LIP SERVICE

Lisbeth opened the front door to Jonathan’s home, expecting him to be ready for their long planned date to discuss the wedding reception and get in a couple of hours ice skating before dinner. Instead, he was watching football with his buddies Dick, Bruce, and Theo, surrounded by beer bottles, pizza, hot chicken wings, cigars . . . at 11 am.

“Hi. Shut the door. It’s cold out,” Jonathan shouted, not turning around.

As Lisbeth kicked the door shut behind her with one foot, she asked, “I thought we were spending our day off together?

“Plans change,” Dick shouted over his shoulder.

“Yup, plans change, Babe,” repeated Jonathan and sipped his beer.

The guys were cheering the players. Lisbeth walked to the sofa and locked eyes with Jonathan. Finally, he stood and said, “Hey, fellas. I did promise. You can stay here and watch the game.” Jonathan grabbed two chicken wings. “I won’t be long,” he added.

“Lisbeth, I’ll meet you at The Pond. You take forever to put on your skates and I have to change.” He walked back to the bedroom, with one chicken wing in his mouth and one in his hand.

Lisbeth sat in her car, confused, fidgeting and twisting her engagement ring. As she drove away, “I won’t be long” echoed in her brain.

The Pond was a nickname the townspeople had given the lake. No one knew the real name. No one cared. Even Jonathan, with access to property documents as a realtor, didn’t know. Lisbeth sat on the bench at the south end of The Pond and read the plaque, “In loving memory of Hannah and Leo Smith.” Everyone in town knew how much the Smiths loved each other and that bench. Lisbeth mindlessly traced the words on the plaque with her finger. “Why did Jonathan change our plans. Did he forget? Wedding cold feet? Football fever? This is so unlike him.”

Jonathan arrived, his clothes unchanged except for donning a jacket and scarf. He sat on the bench, blocking the plaque.

“I’m here now. Happy?” he asked.

“Why were the guys at your place when we had plans?”

“Babe. I . . . . “ He stopped. He saw Lisbeth stiffen. She hated “Babe” and “you guys,” saying it dismissed and erased females.

“Did you forget?” she asked. “I know we work long hours and we haven’t seen much of each other all week but . . . .”

Jonathan interrupted her. “You’re preparing for your new job and it’s making demands on you. Now you’re making demands on me about the wedding.”

“Demands? You’re getting married too. This doesn’t feel like it’s about the wedding.”

Jonathan abruptly left to skate.

“Day off? . . . Together?” she mumbled.

Lisbeth caught up to him at the other end of the Pond and asked, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m here, with you, skating. I almost broke my neck for you on that thing sticking out of the ice over here. What more do you want?”

Curious, she glanced at the spot where he pointed and skated to get a better look.

“Jonathan, come here a sec. What you almost tripped on is an envelope with writing on it.”

“ Just leave it. No one cares.”

“Jonathan. Please come here.” Lisbeth waved until he finally skated over.

“What?!?!” he asked sharply.

“Look. An envelope.” She sounded intrigued and excited.

“So?!”

She knelt for a closer look. “I see somebody’s name and return info through the ice.” She stood up and tried to chip the ice with the tip of her blade.

Jonathan watched her struggle. Finally, she said, “Your balance is better than mine from hockey. Please help?”

He didn’t move. She widened her eyes, tilted her head, and glared at him. With a not so subtle eye roll, Jonathan started chipping.

“Be careful. You’re ripping the envelope.” She knelt again and pulled.

“A little more, Jonathan.” He didn’t move.

“Jonathan!” He halfheartedly continued.

Lisbeth wiggled the envelope out of the last bit of slush. “Wow. It’s pretty thick.”

Jonathan grabbed it from her hands even before she stood up. Without looking at the names, he ripped open the envelope. His eyes widened as he fanned the bills. “ I bet there’s over $5000 here!”

“Whose names are on the envelope?” Lisbeth asked. “We need to return it. It’s not ours.” She tried to reach for it, but he yanked back his hand.

“Return it!? You’re crazy! I’m not giving up this money to anyone. I found it.”

“WE found it!” she corrected him. “If WE can’t find the owners, then WE decide what to do.”

“I’m the one who dug it out of the ice and I did all the work,” he argued sharply.

“You can’t be serious! You would’ve done none of that work if I hadn’t nagged you. Returning it is the right thing to do. Don’t fight me on this.”

Exasperated, he said, “You’re always so . . . so . . . goody two shoes.”

They skated back to the bench in silence and Lisbeth asked him, “Can we at least agree to discuss it before we decide?”

“Yeah. . . sure. I’ll hold the money till we make a decision.”

“Who made you boss?!” she asked.

Jonathan stood up. “We’ll discuss this later. I’ve got to get home.”

After he left, Lisbeth wondered why he was being so obstinate, so angry, so distant? And he certainly didn’t need the money. She decided to go home, have lunch, and shower. “I think I need to chill a bit before dinner.” She surprised herself that she had said this out loud.

Lisbeth loved singing show tunes in the shower and had a very good voice. “Bali Ha’i may call you. Any night any day . . . .” Jonathan always turned up the music to drown her out. “And then, I stop singing. Why? Is silence easier than the discussion we never have?” Lisbeth lathered her hair and began singing, loudly, “I’m gonna wash that man right outta my hair. . . .”

Toweling off, Lisbeth replayed the odd morning and wondered, “Am I changing or is he? Is it the wedding or my new job? He doesn’t seem to mind my working hard for him but, now that it’s for my career, he seems so . . . resentful."

Lisbeth remembered two years ago when Jonathan ask her to help in his real estate office. Since she was teaching Graphic Arts then only part-time, the money had helped pay bills. Eventually, Jonathan asked her to develop his website and a blog.

“Jonathan, I’m flattered, really, but please, hire someone else. You know I’m applying to colleges to teach full time. I’ll be teaching twice as many classes and have committee assignments. I just won’t have time to do any work for you too. Everyone says I’m a shoe-in for the tenure track opening coming up soon especially after winning that Distinguished Teaching Award for Adjuncts last year."

Jonathan had continued to press her. She relented and agreed to do it temporarily, but she urged him repeatedly to find a replacement.

Last week, Lisbeth shared the good news of being hired tenure track. Jonathan congratulated her. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Babe. Let’s celebrate with dinner at La Trattoria.”

“Have you found someone to replace me yet? I can’t work for you and teach. We discussed this.”

Jonathan bristled. “You’re giving me less than a week to find someone to replace you. That's not a discussion.”

“No. I gave you more than two years. You said you supported my job search and I constantly reminded you to find someone. And what did you say?” Her voice lowered to basso profundo, “We’ll discuss it later, Babe.’” She recalled the evening distinctly. Lisbeth had picked up their dinner plates and then abruptly had put them down again. “Your idea of a discussion is to wear me down, but I can’t do that this time. This isn’t just a job. This is my career. You know my heart is in teaching, not real estate.”

Jonathan had become silent. She loved him but his stubborn side drove her crazy. “He’s a really good guy. We laugh and have fun together . . . although not today. . . and we both love skating. He’s so generous and thoughtful. I remember Valentine’s Day . . . he gave me diamond earrings. . . not quite my Boho style but stunning. And a month ago, he brought me flowers for no reason."

Early in their relationship, Jonathan had surprised her with a revelation. “You’re so different from the other women I’ve known. So independent. The others all wanted something from me. You’re different . . . so giving and open hearted and trusting.” Her heart melted.

Lisbeth wondered. “Jonathan hates change. He cycles through it with silence and resentment. Maybe that’s it. For me, it’s just easier to give in since most issues seem so minor, like living in his big house after the wedding. The decor isn’t my style, though. And that kitchen! Those 6” square tiles on the counter! I want granite and a faucet with a detachable sprayer.”

“You know I love to cook. What about a kitchen remodel? ” Lisbeth asked.

“We have great takeout in this town,” Jonathan rebutted. He was the Takeout King with restaurant numbers memorized.

“How long can we do that? We can’t be giving our kids takeout every night.”

“Don’t worry about it now. We’ll discuss it later if we have kids.”

After their relationship began getting serious, Lisbeth told Jonathan she wanted children. Since he had doted on his clients’ kids at house showings, she figured he liked children. Those kids helped him close many deals. She asked if he wanted children too.

“Sure. Someday,” he replied.

“How many?” Lisbeth asked.

“I don’t know. We’ll discuss it when the time comes.”

Kids and kitchen and tomorrow.

Lisbeth finished dressing for dinner at La Trattoria. Even though the day hadn’t shaped up as planned, Jonathan hadn’t canceled dinner. Maybe they could straighten things out while eating. Lisbeth put on the diamond earrings from Jonathan. She wore no necklace with her red dress but decided to suffer high heels for the occasion. Normally, Lisbeth was low maintenance but, tonight, she went all out: mascara, moisturizer, lipstick. Checking herself in the hall mirror, she mused, “I look . . . good.”

Lisbeth’s cell phone chirped like a cricket, the sound of summer, dusk, front porches.

“Hey, Lisbeth. Changing plans again. The guys are still here watching a game. Their ladies came and are staying for dinner. We’re ordering in Chinese. You don’t mind, do you, Babe?”

Lisbeth saw the reflection in the mirror of a woman in a red dress, holding a cell phone. She didn’t recognize the angry face as hers.

“Lisbeth? Are you there, Lisbeth!?” She heard the guys cheering in the background.

“Yes?”

“See you in a while.” And the line went dead.

Lisbeth didn’t change into casual clothes. “Let the dress, heels, diamonds, mascara remind him of our plans,” she thought.

When Lisbeth arrived at the house, Jonathan’s friends were still sitting on the worn leather sofa.

“The ladies are in the kitchen,” Jonathan shouted. As she walked through the living room, her heels clicked on the wood floors. Jonathan scanned her up and down in her red dress, then quickly turned his head away.

“Lisbeth. Hi. How are you?” the ladies asked, almost in unison.

“I’m good. How are you all?” His friends and their ladies were nice enough people but not her kind of people. She felt out of place.

“Look at you! All dressed up! We’re just watching the game here in un-fancy, un-schmancy clothes. Well . . . they’re watching the game!” And the ladies laughed.

Jessica, Dick’s girl, took a sip of her Maker’s Mark whiskey and added, “Who cares what they do.” With that, she swept her long hair away from her ears and flashed a new pair of huge diamond earrings. “He just bought me these.” Everyone laughed, oohed and aaahed, and leaned in for a better look, except Lisbeth, who mumbled, “Oh, they’re lovely.”

As the women gossiped and drank, Lisbeth slipped back into living room. The commercials came on and Dick muted the sound. As she stood hidden near the doorway, she heard Jonathan fabricate how he had found the money and brag about what he intended to do with it.

“I am so glad I decided to go skating today!” The guys laughed. They continued shouting. “You should get a new motorcycle! No! maybe a . . . .”

Lisbeth listened intently then walked into the room and stood next to the end table in Jonathan’s line of sight. “Jonathan, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“What’s up?” Jonathan had not moved. He repeated more forcefully, impatiently, “What’s up?”

“Just you and me. Privately. Please, Jonathan?”

“You can talk in front of my friends. I don’t have any secrets from them." The guys fell silent, waiting.

“What do you want? Talk, Babe. Just ignore them.”

“Who is this man?” Lisbeth asked herself in disbelief, fingering her earrings. “I don’t even recognize him.” Someone started speaking. It was Lisbeth.

“ I hear you say, ‘I’m going to buy a motorcycle’ or ‘I’m going to Hawaii again.’ You almost tripped over the envelope and found it, but I had to nag you relentlessly to chip it out of the ice. I was going to look up the names on the envelope but you grabbed it. Just a few hours ago, you promised WE would decide about the money, together. Now, all I hear from you is I, I, I.

“What’s gotten into you, Babe? Let’s discuss this later.”

Suddenly, Lisbeth felt flooded with the anger she had seen reflected in the mirror.

"I’m tired, Jonathan, tired of coming in second to your job and your friends, tired of waiting to discuss things. I am tired of helping you live your life. I’m just so tired. And I will not spend the rest of my life trying to ignore being called “Babe” or trying to ignore your inability to remember my name. I have a name. LISBETH.” Then, emphasizing each word, she ended with, “And I will no longer be erased.”

“Lisbeth. What the hell . . . ? Jonathan’s voice trailed off but then he said accusingly, “Plans change! Period. Can’t you deal with it?” The silence froze the moment.

“Jonathan. You are right. Plans do change.” She slipped the engagement ring off her finger and placed it on the end table. With that, she walked towards the front door, stopping to pick up her coat from the chair.

“Lisbeth! You wait!!” Jonathan commanded. The room filled with his friends’ complaints.

“Why is she being such a bitch?”

“What the hell is wrong with her?”

“What made her panties get in a twist all of a sudden?”

He turned to them and snapped, “This has been brewing for a long, looong time.”

As she was reaching for the front doorknob, Lisbeth heard Jonathan’s comment. She turned completely around. She stared at each of them, one by one, ending with Jonathan and said, “Isn’t it pretty to think so . . . Babe.”