Lisa 2, Mack

The first week of my sophomore year of college, a cute blonde sat near me at lunch, and mentioned being adopted.
–Well.  I was adopted, too.
–Really? I’m Lisa and I’m new here.
That’s how it all started.  Lisa 2 had seen me in a play the previous spring, found out information about me from my friends, and arranged the accidental meeting.  It was love at first sight.

Lisa 2 and I spent weekends at her (wealthy) parents’, tried hard to get drunk one night, watched Fame and Cabaret a thousand times.  Her roommate moved out, and I moved in.  I watched the way her eye lashes almost closed as she studied intently.  I had protective feelings I’d never had before:  I would go to law school, I decided, to be able to support her in the way she was accustomed.

loveWe never touched touched.  We had every meal together for a year, and never held hands.  We had bunk beds, and she would climb up to me in the top bunk and burrow her head into my neck holding each other until I drifted off to sleep.  Then she’d move down to her bunk. I couldn’t imagine my life without her, having had such beauty, humor, those eyes looking at me with love and acceptance.  She was heaven.

Summer came and went, and we drifted apart.  I don’t know why.  I went to the university, and came back to see Lisa at the Lutheran college.  I told her I loved her in that way, and she was shocked and appalled that I would sully our friendship in such a disgusting fashion.  Thirty years later, she’s a lesbian, as were most of my friends from that little Lutheran college.  Lisa and I reconnected, and recently met for coffee.  I remembered all the reasons I loved and wanted to protect her.

At the university, I soon decided to seduce my English professor, Mack.  This time, I was the pursuer, and I analyzed his desires.  Hippy.  Intellectual.  Deep.  Naïve.  I gave him my poetry, but not my phone number and my trap was set:  He would be thinking of me all weekend before we met the following week, with no way to contact me.  I came to class late, with my guitar.  I stayed after class, and he asked me out.

I became overwhelmed by the pursuit, by being something, someone desirable and worldly.  I was more naïve even than I pretended to be.  Making love in a real bed in a real house affected me deeply.  I felt some necessity of loving Mack if I were to sleep with him.  I soon had hallucinations that blew apart my mind; scenes of molestations from years before played back in my mind in psychotic colors and sounds.  Mack would touch me, and, as if in an echo, I could feel Seth and all the others touching me.  At first, I tried to cover this up, pretending I was shy.  But before long, I was hugging my knees, teeth chattering, stuck in a horror of repetition.

Mack found this all very moving.  I watched his face, a mass of cross-hatched wrinkles, and felt I loved him.  I was shattered when he finally left me.  But that crash was just the delayed reaction of losing Lisa 2, I think.  An appropriate time for that grief to finally be released.  Maybe that’s too complex an analysis.  I don’t know.

 

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