The Forever Girl Ch. 05

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance by any character or situation to any actual person or event is purely coincidental. All characters presented in this narrative are over the age of 18.

Chapter Five

I had just dropped off the Expedition with the rental return at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport and settled up the bill with the rental agent who agreed to waive the late return fee when I explained how I was marooned in that massive traffic fiasco on I-95. I was on the Metro for the short ride back to my apartment in Old Town Alexandria just a couple of blocks from the King Street Metro platform when my iPhone rang. "LISA MULDOON" the incoming call display read.

"You get your beauty rest?" I asked in answering the call.

"Slept like the dead," she said. "I was sorry to see that you'd left by the time I got out of the shower. Seemed rude not to kiss you goodnight."

"Well ... we can do that later," I said.

"So, you saw Janine's video. See, I was right about Peter," Lisa said.

"You were. That gives you the tactical advantage. What's your next move?" I said.

She'd already gathered what little she had that reminded her of Peter -- a necklace, some photos, a few trinkets and assorted mementoes -- and put them in a shoebox, gift-wrapped it and topped it with a bow. Sis planned to drive her over to Rosslyn after she got home from work so Lisa could knock on his door unannounced and hand the package to him along with the key he gave her to his apartment, then turn around and hop in Sis's waiting car and be gone. If he wasn't there, she'd just use the key to let herself in, put the box on his bed, re-lock the door and slide the key under it. Inside the box was a still frame captured from Sis's video of him hugging the blonde who picked him up at the airport and the words, "We're done." in Lisa's handwriting on the back.

"I like it, particularly if he's not home. As they say, vengeance is a dish best served cold. What will you do if he's there, particularly if Blondie's there with him?" I asked.

"I just hand him the box and key, smile, wave at Blondie if I see her and say, 'Oh, don't mind me; I'm the ex,' and walk away," she said.

"You sound at peace with this. I guess it helps that you'd suspected it all along," I said.

"Mmm hmm," she said. "I am. It's time."

I smiled. "You don't know how glad I am to hear that. You're too good to be treated the way he's treated you."

"Thank you, Jake. Having you there has made all the difference in the world for me."

My train was slowing and the banshee screech of steel on steel as it braked for the Alexandria stop made it impossible to hear or be heard.

"This is King Street. I got to head home and get my apartment and everything else back in order to return to work tomorrow," I said. "I'll check in on you after you and NeeNee run your errand this afternoon."

"I'd like that," she said softly, hopefully. "Talk to you then."

I stepped off the train into the warming midday sun and walked east a couple of blocks and back to my modern, one-bedroom apartment with a balcony overlooking a courtyard three floors below. Sis and I conspired via text messages for her to drive Lisa to Peter's apartment in Rosslyn, and immediately afterward to a little Italian restaurant just off Wisconsin Avenue that is one of Lisa's favorites, less than a five minute drive across the Key Bridge from Rosslyn. I reserved a booth for three and would be waiting with a bouquet of red chrysanthemums, also Lisa's favorite, with arrangements for the waiter to deliver a Vodka Collins -- her favorite cocktail -- as soon as she was seated.

I was waiting in the booth and midway through my first beer when Sis texted: "Operation Soft Landing commenced." The operational codename -- just like the intel on Lisa's favorite eatery, flowers and drink -- came from Janine. It was inspired by the objective of making Lisa's breakup with Peter as easy as possible. Depending on traffic, it should only take about 30 to 45 minutes from start to finish.

Twenty-five minutes in, another text from Sis: "P not home. Drop made. OTW."

Ten minutes later, I saw them enter. Lisa headed toward the bar, where she was considered a regular. She appeared confused when Sis began steering her toward the right and rear until she saw me with the flowers at a booth set for three. Her hands went to her cheeks and she squealed with delight. She hugged Sis, then ran to me and flung her arms around my neck in a powerful hug that lasted until the waiter, on cue, brought her the cocktail. I could hear her sniffling and saw her eyes brimming with tears as she loosened her hold and planted a full-on kiss on my lips.

Sis had already taken her seat and started on the Pinot Grigio I had waiting for her.

Lisa whispered in my ear, "This means more to me than you know, Jake."

"To celebrate your independence, Lees,", I said, handing her the flowers. She cradled them against her chest like a newborn as the first tear spilled onto her cheek. I took my napkin and dabbed it away. She excused herself to the powder room to restore her smudged makeup.

"Nice, Bro," Sis said. "The whole way over here from Peter's, she was checking her phone, looking for a text or missed call from you, and she was getting a little down that she hadn't seen anything. She thought I brought her here to console her up from that, so ... well, you saw the rest."

I just nodded and smiled.

"Jake, it's more serious than I thought. It's not just that Lisa likes you, the girl is in love with you. That's why she didn't have an ounce of remorse about dumping Peter. She was ebullient about it given what transpired since your drive together from Georgia," Sis said, the look on her face dead serious. "She and I talked for nearly an hour after she got out of the shower last night. There was a light in her eyes despite the fatigue. A woman knows it when she sees it in another woman. She told me y'all got intimate because, well, she knew that I already knew. But for her, it's not the physical act as much as the change she sees -- at least she thinks she sees -- in this relationship with you."

I listened intently to everything Sis was telling me, and the gravity of it settled in as she did. Her eyes never once left my face as she expertly read my expressions if not my thoughts. Normally, what Sis was saying would scare the shit out of me. I'd always worried about commitment and clingy girls. But, to my surprise, I was just fine with everything she was telling me. More than just fine. I found comfort in it.

"Jake, be very, very careful in how you handle Lisa. I realize this is sort of out-of-the-blue for you, but her heart is precious and very fragile, and whether you want it or not, she has put it right there in your hands," she said. "You know I love you, but I love Lisa, too, and you could shatter her in a way that would be very hard to piece back together. You know what I'm saying?"

I nodded, looked Sis squarely in the eye, and said, "She's in good hands, NeeNee. There's a lot of building ahead in this relationship, but she owns a big piece of my heart, too. I haven't told her this, but she's captured me."

More than any other two people on earth, twins share each other's mind and heart. Whether it's spiritual, psychic or just conditioning based on unparalleled proximity and shared environments and experiences, it's real. What I told Sis was extraneous; she could have discerned every bit of that just from looking at me. So when my words matched what she intuitively knew, she breathed a sigh of relief, clasped my hand in hers and squeezed it. This time she and I were blinking back tears, hoping we'd have them in check by the time Lisa got back from the restroom.

Too late. I saw Lisa walking back toward us and I stood to allow her the seat between two siblings who adore her. Once she was seated, Sofia, the third-generation owner of the family restaurant, came by the table ahead of a server who carried a bottle of champagne. This was not part of what I had arranged.

"Miss Lisa, I'm informed this is a big day for you, a turning point, a new beginning. You've been a loyal patron, and we appreciate it. So on behalf of the house, I want to be part of your happy day. Please accept this as a token of our gratitude," Sofia said.

"Only if you'll take a glass and join us, Sofia," Lisa said.

The waiter skillfully uncorked the bottle and brought four flutes to the table, filling each with golden effervescence.

"To just the start of many happy days ... months ... years ahead for us all," I said, offering the first toast. "To Lisa!"

"To Lisa," we said together and took a sip. Afterward, to commemorate the moment, I turned to Lisa, touched her chin and guided our lips gently, sweetly and tastefully together, but for long enough a duration that it its real meaning would not be lost or misconstrued, that it wasn't a passing kiss for luck. Lisa grasped its full, emotional meaning. She laced the fingers of her right hand into the fingers of my left hand, and there they remained until our entrees arrived.

It was 9:30 and the Wednesday crowd of working stiffs was paying its tabs and thinning out. I signaled the waiter for the check. Janine invited me back to the apartment for a nightcap, and as inviting as that sounded, I needed to be back at work fresh and alert in a pressed suit and tie on Capitol Hill by 6:30 sharp tomorrow morning. I might not have enjoyed as much sympathy had a senator on the committee not been among those trapped on 95, turning his two- or three-hour commute from Richmond into a frostbitten 27-hour tribulation.

I asked Janine to give me a lift to the nearest Metro stop. When I got into the back seat of Sis's Prius, so did Lisa. Janine turned around with a wry smile and looked at us.

"Back seat again?" she said. "Just ... control yourselves, you two." We held hands like high school sophomores on a double-date for the two minutes it took to reach the Metro stop. When I got out, so did Lisa. At the curb, we kissed for a little longer than Sis would have liked. A cabbie waiting behind her honked as he zoomed past her to the left.

"Let's plan something special for Friday night, OK," I whispered to Lisa. "I'll text you when I get home and call you tomorrow. Nite, Lees."

"Nite, Jake," she said. I scurried off for my train.