bag.” He stood straight up and headed back to the kitchen.

“C’mon buddy, 30 more minutes, okay?”

Mr. Mishkin looked atAlan asAlan stood back up and started hitting the bag again.

“It’s good that you’re sweating, keep up the good work,” Mr. Mishkin said encouragingly before opening the door and going back into the kitchen.

CHAPTER TWO

“Are you a Christian?”

“No.”

“Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Savior?”

“No.”

It was about a quarter to midnight and Lisa, even though she was in a hurry, stopped to listen. They had closed over an hour ago but this was going to be a long night because Ernesto had called in sick and a new girl who had just been hired was a no-show. It was just Lisa, Mike, andAlan closing. Mike was in the manager’s office counting money. Alan was sitting at a table in the lobby with a homeless girl.

The honest truth was, Lisa thought she’d never seeAlan again after she’d watched him have an epileptic fit and taken away by an ambulance a little over a week ago. So she was surprised when she showed up to work the next day and there wasAlan in the grill, doing his job

as if nothing had ever happened.And now here he was talking to a homeless girl in the lobby like he’d known her all his life.

Lisa guessed she was in her 20s. She had long stringy black hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. Her clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed in a year.

Mike came out from the manager’s office and looked out into the lobby.

“She’s still out there?”

“Yeah,” Lisa told him.

“How long’s she been here?”

“I don’t know,” Lisa shrugged, “We’d been closed about 20 minutes, I guess, when there was a knock on the door. I went and that girl was standing there wanting in. I yelled at her that we were closed. She started to walk away whenAlan ran and opened the door. He invited her in and gave her a cup of coffee. They’ve been sitting in the lobby talking ever since.”

Mike took about five steps into the lobby and stopped.

“Alan!” he yelled. Alan and the girl looked at him.

“Need to get going. It’s getting late, okay?” Mike said, pointing to his watch. Alan nodded affirmative and Mike went back into the manager’s office.

Alan looked at the homeless girl and stood up.

“Listen, I gotta go,”Alan said as he indicated in the direction of the kitchen. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. Thank you for talking with me. It helped.”

“Lemme let you out.”

Alan led the girl to the door. Lisa continued wiping down the ordering counter, listening to their conversation.

“Anytime you wanna talk, come by. What’s your name?”

“Sonia.”

“Sonia……here.”

Alan dug out a 20 dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to her. “I wish I had more.”

“Thank you,” Sonia said, taking the money. “And remember what we talked about. I can get in touch with my Pastor about renting the room. And pretty sure we can get you on here at the restaurant.”

“You’re so kind,” Sonia blurted out, trying to contain her emotion. It was all she could do to keep from weeping uncontrollably. “But I’m leaving town in a couple of days, to go see my sister.” Alan let her out the door.

“I’ll pray for you, Sonia. Remember, your body is your temple. Don’t sell it! Go with Jesus!”

Sonia didn’t look back as she walked away until she was swallowed by the dark. Alan locked the door. He took the keys and set them on the counter. Lisa, standing next to him, asked “Do you know her?”

“No,”Alan smiled. “She came in here once before and I gave her something to eat. Tonight was only the second time I’ve ever seen her.”

Alan walked back into the kitchen to finish closing for the night.

CHAPTER THREE

So despite the concerns voiced by his teachers, it could not be said thatAlan’s parents were in any way overprotective. That all changed one unseasonably warm October morning whenAlan was in 8th grade. Mrs. Mishkin got a call to her office from the school saying thatAlan had been rushed to the Emergency Room.

Alan had been in social studies. Mrs. Greer, the social studies teacher, had stepped out of the room for a second. David, a kid big for his age, was sitting behindAlan at the front of the room. He thumpedAlan in the back of the head. Alan didn’t do anything.

“C’mon, faggot. Teacher’s pet,” David goaded him. Acouple of kids giggled. David thumped him in the back of the head again.

“I’m gonna do this all year, little faggot.”

Alan heard himself yell “NO MORE!”

Nobody was more surprised than he was when he lurched out of his desk and lunged at David. Before anybody knew it,Alan had David on the floor and was pounding David’s head into the floor as hard as he could. Each hit onto the floor was accompanied by a thud and a separate shrill syllable that together made up one simple sentence repeated over and over:

Alan stopped when he saw blood on the floor under David’s head. Mrs. Greer, hearing the shrill yell from down the hall where she’d gone to borrow some construction paper from another teacher, came running back in the room just in time to seeAlan writhing on the floor experiencing his first ever epileptic fit. It was quite a scene, as the panicked yells and screams ofAlan’s classmates attested. Mrs. Greer saw one student writhing around in convulsions, another student semi-conscious with blood under his head.

For those involved, the fallout was enormous. David suffered a minor concussion and was back in class with a wrap on his head in a little over a week. But that didn’t stop his parents from suing the school, who because Mrs. Greer had stepped out of the room when the incident occurred, was liable for negligence. The lawsuit required a scapegoat which of course the school was more than willing to offer up in Mrs. Greer, who lost her teaching certificate and was forced to leave the school district.

ForAlan, the incident marked a major turning point in his young life. He had never shown any signs of having epilepsy prior to it so it was all the more a shock to his parents when it happened. Suddenly everything his teachers had been telling them over the years about Alan’s beautiful, terrible fragility came crashing down on them, now making perfect sense. So much sense that Mrs. Mishkin quit her job and devoted herself to home schooling her son. Alan was done with attending public schools.

Alan had his first epileptic fit when he was 14. Over the next six years, his teenage years, he only had a handful of fits. He went from 16 to 18 without any, but then in his 18th year he had three alone. They were mostly centered on the one and only timeAlan almost had a girlfriend. He was in love with his next door neighbor, Nathalie. She was a year younger thanAlan and would’ve been a grade behind him in the same high schoolAlan would have attended.

Even thoughAlan was considered a freak by those kids who still remembered him in middle school, he was not bad looking. His angular features were complimented by an unruly shock of curly, dark hair that he let hang over his eyes, ears, and neck.And when his facial hair started coming in after puberty, his perpetual beard that wasn’t yet a beard (his mustache and cheeks were still only peach fuzz but it grew darker and courser on his chin) only added to his unruly yet appealing appearance. It wasn’t that he was

going for any sort of look. It was just he hated shaving as much as he hated getting his hair cut.

Nathalie especially began to take notice of him when he started to grow facial hair. She liked guys who had what she called the “scruffy” look. Before that, she hadn’t given him two seconds of thought. Her family had moved into the house next to the Mishkins the summer before she went into 7th grade. Because she was a striking beauty who looked 22 instead of 13, it didn’t take her long to become one of the most popular girls at her new school.

In fact, she’d already been accepted into the top clique and found out from them that her next door neighbor (whom she’d never met but had only seen across the front lawn) had a nervous breakdown and had to withdraw from school.

So even though they were neighbors and technically had been classmates at the same school for six weeks, she andAlan never met until he was 18 and she was 17. Up until that time, even though she hardly knew he existed, he was well aware of her.

Alan’s mom said it was like a Teenager’s Convention going on next door. The parade of Nathalie’s friends and their cars coming and going was seemingly never ending. Alan recognized a few faces from middle school but most were complete strangers. So he never went out of his way to engage them the rare times he happened to be in front of his house when Nathalie or any of her friends were outside also. He would sometimes exchange wary looks with some of them, and he might hear them mumble to each other (about him, he was sure) but that’s the closest he ever came into contact with any of them.

Mr. and Mrs. Mishkin were on a friendlier basis with Nathalie’s mom (whom they learned had been divorced and remarried). They wouldn’t acknowledge Nathalie (or vice versa) but they would smile and wave at Mr. or Mrs. Phillips if they happened to be outside for a brief second or two when Nathalie’s parents were. Sometimes they’d even stop to exchange

a few words about the weather or this or that. But mostly both families kept to themselves.

To be honest,Alan didn’t think much of Nathalie and went out of his way to avoid her. That all changed the first time he ever set foot in Nathalie’s house. Their cat had gotten out and was in front ofAlan’s house meowing. Alan’s mother calledAlan from upstairs and told him to take the cat back next door. WhenAlan questioned her about it, she told him that the cat was an inside cat because it had been declawed.

Alan, holding the cat, felt for claws and sure enough, it didn’t have any.

“I didn’t even know they had a cat. How do you know it’s theirs?”Alan asked.

“She told me about it a while ago. Now go. Take it over there. Hurry up.”

Alan, the cat in one hand, rang his neighbor’s doorbell. As he waited for somebody to answer, he absently looked at the driveway behind him. He was glad there were no cars in the driveway, not even Nathalie’s little red sports car. That meant she probably

wasn’t at home. He was glad. Maybe nobody was home. He gave the doorbell one last perfunctory ring before turning away back to his own house. At that instance the door opened.

Standing in the doorway looking atAlan was Nathalie’s mother. She had a cell phone up to her ear and a towel wrapped around her head. She was also wearing a silver blue bath robe.

“You found her!” she exclaimed. Alan wasn’t sure if she was addressing him or the person on the phone. She opened the screen door and grabbedAlan’s arm, pulling him in the house.

“Thank you! Come on in! Why’d you run out, Kitty? Aaawww,” she said to the cat as she stroked its head.

“C’mon in…yeah, the neighbors found her, can you believe it!?” she replied excitedly into the phone. Alan came into the house, letting the screen door shut behind him. Just then, the cat leaped out ofAlan’s hands and ran down the vestibule and under a couch in the living room.

“Hold on, Carol,” she said, putting her hand over her phone. “I’ve gotta take this. Wait here. I’ve got something for you,” she addressed Alan. She gave him a smile before disappearing into another room off the vestibule. He could still here her end of the phone conversation as he stood awkwardly by the front door.

“The young man who found her is waiting…our neighbor…so how does lunch sound?...”

The sound of her voice trailed off leaving him alone in a strange house. The thought came to him to just leave. He was reaching for the door when he saw the portrait. He walked slowly toward it, drawn to it like a moth to light. It was in the hallway off the vestibule hanging with a dozen other family pictures. But he didn’t see any of the others. He only saw the portrait at the end of the hall.

It was a portrait of Nathalie. It wasn’t a photograph. It was a painting, probably done from a photograph. She was, of course, beautiful. She had on an elegant purple dress.

Her dark hair lay simply on her head, parted in the middle and flowing down onto her shoulders. Her face was thin and even somewhat pale (contrasted with her hair) but in a very pleasing way, he thought. But whatAlan was most taken with were her eyes of deep blue. They had a warmth and compassion in them that Alan had never noticed before. Alan had to know if that expression was genuine or merely a creation of the artist.

“You like it?”

Startled,Alan turned to see Nathalie’s mom standing next to him. In her hand was something wrapped in aluminum foil. Alan could see the resemblance of features between mother and daughter but he didn’t see the same warm look in the mother’s eyes that was in the portrait. He had to know.

“Yes, it’s beautiful. She’s beautiful,”Alan stammered.

“We had that done last Christmas. We’re very proud of our Nathalie. Did you two ever

meet?” Nathalie’s mom suddenly asked. Alan, a little wary, shook his head no.

“How can that be? You live next door right?” Alan nodded yes.

“Well, that’s just a shame. By the way, I’m Mrs. Phillips, Nathalie’s mother. You probably guessed that, right?” Mrs. Phillips said half laughing. She extended her hand andAlan took it.

“Alan,” he managed to say, shaking her hand.

“And here, I want you to have this for finding Kitty.”

She handedAlan the package wrapped in aluminum foil.

“It’s some banana bread I made. Homemade.”

“Thank you,”Alan said, taking the bread.

“You’ve no idea how happy you made Nathalie. You found Kitty!” she exclaimed.

“Listen, I want you to come back tonight I still can’t believe you two haven’t met! I want you

to come back over tonight so Nathalie can thank you personally.”

“Okay, what time?”Alan heard himself say.

“She’s at a birthday party right now but she’s supposed to be home at six. How ‘bout seven? Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Thank you, no. I’ll plan on coming by at seven for a few minutes.”

“Oh, that would be great! Again, thank you Alan for finding our cat. None of us know how she even got out! Where was she?”

“Just hanging out by our front door.”

“I’m so relieved. You’ve no idea. And

Nathalie will be so happy!”

“You’re welcome. Guess I better be going now. And thanks for the banana bread.” Alan walked toward the front door.

“Enjoy! See you at seven?” she asked as she opened the door for him.

“Sounds good.”

“Bye,Alan! And thank you!” He smiled as he waved goodbye before walking back to his house. He heard the door close behind him.

CHAPTER FOUR

That night began what was to be the closest thingAlan had ever come to a romantic relationship. Arelationship that ended as fast as it started two days later in front of Nathalie and a handful of her friends. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

The first night he went to her house--after he had returned her cat earlier in the day--he met Nathalie, her parents, and some of her parents’ friends. Within 10 minutes after arriving,Alan found himself sitting with everybody in the living room. Mrs. Phillips had brought him a chair which she had placed in the room in such a way thatAlan both visually and in terms of the conversation became the focal point of attention for everybody.

They were all curious about the fact that Alan wasn’t in school (he didn’t tell them, of course, about his epilepsy), what his parents were like, had he grown up in that house, and

how it was possible that such a nice young man could live right next door and be a complete stranger. Mrs. Phillips commented several times to Nathalie (and to everybody else) that she didn’t understand why some of Nathalie’s other friends couldn’t be as polite and as wellmannered asAlan. Alan just smiled awkwardly. At first, they had been curious about a person whom they considered abnormal and were pleasantly surprised to learn that in fact, Alan could talk and think and react like a normal person. But what finally won them over was his complete lack of guile, his seemingly social naivety. Alan, not being socially sophisticated in the least, was not even aware that he had won them over.

After over an hour of conversation in the living room, when dinner could no longer be put off, they all congregated to the kitchen except forAlan. Despite Mrs. Phillip’s insistence that Alan stay for dinner,Alan refused claiming he’d already eaten and perhaps another time. He had already eaten but not realizing they liked his

company, he felt it was just a polite gesture on her part so he bowed out.

After saying goodbye, he was stopped on Nathalie’s front porch by Nathalie herself who had followed him out. She grabbed his arm.

“You made quite an impression on everyone tonight,” she told him. He was surprised when she stroked his face with the back of her hand.

“Did I?” he answered nervously, “Well, that’s good.” She pulled him towards her and quickly kissed him on the lips.

“Good night. Talk to you tomorrow,” she said. With a girlish skip, she ran back in her house and leftAlan standing on the porch, wondering what had just happened.

Alan would never know how close he came to entering a new and exciting world. Aworld of parties and new friends and teenage privilege and teenage exclusion. Alan didn’t know it (because he didn’t go to high school) but he would have been given the keys to the most exclusive clique at the school. Nathalie’s crowd was the most popular of the popular. Her high

school friends were the ones Most Likely to Succeed, the ones voted prom royalty, the ones who would get the free rides and academic and athletic scholarships to the best colleges, the ones who had won the genetic lottery. Their pretty faces and good looks complemented their stylish clothes and the luxury cars given to them on their 16th birthday by their upper-middle class, overworked, negligent parents.

The truth was, Nathalie was probably the least financially well-off of all her friends. This was a result of Nathalie being the daughter of a single mother who had remarried and lived in one of the more ordinary and nondescript suburban neighborhoods (the same oneAlan lived in, of course).

Nathalie’s step-father, Jerry, was a good provider and was truly loved by Nathalie’s mother. Nathalie had a good relationship with him also.And he made good money as a skilled laborer who was in charge of the maintenance of machine parts at the largest hospital in Denver. But it was a step below the professional fathers

of Nathalie’s friends who were all lawyers and doctors and engineers.

Alan, of course, wasn’t even in the same league (financially speaking) as Nathalie, much less Nathalie’s friends. Alan’s dad was a daytime manager at the local supermarket and Alan’s mother was a cook at a long-term health care facility.

SoAlan’s only way in to the world of upper middle-class priviledge was his relationship with Nathalie. Which as already alluded to earlier, was not to be when their relationship ended on the very next night he was to see her again.

CHAPTER FIVE

She invited him the following Friday night to go with her to her friend Cody’s house.

“Come by my house about 8. Tell your parents we’ll be back around 10,” Nathalie instructed him over the phone.

Alittle before 8,Alan walked over to Nathalie’s house. There was a beautiful black Camaro parked in Nathalie’s driveway and it turned out to be Cody’s. Cody was a good looking jock who excelled at all sports and was getting a full athletic scholarship to play football at the state university.

He and a handful of friends, along with Nathalie andAlan, drove over to Cody’s house where they mostly hung out at the pool in Cody’s back yard. The truth was,Alan didn’t have a very good time.

First off, he didn’t bring any swimming trunks (Nathalie had forgotten to mention he might want to bring some). Cody offered to let him use an old pair of his butAlan declined, for

the simple reason that he couldn’t swim. So while the others were swimming, frolicking, and flirting in the pool,Alan fully dressed--sat on a lawn chair by the side of the pool and watched.

The other reason he felt out of place is because there may not have been any adults around, but there were copious amounts of alcohol available. And everybody was partaking exceptAlan. And the drunker they got, the moreAlan silently watched them flirt. Nathalie herself, when she wasn’t in the pool, was sitting either on Cody’s lap or Jerome’s (a good looking black kid thatAlan actually had some recollection of in middle school).

They finally all piled into Cody’s Camaro about 11 to ostensibly take Nathalie andAlan home. As they drove, Nathalie was eyeingAlan most of the way. Alan finally noticed and looked at her.

“What?” he asked, wanting to know why she was staring at him.

“You need to live a little,” she slurred her words contemptuously.

The Camaro finally came to a stop butAlan, looking out the window, had no idea where they were. They were parallel parked on a street and the only thingAlan could tell was that they were in a neighborhood that, while not exactly a slum, was in a far lower financial bracket than even his and Nathalie’s neighborhood.

As they got out of the car, Kaitlyn and Nathalie started giggling. Rather loudly.

“SSSHHHH!!!!” Cody warned them.

“What are we doing here?” askedAlan.

“You’ll see,” Cody told him as they got out of the car.

“Just leave the doors open!” Cody ordered. Kaitly closed hers anyway. The sound seemed to ricochet loudly down the block and back. Cody gave her a look that said “Are you stupid? Didn’t you hear what I said!?”

“Sorry,” Kaitlyn giggled. Cody made his way to the back of the Camaro and opened the trunk. He and Jerome smiled at each other.

Everybody else followed them to see what was in the trunk. Inside was a package of 12 rolls of toilet paper.

Cody tore them open and handed everybody a roll.

“Come on!” Cody led them to a big tree in the middle of the yard in front of the house they were parked in front of. He threw his roll high over a branch and it came down on the other side. Everybody started throwing their roll up at the tree, trying to catch it as it came down, and throwing it up again.

Everybody exceptAlan. Still holding his roll of toilet paper, he walked onto the lawn but wasn’t throwing.

“Guys, I don’t think this is a good idea.” He watched as Kaitlyn, obviously drunk, fell down. Nathalie went over to help her up but also drunk, she slipped and also fell down. They both started laughing. Jerome and Cody looked at them and at the same time said “SSSHHHH!!!” which was probably louder than the laughing in the first place. Both

Nathalie and Kaitlyn, still sitting on the lawn, tried to stifle their laughing.

“Whose house is this?” Alan wanted to know as Cody went back to the trunk and got everybody a new roll.

“Old Man Vernon’s house. Math teacher at school. He’s the biggest jerk you ever saw in your life. C’mon,Alan! Trust me! This guy deserves it!” Cody told him as he tossed him another roll of toilet paper. Alan dropped the one in his hand so he could catch the one Cody tossed to him.

“Guys, I really think we should go. We could get in big trouble!”

“Just go sit in the car if you’re too scared” Nathalie, still prone on the lawn, told him.

“Goody goody two-shoes. Don’t drink, don’t smoke. What do you do?” Kaitlyn started singing, rather loudly.

“Alan’s a goody two-shoes!” Nathalie loudly proclaimed.

“SSSHHHH!!!” Jerome warned them. They started laughing again.

“Look!” Alan was pointing at a window on the second floor where a light had just come on. But they didn’t have time to react to it because all of sudden they heard a horrible shrieking sound. They turned around and sawAlan lying on the ground and writhing around in convulsions. He was having an epileptic fit.

“He’s having a heart attack!” Kaitlynn screamed.

“Go get Mr. Vernon!” Nathalie yelled at Cody. Cody ran onto the front porch and started ringing the bell and pounding on the door.

“MR. VERNON!! WAKE UP!! MR VERNON!! MR. VERNON!!”

But Mr. Vernon didn’t come to the door. Instead a police car, first heard and then seen, came speeding up the road, parking behind Cody’s Camaro. The fall out wasn’t really all that bad, at least from a criminal or legal point of view. Mr. Vernon wanted to prosecute to the full extent of the law but owing partly to their families’

position in the community, there were no charges brought against Kaitlyn, Nathalie, or Jerome. Cody’s predicament was a little stickier. As the driver of the car, he had been given a sobriety test at the scene and had failed it.

The police had wanted to charge Cody with a DUI but Cody’s family lawyer had found a loophole saying that the police couldn’t charge him with a DUI because they had not seen him in the act of actually driving the car in question.

The fact was, there wasn’t much of a fall out in terms of their school record or college prospects either. It was lucky for the kids involved that it happened during the summer. If it had happened during the school year, Cody and Jerome would probably have been kicked off the football team (at least for a week or two) and there probably would’ve been other ramifications since the victim of their “vandalism” (as Mr. Vernor was calling it) was a teacher at their school.

So all things considered, no negative consequences resulted from their drunken prank. With two exceptions: Nathalie andAlan. Nathalie’s mother was convinced that Nathalie was being led down the primrose path by her socalled “friends” and so within a week of the incident, Nathalie went to live with her dad in LosAngeles. Which was actually just fine with Nathalie because of her aspirations to get into the entertainment business in some way. Preferably in front of the camera.

As forAlan, an ambulance also came to Mr. Vernon’s house that night, takingAlan to the hospital.

CHAPTER SIX

That night the doctors inducedAlan into a coma in order to stop his seizures. They brought him out of it 46 hours later when he was finally stabilized. In total, he spent almost two weeks in the hospital. When he got home, his mother could no longer hide from him the fact that Nathalie was no longer living next door. She had gone to California to live with her father, she told him.

Afew months later, as he was sitting in Church one Sunday morning, he was Saved. He had found comfort in God prior to this but now it became his calling. The same day he was Saved he decided to become a Pastor. Alittle over a year after that, he got his job at MacDonald’s, devoted to saving money for Seminary.

Almost two years to the day after Nathalie and her friends witnessed his seizure, he got a short letter in the mail from Nathalie. Enclosed were two pictures of her. One was a wallet

sized photograph of her and the other picture was a clipping from a magazine. IfAlan looked hard, he could tell that the girl was Nathalie. But she was hard to recognize. She was walking down a runway. The caption read:

LIBERTY LONDON SPRING COLLECTION

Nathalie’s hair was blonde and her make-up was hiding all the natural features of her face, Alan thought. He unfolded the letter and began reading:

Dear Alan,

How are you? As you probably know, I’ve been living in California with my dad the last two years and I love it!! You won’t believe it but I’ve become a model! I’m enclosing two pictures. One is my portrait that my mom said you liked and another is a page from Cosmopolitan Magazine I clipped out. It’s from

a runway show I did in London last year. Anyway, my mom said that your mom said you were doing fine. I’m glad you’re okay after that night when the ambulance came and got you. You scared us, Alan. We didn’t know what was wrong with you. I’m also glad you’ve decided to be a minister, Alan. I think you’ll make a good one. Well, gotta go. I’ve got a shoot coming up in Milan and I’m flying out this morning. Take care, Alan. And if you’re ever in LA, look me up. Here’s my cell number—(213)295-0137.

Sincerely, Nathalie

Alan tossed the letter down onto his bed and picked up the small 3 X 5 picture of Nathalie. He looked at it for a long time. It was in fact the same portrait of Nathalie he had seen in her house. But that portrait had been an artist’s rendition. InAlan’s hand was the actual

photograph that the painting was based on. It was only then, as he looked down at the picture, that he remembered why he had been attracted to Nathalie in the first place. It had been the look in her eye.

Alan stared long and hard at the small photograph in his hand. Try as he might, he could not see the same look in the photograph that he’d seen in the painting. With a feeling of profound sadness, he decided that what he saw in the painting must have been a creation of the artist who painted it, or something he had only just imagined in the first place.

He put the picture back in its envelope. He went into his closet and pulled down a dusty old shoebox. Inside were Christmas & birthday cards he’d saved from his grandparents, old report cards, and other mementos from his childhood. He put Nathalie’s letter inside and took the shoe box back to his closet. Never again.

Athousand miles away and three weeks earlier, Nathalie was finishing writing the letter thatAlan would soon read. She folded it up and put it in an envelope. She took a 3 X 5 picture of herself, as well as her picture she’d cut out of a magazine, and also put them in the envelope. She sealed it and on the front she wroteALAN MISHKIN, followed by his address. She wrote her own address in the top left corner. She kissed it lovingly and held it over her heart, her eyes tearing up.

It startled her when she heard a car horn outside. She quickly grabbed a tissue and dried her eyes. She threw the tissue in the trash and jumped up, grabbing her Luis Vuitton suitcase. She ran downstairs to the kitchen where her dad was.

“Your manager’s here. Why’s he blowing his horn?”

“He’s in a hurry, Daddy, so we don’t miss the plane.”

“What is he, a gangster? He can’t come to the door and say hello?”

“I’ll go check,” she blurted out as she ran to the front door. She opened to see in the driveway Patricio, a handsome middle-aged man with dark hair and a salt & pepper scruffy beard. He was leaning up against his red Mercedes convertible, its top down.

“Let’s go! What’s the holdup? he demanded. Although he had obviously put a lot of work into looking European, his Lake Forest accent gave him away.

“My dad wanted to know if you wanted to come inside for a second.”

“No, we need to get going. Tell him maybe next time. Go get your bags and let’s go!”

Nathalie disappeared back inside the house. She walked back into the kitchen where her dad was still eating his breakfast.

“We’re late for the plane, Daddy. He said maybe he could come in and say hello next time.” She knelt down and kissed her dad’s cheek.

“Have you been crying?” he asked her.

“It’s just my allergies. Well, I gotta go. See you in two weeks. I’ll call when I get there.”

“What hotel you staying at?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere in Milan.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know. Vogue is taking care of all that.”

“You need any money?”

“No, Daddy. It’s a business trip. Vogue is paying all expenses. And I’ll have a per diem. I gotta go, Daddy. We’ll miss the plane.”

Nathalie blew him a kiss, picked up her suitcase, carry-on, andAlan’s letter, and headed for the front door.

“Bye Sweetheart,” her father said after she was gone. He took a bite of toast. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

Nathalie ran outside. When Patricio saw her, he walked to her and took her suitcase from her.

“Okay if we make one stop?” she purred. She pulled him to her and kissed him on the lips. Patricio looked back at the house.

“Not here, Darling, your father may be watching.” He took her suitcase and plopped it down in the backseat. He opened the passenger door and Nathalie got in. He got in the other side, started the car and drove away.

“Where did you wanna stop?” He noticed her looking down atAlan’s letter still in her hand.

“What’s that?” Patricio asked curiously.

“Oh, just a letter my dad wants me to mail.”

“I didn’t know anybody still wrote letters,” Patricio laughed.

“Can we stop at the post office? It’s on the way. We have time.” Nathalie asked him, looking at her watch.

“Really, baby? We have to stop? I hate the suburbs. I left the suburbs behind for good.”

“It’s on the way. It’ll take two seconds. The plane doesn’t take off for another three hours.”

She kissed him lovingly on the cheek and stroked his beard.

“Please?” she purred.

Patricio gave a disgruntled sigh.

“Yeah. Okay. But two seconds. I need to get two drinks inside of me before we get on the plane, you know that.”

“Thank you, baby.” They smiled at each other.

“Make a right up here at this light.” As Patricio approached the red light, Nathalie looked down at the letter, holding it tightly so the wind whipping in and out of the convertible wouldn’t rip it from her hand.

CHAPTER SEVEN

She awoke. Like a pin bursting a balloon, something—she didn’t know what—had invaded her dreams. She gazed into the dark, the forms in her room taking shape. She watched and listened carefully. Silence. Then she heard it again. Ascream. Or rather a cry out in pain. Coming from her father’s room. Lisa jumped out of bed and ran into his room. She turned on his bedroom light, the brightness blinding her for a second. He cried out again just as her eyes were adjusting to the light. She saw him clutching his chest and she went to call 911.

She chose to follow behind in her own small Toyota pickup instead of ride along in the ambulance. The paramedic had asked her if she wanted to ride in the ambulance. She didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad. Did it mean he was so bad he was about to die and best to have a loved one with him? Or did it mean he was okay enough to allow a loved one

with him because they wouldn’t be in the way?

She still wasn’t sure as she trailed behind the ambulance, zigzagging through the parked cars at the red lights as the siren screamed.

As she pulled in behind the ambulance at the Emergency entrance to the hospital, a security guard wearing a gun and a badge approached her. She put down the window to hear what he had to tell her.

“Mam, I’m sorry but you’ll need to move your car. This is for authorized vehicles only.”

“Okay. They’ve got my dad “

“He’s well-taken care of Mam, I assure you.

Just go park in the Visitors’area on the east side and then you can come in to check on him.”

“Thank you.”

As Lisa followed the signs to Visitor Parking, a shiver went down her spine. Why didn’t she just ride in the ambulance with him? She had to admit the reasons were selfish. She didn’t want to be stranded at the hospital but it wasn’t just that. The thought of being so close

to death, especially her father’s death, was just too scary.

The Emergency Waiting Room had a weird smell to it. Kind of a cross between sour milk and ammonia. It was pretty crowded so Lisa had a seat next to a woman who was hunched over and moaning in pain. Lisa couldn’t imagine what was wrong with her. Another lady in a wheelchair was directly in front of her. She stared numbly into space. Amother tried to comfort an infant who was crying its head off. The receptionist had told Lisa to have a seat and that the doctor would come talk to her about her dad. She didn’t know when. It might be a while, she said.

Lisa was drifting in and out of sleep when she finally heard her dad’s name called. She walked to the front of the room. She guessed that she’d been waiting a couple of hours. She walked up to a middle-aged man, obviously the doctor, who was somewhat overweight but with a full head of blond hair. ‘If Robert Redford gained 100 pounds to play a fat doctor, this is

what he would look like’she thought to herself as she shook his hand.

“How is he, Doctor?”

“Your dad’s gonna be fine. He suffered a Level 2 Coronary.”

“What’s that?”

“Means he had a heart attack. Level 2 means it wasn’t severe enough to be life threatening but still bad enough to have damaged some tissue. But he’s gonna be fine. We’d like to keep him here a few days just to get him stabilized and for observations.”

The doctor started to walk away, already focused on his next patient.

“So when can I see him?” Lisa half yelled. The doctor stopped and turned to look at her.

“You can visit him tomorrow. Go to the Main Desk. They’ll tell you what room he’s in. We’re moving him out of ICU now.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

The doctor didn’t respond, too engrossed in the chart in his hand as he walked away.

For the drive home, Lisa was surprised how much traffic there was considering it was 4:30 in the morning. While above her head was still dark out, the eastern horizon was turning a light bluish-grey. About four cars back, she waited for the light to turn green. She thought about her dad. She was both relieved and concerned.

Relieved because the doctor said her dad would be okay. Concerned because she wondered how she was going to pay yet another doctor bill. The light finally turned green and she watched it a few seconds as the cars in front of her stayed motionless. Finally they surged forward. The hard truth was that her dad’s insurance was terrible.

Since he had served three years in theArmy right out of high school, he did have some coverage for being a veteran. But it didn’t come close to covering the cost for all her dad’s medical bills in the last few years. And now a heart attack on top of everything else. The good news was that Joe would turn 65 in a couple of

years and be eligible for Medicare but that didn’t help them now.

Of course, she could always go back to . . .no. Even the thought of it made her feel like vomiting. She pushed it to the back of her mind where she hoped it would stay forever buried. She’d be homeless before she went back to that life.

The finance company would just have to accept monthly payments. That’s all there was to it. They would have to incorporate it into the hospital bill she was still paying on for her dad’s amputation last year. They had no other choice.

You can’t get blood from a stone.

She got home about dawn (now she was glad she’d taken her car) and went back to bed. Worrying about money, she wasn’t able to sleep. She finally nodded off for an hour or two around lunchtime until she got up, took a shower, and drove to the hospital.

Anurse led her down the hospital corridor and into her father’s room. She saw her dad’s name handwritten on a card over the door and

stifled a yawn. The nurse gave her a generic smile as she indicated for Lisa to go in. The nurse walked away as Lisa slowly pushed on the half-opened door and knocked gingerly.

“Dad?”

“Hey, Lizzy. Come on in.”

Lisa went in the dimly lit room to see a bald man lying in the bed nearest the door. In the far bed was her father.

“Honey, want you to meet someone. This is Freddy. Freddy, this is my daughter, Liz.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Liz. Joe’s been going on and on about you.”

“All good, I hope.”

Lisa couldn’t resist the clichéd response. Her dad had always had the ability to find a new best friend out of any stranger within 10 minutes of meeting them. Lisa guessed that it was that quality that had made him a successful salesman when she was a kid.

“Freddy, was I right? Didn’t I tell you she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?”

“I gotta admit, you were right.”

“You thought I was exaggerating, didn’t you?”

“No, not at all.”

“C’mon, admit it.”

“Dad…”

“Freddy has a son. And two grandkids. You’re a lucky man, Fred. Can’t imagine what it’d be like to be blessed with grandkids,” Joe said as he gave Lisa a pointed look.

“I keep telling her she’s too cautious. It’s how she became after her mother was killed.”

“Yeah, I was sorry to hear about that. Just terrible,” Freddy offered sympathetically. Lisa was glad when a nurse entered the room to change the subject.

“How you feeling, Mr. Sandstrom? You ready for your afternoon stroll?” the nurse asked Freddy.

“Not really but, I guess I have no choice, right?”

“Afraid not,” the nurse agreed, oozing with professional bedside manner. She helped him

stand up. She took one hand and led him out the door while he dragged his mobile oxygen unit in his other.

“Watch out for him, nurse! You two don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“I wish,” Freddy mumbled as they disappeared out into the hall.

“Dad, why do you have to tell strangers our business?”

“What?” Joe asked defensively.

“He doesn’t need to know about Mom.”

“Oh, stop it, honey. He was a drug addict for 15 years. After his brother died in Nam, he felt guilty cause he’d been a draft dodger and went to Canada.”

“He told you all that?” Lisa asked, shaking her head in amazement.

“Yeah, so? He’s been clean and sober 24 years now. He’s a good guy.”

“Does that give you any ideas?”

“What?”

“Being sober.”

“So I have a cocktail before bed. Doesn’t mean I have a drinking problem.”

“It is a problem, Dad. This time was just a warning. Next time will be worse. You’ve gotta cut out the rum.”

Joe sighed despondently.

“I was in a good mood this morning. After the doctor told me I was gonna be okay. You sure know how to spoil a mood, don’t you?”

“Well, he’s gonna tell you the same thing I just told you: Lay off the booze. And you’re gonna have to be more careful with your diet. No more pastries. You’re not supposed to have that stuff anyway cause of your diabetes.”

“Yep, you sure know how to kill a mood,” Joe said as he looked somberly out the window. “When do I get outta here?”

“Tomorrow or the next day.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll leave tomorrow.”

“That depends. Let’s see what the doctor says.”

“You know how much we’ll save if I leave tomorrow instead of the next day? Thousands

of dollars. Crooks. All of’em. Especially Obama. That’s who I blame.”

“Dad, don’t start.”

“Obamacare. What a joke.”

“Dad, Obamacare hasn’t even started yet. If we had Obamacare, maybe we would’ve been covered.”

“Okay, so, how we gonna pay for this? They don’t work here for free, you know.”

“Just let me worry about it.”

“I still don’t understand why you quit your healthcare job “

“Dad “

“To work at McDonald’s.”

“How many times have I told you? I didn’t quit, I got laid off!”

“You had such good benefits. You can’t go back into that? While you’re here, why don’t you ask them for an application? I’ll ask the nurse when she comes back in.”

Lisa was getting visibly irritated. Mainly because she couldn’t tell her dad that she’d never been in healthcare.

“Dad! Please!! I don’t want you doing that!”

“Okay, okay. Calm down! I won’t. I just don’t understand you. It’s just like with the acting thing.”

“I don’t understand me either so that makes two of us. Let’s just drop it. Please! What’d they give you for lunch?”

“Some kinda meat. It was real soft so probably from a baby that died. You know how they like to recycle in these places.”

Joe cast lifeless, defeated eyes out the window.

“Ha ha,” Lisa sarcastically said, “Don’t be morbid.”

She knew he was getting in one of his dark moods. It always started with a joke where you couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny or not. She shouldn’t have told him about quitting the drinking. She should’ve let the doctor tell him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Never again. But you know what they say: Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.

It was a slow night.An hour before closing andAlan was already doing the dishes in the back sink. It was him, Lisa, Sylvia, and Ernesto closing. They were so slow that Sylvia wanted Ernesto to go home early but Ernesto asked if he could stay since he didn’t have a ride home except withAlan.

Sylvia, being the nice person that she was, agreed. Which meant thatAlan could go ahead and start washing dishes an hour early while Ernesto held down the kitchen and cooked for the straggling customers that were few and far between.

As he washed the dishes, he thought about the promise he’d made to himself. He had promised himself never again. And this bothered him.

He knew he could not afford searching for his own happiness in this world. The peace beyond understanding that he’d received when he was Saved, that was all the happiness he needed. Or so he had thought. So why was he obsessing over some girl? It didn’t matter what happened in this world. Only in the next. Right?

He picked up the bucket of grill parts and emptied them into the sink of soapy water. What did it matter if Bud and Virgil made fun of him? The truth was, he was prepared to take much more abuse from them than they had so far dished out. And not because he was a coward. But the opposite.

Because it’s what Jesus expected of him: Turn the other cheek. So far, all it was was name-calling (Soapboy. That wasn’t so bad. It could be worse) and some deriding at his expense. None of it bothered him. But the girl. The girl bothered him. She bothered him because she scared him. It wasn’t because she was beautiful. He’d

known beauty before. Nathalie. It wasn’t her beauty. It was something else.

He would be happy doing nothing else but just watching her. That’s what it was. That’s what scared him. But he couldn’t help it. He knew deep down that he would be content just watching her. Watch her every move, her expressions, her interactions.

At first he fought it. When she was in his presence, he went out of his way to avoid her. Went out of his way not to look at her, not to speak to her. He hoped that this crazy feeling he got because of her would just go away. But it didn’t. He prayed. Oh how he prayed about it. Prayed for God to make her ugly to him. And that bothered him. Because it seemed like a selfish prayer.

As he was contemplating all this, Lisa brought the bucket of shake parts to the back and set them down near the sink.

“Kinda nice getting to tear down early for a change,” she said to him pleasantly.

“I know what you mean,” Alan said perfunctorily, deep in thought. Yes, he would be happy just watching her. She was just so beautiful to him. Yes, there was nothing more he’d like than to just watch her.

Lisa waited for him to say something. When she saw him go back to his dirty dishes, she walked back up to the front.

There was only one thing to do,Alan thought. He had been dreading it but now he could see it had to be done. He would have a talk with his Pastor about her.

Alan turned around to watch Lisa walk away. Yes, she was beautiful even when she left him after bringing him dirty dishes to wash.

CHAPTER NINE

Pastor Skurhdal stared blankly atAlan.

“Would you like some more coffee?” Pastor Skurhdal finally asked.

“No thank you. I’ve still got some.” Alan took a sip from his styrofoam cup as if to prove that he still had coffee.

“How long has she been working there?”

“Acouple of months. Not long.”

“How long have you been working there, Alan?”

“Three years. But like we’ve discussed, just one more year and I’ll have enough to pay for Seminary College.”

“That’s good. You don’t want a student loan. The less financial burden you have, the easier it will be for you to find a church home.”

“Yes, you’ve told me. So what do I do about her, Pastor?”

“You’ve prayed about it?”

“Many times.”

Alan couldn’t help noticing the smile that crept onto his Pastor’s face.

“What? What is it?”

“You know, Alan, you’re one of my greatest blessings. Your devotion to God knows no bounds. You’re an inspiration even to me. Did you know that? I look to your example for what it means to be a Child of God.” The Pastor’s smile grew bigger asAlan became more uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Pastor. I don’t know what to say.”

“But I always knew the day would come when God would test you. Like he did me.”

“What you went through I can’t imagine. Did you hate God?”

“I admit that I did. But this was long before you knew me.”

“It happened in Minnesota?”

“Yes.”

“That’s where you’re from.”

“We lived in a beautiful area in Northern Minnesota. It was cold but I actually liked it. I

remember the night I got the phone call. Early December. We’d just gotten about a foot of snow. My brother-in-law called and said they were all dead. Adrunk driver had crossed the line into a head-on collision. All of them. Dead. My wife. My two daughters. My son. The drunk driver.”

“I’m so sorry. I just can’t imagine.” The Pastor gaveAlan a gracious smile.

“But to answer your question: Yes, I did hate God after that. I couldn’t stay there. Too many things reminded me of them. So about a year after it happened is when I accepted the call to come to this church. But it didn’t help. The hatred and bitterness I felt was slowly destroying me. I was bitter towards God and I began to be bitter about other things.”

“But you’re not bitter now. So what happened?”

“I began hating my life, began cursing God. I felt like a fraud and a hypocrite. Here I was, the Pastor of a church, telling people every Sunday to love God, to trust in Him. When I

knew in my heart it was a lie. I found myself doing things and getting into habits that were outside of God’s Will. I won’t go into details. Until finally, I had to admit to myself that I didn’t believe in God anymore. Did you hear? Here I was a Pastor by occupation and I realized I was an atheist. I can’t tell you how horrible that is. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

“But you’re not an atheist now.”

“No, I’m not. Only for the grace of God did I eventually come back into the fold. Several things happened. The first is...just like you’re doing now, I had a talk with Father Grayson, who was my spiritual mentor. And what he said to me was like a laser piercing me between the eyes.” Alan waited for Pastor Shurhdal to continue.

“He said to me: ‘Act as if you have faith, and faith will be given to you.’ So I thought about that. For days. Even weeks. And then I came to a realization that no matter what God throws at you, no matter what he puts you through: It’s better to have faith than not have

faith. No matter what you suffer, your road will be less rocky if you Believe. After thinking about these things the importance of faith, how to keep your faith—one morning I made two decisions that finally started to turn things around. So that I could forgive God and also forgive myself.”

“What were they?”

“The first was I resolved to give thanks every day to God. Instead of praying to God and blaming Him for what I didn’t have or no longer had, I would thank Him for the blessings I still had. And what did I still have? I had a profession. I had an occupation. I had a job. So that was the second thing. I resolved to throw myself into my occupation, into being the best Pastor I could be. Because I somehow knew that that was all that God required of me at that time. If I can do my job well, I will be doing His Will. So that’s what I’ve done ever since,Alan. It didn’t happen overnight, and I still have bad days. But the hatred and

bitterness started to disappear and was replaced with a thankful and contrite heart.”

Alan looked down at the black coffee in his Styrofoam cup. There were grounds at the bottom.

“You’re the one who inspires me,”Alan remarked as he took a sip of his coffee. It was lukewarm.

“I don’t know if my faith could’ve survived a test like that.”

“God tests us all in different ways,Alan.”

“This girl. You think this is God’s test for me?”

“I don’t know. But just remember: We’re not Catholic Priests. We’re not sworn to eternal celibacy. I was married. Maybe I will be again someday. All I’m saying is maybe you should be open to the feelings you have for this girl. Maybe God is trying to tell you something.”

The Pastor got up and picked up the pot of coffee from over by the window. He held it overAlan’s cup.

“You sure you wouldn’t like some more?”

“No thank you. I have to be going anyway.”

“I’ll be praying for you,Alan. Let me know how it goes.”

“Thank you, Pastor Skurhdal. I will.”

Alan picked up the remainder of his coffee and swallowed it, grounds and all, as the Pastor filled his own ceramic mug that a member of his congregation had given him years ago.

CHAPTER TEN

Mid-afternoon was always a struggle. Nobody wanted to be there. Nobody wanted to work. In between the lunch rush and the dinner rush. Alan punched in and immediately noticed that there was something different about this afternoon. Bud was the floor manager. Virgil was on the counter in front. Lisa was in drivethru. And Bill was cooking. It was dead as usual. The occasional customer straggled in or pulled up through drive-thru. ButAlan noticed Bill was acting strange. He was always a good worker, Bill. That’s one of the things he andAlan had in common. And one of the reasons they liked each other. They had a similar work ethic. So Bill, even if he wasn’t cooking because there were no customers, always stayed busy. If you’re not serving customers, then be cleaning. That was the silent mantra thatAlan and Bill shared. But today was different.

AsAlan was punching in, Bill had uncharacteristically spilled vat grease all over the floor. One of his afternoon rituals was to empty the grease in the vat of the fry machine, clean it out, then fill it with fresh grease. Well today, Bill had forgot to put the plug back in the bottom of the fry machine. So as fast as he began filling it up, it had come pouring out the bottom all over the floor.

“Are you okay?”Alan asked him as he mopped up the grease. It was a question that on some level violated their silent, mutual trust and respect. ButAlan felt it needed to be asked. It was obvious toAlan that Bill was out of sorts. He had seen Bill like this one time before: When his daughter was in the hospital with his first grandchild. Both today and the other time, Bill was behaving like a chicken with its head cut off.

“Mr. Know-it-all’s in rare form. That’s all I’ve got to say about that!” Bill blurted out as he frantically mopped. Alan knew right away who Bill was talking about. Bill didn’t make it a

secret, at least not toAlan, that he disliked Bud. Bill had several nicknames for Bud. The one he liked the most was “Mr. Know-it-all.” ButAlan had also heard Bud referred to as “Loverboy” and “Mr. Cooljeans” (Alan wasn’t sure what the last one was supposed to mean).

Alan asked Bill once what he had against Bud. Bill stopped cutting the tomatoes for salads and stood there looking down for a long moment, thinking how to answer, which he finally did.

“He’s a punk. He’s the kind of kid who was always in my office when I was a principal. But mostly...it’s the way he treats you,” Bill said as he looked up and leveled his gaze atAlan. Alan just smiled. “If the way he acts doesn’t bother me, why should it bother you?” is whatAlan wanted to say but instead he just turned around to tend to his burgers on the grill.

But today, asAlan watched Bill mop up the fry grease on the floor, it was obvious that something Bud was doing was really getting under Bill’s skin. Alan took the small container

of soap out of his back pocket, washed his hands, and put the soap back in his pocket. He tied his apron on and checked the levels on all the condiments to see if any needed filling. They all looked fine except the mustard was a little low. He started walking towards the walkin freezer in back.

“Hey, Soapboy!” Alan stopped and turned and saw Bud staring at him from the front counter area behind the registers. “Gimme 12 regs, cheese 10 of’em!,” Bud yelled from across the burger bin.

“12 regs, cheese 10 of them,”Alan parroted back to him.

“Oh, and you’re doing my towels tonight.

You owe me from the other night, remember?”

“You’re right. I said I’d do towels for you.”

“I know you did. And just so you know, I’m the closing manager tonight. What I say goes. So hurry up with those regs.”

Bud looked over at Lisa, who was stocking paper supplies in drive-thru. As usual, she just ignored him. The thing that had set Bud off

happened 10 minutes earlier when Virgil came up to get his food to take with him on his break. He noticed Bud helping to get Lisa’s orders together for customers in drive-thru. As Bud handed Lisa her next order, he came back into the front counter area behind the registers just as Virgil was setting his medium coke on his tray.

“Why you being so nice to her?” Virgil asked Bud, “Is it cause you wanna get laid?”

“What do you think, Einstein? Of course it’s cause I wanna get laid. Why else would I do it?”

Bud asked him contemptuously. “And just so you know,” Bud added, “I already had her.”

“You serious?” Virgil asked in awe.

“Fuck yeah! She started crying. I almost broke her in half. She couldn’t handle me.

“You’re shittin’me,” Virgil exclaimed. His look of admiration for Bud was written all over his face and Bud was eating it up.

“No I ain’t shittin’you.”

“So if you already had her, why you still being nice to her?” Virgil asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Cause I’m gonna have her again.”

“You are?”

“She’s gonna be way better next time, after I’ve broken her in.”

“WHAT DID YOU SAYTO HIM!?”

Startled, both Bud & Virgil turned and looked to see Lisa standing behind them, having heard the whole exchange.

“I wouldn’t spend two seconds with you!! Stop lying to him!” Lisa scolded Bud. She looked at Virgil. “Don’t fall for this guy’s bullshit. On my mother’s grave, I never slept with him. And I never will.” Giving Bud a look that could kill, she pushed the button on her drive-thru headset.

“Welcome to McDonald’s, can I take your order?” Still steaming, she walked back to her drive-thru window to take her customer’s order.

As Lisa walked away, Virgil and Bud looked at each other. It wasn’t the look of disappointment in Virgil’s eyes that rankled Bud, although that was bad enough. No, what

really irked him was that for a split second, he thought he saw a look of pity from Virgil.

“Go take your break! Get outta my face!” Without saying a word, Virgil followed orders. And that’s about the time Bud heard grease splattering all over the floor. He walked to the fry area and saw Bill filling the vats with grease but evidently Bill didn’t realize it was spewing out the bottom just as fast as he was putting it in.

“You better stay away from that girl. She’s bad news,” Bill warned Bud.

“Look what you’re doing!! You’re getting grease all over the floor!” Bill looked down and noticed the grease for the first time. He instantly turned off the greaser and threw down the hose in anger.

“And what are you saying about Lisa? She wouldn’t have anything to do with you, old man,” Bud smirked, “Mind your own damn business...and clean up your damn mess. Hurry up.” And then when Soapboy clocked in, he’d heard Bill call him “Mr. Know-it-all”

“12 regs, cheese 10 up!!”Alan blurted out as he slid the tray of hamburgers onto the top of the dividing bin. As Bud wrapped the hamburgers and deposited them into the warmer, he thought about Lisa. She’s just a bitch who thinks she’s better than me. Okay, so I won’t have her. Fine. Then I’ll have fun busting her balls. He wanted to think of things vulgar to say to her, that he could say also in front of Virgil. But he had to think of them fast before Virgil got back from his break. He wrapped the last cheeseburger and put it in the warmer. It was a good two hours before the dinner rush but that would be more than enough burgers for the rest of the afternoon. He knew you were only supposed to keep them in the warmer for 30 minutes before you tossed them but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna wrap burgers every 30 minutes. Let the customers have the ones already cooked. If they were stale, they were stale. That was the customer’s problem, not his.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

By the time the dinner rush was over, Bud was ready to start tearing down. Lisa was taking the shake machine apart. Virgil was covering in grill (which basically meant he was back in the kitchen eating) while Soapboy was doing towels. Lisa had been reluctant to tear down the shake machine so early.

“But we’re still open for three more hours,” she had reminded Bud. But Bud was insistent and he was the floor manager so she did what she was told. As Bud leaned on the front counter watching her tear down the machine and not offering to help, Virgil came to the front with a mouthful of food. He took a medium sized cup and began filling it with coke, no ice.

Bud and Virgil gave each other a mischievous look.

“Hey Lisa, wanna take a ride on my hot rod Lincoln?” Bud asked her. Bud and Virgil looked at each other and started laughing. Lisa

completely ignored them, continuing to take the shake machine apart.

“Some people think they’re better than everybody else. Some people think their shit don’t stink,” Bud informed Virgil. Virgil nodded in agreement. “Hey Lisa,” Bud started in again. He could see the back of her shoulders tense up. But she didn’t turn around or acknowledge him in any way. She was almost done taking down the shake machine.

She had made up her mind to completely avoid Bud as much as she could. She just wanted to get the night over with. But tomorrow she would be talking to Mike and telling him what happened. And she would also tell Mike that she refused to work with Bud again as long as he was the floor manager.

“She’s ignoring me, Virg. She thinks she’s too good to talk to me.”

“Stuck up bitch,” Virgil chimed in.

“Hey Lisa,” Bud continued, “You know the difference between a rooster and a whore?A rooster says ‘cockadoodledoo.’Awhore says "

“LEAVE HERALONE!!”

Virgil, Bud, and Lisa almost jumped out of their skin, the voice was so loud. They turned and looked to seeAlan standing by the fry machine. There was one couple in the dining area. And whenAlan yelled, even they stopped eating and looked towards the kitchen area, startled and frightened by the ferocity ofAlan’s voice.

Bud could tell by looking at Soapboy that Soapboy wasn’t really in control of himself as they stood there staring at each other, not knowing what was going to happen next. Bud wasn’t afraid of Soapboy but what he was afraid of was Soapboy having another epileptic fit like he had had a few weeks ago. So Bud acquiesced.

“No problem,Alan.” Bud looked at Lisa. “Lisa, I’m sorry for what I said just now. It won’t happen again.” Bud quickly looked at Soapboy to see if his apology would help calm Soapboy down. It seemed to work.

“Alan, why don’t you go ahead and take your half. You can finish towels after that. How does that sound, Buddy?” Bud gave him a placating smile. Without saying a word,Alan grabbed a clean tray. They silently watched him as he took a quarter pounder from the warmer and put some ice in a small cup. He put the cup under the coke dispenser, after which he put a lid on it. He grabbed a couple of napkins and straw and put them on his tray.

As he walked with his tray to go clock out, he looked at Lisa. Without a word spoken, he looked at her as if to say “Are you all right?”

Lisa gave him a nod to let him know that she was okay. Only then didAlan clock out and head for the Workers’Lounge downstairs.

“Lisa, why don’t you go ahead and take your half too after you finish with the shake machine.”

Ten minutes later both Lisa andAlan were alone in the Workers’Lounge eating their dinner, which had happened enough times that by now, they were use to the routine. They

always exchanged a few perfunctory pleasantries when they first sat down at the same table (because it was the only table). And then the rest of the meal was usually eaten in complete silence. While they ate, Lisa was usually on her phone withAlan pretending to stare off into space but in reality, trying to watch her without her noticing.

But tonight, after the altercation upstairs, things were different. She wanted to thank him for sticking up for her, which she did.

“That’s okay, I enjoyed I mean...I was glad to do it.”

“Those guys can be real jerks sometimes.”

“They were tonight. That’s for sure.”

“It’s not just tonight. The way they treat you is awful.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Well, I disagree.”

They ate in silence for a while. Lisa sensed something different about him. She could smell it a mile away, when a guy liked her. Now Alan’s whole demeanor was different. It was

like he was worshipping her or something. Maybe it had been there before but if it had, either she hadn’t been very good at noticing it or he had been very good at hiding it. Probably both. But now, after the incident upstairs, it was obvious to her that he was making no effort to hide how he felt about her.

And they both knew it.

He took another bite of his quarter pounder, trying to think of something to say. Later, when he thought back on it, what he said next made him cringe with embarrassment.

“Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me?” When she didn’t answer at first, he immediately started to retreat.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what made me—” “Okay, sure.” Lisa didn’t really know what made her agree so quickly. She actually found the whole thing a little disconcerting. She had thoughtAlan was above the fray when it came to all the boys at McDonald’s who if not in love,

were definitely in lust with her. And now to find that this sheltered boy, who wanted to be a preacher, had a crush on her? It was a little disconcerting, but (Lisa couldn’t help it) it was also a little amusing.

“What’s so funny?”Alan asked warily. Lisa thought quickly how to answer.

“The look on Bud’s face when you yelled at him to leave me alone.”

“Oh...yeah. Well, honestly, I didn’t really notice it.”

“It was priceless,” she half laughed. She took a bite of her Chef’s Salad. Sure, she would have coffee with this innocent boy. Why not? It was actually kinda nice to be spending time with somebody who was halfway decent for a change. Lisa thought back, trying to remember the last nice boy who had asked her out.

“Can I get your phone number?”Alan asked her.

“Do you have a phone? I’ll text it to you.”

“It’s at home. I’ve got one, I just don’t always carry it with me.”

“I’ll text it to you. What’s your number?”

As she pushed the icon on her phone to create a new contact, suddenly they heard what sounded like a mouse scurrying up the wall.

On the other side of the break room wall was the staircase that led up to the floor of the restaurant. If you were sitting in the Workers’ Lounge, you could always hear when someone was coming down the stairs. But this time they heard what was obviously somebody running up the stairs.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Dude, I’m serious. She’s going out with Soapboy.”

“You’re full of shit, Virgil. Who told you that?” Bud asked him.

“I was listening to them in the break room. They didn’t even know I was there.”

“Whadayamean they didn’t know you was there?”

“I was sitting at the bottom of the steps listening while they were eating. He asked her if she wanted to have coffee and she said yes. Swear to God.”

“Get outta here.”

“Dude! I’m serious!”

“No, I mean it! Get outta here! Get back to work, Virgil. Before I...”

“Before you what?”

“Before you’re fired. Now go!!”

“Okay, dude. You don’t have to yell.”

Bud didn’t see the hurt in Virgil’s eyes. Because he was looking down at the money drawer that he was supposed to count two hours ago. But he heard it. Virgil left the office as Bud stared down at the wad of ones in his hand. He was mad at Virgil. For two reasons. First for interrupting him while he was counting a drawer. Now he would have to start over after Virgil made him lose count. And secondly (and most importantly), for saying what he definitely did not want to hear: Lisa and Soapboy were dating. Bud angrily threw the ones in his hand back down onto the drawer. Half a dozen bills bounced off the drawer and floated down onto the floor. Of course. He reached down and picked them up one by one. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Lisa? And Soapboy? Lisa chose Soapboy. Over him. He once again threw down the ones onto the money drawer. This time even harder. This time even more bills bounced up before drifting onto the floor. But he didn’t care. He left them there. At this moment, he had never hated

anybody as much as he did Soapboy. No. That’s not true. Lisa. He hated her more. She chose Soapboy. Instead of him. Well, she would pay. They would both pay. He wanted to kick himself. Now he wished that Soapboy had gone ahead and spazzed out like he did that one night. It coulda been beautiful. He coulda taken his time calling 911. Maybe give them the wrong address accidentally on purpose. He could still do it.

He just needed a plan. Aplan to upset Soapboy so much he would go into one of his spazzes again. Maybe he could say something nasty to Lisa again to getAlan all upset. Or maybe push him, try and get a fight started, see how he reacted. He’d have to think about it. But not now, he needed to get this drawer counted. All he knew for sure was they would both pay. He started counting the bills again.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Bill was nervous. There was only one other customer, a guy in his 20s, sitting all the way across the room. He picked up his drink, condensation dripping off the bottom of it. Ice water. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, he thought. AMexican restaurant at 2:00 on a Thursday afternoon. Of course it’s dead. He took a small sip, trying not to let anymore of the glass touch his lips than necessary. He had picked a booth for them to sit at. Where the hell was she?

He looked at his watch. Actually it was 1:58 so technically she wasn’t late. Yet. He thought back to when he had known her. He had known her as Leeza. Now she went by Lisa. Whatever.

Of course she was beautiful. But they were all beautiful, Bill remembered, the strippers he had come into contact with in those days. He thought about whether he had known them. No, not really. It was more accurate to say that he

had come into contact with them, but he hadn’t ‘known’them.

Half in the bag, he would sneak into those places and hide out in back in case somebody recognized him. He’d find a seat all the way in the back in a dark corner and then watch the topless dancers on the stage with the pole. Some places had two or three stages going on at the same time.

And then when he saw one he liked, he would ask her for a lap dance—which they never refused to be given in a small, private room in the back. That was where the real money was made instead of the $1 bills men would throw at them on the stage. Alap dance cost $20 per song.

If you weren’t careful, you could blow several hundred dollars in an hour. Bill came in always wanting to talk. Sure he liked the dances and wanted sex as much as the next guy. But a lot of times, instead of them rolling their bodies all over him while he wasn’t allowed to touch (which is all a lap dance really was), a lot of

times he just wanted to talk. Some people got angry or belligerent when drinking, Bill got more outgoing. Lots of times he would ask them to sit and talk instead of a dance.

“Okay but you still gotta pay me.” That’s what most said. But some were nice about it and would sit and talk to him for free. Leeza was one of those. But the funny thing was, he’d only seen her strip one time. And it wasn’t even at a club he’d ever been to before or since.

At first he’d been fascinated by the strippers. But he soon learned that most of their stories were sad. Almost all were single mothers of small children. Almost all were just stripping until they could raise the money to do something else (or so they said). Most said they wanted to be hair dressers or own a small business. Some said they wanted to be lawyers or doctors, which always made Bill stifle a laugh.

Because the other thing almost all of them had in common was they were uneducated, most having never gone to college and about half

having never finished high school. That’s why Leeza stood out. They found out they had something in common: a love of old movies. That night, as she sat there next to him topless, she went on and on for what seemed an hour on how underrated Jimmy Stewart had been as an actor and how one of the best performances ever recorded on film was his performance in It’s a Wonderful Life. He felt so bad that he insisted she take $100 even though she’d only given him one lap dance. She refused at first but he finally got her to take it. He’d only met her the one time but after their conversation, a memory that was burned in his brain, how could she not stand out? Most strippers probably didn’t even know who Jimmy Stewart was.

The other reason she stood out was because the one time he had seen her strip was in a strip club in Dallas the only time he’d been to a strip club that wasn’t in Denver. Him and his wife had gone there on vacation to visit his daughter and their grandchildren. And to think

if that one night he had not secretly gone out to a strip club, he never would have known Leeza existed and he wouldn’t be in this mess now. He looked out the window, the raw unfiltered sunlight slightly hurting his eyes. Where was she? He was getting more and more nervous every second. Well, the good part was that that was all in his past. Or at least he thought it was until she showed up.

He’d quit going to strip clubs at exactly the same time he quit drinking. The last time he’d done both was New Year’s Eve about three years ago. He’d calculated that he’d blown close to ten thousand dollars in the 18 months or so he’d gone to strip clubs. But it was all for lap dances. He never once hired a prostitute. How he’d managed to keep it from his wife, he still found amazing. It had been a calculated and carefully concealed form of embezzlement from their savings account and lucky for him, his wife had always left the finances in his hands. In some ways, it was the boldest, craziest thing he’d ever done.

Most people would probably chalk it up to a mid-life crisis or a last desperate attempt at a fling or something. Bill guessed that that was pretty accurate. The gym teacher at Bill’s school was a wild card who also happened to be Bill’s best friend. Bill’s wife didn’t care for him but he provided a perfect alibi (which Coach Fields was always willing to back up).

“Honey, I’m going over to Robbie’s tonight…yeah, he’s got some friends over from outta town. We’ll just hang out, have a few beers. Probably won’t be home ‘til after midnight so don’t wait up.”

Sometimes Coach Fields went with Bill to the strip clubs, most of the time he didn’t (even though it was Coach Fields who had taken him to his first strip club). Bill had hardly ever been in a bar before that and to suddenly walk into a place where women were casually going around topless? That was just too intoxicating for him.

But he’d finally had enough when his biggest fear became a reality (Actually it was the second biggest. His biggest fear that

fortunately never came true--was having his wife find out). One night Bill was in the back in his usual seat when a principal from another school came in. Just like Bill, he’d chosen the same dark corner of the club to avoid being recognized. They were only about three chairs and 10 feet apart. Bill sat their horrified as the waitress brought the other principal a drink.

Bill kept his head down (he was wearing a standard ball cap so that helped), trying not to be recognized. Bill wanted to get up and leave immediately but that meant walking right in front of his colleague. So he sat there and waited, hoping his colleague would get up to use the bathroom or something so that Bill could slip out.

After about 30 minutes, Bill was convinced that his colleague had recognized him so Bill got up and left the strip club. When Bill walked by him, he was close enough he could’ve stopped and tapped him on the head without hardly reaching or bending over. Instead Bill

just kept walking, keeping his eyes straight ahead, terrified of making eye contact. That wasn’t the last time Bill ever went to a strip club but it was one of the last. As time went on and he saw his colleague at meetings and other events, neither of them ever dared mention what happened. But they both knew. Bill hadn’t been in one of those places for over three years now. What possessed him, he’d never know. He was glad to have it in the past. And now his past had come back to haunt him. This time the colleague was a co-worker at McDonald’s. And just like the first colleague, he and Leeza knew each other’s secret. And also just like the first colleague, he and Leeza never talked about it. In fact, he and Leeza never talked at all. They avoided each other, the other person an all-too-real reminder of a past they’d both like to forget.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Bill looked once again out the window into the bright sunshine just in time to see a small black Toyota pickup pull into the parking lot and park. Leeza got out and he watched her cross the parking lot towards the front door of the restaurant. Afeeling of dread churned in his stomach.

He thought he was done with his sordid past. But here it was, coming back up to the surface, refusing to stay dead and buried. Bill realized he’d never hated anybody as much as he did this girl. Leeza or Lisa or whatever she called herself.

He watched her come in the front door and exchange a few words with the hostess. He felt tremendously uncomfortable when the hostess pointed to him and Leeza suddenly fixed her gaze upon him. They stared at each other a second before Leeza started walking towards him. The closer she got, the more she seemed

like a carnivore who had suddenly zeroed in on her prey.

“Hi, Bill. So what did you want to see me about? I’m not late, am I?”

“Yes. Seven minutes. Have a seat. Can I get you something?”

Before she could answer, Bill’s waitress came up to her table. She held out a menu for Leeza but Leeza didn’t take it.

“Nothing for me except a diet coke.”

The waitress looked at Bill.

“You doing okay, Sir?” she asked him.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

She exchanged looks with Lisa before walking away.

“You should order something, Bill. This is a business, ” Lisa told him.

“I don’t want anything.” He picked up his water and took a shallow sip. Again, condensation dripped off his glass. He set the ice water down and stared at her. He felt some satisfaction when he noticed his gaze making her uncomfortable. But he was surprised when,

like putting on a suit of armour, her awkward uncomfortableness disappeared.

She looked at him and smiled.

“So how did you work it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were in Dallas to visit your grandkids, right?”

“How did you know that?”

“We work at the same place, Bill. Plus I asked Mike.”

“I’m not here to discuss that. I’m here to talk aboutAlan.”

“What about him?”

“I want you to stay away from him.”

“Did you know he asked me out for coffee?”

“No. I didn’t. I knew he liked you but—”

“Yeah, everybody knows after his little outburst.”

“So are you going to have coffee with him?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she lied, “but after talking to you, I think I will.” She was getting madder and madder every second.

“You know he wants to be a preacher, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So---” Bill stopped himself when their waitress brought Lisa her diet coke.

“Can I get you two anything else?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Just the check,” Bill told her.

“Here,” Lisa said as she dug in her pocket. She pulled out a five.

“Keep the change.” She handed the waitress the money.

“Thanks,” the waitress replied warmly. She walked away without another word but before she did, she shot a look at Bill that told him what she thought of him. Bill looked backwards at the waitress as she disappeared around a corner. He wanted to make sure nobody could hear their conversation.

“So where are you stripping now?” Bill asked, turning back around to look at Lisa.

“I’m not stripping. I gave that up. People can change, in case you haven’t heard.” Bill let out a laugh.

“So are you gonna do it or not?”

“Do what?”

“LeaveAlan alone.”

“He’s a grown man. I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“I can make it my business. I can tell him what you are.” It was Lisa’s turn to laugh.

“You liked old movies, right?” Bill asked her.

“Yeah, so?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen Shane. Remember at the end when he kills Jack Palance? Then he tells the kid that a man has to be what he is? Why are you working at McDonald’s? Go back where you belong. Alan doesn’t need to be around your kind.”

“And what’s ‘my kind’?”

“You know, someone not decent, like he is.”

“You mean someone not good enough for him. Or you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Listen, you wanna tellAlan about my past, be my guest. I couldn’t care less. But lemme ask you: What’s to prevent me from calling your wife and telling her about your past?” Bill’s face turned white.

“You take care, Bill,” she smiled sweetly at him, “Enjoyed our little talk. See ya at work.” Lisa got up and walked towards the front door.

“Leeza!”

She kept walking. She was so mad that she didn’t even hear the hostess tell her to have a nice day as she opened the glass door and walked out into the sunlight.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

She saw something small and dark and dead in the middle of the road. She was still too far away to tell exactly what it was. But as she jogged closer, she almost hoped it was a dead bird. Usually she had empathy for any creature that was suffering, dying, or dead. But not today. The world was basically a bad place. And she was part of the world, so she was bad too. She had forgotten that fact but the old man in the restaurant this afternoon had only too clearly reminded her of it. Nope, not a dead bird. Just an old, greasy rag. And surprisingly, after her conversation with Bill, she was relieved. She felt like running and never stopping. Just keep running ‘til she hit an ocean. Run, Forest, run. She would too, if it wasn’t for her dad. She should just go back to stripping. Like Bill said, you can’t change a leopard’s spots. Aman’s gotta be what he is. Come back, Shane! Look at that idiot sitting out on his porch. Typical suburban zombie.

Haven’t you ever seen anybody jogging before? Take a picture, moron.

The thing that really stuck in her craw was the hypocrisy. He thinks he’s better than me. Well, maybe you are, Bill. You’re right. I am bad. And I’m gonna prove it to you. I’ll bet the old asshole still has a landline. Get his number from work and then just start calling him at home. And when his wife answers, say “Hi, this is McDonald’s. Is Bill home?” Then when she puts him on, tell him who it is. “See how easy it is for me to get to you? To ruin your life? Put your wife on. I want her to talk to the stripper who used to give her husband lap dances. Go ahead, Bill. Put her on.” Let’s see what he says to that.

Even as she played out the fantasy in her head, she knew she could never do it. First of all, either Bill was incredibly dumb or his wife was. Or both. You’re out getting lap dances all night, your clothes are gonna reek of cheap perfume. So either his wife had the IQ of a shovel or she just never said anything.

She slowed down a little to let a car turn in front of her onto a side street. For another thing, the truth was, he’d only come into her strip club the one night. But even so, she could tell he was a strip club veteran, even though she only gave him one lap dance. Most guys that had never been in a strip club don’t know they’re not supposed to touch during lap dances. But Bill knew. Even though he wasn’t one of her regulars, she could tell that he was a lap dance veteran.

Most of her regulars had been guys that came to the strip club on Saturday and then went home and played with their wife and kids on Sunday. Lusting after her in the dark behind their loved ones’back. All guys are the same. All guys have the same feelings below their belt. Including you, Granddad. And including your friend. What makes him thinkAlan is any different? Wants to be a preacher. Gimme a break. That would be her revenge. She wouldn’t ruin anybody’s life but she would seduceAlan. Then she would laugh in

Bill’s face and he would be helpless to do anything about it. Then she would quit and look for something else. Maybe she could go into the healthcare profession like her dad wants. Be one of those nurses that takes you back to the little room and takes your blood pressure and tells you the doctor will be with you shortly. Or maybe even go back to stripping. Maybe Bill’s right. Maybe you can’t change the leopard’s spots. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. No, she would figure something else out. She didn’t know yet what she would do, other than seduceAlan. And quit McDonald’s. Would she sleep with him? No. She didn’t want to ruin anybody’s life but she would prove, at least to herself if nobody else, thatAlan was no different than any other guy. All she wanted was to see that look of lust in his eyes. The same look she saw in all the men who ogled after her in the strip club. Wants to be a preacher. Gimme a break. All men are the same.

I’m the one better than you, and your friend, Bill. I could ruin both your lives, turn your wife against you, sleep with your preacher, but I’m not. Assholes. Hypocrites. All men are the same. She looked down at her watch. 20 more minutes. She waited for a car to pass then crossed the road, picking up her pace.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

So the plan was simple: SeduceAlan. Okay, she wouldn’t sleep with him, but just to prove to herself that he WOULD sleep with her if he could.Actually, it wasn’t even that. She just wanted to see that look in his eyes. The same look the guys had given her when they’d thrown dollar bills at her as she danced topless.

Bill had saidAlan wanted to be a preacher. Fine. Let him be a preacher. She didn’t wanna ruin any lives. But she wanted to prove (at least to herself if no one else) that at heart he was a hypocrite. Ha! Preachers and stuck-up exprincipal were no better than she was. And she would prove it. And tonight was the perfect night. Slow Thursday night. Ernesto had called in sick. Just her andAlan on the floor. Mike was the manager, who would be spending most of his time in the Manager’s Office. Just enough alone time withAlan to let him know she was available. He was probably a virgin, so she

couldn’t come on too strong. All she wanted was the look.

The look in men’s eyes when she knew they wanted her. She was planning on making her move during their half-hour break, thinking they would be eating supper together in the Workers’ Lounge. She would subtly invite him to come over after work. But Ernesto calling in sick changed that. Mike relieved her on her half and then when she got back, relievedAlan on his. So she had to resort to Plan B: Show some skin. She had learned that nothing made a man desire her more than the possibility of seeing her naked. And, of course, cleavage was the tried and true method for instantly making guys want to sleep with you. So whenAlan came back from his half, she decided when to make her move. She’d wait until after they’d closed. She would be alone withAlan. Mike would be in the office and there would be no possibility of being interrupted by a customer walking in or driving up to drive-thru.

“Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I take your order?”

“I’ll have a number one.”

“What to drink?”

“Um….Dr. Pepper, I guess.”

“$3.79 at the second window.” Lisa grabbed a medium cup and scooped some ice into it. She looked at the clock on the wall over her head. 45 minutes until closing time. She put the cup under the Dr. Pepper dispenser as it automatically began filling. She went to get the rest of the order. She hadn’t given her notice yet but she would definitely be quitting. She hadn’t decided yet what she was going to do. All she knew was that her dad wasn’t getting any younger. Maybe she actually could go into healthcare.

She thought about not even giving any notice when she quit but she figured she would. McDonald’s had been fair with her (mainly Mike and Sylvia) so she would do the right thing.

“How ya doin’on Macs?”Alan nervously asked her as she put a large fry in the bag with the Big Mac.

“We’re okay. We’ve still got a couple,” she replied with a nervous smile. Atwinge of guilt surged through her as she took the number one to the drive-thru window. She topped off the Dr. Pepper and put a lid on it. She stepped on the button on the floor that opened the drive-thru window.

“Hi, that’ll be $3.79.”

After the customer had left, she knocked on the door to the Manager’s Office.

“Come in,” she heard Mike bark through the door. She opened it.

“Mike, can I go ahead and tear the shake machine down?” Mike looked at his watch.

“Yeah, go ahead. It’s a slow night.”

“Thanks.” Lisa closed the door and walked to the back to get a bucket to put the shake machine parts in. As she walked through the kitchen, she gaveAlan a smile which he returned. He quickly looked away and went

back to cleaning the second of the two grills. She thought it kind of strange. He had declared his love for her, to the whole restaurant in fact, less than a week ago when he had defended her against Bud. He even asked her out for coffee (which she had said yes to but hadn’t texted him a date or a time). But since then, he hadn’t said two words to her.

She entertained the idea that maybe he had changed his mind about her, that he was no longer in love with her. Which would’ve been just fine with her because it would make what she had to do that much easier.

But she knew that wasn’t true. The opposite was probably the reason he hadn’t spoken two words to her in the last few days. Since she hadn’t texted him back with a time to have coffee, he probably figured that it was she who had changed her mind.

She knew that’s probably what it was, because when he did look at her, or talk to her about something job related, the love and adoration in his eyes for her was almost

palpable. There was no mistaking it. Again, a twinge of guilt surged through her. Was she really going to let this guy know (or at least let him think) that she was available? Okay. She wouldn’t even go that far. Just show him some cleavage. Just so she could get that look of lust in his eyes. The look that would prove what she already knew. All men were the same.

She needed to stop worrying that she was gonna hurt him. In fact, he might even surprise her. Preacher or not, he might even like the idea and want to sleep with her after her advances.

Strip away the niceties, he’ll be no different than any other man. She was betting on it.

Forty-five minutes later Mike came out of the office and locked the doors out in the lobby. He turned around and walked back towards the office.

“We’re closed” he told Lisa as he disappeared back into the office. Lisa put the last shake part in the bucket. Alan was in the back washing dishes. She was

surprised how nervous she was. Her adrenalin was flowing and her heart was beating fast. But it was now or never. She walked to the back.

“Alan, can you come get the shake bucket? It’s too heavy for me.”

“Sure,”Alan said on cue. He put the spatula he was washing back in the soapy water, wiped his hands dry on a towel, and walked to the front. He picked up the bucket, heavy even for him, and started to carry it to the back sink.

“Let me help you with that.” As he was carrying it, she put her hands over his on the bucket handle. She then bent over, giving him a full view of her cleavage as they started to carry the bucket to the back. She looked in his eyes to see what would be his reaction. She noticed him looking down at her cleavage. Suddenly he dropped the bucket and gasped for air. He looked her in the eye.

“Okay, now’s the moment,” she thought as she watched him intensely. And she saw it. But just for the shortest, fleeting moment. And then she thought she saw disappointment. And worst

of all hurt. She had hurt him. She had convinced herself that she wouldn’t but the look in his eyes said she had.

She finally looked down, ashamed of what she had done. Alan picked up the shake parts and took them to the back sink. He dumped them into the sink and began washing them. Lisa stood frozen in her spot, still looking down. She then went up to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Alan...”

“What?” he asked, not looking at her as he continued washing the shake parts.

“Alan...did you still want to have coffee?” It surprised her but the fact was that she was afraid. Afraid his answer would be no but mostly afraid of him looking at her. Afraid that the look in his eye that made her feel special, made her feel beautiful, would be gone forever.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The little girl was irritating him to no end. Only 3 or 4 years old, he guessed. She was running back and forth in front of him (and in front of a whole row of booths) from one end of the restaurant to the other. And back again. And again. And again. And not only running but laughing and yelling in glee as she raced past the booths.

Every second or third trip, the little girl would stop in front of her family, who were packed in a booth at one end of the lobby in front of a window. She would stuff some food in her mouth, turn around, and off she’d run once again to the other end of the lobby.

He looked hard at the family--which consisted of the mother, the father, and an older boy and girl and which seemed completely oblivious and unconcerned with the disturbance their daughter was creating as they sat there eating their meal. He concentrated on his own

meal. And why he had come here in the first place.

But he couldn’t think straight with this brat running and screaming by him every thirty seconds. The truth was he hated kids. Almost as much as he had hated his wife.

And the funny thing was, after he’d killed his wife, he was surprised to learn that he missed her. But that didn’t last long. Because not long after, he had fallen in love for real. Okay, so—

“AAAAAHHHHH!!”” the little girl went screaming by him. It was the last straw. Like a primordial reptile eyeing its prey on a river bank, he watched her run by him a couple more times. Until finally, with calculated reptilian speed, he stuck his foot out at the exact moment which caused her to trip and fall, her forward momentum causing her to land smack dab on her face.

Her sudden silence combined with the loud thud caused all the patrons in the restaurant

(admittedly not too many) to look at him and the little girl lying on the floor not too far from him.

She sat up, her upper lip bloodied, and looked at him in silent incredulous shock—a temporary calm before erupting into a loud storm of tears and wailing sobs. She jumped up and ran towards her family, burying her face into the folds of fat of her mother’s torso.

“Sweetie, what happened?”

The little girl pointed an accusing finger at him. “He tripped me!!” she managed to articulate between sobs.

“You need to be careful, Sir!” the mother blurted out at him. “Edgar!” She looked at her husband, expecting him to get involved the way she grew up thinking men were supposed to get involved. But Edgar, trapped in the booth by his family, just stared at her in silent passivity and numb surrender. When the mother saw that her husband didn’t plan on doing anything, she realized she had to take matters into her own hands.

“I think you owe our daughter an apology! Please tell her you’re sorry for accidentally tripping her,” she instructed him with as much authority as she could muster. He got out of his booth and stood up. He was a tall man. 6 foot five to be exact. He was probably in his 50s with a mustache, glasses, and short graying hair under a Texas Rangers baseball cap and above his ears. It was easy to see that he’d once been very handsome but now his face was jowly and flabby. His belly protruded somewhat from inside his longsleeved buttoned shirt that was carefully tucked into his jeans.

But he walked with a cat-like grace that implied he could still handle himself very well physically if the situation called for it. With gleeful avarice in his eyes, he slowly approached their table. The whole family watched him in fear, not knowing what he was going to do.

“That was no accident. Your daughter’s a brat, Mam. And you better start taking your job

as a parent a little more seriously or she’s gonna experience some hard knocks in this life.Alot harder than the one I just gave her.”

The mother pretended being offended but it barely masked the underlying fear that this man elicited from her, as well as the rest of her family.

“BOO!!” he suddenly blurted out, causing the whole family to all jump in fear at the exact same instant. He laughed to himself.

“Are we done here?” he asked, first looking at the mother, then the father. When the mother or anybody else failed to offer any further comments or retorts--or even look him in the eye--he laughed to himself again before turning and walking out the lobby door and into the parking lot.

He crossed the street and climbed inside his two-ton, Dodge Ram pickup which was parked in front of an out-of-business Thai restaurant. He took off his Texas Rangers baseball cap, revealing a thick head of graying hair, and put on his Stetson. He stared at the McDonald’s

he’d just walked out of across the street and thought back to a couple of days ago when he heard the voice that he’d been searching for for over a year now.

“Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I take your order?” Those were the words he’d heard as he was going through the McDonald’s drive-thru one afternoon. He instantly recognized her voice. He immediately pulled out of the drivethru line, into the parking lot and pushed the accelerator to the floor. Somebody could’ve been walking across the parking lot but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to take a chance that she would see him as he drove by.

As he was thinking back, he saw the family he’d had words with leave the restaurant and he looked down at his watch.Aquarter to three. He had been staking out the restaurant the last couple of days hoping to get a glimpse of her. Finally, finally, his persistence paid off.

Asmall black pickup pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot and parked. Agirl got out, wearing her McDonald’s uniform. Her hair

was a different color but it was definitely her. A malicious smile crept onto Bob Smyrna’s face as he realized that after a year, his search was finally over. Of course. She had gone straight. What better place, Leeza, for you to hide?

PART THREE

CHAPTER ONE

The next few months would be the happiest time of both of their lives. And it all started with their first cup of coffee. The amazing thing was that, unbeknownst toAlan, it was the same restaurant Lisa had talked to Bill in only a week earlier. But they sat there almost two hours, oblivious to the dirty looks given to them by their waitress and other employees as they kept having to fill up their coffee cup and knowing there wasn’t much of a tip in it. Finally Lisa requested to their waitress that she just leave a pitcher of coffee on their table, which she was only too happy to do.

They both talked about what was important to them, both knowing that the other would be a willing and non-judgmental audience. “You’ve never seen Taxi Driver?” Lisa asked him.

“No. I think I’ve heard of it.”

“Well this kind’ve reminds me of a scene in it. That’s okay. You probably wouldn’t like it.

It’s about a psychotic taxi driver who falls in love with Jodie Foster.”

“I’m not much of a movie fan. So you want to be an actress? That’s so interesting. I’ve never known anybody interested in that.”

“I like the idea of pretending to be somebody else. There’s a lot more to it than that, but that’s mainly why I like it.”

“So are you in any plays or movies or anything?”

“No,” Lisa said, half-laughing. “Like I said, there’s a lot more to it than that.”

“That’s too bad. You’re so beautiful, I would definitely pay money to see you in a movie.”

Lisa smiled. “Thank you. I don’t know why I’m so reluctant to go audition. The thing is: You have to be half-crazy to even want to be an actor. Then the other half of you has to be crazy to decide to try to make a living at it.

Actors have just about the highest unemployment rate of any profession.”

“I can see that.”

“But if you like acting, then you’d like Taxi Driver. Robert DeNiro’s in it. Ever heard of him? He’s considered one of the greatest film actors ever.”

“Yeah, I think so. Was he in that movie about gangsters? I think I saw that one.”

“You’re probably thinking of Goodfellas. With Joe Pesci and Ray Liotta. Both Goodfellas and Taxi Driver were directed by Martin Scorsese.”

“Yeah, I think that was it. It had a lot of cursing, I remember. But it was good.”

“That’s one of Scorsese’s trademarks. The actors curse a lot. He wanted to be a priest when he was a kid. So you wanna be a priest? I think I remember you saying that during one of our breaks together.”

“No, not a Priest. APastor. Priests are Catholic. I’m a Lutheran. It’s Catholic Lite,” Alan told her, hoping she appreciated his attempt at humor. She noticed the twinkle in his eye and laughed on cue.

“That’s good to know,” she told him. “You know, I was there that night you tried to help that girl.” Alan gave her a questioning look.

“Remember? The homeless girl that came in after we’d closed?”

“Oh, of course. Alicia.”

“Whatever happened to her?”

“I don’t know. I think I saw her one more time after that night. I haven’t seen her since.”

“Well, I just wish all Christians were like you,” Lisa blurted out, not being able to stop herself.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. It seems to me more Christians are interested in following rules than actually helping people.” She saw the hurt in his eyes and wanted to kick herself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t know. Who am I to judge? Especially other Christians,” he sighed. “But we’re all human. People expect Christians to be perfect. You’re not a Christian?”

She looked atAlan to see if it was okay to be honest. The look in his eye said it was.

“I used to believe in God.”

“And now you don’t?”

Lisa looked down. She noticed a few grains of salt on her table that the bus boy had failed to wipe up from the previous customers. Bitterly, she told him, “Why would God allow my mother to be murdered in cold blood.”

“I’m so sor “

“No! I mean…you don’t understand. It’s...it’s not because she was murdered. It’s just...my aunt said it was God’s Will. If my mother being murdered by an intruder who broke into our house is God’s Will, then how is God not evil? So, makes more sense to say that there is no God.” She tentatively looked up, totally expecting a look of admonishment or reproach.

“So can I get you guys anything else?”

They were suddenly aware of their waitress standing next to their table.

“No, we’re okay,” Lisa informed her.

“I think they want us to leave,” Lisa said after the waitress walked away. “I think I’ll leave a big tip even though we didn’t order very much.”

“Do you do that too? I always leave a big tip.”

“Well, you do it because you’re so.. .compassionate. I do it because I know how much it sucks, excuse my language...how hard it is to work in a service job. Especially after working at McDonald’s.”

“You’re right. Service jobs do suck,”Alan said, smiling at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll get the tip.”

“That’s okay, you bought the coffee.”

“How ‘bout we both leave a tip. That way it’ll be really big.”

Lisa smiled. “Good idea.” She stood up.

“You mean now? You’re ready to leave?”

“Yeah,” she said as she dug through her pocket. She pulled out a five dollar bill and put it on the table. “I got some things to do.”

Alan got up. “Okay.” Alan put a ten on top of the check for coffee. He smiled at Lisa.

“Feels good to give, huh? If people only knew how much that would help them feel better.”

She smiled back at him. She headed for the exit and he caught up to her, walking beside her. As they were walking, she reached out and grabbed his hand. She felt a tremor of uncertainty in his hand but she squeezed harder to let him know it was okay. They walked out into the bright, warm sunlight.

“Bye,Alan. So are you going to ask me out again?”

“I’d like to.”

“Maybe dinner next time?”

“Okay. When would you like to?”

“Think about a time and a place and ask me tomorrow at work, okay? See ya.”

He watched her turn and start to walk across the parking lot.

“Lisa?”

She stopped and looked at him. She walked back towards him.

“I don’t think it was God’s Will, what happened to your mother.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, people are always confusing the Will of God with the will of Satan. God gave us free will. That means some people are going to choose to do evil. Your mother’s murderer, for example. The last thing God wanted was for your mother to experience such a horrible death.”

“Alan, you’re probably the kindest, most truly Christian man I’ve ever met. We’ll talk about it next time over dinner, okay?”

“Okay. Just think about what I said.”

“I will. Goodbye,Alan. See you tomorrow.”

He stood there and watched as she walked towards her Toyota pickup. She stopped and looked at him.

“You need a ride?” she asked, as if to ask why he was watching her.”

“No. I’ve got a car.”

She watched him walk towards his own car. She realized she was doing the same thing she just accused him of so she pulled out her keys as she finally turned and walked away.

CHAPTER TWO

White Woods. That’s what the name meant. Probably French. Lisa ran across the street after noticing there was more shade on the opposite sidewalk. She looked at her watch. 25 minutes to go. She picked up her pace a little, adjusting her breathing as she did. How sad Blanche in Streetcar was. Has to be one of the most poignant tragedies ever written. And made even sadder to her now because she could so relate: girl with a checkered past, wants to change her ways, just settle down, keep her past from the man she loves. Okay. Blanche didn’t love Mitch, that’s true. But she should have. Being in love with someone like Mitch orAlan was like sitting under a huge oak tree. You were sheltered. Nothing could ever go wrong. She came to the next street and turned right. She immediately had to run off the sidewalk and into the suburban street because a parked car was blocking the sidewalk/driveway of the house on the corner.

The last month or so had been a whirlwind. Okay, yeah. Her former self would’ve found it a bore but she had fallen for him. Head over heels. He had taken her out to dinner. He had taken her to a concert of a famous Christian rock band. He had taken her to meet his family. He had taken her to meet his friends (all similar Christians). He had taken her to meet his pastor. He had taken her to church.

As she sat in the Sunday Service, part of her had to secretly scoff at the proceedings, of course. But she had to admit, a part of her was calmed. And not in a way that made her feel sedated. In a way that made her senses and her whole being come alive. If she didn’t analyze it too much. But, of course, she usually did, her skepticism and unbelief making the inner serenity disappear in an instant.

“Does it bother you that I’m not a Christian?’she asked him one evening over a burger at one of their favorite restaurants.

“Sure it does.”

“But you’re not doing anything about it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You never talk about it. I thought God wanted Christians to try and convince others to be Christians as well.”

“He does. But I just think most Christians go about it wrong.”

“How so?”

“Well, you know the old saying: you can lead a horse to water. The thing is, Christians can talk themselves blue to people but it won’t do any good. In fact, most people will resent it. So the best way to be a witness is by being a good example of what a Christian should be. And to do it with a sense of joy and peace. Let people see what they’re missing by not Believing.”

“Interesting. I think maybe I’ve been missing out.”

Alan beamed from ear to ear. Lisa took a bite of her burger and matched his smile with her own. It made her happy to see that what she said had made him so happy. Maybe there really was something to believing in God. She

had never known anybody likeAlan’s friends. They completely went against her stereotype of the dead-inside, unhappy Christian conservative who’s only happy when trying to make others as miserable as they are. The peopleAlan introduced her to were kind, giving, nonjudgmental, and generous in spirit. He opened up a new world to her.

And the amazing thing was, she also opened up a new world to him. It turned out that he liked most of the old movies she showed him; probably because there was no profanity, no nudity, no non-traditional values. But that didn’t matter. Lisa found great joy in watching an old movie withAlan that he’d never seen before and turning to her when it was over to say he really liked it.

She was most surprised when she turned to him after seeing The Way We Were. He actually had tears in his eyes.

“You liked it?” she asked tentatively .

“I loved it. It was...you think he’s too good for her. But it’s really the opposite, right? She’s

too good for him. I want you to do it.” She looked at him. He quickly wiped away a tear with his forearm. But she admired how instantly after, he looked at her. Suddenly no longer ashamed of showing his emotion.

“Do what?”

“I want you to try acting. It’s what you want, right? Then do it.”

She looked down at the remote in her hand.

“So...where are there auditions? Let’s map this out. Do you want to do movies? TV? Set a goal and we’ll make a plan on how to get there.”

“I just...want to be somebody else. Or I guess I wanted to. Now I’m not so sure anymore.”

CHAPTER THREE

Bud was pretty impressed with himself. He was the closing manager and he had manipulated it to put himself between Soapboy and Lisa. He was on grill. He was on grill because he hadAlan working a register up front. Alan had never worked a cash register so he was nervous.

“Virgil will help you. He’ll train you. He’ll show you what to do,” Bud had encouraged Alan. AndAlan had reluctantly agreed. Chris, a new hire, was working drive-thru. He had just moved to Denver from California where he had worked at a McDonald’s in Fresno for five years. He was a seasoned pro that Mike had hired and who fit in very easily, needing hardly any training at all.

That left Lisa. She was at a back table, about 10 feet behind Bud, making tomorrow’s salads. Yeah, Bud was pretty impressed with himself. And the most impressive part was how

he had pulled it off without anybody not even Lisa seeming to notice what he had done.

“Six Macs, down two!” Virgil suddenly yelled in Bud’s direction from the front counter area.

“Dude, letAlan say it,” Bud instructed, “You’re supposed to be training him, not doing his job for him.”

“Six Macs, down two!”Alan yelled on cue.

“Six Macs, down two,” Bud parroted back, acknowledging the order.As he dressed the mac buns, he looked over at Lisa, busy quartering tomatoes for the salads. She was gonna tell him. She was gonna tell him if it was the last thing either of them ever did. She was gonna tell him what it was about Soapboy that she liked.

“Six Macs up!” Bud yelled as he set the sandwiches on the metallic dividing bin that separated the kitchen from the front register area. He walked over to where Lisa was and silently watched her as she squeezed the tomato

wedges in the four corners of the salad container.

She finished putting the tomatoes in place on half the salads. She grabbed another tomato and the knife to cut it up for the rest of the salads. Without being aware of it, she instinctively pointed it at Bud.

“Did you want something?” she finally asked.

“No. How the salads coming?” “Fine. Almost finished.”

“Good. Well, keep up the good work. Don’t let me stop you.”

What did he want? She was slightly shaking as she started to cut up the tomato. Bud took a step closer to her.

“So, is it true you’re dating him?” She forced herself to keep cutting. The gooey, red insides oozed onto her hand.

“Who?”

“You know who.” Bud leaned in closer. Putting his mouth inches from her ear, he asked her how wellAlan was endowed (but using

cruder terms, of course). She suddenly turned and pointed the knife at him. He instinctively took a few steps backward.

She was barely able to control the tremor in her voice. “If you ever mention him again, I swear, as God is my witness, I will report you for sexual harassment. Not only that,” she continued, “I will do everything in my power to make sure you are fired and spend as much time as possible in jail.” The knife was shaking in her hands.

“Okay. Calm down,” Bud almost involuntarily replied, “when you’re done take your half.” Bud walked back into the grill area.

“Crazy Bitch.” Bud said it loud to make sure Lisa heard him.

“Alan! Take your half! Virgil! Get your ass back here!” Bud barked as he took off his apron and disappeared into the Manager’s Office.

Fifteen minutes laterAlan and Lisa were alone together downstairs in the Workers’ Lounge. Lisa was eating one of the salads she’d

just made. Alan had a cup of coffee but wasn’t eating.

“So what did he say to make you so mad?” Alan gingerly asked her.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“The thing about Bud is-“

“The thing about Bud is he’s a jerk,” she said, finishing his sentence for him.

“He’s not a bad guy. His bark is worse than his bite.”

“He’s a jerk!” She said it emphatically, as if to imply she didn’t want to argue the fact and the subject was closed. Wisely,Alan let it go.

They both sat silently for a moment. They both watched her push a crouton around the bottom of the plastic salad container with her plastic fork. He looked at her. She seemed unusually distant tonight. There was a barrier between them that he’d never seen since they’d started their relationship.

“Lisa, can I ask you something?”

“What?” she asked as she absentmindedly continued playing with her food.

“Does it bother you that we don’t...” She looked at him.

“Don’t what?”

“You know...” She went back to her salad.

“You never even kiss me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But you know why. I’m afraid it’ll lead to other things.”

“And why would that be so bad?”

“You know my beliefs. We’re not married.”

“Is this a proposal?,” she asked flippantly. She instantly regretted it. Alan, very uncomfortable, stammered to try and think of what to say.

“Lisa, I-I well...”

“Relax,Alan. I was kidding. You wanna know what’s bothering me?

“Yes.”

“The fact that you have made me the happiest girl in the world, the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. When I was convinced the world contained nothing but darkness, you became my light. Understand?”

“Okay, so what’s bothering you?”

“That you seem to think that that would not be enough. If you want this to stay platonic, then I’m fine with that. I respect your religious beliefs and I will never try to pressure or seduce you into going against them.”

He looked at her with such intensifying love that it almost scared her. Suddenly he leaned over and started to kiss her passionately on the lips. She instinctively pulled back.

“Alan!”

“I’m sorry, did I do it wrong?”

“No, it’s just...you took me by surprise. Come here.”

She pulled him to her and they kissed passionately for several seconds. After their lips parted, they stared at each other.

“Wow” was allAlan could say.

“Was that your first kiss?” she asked him. “Not quite. But almost. Was it yours?”

“Almost,” she lied. She pulled his lips to hers and they started kissing again.

“Sure hate to break up this beautiful love scene.” Both Lisa andAlan jumped almost a foot in the air at the sound of Bud’s voice. They looked to see Bud standing in the doorway, arms folded, watching them.

“We’re getting busy upstairs, need you to come clock in.”

“But our half’s not over,” Lisa protested. “You can finish it later. Let’s go.” They both stood up, threw their trash away, and went to exit the room. But Bud, standing in the doorway with his arms still folded, blocked their exit. Asuggestive sneer didn’t mask the hate in his eyes as the three stood staring at each other in close proximity for a few seconds.

“Excuse us,” Lisa said to Bud, not even attempting to veil the contempt in her voice.

“Oh, sorry,” Bud replied sarcastically. He stepped out of the doorway so they could leave the Workers’Lounge. Lisa went up the stairs, followed byAlan and then Bud.

“See? Told ya he was a jerk,” Lisa said to Alan as they trudged to the top, knowing full well that Bud could hear her.

CHAPTER FOUR

“What is it with you tonight? No matter what I say or do, you wanna argue.”

Lisa forced a smile. They were once again having dinner at their favorite restaurant. It wasn’t that she was getting bored always going to the same place (which she was). No. What made her disagreeable this particular night was something she couldn’t confide inAlan.

When they had parked and got out of the car, Lisa looked over across the parking lot and saw a large pickup truck. There was nothing unusual about that but the man behind the steering wheel (whose features she couldn’t really make out through the window) was wearing a white Stetson cowboy hat that she could swear she had seen before.

“What’s wrong?”Alan had asked, “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Nothing. Let’s go in.”

Once seated inside the restaurant, she couldn’t take her mind off the cowboy hat.

Where had she seen it? Her mind finally found the memory and she knew where she had seen it. But she instantly decided that it couldn’t possibly be the same hat. It was just too absurd logically and it was too disturbing and painful to even contemplate.

She finally persuaded herself that her imagination was playing tricks on her. Couldn’t possibly be the same hat. Even so, the whole episode had put her in a black mood.

“Why do you always order the same thing? It’s so boring,” she had snapped atAlan after the waiter had left with their order.

“Thanks. So you think I’m boring.”

“I didn’t mean you. I meant what you order. There are other things on the menu besides enchiladas.”

“That’s what I like. What’s wrong with

that?”

“Nothing. Get whatever you want.” “Thank you. I will.”

“And then you’re gonna do the thing where you order the extra tortillas and leave one half uneaten, right?”

“What is it with you tonight? No matter what I say or do, you wanna argue.”

Lisa forced a smile and looked distantly out the window.

“What did you see out there?”

“Nothing.”

“Ever since we got here and got out of the car, you’ve been in a bad mood. C’mon. Just tell me.” If only she could. She examined her feelings and realized the crux of what was bothering her. There were things in her past she could never tellAlan. It made her feel their whole relationship was based on a lie. And it would always be that way because he’d never understand in a million years.

“Can I ask you something,” she inquired as she took a tortilla chip and submerged a corner of it into the small bowl of red salsa.

“What?”

“Am I your first girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Second.”

“Yes.”

“Your first girlfriend: Nice Christian girl you met at your church, right?”

“Not quite,”Alan chuckled.

“But don’t you kinda wish you had somebody like that? Somebody with the same beliefs, somebody who irons your shirts, makes homemade pumpkin pie every Thanksgiving, devotes herself to your 2.5 kids. Be the perfect Pastor’s wife every Sunday as she sits in the second pew listening to your sermon. Isn’t that secretly what you want?”

“I want you.” Alan awkwardly reached across the table and brushed against her forearm to show he was sincere.

“Why do you get this way?” he asked, his turn to be annoyed.

“What way?”

“I don’t know, like why won’t you let me come to your house and meet your dad?” Lisa looked down at the table. With her elbows on

the table, she rested her head in the palms of her hands.

“Cause...you’d be disappointed.”

“I can’t tell if it’s because you’re ashamed of him...or ashamed of me.”

“Watch out, Sir, this plate is hot.” The waiter, interrupting their conversation, put Lisa’s taco salad down in front of her. He then set downAlan’s enchiladas.

“Enjoy. Can I get you anything else for now?”

“Side order of tortillas?”Alan reminded him.

“Oh, that’s right. Coming right up.” He gave what he hoped was a winning smile before walking away.

“Waiter?” He stopped and looked at Lisa.

“Yes, Mam?”

“I’m sorry. Could I also get a margarita?”

“Sure. Frozen or on the rocks?”

“Frozen.”

“And for you, Sir?” Alan looked warily at Lisa.

“Nothing for me, thank you.”

An hour later,Alan asked the waiter for the check.

“You about ready?” he asked Lisa.

“I haven’t finished my margarita yet.”

“That’s your third one.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not drunk. You’ve never seen me drunk.”

“I’ve never seen you drink alcohol.”

“There’s a lot of things you’ve never seen me do.”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

“Just like there’s a lot of things I’ve never seen you---no, I take that back. You’re perfect. Alan, the perfect man. Who’ll make the perfect husband.” Lisa started laughing.

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“Stop judging me! You’re always looking at me. And judging me. What if I am drunk, so what?”

“So what, nothing.”

“Oh. I get it. I’m one of your charity cases. Are you gonna save me? The same way you tried to save that homeless girl that night?”

“Let’s go.”

“I’m ready. Before I tell you something horrible.”

“Like what?”

“Nothing.” Lisa stood up. “Let’s go.”

Alan followed her out into the parking lot.

“Goodbye, thanks for a lovely evening,” she said, not even looking back at him.

“Wait a minute.” She stopped by the side of her Toyota pickup and looked at him.

“You’re not driving,” he informed her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been drinking. You want a DUI?”

As he was talking he walked by and placed himself against her driver’s side door to block her from getting in.

“What are you doing? Get out of my way!” She tried to push him aside but he planted his feet and was too strong for her to move him.

“Let me take you home.”

“You realize I could start yelling for help and they would come and arrest you?”

“Let me take you home.”

“You’d probably have an epileptic fit,” she said angrily, wanting to hurt him. “Fine, I’ll call a cab.” She pulled out her phone and looked up local taxis. “...yes, could you please send a taxi to Casa Grande, on Bowles Street? Thank you.” She put her phone back in her pocket. “You can go now, it’s all taken care of.”

“I’ll wait ‘til it gets here. C’mon, we’ll sit in my car.”

“I’m fine right here, thank you.”

“Okay, we’ll wait here.” As they waited-Alan leaning against her driver’s side door, Lisa leaning next to him—not a word was spoken between them. About 10 minutes later, they finally saw the taxi stopped at a red light about a block up the road.

“Alan?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved tonight, will you forgive me?” They looked at each other. She brushed the hair out of his eye.

“Don’t you know I love you? Of course I forgive you.”

“You can take me home if you want.”

“But your cab’s already here. I’ll come pick you up in the morning and we’ll come get your car. How’s that?” The taxi pulled into the parking lot and stopped behind Lisa’s car. He rolled down his window.

“D’you order a taxi?”

“Yeah, be right there,”Alan told him.

“Okay. Call me tomorrow. I love you,” she said as she kissed him passionately on the lips. She squeezed his hand as she left him and opened the taxi door.

“Give me a call when you get home, okay?” he implored, “Make sure you got home okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Talk to you tomorrow.” She gave him a smile as she got in the taxi and closed the door. He watched it drive off. Alan didn’t know it at the time but he wouldn’t talk to

her tomorrow. In fact, he wouldn’t talk to her again for almost a year.

CHAPTER FIVE

The next morning Lisa was sitting at her kitchen table drinking her coffee. Her dad was still asleep and it was too early to callAlan to go get her car. When she’d gotten home last night, Alan had texted her a You Tube video of the Cuppycake Song. It was so hoaky, yet charming that at first Lisa smiled, then laughed, then started crying. She textedAlan back to tell him she loved him and that she’d made it home okay. She was watching the video again for about the fifth time when she heard the knock on the door.

When she opened the door, it was as if the earth had opened up under her feet and was swallowing her up.

“Hello Leeza.”

“So it was you I saw yesterday. How did you find me?”

“Well, I’ll be honest. It weren’t easy. Took me the better part of a year. Then about six months ago, a buddy a mine who works at the

DMV matched up your driver’s license with one here in Denver. That narrowed it down considerably. But even so, Denver’s a big town. And about a month ago, just by sheer luck mind you, I stopped for lunch at a McDonald’s and whose voice do I hear coming through the speaker? We was meant to be, Leeza. Can’t you see that?

“I’m not going back to Dallas with you, Bob.”

“Oh I no longer live in Dallas, Honey. I’m a resident of Denver, Colorado now. By the way, I brought your pickup back. So no need to trouble your boyfriend about it. Boyfriend? Is that the correct term? He wants to be a preacher, right?” Lisa looked out the door behind Smyrna and sure enough, there was her truck sitting in the driveway. Smyrna laughed.

“What the hell, Leeza?Apreacher? You fell for a preacher? He ain’t for you.Ayear from now you’ll be bored silly.”

“You know I could have you arrested for violating your restraining order?”

“Now, that is a fact. But Darlin’, it ain’t necessary. I’ll never bother you again. I give you my solemn word as a citizen of the sovereign State of Texas. But I do want you to chew on something before I leave. I know all your secrets, Leeza.All of ‘em.And I love you for ‘em. You think that’s something you’ll ever hear your little preacher say?And it would be a damn shame if he was to find out what you was in the past, don’t ya think?Atragedy, even.”

“Bob, don’t you go near him!! Do you understand me!!??” Lisa emphatically implored.

“All right, all right. Settle down. Don’t get yer panties in a bind. I won’t say nothin’to him. But I would like a little something in return.”

“And what would that be?” Lisa asked warily.

“I’d like to see you again.And I don’t mean this way. I spent a year huntin’you down and now it’s your turn to meet me halfway a little. Leeza, I love you. I can help you. I can fix it so you don’t have to work at McDonald’s. You won’t even have to strip if you don’t want. I can

help take care a your daddy. Just think about it. I’ll be at the Kit Kat Club. It’s a Gentleman’s Lounge the type of which you are well acquainted with. It’s on Colfax Avenue. Have we got a deal? Just think about it. Either way, I give you my word I won’t bother you no more. But if I don’t see you at the Kit Kat, I would like to come in McDonald’s to see you one last time, say goodbye, and maybe even meet your boyfriend.” Smyrna shook his head. “A preacher,” he said to himself, “Whodathunk?” He laughed and turned around and walked towards the street. Before he got there he stopped and turned.

“Leeza, seriously, I don’t wanna cause any trouble for you. But I love you. Remember all the fun we had? Watchin’movies? Remember when we watched Shane? That was one of your favorites, right? Great western. Well, remember at the end when Shane tells the little boy: a person can’t change what he is. Well, that ol’ boy definitely was right about that. You can’t change the leopard’s spots, Leeza. You’ll always

be Leeza and you’ll never outrun your past and you know it.” Smyrna tipped his hat in Lisa’s direction. “Bye, Darlin’. Enjoyed our little visit and I’ll look forward to seeing you at the Kit Kat Club. If not, I’ll be sure to stop by for a Big Mac one last time and you can introduce me to Alan. That’s his name, right?Alan? I’ll tell ya, after this last year, I really do believe I could start my own business as a private detective and be very successful at it. If I were so inclined. Bye now!”

Smyrna walked down the sidewalk, past Lisa’s truck and on down the street. “A preacher,” Lisa heard him say, laughing loudly as he walked towards the intersection at the end of the block.

CHAPTER SIX

Coincidences mainly only happen in movies and sit-coms. But sometimes they happen in real life also. Because it just so happened that precisely the same moment Lisa slammed the door as Smyrna waited to cross the intersection, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Instinctively she took it out only to see thatAlan was texting her. He wanted to know what time to come get her so they could go get her truck.

After Smyrna’s visit, she simply couldn’t face him. No. It was worse than that. Smyrna had just stolen the face that she showed in the light. And she panicked. She turned her phone off. Then she went back to the front door and made sure it was locked. She also put the deadbolt in. Build the wall high to keep out the wolves. She went back to bed and hid under her covers. She noticed she was shaking and tried to calm down. She had to text him back. If she didn’t, he would soon knock on her door. The thought

terrified her. Fear motivated her to peek from under the covers. She didn’t remember setting her phone on her night table but obviously she had, because there it was. One of the bravest things she ever did was to reach out her hand, grab her phone, and pull it back under the covers. As she turned her phone back on, she wondered how she would find the strength to face him, if only in a text. Then she remembered. And had to smile with relief.

He doesn’t know where I live. Asong suddenly ran through her head. Til the landslide brings you down. She went from the height of terror to the depths of sadness in an instant. She turned her phone back off. That was the last thing she remembered.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Sweetie, you okay?” She woke to find her dad, in his wheelchair at the side of her bed, staring hard at her.

She looked out the window. No light.

“What time is it?”

“Aquarter to 10.”

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

“You were sleeping so good, I just couldn’t.”

“I’ll get your dinner.” Joe moved his wheelchair back as Lisa pulled off her covers and got out of bed. Nothing like the comfort of habit, she thought.

“What’d you do for lunch?” she asked him as he followed her down the hall.

“Found some baked beans in the fridge, and chips.”

“That’s it? You gotta eat better, Dad.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna wake you.” It wasn’t until she put the frozen lasagna in the oven that it hit her: Smyrna was back. Then it also hit

her: She was supposed to be at work right now. She smiled with relief. No more panic attacks. This morning she had forgotten who she was. And for the past six months. Never again. It actually felt pretty good. As George Sanders said in The Picture of Dorian Gray: The only thing to do with temptation is to give in to it.

“Dad, I’ve got some good news,” she hollered out as she joined her dad in the living room, “I’m going back into health care.”

“That’s great, honey!” Joe was genuinely excited.

“I gave my two weeks yesterday at MacDonald’s.” Not true, of course. Tonight, for the first time ever, she was a no-show at a job. She looked down at her phone: three missed calls from MacDonald’s. An overwhelming sadness suddenly swam over her. But it wasn’t a result of quitting her job. Because there were over a dozen calls and texts fromAlan as well. On an impulse, she quickly deleted his texts without reading them.

“I’m sorry,Alan.” “What was that, Sweetie?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The warm sunshine penetrating through his bones felt good. He looked down at the picnic blanket they were both sprawled on. Their four bare feet intermingled. First he rubbed her feet, then she his. He looked up. Not a single strand of cloud in the bluest sky he’d ever seen. It was a beautiful contrast with the green carpet of grass of the meadow they were lying in. Off in the distance, snow-capped peaks silhouetted the horizon. Abrook babbled somewhere close out of sight.

“Is this Heaven?” he asked her.

“No silly,” Lisa told him, “You’re in a coma.”

“Coma? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t you remember?” He thought hard.

“Yeah. Kinda.” Asongbird chirped happily as the slightest breeze helped to keep the heat from the sun at bay.

“What happened?” he asked her. She reached up and lovingly brushed the hair out of his eyes.

“Well, you came to McDonald’s on your day off, remember? The day after we’d left my car at Logan’s. The day I disappeared from your life.”

“That’s right. What’d I do?”

“Well, you texted me, left a dozen messages on my voice mail, none of which I responded to. So finally you came by work.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I didn’t know where you lived.”

“And that’s when Bill told you.”

“Now I remember. He said you were a stripper.”

“And then you had an epileptic fit. And you’ve been in a coma ever since.” Lisa leaned back on her elbows, closing her eyes and soaking in the sun.

“So...is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“You’re...you’re a stripper?” She peaked through an eyelid at him.

“I have no idea, silly,” she chuckled.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is: I’m a figment of your imagination. You created me. Only the real Lisa can answer that.” She laid her head down on the blanket, stretched her arms above her head and gave an enormous yawn.

“Sun feels good,” she said sleepily.

The breeze suddenly turned stronger, its temperature dipping noticeably. Alan looked up. Dark storm clouds were now on the horizon and fast approaching. They looked at each other with consternation. With every passing second, the wind picked up, its temperature continuing to fall. Dark storm clouds were now looming over them as the sun disappeared behind them. Abolt of lightning made them both jump. A cloud directly over them burst and they found themselves almost instantly drenched from a barrage of rain. They grabbed each other and huddled together for warmth.

“What did you do!?” she yelled at him, barely heard, over the now high-pitched whistling of the gusting wind. Alan felt her shivering and pulled her closer to him. Suddenly, they were bathed in light. Alan looked up.

The most amazing, bright ray of light shone down directly on them as if it were a spotlight on the stage of a darkened theatre. Yet as he looked at it in wonder, he was surprised that it didn’t hurt his eyes. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He felt himself being lifted up into the air, towards the shining light, the pouring rain falling around him but not on him. Then he saw them.

His uncle, who had died when he was a kid, was in the clouds. So was his grandmother, the only one of his grandparents he had known. Then he saw Jeff, his best friend in 3rd grade, whom (he had heard) had died in a car crash 12 years later. In fact, he saw everyone he had ever known who had died. They were all looking at him and smiling.

“It’s time to come home,Alan,” his Uncle Tony lovingly told him. He reached up to take his uncle’s hand when he heard it. He looked down. 50 feet below he saw her. She was crying softly. He looked at his uncle and the rest of his friends and family who were there to greet him.

“I can’t. I have to go back down.”

Pastor Skurhdal suddenly awoke from his chair when he heard a loud scream. At first he thought it was a scream of terror but he soon realized it was a scream of joy.

The Pastor looked around, for a second trying to remember where he was when Mrs. Mishkin,Alan’s mother, screamed again. Then he remembered. He was at the hospital with Mrs. Mishkin. They were both

watchingAlan, who was lying in a coma that he had been in for six months.

“His finger’s moving!” Mrs. Mishkin screamed for joy. Pastor Skurhdal stood up and approached the foot ofAlan’s hospital bed. He looked at both ofAlan’s hands and sure enough, the ring finger of his right hand was slightly moving.

He had been to seeAlan off and on for the past six months but he really thought that this would be the last time he would ever see him. Alan’s parents, and especially his mother, had decided thatAlan wasn’t going to come out of his coma and that he should be taken off life support.

They had toldAlan what they were going to do as he lie there, unresponsive, but they wanted to give him every opportunity to come out of his coma. They decided, after telling him, to giveAlan another 24 hours of support in the very slim chance that he might come out of it. And they had asked Pastor Skurhdal to be present for the last

night ofAlan’s life and to be there to pray for him when they took him off his ventilator scheduled for 8A.M. the following morning.

Pastor Skurhdal had agreed to their request, of course, but now this was happening. He had seenAlan’s finger move! The Pastor looked at his watch: 3:20 AM. It felt miraculous!

Two nurses came in the room, both a little more animated than usual.

“His finger moved!” Mrs. Mishkin’s voice trembled.

“Yes, we know. We saw at the nurse station,” one nurse informed her.

“Excuse us!” the other nurse barked, half pushing Mrs. Mishkin out of the way before she voluntarily took a few steps back.

One nurse studied the various screen displays that monitoredAlan’s vital data while the other nurse held a small flashlight over his eyes.

“His pupil’s are dilating,” the nurse with the flashlight said.

“Pulse rate is raised,” the other nurse stated. The nurse with the flashlight grabbedAlan’s hand.

“Alan, can you squeeze my hand?” she asked loudly. Everybody watchedAlan’s hand with trepidation and anticipation.After what seemed minutes but was really only about 10 seconds,Alan very weakly squeezed her hand.

Mrs. Mishkin jumped for joy and grabbed Pastor Skurhdal as they gave each other a hug, tears streaming down both their faces. The nurses maintained the calm disposition and emotional distance that their job required.

“I’ll go get Dr.Altman,” the nurse with the flashlight informed the other nurse, quickly leaving while the remaining nurse kept a watchful eye onAlan’s display monitors.

CHAPTER NINE

Alan was driving to McDonald’s for the first time in almost a year. Thanks to a collection plate his pastor had passed around at his Church, he’d finally saved enough money to start Seminary College in Missouri next month. He had spent the last five months doing physical therapy rehab.

After waking up from being in a coma for six months, he found he couldn’t talk and had no fine motor skills. He could move his limbs but he couldn’t pick anything up, let alone feed himself or walk or write his name. Luckily he’d signed up for Obamacare the year before. And which is why he qualified for rehab after his epileptic coma, because his doctor told him he’d also had a stroke.

He saw the light turn red up ahead. With the help of a physical therapist, he had relearned everything from the ages of three to nine. He knew his rehab was finished a week ago when people at the grocery store or the bank no longer

looked away because they thought he was disabled. Now he was once again just another invisible stranger to be ignored.

As he approached the light, he put on his turn signal and turned into the left turning lane. He would have to make a hard right after he turned left because McDonald’s was on the corner. The butterflies in his stomach kicked up.

The last time he’d been to McDonald’s was the day he had his epileptic fit. He was going there for no other reason than to ask about Lisa. He knew she no longer worked there. Pastor Shurhdal had looked into it while he was in a coma.

About a month after he’d come out of his coma is when he toldAlan: She no longer worked at McDonald’s and had, in fact, disappeared. Nobody knew where she had gone. The last time he’d seen Lisa was the night they left her car at the restaurant and he drove her home. He was hoping to get her address and to find out from Bill (if he was even

still working there) if what he had toldAlan was true.

He pulled into the parking lot and parked. He got out and locked his car with the automatic key. He just hoped Bill still worked here. And that he might be able to get some information that might help him find her.

As he pulled open the door and walked in, Mike, who was standing behind the registers, turned and looked at him.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Mike remarked asAlan walked towards him. Alan went behind the registers to shake Mike’s hand but when Mike took it, he pulledAlan to him and gave him a big bear hug.

“Good to see you, man. We miss you around here.”

“Thanks. I’ve missed you guys too.” Mike looked at him and smiled.

“So how are you? You look good.”

“Yeah, I’m doing good. Been doing physical therapy the last few months so...I’m doing good. Pretty much back to normal.”

“Did you come to ask for your old job back?” Mike asked jokingly but secretly hoping that that was whyAlan had come to visit. Alan laughed nervously.

“Actually-“

“Just kidding, buddy.”

“Actually, I’m moving to Missouri next month.”

“Wow. That sounds like fun.”

“Yep. Starting Seminary School. Hey, does Bill still work here?”

“Of course he does. You could blow this place up and he’d still show up here every day.”

“I was hoping I could talk to him.”

“You’re in luck. He’s on his half right now.”

“Okay. Mind if I go down and see him?”

“Sure. You know the way.”

“Thanks, Mike. Good to see you. Oh, and after I talk to Bill, I was hoping you might give me some information about Lisa.”

“Don’t know what I can tell you. About the same time you went into your coma, she was a no-show. Haven’t seen or heard from her since.

We called and called her phone but nobody answered. I even went over to where she lived but her apartment was empty.”

“Okay, well listen, after I visit with Bill, can I get her old address from you? I might run by there just to check it out.”

“Sure, no problem there.”

“Great. See you in a little bit,” Alan said as he walked back towards the kitchen.

“Good to see you,Alan. We miss you. You’ve got a job here anytime, you know.”

“Okay, thanks”Alan practically yelled, as he continued walking through the kitchen to get to the stairs to take him down to the Break Room.

“Alan!” Alan stopped and turned. He recognized Virgil’s voice immediately. He wasn’t used to Virgil calling him by his real name. Virgil, wearing a dirty apron, came from the grill and walked up to him. He held out his hand and smiled. Alan took it. This was a Virgil he’d never known.

“Alan, just wanted to say, it’s good to see you!” Alan noticed that Virgil’s enthusiasm

actually made him quite likable, when he was being sincere and not derogatory.

“Hey, Virgil. How are you? Good to see you.”

“I’m doing good. Did you know I’m getting married in the spring?”

“Congratulations. Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Ah, you probably don’t know her. Anyway, I want to invite you to my wedding. I just can’t believe you came back! When do you start working again?”

“I’m not. I just came by this one time. I’m moving to Missouri next month.”

“Ah, man. I guess you won’t be able to come to my wedding, then.”

“Afraid not. But it was good seeing you, Virgil. Glad you’re getting married. She’s a lucky girl.” As he walked away,Alan noticed Virgil getting teary eyed. Alan was a little taken aback when Virgil came up to him and gave him a hug.

“Just...wish you were still here.” Alan patted Virgil on the back.

“Thanks, Virgil.” Without a word, Virgil turned and went back to the grill, going out of his way not to look atAlan. Alan continued through the kitchen and walked down the stairs to the Break Room.

He went in the Break Room and saw Bill, alone, eating a quarter pounder and reading a newspaper.

“Hey, Bill.” Bill looked up from his paper. “Alan! How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Bill stood up and they shook hands. The seconds started to accumulate as these two friends who had never spoken 10 minutes total tried to think of something to say. Bill finally broke the ice.

“So, are you coming back to work?”

“No, I’m moving to Missouri next month. I’m going to Seminary College like I always planned.”

“That’s great. “Yeah, it’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“I’m real glad for you,” Bill told him, “so you’re done with your physical therapy?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You sure seem to be on the road to recovery.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t know if you know, but I came to see you once when you were still...”

“In a coma. Yeah, I appreciate that. Hey, I was wondering, do you know how I can get hold of Lisa?”

“You mean that blonde girl who used to work here?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Bill sat down and took a bite of his quarter pounder.

“Not sure,” Bill stated, his mouth full of food, “she’s been gone for about a year now. Probably best to just forget about her, don’t you think?”

“But you said you had known her before she came to McDonald’s, remember? You said she was a stripper.”

“Alan, I don’t know what you thought you heard. Why don’t you sit down?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna have another fit. So do you know where I can find her?”

“Why don’t you sit down? Just to be on the safe side?”

“I’m fine. So, what you said, is it true?”

“Is what true?” Bill asked.

“You knew her before as a stripper?”

“I never said that.”

“I know what I heard.”

“Alan, I don’t go to strip clubs. Last time I said it, look what happened to you.”

“So you did say it. You did know her when she was a stripper.”

“No, what I meant was, the last time I said it while you were in your coma. You imagined I said it.”

“Bill, I came here the day after I texted and called her and she wouldn’t text me back. I came here looking for her and that’s when you told me she was a stripper.And that’s when I had my epileptic fit. Don’t your remember?

“You’re wrong,” Bill said frostily.

Alan looked at Bill as he took another bite of his quarter pounder. The pained look on Bill’s face toldAlan that Bill would never admit to it in a million years. He wasn’t sure if Bill was lying because he hated admitting he’d been to strip clubs or to protectAlan. Probably both.

“Okay, well then, do you know anything that might help me find her?”

“The last I saw her was a year ago before she quit.Alan, just forget her. Believe me when I tell you you’re better off.” Alan thought about what he should do next, realizing he wasn’t going to get much help from Bill on this subject.

“Okay, Bill. See you around.”Alan ducked out of the Break Room and practically ran up the stairs before Bill even had a chance to tell Alan goodbye.

CHAPTER TEN

Alan was driving to the address he had gotten off of her application that Mike had been nice enough to let him see. If he was nervous before going back to McDonald’s, he was five times as nervous now. Even though he knew she no longer lived there. He took a right onto Imperial Drive. He was surprised to discover that he was in a typical suburban neighborhood no different than countless others. As he slowed down to avoid hitting a squirrel that was about to run into the street (it darted the other way instead), he was also surprised at the resentment that welled up inside him. And why shouldn’t he be resentful? She had dumped him. Just call a spade a spade. And why had she dumped him? He had racked his brain over and over to think of the reason. Because he was boring, conventional. He could think of nothing else. He’d always suspected she harbored a past full of secrets. But a stripper? He couldn’t believe it. Maybe

Bill was right. Maybe he’d only dreamed it in his coma. Or maybe Bill had gotten her confused with someone else. The thought of Bill even going to strip clubs seemed fantastical to him. He must’ve imagined the whole thing. There was no other explanation. The street was full of parked cars, both in front of sidewalks and also in driveways. Inside each house, the shades were pulled down. It’s weird. There wasn’t a single human anywhere to be seen. Doesn’t anybody go outside anymore? Don’t people let their kids go out to play? Alan jumped slightly when he heard the ringtone on his phone. Beethoven’s fifth. He never listened to classical music but just something about those opening notes always grabbed him.

He looked down at his phone. He was surprised to see Bud was calling him. He accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey

man, are you sitting down?” “Yes.”

“Good. I got something to tell you about Lisa.”

“Actually I’m driving.”

“Okay. Well, I think you better pull over.”

“Hold on.”

Alan parallel parked in front of a brown, one-story house under a big Willow whose branches scraped the top of his car. He put it in park and put his phone up to his ear.

“Okay. You still there?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“Lisa strips at the Kit Cat Club.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re confusing her with someone else.”

“Straight up, dude. I swear. Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me.” There was a pause in the conversation that went on forever.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Nah, man. That’s not true. I know I’ve been a jerk to you but this time...I don’t know, I knew you were looking for her and I just happen to know where she is. That’s all.”

“Well, I appreciate it.”

“One more thing,Alan. Her new boyfriend, he’s a bad dude. Rumor is he killed his wife.”

“Killed his wife? Lisa wouldn’t have a boyfriend like that.”

“Well, maybe but, I’ve seen him and...just watch yourself. I wouldn’t trust him.”

“Okay. Where did you say I can find her?”

“At the Kit Kat Club. It’s a strip club downtown.”

“Thanks, Bud.”

“And like I said, be careful.”

“I will. Bye Bud. Take care and God Bless.” AfterAlan hung up, he put his car in drive and made a U-turn back the way he’d come.

He never would see where Lisa lived. Or rather where she had lived. Because if he’d continued to the end of the block, he would have seen the Towngate Gardens and a different family living inApt. 6Awhere Lisa had moved from 10 months earlier.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was the last thing he expected to see. The last person he expected to see. Waves of anger, and terror, cursed through him. He had to rethink it. But don’t get too hasty. First he would have to feel him out. Why? Why did he have to come bumbling in here? And ruin everything? How he hated him. Well, this would have to be decided, one way or the other, tonight. He reached in his pocket and felt the cold metal of his 9 mm Glock. It was a comfort to him. And gave him courage for what he had to do. He would need it to prove to her that he loved her.

Alan opened the door to the Kit Kat Club and walked in on a Thursday night about 10:00. The smell was an odor he’d never smelled before. It was very sweet and very stale at the same time. He was surprised to find himself in a small room with another door. He pulled it towards him but it was locked. He jumped when suddenly he heard a loud buzzer like on a game show when somebody gets the answer wrong.

“Five bucks.”

The voice coming through a speaker also startled him. He looked around and a little behind him and to his right was a guy sitting in a small window. Strange he hadn’t noticed him when he first came in. Alan walked up to him.

“What do you mean?”Alan asked. The guy looked at him like he was an idiot.

“I mean if you wanna get in, you gotta pay five bucks. Whadaya think I mean?”

“Sorry. I’ve never been here.”

“No shit.” Alan pulled out his wallet and looked inside. He had a five and a ten dollar bill. He pulled out the five and handed it to the guy behind the window.

“Two drink minimum. Lap dances are twenty bucks a song. No touching the dancers. Go on in.” He heard the loud buzzer again.

The first thing that hit him, as his eyes adjusted to the dark, was how loud the music was. Having closed many nights at McDonald’s, he was forced to listen to loud rock music after the store closed as the workers cleaned and did their routines to get ready to open the following day.

But he’d never heard music like this, that assaulted the senses and attacked the nervous system.And the lead singer, if that’s what you called him, sounded toAlan like he was possessed by the devil.

After his eyes adjusted, the next thing he noticed was the three topless girls on various size stages around the rather large room. Even though he was a virgin, he had seen images of

naked women. But seeing them in the flesh brought on a wave of conflicting feelings inside him. By now his eyes had adjusted to the dark, and after watching the dancers a few seconds with both revulsion and fascination, he became horrifically aware of the customers sitting in seats around the stages. Horrific because most, or so it seemed, were staring at him.

He had two choices: Stand by the door paralyzed with fear for an eternity or quickly dissolve into the darkness and find a seat. He chose the infinitely harder one when he put himself in motion and walked to his left, desperately looking for a seat. He found a chair draped in a soft, pastel (all of the chairs were, in fact) and quickly sunk down into it.

“What can I get ya, hon?” Alan was surprised to see what was obviously a waitress standing over him. She was attractive but, maybe because of the few colored lights, seemed more garish and grotesque than anybody Alan had ever seen.

“Nothing. I’m good.”

“Ya gotta order something. Two drink minimum. Didn’t Spike tell ya?”

“I’ll have a coke.” Alan was surprised when she started laughing.

“That’s not a drink, hon. You wanna whiskey? Or a beer?”

“Okay. I’ll have a beer.”

“What kind?” Alan didn’t know what to say. Miller was the first beer that popped into his mind.

“Genuine Draft or HiLife?” He was at a total loss for words.

“Wh…what’s the difference?”

“I couldn’t tell ya.” She was getting impatient.

“HiLife,” he blurted out.

“Okay, hon.” She couldn’t have walked away faster,Alan thought. Alan looked at the girls on the stage. He was embarrassed for them. Lisa worked here? Why had he believed Bud? He was about to get up and leave when he saw her. She was on the stage at the back of the room. Yes. It was definitely Lisa. He was

shocked to see that her hair was orange.An urge inside him made him look down below her neck. He kept his gaze and then quickly looked away. She was revealed to him in a way that was both ugly and beautiful at the same time.

“$2.50, hon.” The waitress callously set the beer on the small table next toAlan. Alan pulled out his wallet and handed her the 10 dollar bill from inside it. She made his change and handed it to him.

“Enjoy yourself,” she said as she walked away. Alan took a sip from his beer and set it back down. It was too pungent and bitter. In fact, that pretty much described this whole place, he thought. He watched Lisa for a few more seconds across the room on her small stage. This had been a bad idea. What would he say to her? She would be so embarrassed if she knew he had seen her this way. Or maybe not. He thought he knew her but obviously, he didn’t. Alan got up to leave and walked toward the door.

“Alan.” Horrified, he froze in his tracks. A million thoughts entered his brain. Who had recognized him? The voice wasn’t familiar. Was it somebody from Church? Would it get back to Pastor that he had been in a strip club? He turned around and looked for the source of the voice. Standing in front of him was a very tall, very imposing middle-aged man wearing a cowboy hat.

“You’reAlan, right?

“Do I know you?”

“My name is Bob Smyrna. I’m a friend of Leez I mean, Lisa,” he said as he extended his hand towardsAlan. Alan shook his hand but didn’t say anything.

“Follow me.” Smyrna turned and walked towards the back where Lisa was still on the stage. After a few steps, he stopped and looked atAlan, who hadn’t budged.

“Come on,” Smyrna persuaded, “We need to talk.” Alan still didn’t budge.

“Come on, I promise I won’t bite. There ya go.”

Alan, careful not to look anybody in the eye for fear of recognizing somebody (and in turn being recognized), reluctantly followed Smyrna as he wound his way ever closer towards the back. At the same time, he was getting closer & closer to Lisa, also not wanting her to recognize him.Alan felt like he was in hell. Smyrna finally sat down at a table about 20 feet from Lisa against the back wall.

“Have a seat,” Smyrna motioned next to him as he sat down in one of the pastel velvet chairs. Alan had a seat in the velvet chair next to him. He noticed that the music wasn’t as loud in this out-of-the-way corner, which was just fine with him.

“Where’s your beer?” Smyrna asked, still having to raise his voice over a normal volume of conversation.

“Oh. I guess I left it where I was sitting.”

“That’s all right. I’ll buy you another.” “Please. I wouldn’t drink it anyway.”

“Suit yourself.”

“So how do you know Lisa?”

“She’s a...she’s a friend.” Alan stared at Smyrna. They both became aware of the awkward silence between them.

“I’m sorry. Maybe you don’t drink but I’m gonna need reinforcements before we start.” Smyrna downed the rest of his scotch and tonic.

“Mary!” he yelled. The waitress, three tables down, walked up to him.

“Another scotch and tonic, please. And bring my compadre here another beer.”

“Did you already finish your first one?” Mary askedAlan.

“No. I accidentally left it at the table over there.”

“Bring’im another. I’m buying,” Smyrna informedAlan as he looked at him.

“This is a friend of yours?” Mary asked Smyrna. She looked atAlan.

“What’s a sweetheart like you doing in a dump like this?”

“Okay, okay, Mary. Just bring the drinks, and Mary!” As she was walking away she turned and looked at Smyrna.

“Also a shot of Grambui. Adouble.”

“Got it.” Mary turned and walked away. Alan looked up at Lisa still on the stage. There were three guys standing at the foot of her stage watching her dance. Another rise of conflicting emotions warred inAlan. Jealousy, embarrassment, but most of all relief. Because he was about 99% certain that she hadn’t noticed him.

“Beautiful girl, ain’t she?” Alan noticed Smyrna watching him watch Lisa. “Kinda strange that two fellas as different as you and me should be in love with the same girl, don’t ya think?” They both watched her for a few moments. Alan felt a strange sort of kinship with Smyrna as they both watched her, both sharing the knowledge of how divinely beautiful she was.

Alan saw one of the men put a dollar bill in the side of her thong. He became instantly revolted by the whole thing. He wanted to leave.

“Nine dollars.” Mary set their drinks on the table. Smyrna handed her a ten dollar bill.

“Keep it.”

“Thanks,” Mary said, taking the bill. She walked away as Smyrna downed his double Grambui all at once. He then took a long pull on his scotch and tonic. He set it down, wiped his mustache, and looked atAlan.

“Would you...take my confession?”

“I’m not a priest.”

“No, but you wanna be a preacher, right?”

“Not a preacher, a Lutheran Pastor. How did you know?”

“Oh you’d be astonished at the things I know. Okay, so you’re not a priest or a preacher. But a pastor is pretty much the same line a work, ain’t it? Saving souls?”

“I suppose so.”

“Awoman saved my soul. Did you know that?” Smyrna took another drink of his scotch and tonic.

“Who?”

“Who? Our Leeza here! I’m sorry, Lisa to you. I could sit and watch her all day. Just like this.” Smyrna looks atAlan and smiles.

“You know what I’m getting at, don’t ya? Ain’t she beautiful?”Alan looks at her for a second but quickly looks away, this time not ashamed at her nakedness, but the lust rising inside of him.

“Like I said, how funny that two people as different as you and me should love the same woman. Not funny...ironic. That’s the word.”

Smyrna looks atAlan and takes another drink.

“Don’t ya think it’s ironic?” Smyrna waits for Alan’s answer that doesn’t come.

“Son, you have no idea how depraved I am. Maybe you do. Maybe you’ve eaten with the sinners and the tax collectors.” Smyrna notices Alan avoiding looking at Lisa. Smyrna laughs.

“I can sure tell that you ain’t never eaten with the prostitutes.” Alan looks at Smyrna.

“She’s not a prostitute.”

“Nope. She was. For exactly one night. Did you know I’m rich?And while I’m confessin’,

lemme tell you why I’m rich. Because I murdered my wife. For her money.” Smyrna quickly downs the rest of his drink.

“Mary!! Another!!” he yells halfway across the room. But loud enough for Mary to hear him from behind the bar. She nods, acknowledging his order.

Frozen in shock,Alan just stares at Smyrna. Smyrna notices the wayAlan is staring at him and laughs.

“Okay, technically I didn’t murder her but we was married...seven years...I couldn’t stand her. But don’t worry I never laid a pinky ”

Smyrna suddenly clams up when he sees Mary approaching with his drink. She sets it on the table in front of Smyrna.

“Put it on my tab, Darlin’.” Mary picks up Alan’s beer and sees that it’s hardly been touched. She sets it back down and walks away.

“What the hell, she didn’t take my empty,” Smyrna complains as he takes a drink from his new scotch and tonic. “Where was I? Oh yeah, my wife. Don’t worry. I never laid a hand on

her.As God is my witness. But I sure was the one that caused her to have her heart attack, I can tell ya that. I let her know, a hundred times a day. I let her know...how much I hated her.” Smyrna picks up his drink and before he puts it to his mouth, he looks atAlan.

“You believe me?”

“Yes,”Alan lied. Actually,Alan didn’t know what to believe. He noticed Smyrna continually reaching into his pocket of his jacket and constantly touching whatever it was that was in there. He was trying to think how he could leave without offending Smyrna. Alan didn’t know what Smyrna was capable of but Bud was right. He seemed dangerous.

“Good. I’m glad you believe me. It’s a sin to lie in confession.” He takes another drink and sets his glass back down. “Where was I? Okay, so...I bought a hot tub, with my wife’s insurance money. Put it in the back yard.And that’s when I started having parties after the strip clubs closed. I invited strippers over and the money, sex, and alcohol flowed freely.” Smyrna looks

atAlan. “And that’s when I met her. I just,” Smyrna drunkenly mumbles to himself, “I just...wanted to watch her...never seen anything so beautiful. So beautiful that...that I actually started believing in God.” Smyrna looks at Alan. “Me! Can you believe it? I wanted to be her Sugar Daddy. One night in the hot tub, she agreed.And that’s when I made my mistake. I gave her money...I gave her money! How stupid can ya get!And the next mornin’...she was gone. Disappeared...into thin air. Off the face of the earth. I didn’t see her again ‘til I found her working at McDonald’s here in town. Took me a year to find her.And did you know she’s in a play now?Aplay. I know all about her wantin’ to be an actress. Well, I fixed it for her! I didn’t do much. I just told her how to get the part. ‘Sleep with the director’I told her.And she did. And it worked!” Alan gets mad.

“I don’t believe you! You’re drunk!”

“Alan, it’s true! Listen, I want you to understand why I’m tellin’you all this. It’s not because...it’s because I love her...and I want you

to know everything...everything you couldn’t drag outta her in a million years. Understand? I want you to know everything. For her sake.And yours...you leavin?” Smyrna asks him this becauseAlan has stood up. Alan stands there for a moment, terribly conflicted. He sits back down.

“No,”Alan tells him.

The look on Smyrna’s face shows that he’s disappointed thatAlan is staying. But he quickly hides it and picks up his drink, still more than half full. He gulps the rest of it down until it’s empty. “That’s it. Confession over,”

Smyrna tellsAlan, “You don’t have to grant me forgiveness but I do have a question for you. She’s almost finished up there and before she comes over, just answer me this one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Alan, you’re a Man of God. Well, I believe in God. I really do, thanks to Leeza. So tell me, Man of God, is there something a person can do, call it a good deed...somethin’that could make up for a wasted life?Awicked life?Alife of

selfishness and hedonism? Just one thing, one deed, that could put your soul outta the red and into the black. Or at least balance things out a little more? Just one deed...somethin’most people would think is crazy, might even be a crime...but somethin’that would make God smile. Is that possible? Preacher?” Smyrna looks intensely atAlan, waiting for him to answer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Too late. Here she comes.” They both watch her walk towards their table, not ashamed or embarrassed of her nakedness in the least.

“God she’s beautiful,” Smyrna exclaims, “Something that beautiful had to be created by God. I’m right about that, ain’t I, Preacher?” ButAlan doesn’t have time to answer as Lisa storms up to their table, not bothering to hide her nakedness or her anger.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Why did you just walk out of my life?”

“It’s none of your business!”

“This? This is what you are?”

“Yeah, I knew that’s how you’d feel,” Lisa says contemptuously.

“Looks like you two have a lot to talk about, and I have a date in the Little Boys’Room,” Smyrna drunkenly tells them as he stands up and weaves a little, trying to find his balance.”

“Fine. I’m leaving anyway,”Alan announces.

“No you’re not. You love her,” Smyrna tells him with complete conviction. “You both think I’m drunk,” he continues, “and you’d be right.” He picks up his scotch and tonic, takes a drink, realizes it’s empty, and puts the glass back down. He stumbles towards the Men’s Restroom which is not far from where they are sitting.

Alan and Lisa watch him as he turns around before going in. He looks at Lisa for a few seconds with an intensity that is frightening. “God, so beautiful,” Smyrna mumbles to himself as he goes into the restroom.

Alan turns his attention back to Lisa. Her nakedness is making him very uncomfortable.

“Can you please put on a shirt or a coat or something?”Alan asks Lisa. Still mad, Lisa stands up and storms off. Alan watches her disappear into a room behind one of the stages. Maybe she’ll be back in 30 seconds wearing a shirt, maybe he’ll never see her again.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The restroom was, of course, putrid. Smyrna was in it alone. He took a few steps towards the trough-like urinal. Toilet paper lay on the floor and also wet in the bottom of the urinal next to the rancid cakes of soap. Smyrna glanced at the graffiti that lined the wall above the urinal. Without reading any of it, he walked back to the one stall, opened the stall door, and went in. The human waste floating in the bowl made him gag. He quickly flushed with his foot.

Smyrna stood there inside the stall. Now he would wait. He knew this was the plan should Alan ever show up. So why did he think he needed a witness? No. No second guessing. This was the decision. He needed a witness. The important thing was not to think. If he started thinking, he might lose his nerve. His heart started beating rapidly when finally he heard the restroom door swing open. There were a few footsteps then it got quiet. He

heard a long sigh as a zipper was quickly unzipped. Smyrna took off his cowboy hat and tossed it on the floor. He stepped out of the stall and saw a short, muscular, bald-headed man standing in front of the urinal. Smyrna stood there but the man didn’t turn to look at him.

Smyrna took the handgun out of his pocket. He racked the slide, putting a live round in the chamber. The sound caused the man to turn around and look at Smyrna. The reaction. That was all that remained. Smyrna had to see the man’s reaction.

The man’s eyes got incredibly big. “NO!!!” the man yelled.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Afew minutes after Lisa stormed off, she returned wearing a green bikini top that matched her thong. She sat down in Smyrna’s chair, who was still in the restroom. Her anger and dissatisfaction were still very much apparent.

“What do you want,Alan?”

“I want to know why you dumped me and just disappeared.”

“I could ask you the same thing. Why did you wait a whole year before coming back into my life? I wasn’t that hard to find, if you’d wanted to. You disappeared from my life too.”

“I tried to get in touch with you.”

“Yeah, for a couple of days.And then nothing. I made it easy for you,Alan, that’s all. I knew how you’d feel after Bill told you I was a stripper.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, after a whole year.”

“Lisa, I was in a coma!” Lisa is taken aback by this news. She is genuinely surprised.

“I didn’t know that.Are you okay?”

“I am now. I was in a coma for six months. And I’ve been in rehab the last five months. I had to learn to walk again.”

“Alan...” Lisa doesn’t know what to say. She grabs his hand and squeezes it.

“So why are you with this guy Smyrna? This is what you want?” He looks around, indicating the strip club. Lisa pulls her hand away from Alan.

“Bob’s helping me!”Alan notices the defensiveness in her voice.

“You probably don’t know this but I’m in a hit play right now.At the Rocky Mountain Repertory Theatre.And when our run is over, we’re going to take it to New York and try to mount it Off-Broadway. Bob and I are moving to New York and he’s going to help me while I audition and take classes.”

“And he’s gonna support you? Or are you gonna continue stripping?”

“He’s supporting me now! He said it was my decision if when we get there, I wanna strip or

not. So we’ll see. He’s taking care of my father. We’ve moved him into assisted living. Bob’s a wonderful man. He’s helping make my dreams come true.”

“Lisa, I love you.”

“You don’t know what love is. Go back to your church. Find a nice girl and live your nice, sheltered life.”

“I’ve already found a nice girl. I love you.”

“I can’t change,Alan! You think I’ll be happy living with you? I’ll be bored stiff after a year!”

“Okay, fine. We’ll do it your way. We’ll move to New York. I’ll drive a cab, whatever it takes. I’ll help you to become an actress.”

“NO!! You want to be a pastor!!”

“They need pastors in New York!” I want you to leave.”

“I love you!”

“Unless you want a lap dance, you need to leave.”

“Lisa, I love ”

“I’m not Lisa. I’m Leeza!! Now please respect my wishes and leave!” Alan searches her eyes for any sign of hope. But she just looks down.

“It’s for the best,Alan.” AsAlan watches her, he realizes that Smyrna was right. Lisa was beautiful but Leeza was even more beautiful. It’s why he couldn’t get up and walk out. He couldn’t do it.

“How much for a lap dance?” he asked her. Suddenly they heard a gunshot coming from the rest room. They both looked at each other with fear in their eyes. Alan’s arms began tingling and he had an acid taste in his mouth. But he knew that if ever there was a time in his life he needed to control his fits, this was it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Lisa accepted Jesus Christ as her Savior on a sleepy Sunday morning in the first week of September. Alan was the guest Pastor, filling in for his friend and mentor who was attending a week-long conference in SanAntonio, Texas.

Alan didn’t know it at the time, Lisa having told him after the service. It was the strangest and most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her, Lisa remembered, as she started her watch and began her jog.

It wasn’t just that she felt forgiven for past sins. She felt as if her past was no longer connected to her. It was immediately after she toldAlan that she had been Saved that she also told him she’d been a prostitute.

“Yes, I know,”Alan said, smiling. That was not the reaction she was expecting.

“How do you know?”

“Smyrna told me, that last night.”

“It was only for one night. When Smyrna had his parties out at his house in the hot tub,

after his wife had died, I was the only one of the girls who wouldn’t sleep with him. He finally offered me $5000 dollars.”

“You don’t have to explain, Lisa.”

“The next morning, I took off before he woke up. And before he gave me the $5000 dollars. That’s when I moved here and got a job at McDonald’s. Why would he tell you about it?”

“He loved you.”

Lisa looked behind her to make sure no cars were coming as she ran to the other side of the street. She looked down at her watch. 10 minutes down, 50 minutes to go. She picked up the pace and thought back. She was Saved almost a month to the day, in fact, that Smyrna had committed suicide in the Kit Kat Strip Club.

And, strangely enough, she was Saved almost a month beforeAlan was supposed to leave for Missouri to go to Seminary College.

Alan and Lisa had almost been inseparable since that night.

They had both nearly jumped out of their skins when they heard the gunshot. In all the chaos and commotion that had followed,Alan had somehow managed to get Lisa out of the strip club to safety. Lisa wanted them both to leave butAlan insisted that they stay to see if Smyrna was okay. They soon learned that Smyrna had shot himself in the head in front of another patron of the strip club who had also been in the restroom at the time.

After they left the strip club,Alan took Lisa to his parents’house for the night (whereAlan still lived) since she didn’t want to go back to the apartment that she and Smyrna had been staying in. Lisa slept inAlan’s bed whileAlan slept on the couch downstairs.

In the middle of the night, Lisa came down and, upset, wantedAlan to come up and sleep with her in his room. So unbeknownst to his parents,Alan crept upstairs with Lisa and slept the rest of the night on the floor of his bedroom while Lisa slept in his bed.

As the days and weeks went by after Smyrna’s suicide, Lisa went from being frantically upset, to an existential dependency onAlan, to finally almost a secret relief that Smyrna was no longer around and things between her andAlan were as they had been before. In fact, now it was better. Because unlike before,Alan now knew all about her sordid past. The night before she was Saved, Alan had proposed to her. She surprised him when she said no.

“You need to marry a Christian woman,” she had explained, “someone who believes in the same things as you, someone who will help you. I’m not a Christian.”

“But maybe it’s God’s Will that we get married anyway,”Alan tried to persuade her, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me. He hath sent me to preach the Gospel and heal the brokenhearted Luke 4:19,”Alan had quoted to her. But she had remained adamant. Lisa heard a car coming behind her and ran onto the sidewalk out of the road. She waited

for the car to pass. She looked down at her watch: 40 minutes left to run. She had been adamant until she had been Saved. When she had accepted Jesus as her Savior, the Holy Spirit had immediately entered into her. It was still the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her. She would marryAlan and move with him to Missouri. It would mean having to quit the play and not going to New York to mount an off-Broadway production, but now her life belonged to Jesus.

In movies, there’s pre-Brando and there’s post-Brando. Clift was the first method actor but it was Brando who revolutionized acting.

The truth was, things couldn’t have worked out any better. The truth was, she had hated Smyrna. But it must have been true whatAlan had said: that he loved her. It must have been true because Smyrna left all his money and assets in his will to Lisa. It was almost a million dollars which meant that not only could she and

Alan buy a house when they moved to Missouri, she would be able to take her dad with them and either hire a live-in nurse or find him a nice assisted living facility.

Brando was a huge admirer of Clift. He actually did a one-man intervention when he saw that Clift had become an alcoholic. It didn’t work, of course.

It was so nice to not have to worry about money after all she’d been through. And she was so glad that she could share it withAlan. And the most joyous part of all was that she no longer had to hide her past from him. Thanks to Bob,Alan knew all her past sins and loved her anyway. Alan must be right. Smyrna had loved her.

But the truth was, Brando’s life & career was almost as tragic as Clift’s. Brando didn’t die a broken down alcoholic but he did give up on acting. How could somebody so influential & so gifted turn his back on a profession that he was clearly meant to be in. The roles he could’ve played. Such a waste of talent.

She looked down at her watch. 30 minutes left. She picked up the pace.

THE END