Love is Always a Risk

Love is Always a Risk

Bouquets of red roses with babies’ breath, boxes of gourmet chocolates and cards of sentimental words have become our traditional ways of romance. Sparkling fine jewelry and intimate dinners at an exclusive restaurant are gestures that both thrill and covey deep feelings of caring for the special someone you love. I tried them all without success. Nothing was ever simple with my Lisa.

Looking back, perhaps I could have tried harder to make Lisa happy, feel loved and secure. I realize no one person can give another inner peace and self worth. We must find those answers ourselves. But I still can’t let myself off the hook for not doing enough for Lisa, although intellectually, I know I couldn’t “fix” her.

There were times I even envied Lisa; she voiced her needs for compassion, praise, and affection. I need healthy nurturing but have difficulty asking for it. Lisa needed constant doses. It was painfully obvious in her words, actions and the funny stunts she would pull. But her cries for help were taxing.

I met Lisa on a blind date set up by my sister, Janie. When we arrived at her door, I couldn’t believe my good luck. This woman was beautiful. She had short auburn curly hair that framed her luminous green eyes. I adored the freckles splashed across her perky nose. She sparkled with enthusiasm as her smile lit up a room.

We made a “cute couple” as Janie had promised. I, a quiet bookworm with uncontrollable brown hair, round wireless glasses and a hockey scar on my right cheek, needed someone to bring me out of my shell.

We went to a neighborhood pizza place and ordered a pitcher of beer. We talked about our jobs and family, Janie and I were one year apart in age and very close. We loved to tease each other.

This night, Lisa and I playfully rubbed legs under the table. Newly engaged, Janie and Phil cuddled and clearly couldn’t wait to be alone. We split up after the meal and I said we'd take a taxi home.

Lisa and I wandered into an Irish bar. As soon as we entered the door, she grasped my hand tighter and said “Watch this! I’ll show you how to have a great time!” I really wasn’t used to this, being directed around by a woman but there was something sexy about it also. She ignored the tables and marched right up to the bar, joining the patrons singing beer drinking songs. Lisa fit right in, charming all the guys, talking about the football game on the monitor.

I excused myself to go to the men’s room. I came back to find her dancing on the bar. It wasn’t disrespectful to me or herself. She had on jeans that fit very nicely to her cute body and a peasant type of blouse, low cut with a kind of hispanic look, embroidered attractively and stopped at her waist. As she danced, you could see her midriff. She kept her eyes mostly on me and the sparks of delight were obvious. She was an outgoing Irish lass, a fun date for a quiet bloke like me.

After about fifteen minutes, she reached for my hand and I grabbed her around the waist to lower her to the floor. The guys all clapped and the barkeeper gave her a rose. We found a table for two and shared a half pitcher of beer while talking over the loud crowd. We didn’t stay long, it was too taxing to try to talk.

I kissed her goodnight at the door, a lingering sweet kiss with promises of future evenings.

We talked on the phone the next day. She was a massage therapist who adored her job. I was amazed when she told me her clients often cried when she touched certain areas of their bodies. She wasn’t a gossip and didn’t repeat personal things. I admired that. She seemed very empathetic and caring about her clients.

In my final year of law school, I was clerking for my Dad’s firm. I wanted to be a defense attorney. My heart was with people who truly were exploited by the system, needed help but didn’t have big bucks. Our family was close. My Mom had been killed by a drunk driver when I was five. It was important that Dad like and approve of my lady. He insisted on cooking his mouth watering barbecue ribs on the grill, fresh corn on the cob, a chewy bakery baguette and a fresh salad. Janie and Phil joined us and between the five of us, the tablecloth on the screened porch looked like little kids had enjoyed themselves without manners. Trying to carry on a conversation without laughing at each other was impossible. Dad loved Lisa’s laid back personality. He was under her spell in no time.

We began to see each other exclusively and became intimate on the sixth date. I had rented a mountain cabin for the weekend and it was wonderful. Watching her take in the beauty of the terrain with the wind blowing her hair, I knew I would never tire of her lovely profile. Lisa was a passionate sexual partner and an experienced one. She knew a few moves and had to teach me. Kinda makes a guy feel like an innocent choirboy. She also needed constant assurance that I “really loved” her. Looking back, these were red flags and as a "soon to be" lawyer, I feel really dumb. With a client, I would have brought them up.

I often tried to get her to talk about her childhood. Finally she fed me a Reader’s Digest version of a classic happy childhood. Delivered in a monotone, she sounded like she was reading a dull article from a magazine. She had no immediate family alive, no siblings, parents dead from chronic illnesses and was estranged from other family.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, babe. It must be hard not to have family. What do you do for birthdays, holidays, when you need someone to talk to?”

The tears began to run down her cheeks, “I pretend everything is okay. Most people don’t really care about your life. They want to talk about their own. I’ve had friends, in the same situation, that I would hang with, ya know? Now I have you!”

We declared our love and for the next four months Lisa and I shared our life. She moved in to my nicer larger apartment. Living with her was smothering at times as she followed on my heels like a puppy. It worked as long as I was sympathetic, loving, forgiving and coped with her strange “pranks.”

She liked to hide things from me, like my briefcase on a morning I needed to get to work early.
I confronted her. She was like a kid, “Don’t be angry, I was just teasing.”
Other times we went out with friends and she would flirt with other guys, even clients in front of me. It was embarrassing. I would state my disapproval.
“I wanted to see if you’d get jealous, guess you do care.”
“Why can’t you just trust that I do? Don’t test me, okay?” I said sternly.

One time she forgot to tell me my Dad had called. My brother, Jack, was in the hospital. I missed his emergency appendectomy and I was furious. Her excuse is that she wanted to spare my feelings.

I was so angry that I packed up my bags and went to my Dad’s to stay for a few days. I told her I needed to think about our relationship and that we needed to get some counseling if it was going to continue. I wasn’t sure I wanted it to.
She came over to dad’s and we made a list of our problems and she promised to change. She agreed to call a counselor.

Over months she was erratic, some days she wasn’t at home or work, no note or phone call. But if I was ten minutes late, she was sure I was having a secret tryst. She became angry, broke a glass one time and screamed at me. I walked out the door and took a walk to calm down. I kept telling myself she was insecure after her childhood.

Lisa’s life was a merry-go-round. She drew my family into her crazy world. One day she would make a crown pork roast, a souffle and invite my family and then cry because something wasn’t perfect.
Another time she filled the house with balloons and greeted me in her birthday suit. You never knew.

We sought out counseling alone and together. Long ago in her “happy” childhood, she was shattered, scarred and tossed to the wind. Just like Humpty Dumpty, no other therapist had been able to put her together again. Dr. Brownlee taught me about Bipolar Disorder. He explained sometimes Lisa wouldn’t take her medication. I had no idea she was on any medication. There was a part of her that liked the feeling of being manic.

I thought my love could fix her. How wrong I was. It would take more than roses and poetry . I would watch her sometimes to get a clue. She had that amazing laugh and soft secret smile. Was it real? We would wine, dine and dance the night away. Then coming home the tears turned on like a waterfall for no reason.
I would hold her hand, “What can I do?”
“I don’t know.”
She really didn’t.
I started to really understand Lisa was in a world where only she could live.

It ended when I came home and she had painted the windows black. I was exhausted in every sense. I couldn’t live like this. Her behavioral psychological roots ran too deep. I needed a sane life.
Lisa didn’t understand and threw a tantrum.
I said, “Good-bye” and softly closed the door. I packed her stuff up and would wait to hear.
A tremendous weight seemed to lift from my shoulders. I didn’t realize how chaotic and toxic my life had become.

A year has come and gone. I miss Lisa and haven’t dated anyone else. She has never contacted me. I didn’t change my number. I have continued therapy. I finished law school and that has kept me busy besides the constant work at the firm. Now I have to take the bar exam. I am trying to start a new life and even thought about moving.

It was a stormy Sunday with low black clouds, like ghosts caught in trees. A good day to sing the blues so I put Billie Holliday on the stereo. Then I retrieved the morning paper. Filling my coffee cup with a French roast blend, I was going to look for a movie.

Lisa’s grainy photo is on page one. My hand shakes as coffee spills.
The article states:

“Early this morning, a young woman’s body was found in an abandoned utility building in Walton Park. She had on the remains of a purple athletic suit. Early forensics show the body has multiple contusions, abrasions, and what appears to be a rope burn on her neck. Police are waiting on evidence to confirm a possible rape. Defensive wounds were apparent as if she had tried to fight off her attacker. The final results of the autopsy have not been released, pending DNA testing. Time of death was approximately three in the morning.

The article went on to say a roommate who identified the body didn’t believe there was family to notify. It also mentioned her profession and where she went to school. There are no suspects so far and if anyone recognizes the picture would they come forward for further information.

Why did she go out alone?
It was so unlike her but it depended on which Lisa was in charge. She might have thought it would be exciting and daring. Maybe she even flirted with a stranger if she was off her medications. My tears smeared the newspaper print.

I guess I was blessed to have known her. Lisa was a child woman that thought most people were good. She wasn't normal but what is normal? Her mind was unique, colorfully crafted like an exquisite dream catcher.



By Kathie Stehr