Sunsets (21 page)

Alissa turned away.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m open. Believe me, I don’t judge you. I think you know that. I think you also know you can trust me. And you do know, don’t you, that I can read your face? It’s becoming a lot more decipherable than when I first met you.”

Alissa was still in shock over his blunt question. It was as if she had kept this secret all covered up and tucked away in a corner of her life, but he had just marched in, swooped off the blanket, and exposed what she had worked so hard to hide.

She hesitated, pushing the white box of leftover rice to the side of the counter and flicking away a few stray grains. Then, looking up at Brad’s steady gaze, she asked, “Why do you want to know?”

He paused before shrugging and saying, “I honestly don’t know. Maybe it’s something I picked up from Shelly. One of the first things she said when she met Jake and me was that she wanted to get to know us. I like that. People don’t communicate like that anymore. They’re not transparent enough. I guess what I’m saying is that I want to know you.”

Alissa drew in a deep breath. “How much do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me,” Brad said. He tilted his head and waited.

Alissa told Brad her story. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t show disapproval of anything she said. He just listened. At one point he tore off a paper towel and handed it to her when she started to cry. She even told him about her day of cleansing and release at Newport Beach. When she finished, she felt lighter, calmer than ever.

“So that’s it,” Alissa said. “Now you know.”

“You don’t know this, of course,” Brad said after a slight pause, “but you just gave me a really healthy response. I didn’t hear you blaming anyone, not even yourself.” He smiled at her and said, “Cool.”

Cool? I just pour out my heart to this guy and he says “cool”?
What Alissa didn’t want to admit to herself was that his response was freeing. She felt safe.

Alissa glanced at the clock. “You don’t have any idea what time your sister is getting in?”

Just then the phone rang.

“I’d say she’s getting in right about now.” Brad reached for the phone and answered with, “Hi, Wren. Where are you?” There was a pause, and then he said. “Really?… Okay … Sure … No, don’t worry about it. When are you going home?… Okay … Well, next time, then. Eat some salmon for me. Bye.”

Alissa had moved over to the couch and stretched out her cramped legs. “Well?”

Brad hung up the phone, went over to the recliner, pulled up the side lever, and leaned back with his feet up. A smile inched across his lips, and he began to chuckle softly.

Alissa waited for him to share the joke.

“She’s in Alaska,” he said, a chuckle leaking out. “Things like this happen to my sister all the time. She caught a plane in Nashville, thinking she was going to Burbank, and she ended up in Fairbanks.” He laughed aloud.

Alissa laughed with him. His sister must be quite a person. Alissa had a feeling that if she ever met Lauren, she would like her immediately. “She’s going to miss the wedding then. I don’t know any airline that flies out of there so late at night that could get her down here in time. When is the wedding?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that they’re feeding her smoked salmon and sending her back to Nashville tomorrow.”

“As long as she’s there, she should stick around for the weekend and see the sights. It’s a beautiful time of year. There are some fantastic state parks. She could rent a car and make an adventure of it.”

Brad laughed some more. “If she got lost coming from Nashville to Burbank, would you really want this woman to be alone, loose in a rental car in the middle of Alaska?”

“I see your point,” Alissa said.

The front door opened, and Jake stepped in, wearing his waiter uniform. He spotted Alissa and said hi, then he looked around and said to Brad, “Where’s your sister?”

“Alaska,” Alissa and Brad answered in unison.

Jake pulled off his bow tie and plopped down next to Alissa. “Alaska?”

“She got lost,” Brad said. “She won’t be joining us this weekend.”

“Bummer. I was looking forward to meeting her,” Jake said. “Have you seen her pictures?” he asked Alissa.

She shook her head.

“Come here.” Jake rose and led Alissa into Brad’s bedroom. It was surprisingly tidy. Alissa wondered if that was in honor of Lauren’s coming. One side of the room was set up with a long table. A computer with an extra large screen, a printer, and a variety of electronic gizmos with long cords covered the table.

“Brad,” Alissa called out in a teasing voice, “I found where you left your brain. It’s in here.”

“Don’t touch anything,” he hollered back.

“Here she is,” Jake said, lifting a picture in a brass frame from Brad’s desk. It was an informal shot with a volleyball net in the background. In the forefront, Brad and Lauren stood with their arms around each other, both laughing wildly. Lauren wore a white visor and had blond hair that continued down her side, past the frame of the photo. Her face was delicate. She was a classic beauty. Alissa could see why Lauren had caught Jake’s eye.

“Look how short Brad’s hair is,” Alissa remarked to Jake. It was shaved on the sides and clipped short on top. He looked young and had a hint of nerdiness to his appearance. “Hey, Brad, how long ago was this picture taken?” Alissa called out.

“Three years ago,” he said calmly. He was standing right behind her.

“Oh!” Alissa jumped. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“This one was two Christmases ago.” He handed her another framed print. Lauren, Brad, and a woman who had to be their mother were sitting on the floor in front of a huge Christmas tree.

“Your mom?” Alissa asked.

Brad nodded. “Stan took the picture. He’s our stepdad, but the only dad I’ve ever known.”

Brad’s admission caused Alissa to feel something soft inside. She had forgotten that Brad had lost his father, too. Someday she wanted to hear the whole story. He didn’t seem to have any problem inviting himself into other people’s private lives, but Alissa wondered if he were as open with his own intimate hurts.

“You guys want to watch a movie?” Brad asked.

“It’s almost one in the morning!” Alissa said.

“So? I’m not tired. Are you?”

“I’m up for it,” Jake said. “Do we have anything around here?”

“Yeah,” Brad said, leading them back to the living room. “I rented some foreign films today.” He picked up a stack of three videos from the floor by the TV. “This one isn’t exactly foreign. It’s an Australian surf film. This is French with subtitles, and I think this one is Italian.”

“Let’s do the Australian one,” Jake said. “I’m up for watching a movie, but I’m not up for reading one.”

“Aussie it is. You’re staying?” Brad asked Alissa.

She was wide awake. The thought of going home to Chloe didn’t sound half as fun as watching a surfing film. “Sure. I have a bunch of junk food. I’ll go get it because I don’t want it sitting around my place all weekend.”

“Cool,” Brad said. “I’ll run the head cleaner while you get the food.”

“I’m going to change,” Jake said. “Anyone else want a coffee?”

“No thanks,” Alissa said as she scooted out the door. She smiled to think of Brad conscientiously running the head cleaner through the video machine. She didn’t know any guy who did that.

Armed with cookies, candy, and microwave popcorn, Alissa returned to watch the video. The guys appreciatively helped themselves to all the goodies. Within the first two minutes
of the video, Alissa could see what kind of experience this was going to be. These guys didn’t watch movies; they participated in them.

Her first clue was when Jake started to talk back to one of the characters. The film started with a surfer jogging out of a beach shack at dawn with a surfboard under his arm. He checked out the waves and called over his shoulder, “Today’s the day, mates!” Jake imitated his accent perfectly and quickly added, “Let’s take this wave all the way to Fairbanks.”

Brad added in a poorly executed accent, “Wait for me!” as a bushy haired, groggy companion came stumbling out of the shack.

The movie was nothing more than a springboard for Jake and Brad to launch their own brand of humor. Any film was a sort of electronic, visual fencing partner for their wits. Alissa watched, listened, and then found herself laughing all the way through.

“Ready for the next one?” Brad asked when all that filled the TV screen was a hot orange Australian sunset. “French or Italian?”

Alissa didn’t want to leave. Her better sense told her it must be after three and this was ridiculous. She should be mature and responsible. She should treat her body with respect and get some sleep. But one look at Brad, and Alissa heard herself say, “Italian. Definitely Italian.”

This film had a slow start. The jokes were limited because a lot of the film was silent with extensive scenery of the wine country. A long table was set outside on the pinnacle of a vineyard. Dozens of mismatched, high-back chairs surrounded the table. Covering the table was an exquisite, white linen tablecloth on which a feast was set. Only one old man sat at the table, leaning on a gnarled cane and mumbling to himself.

Jake tried to make a joke of the old man saying, “Is my athlete’s foot really that bad?” But it fell flat. The bitter old man had
spent his life repelling people, and now he was befuddled as to why his family and neighbors didn’t show up when he threw a party.

Alissa started to think about her own life. She hadn’t rejected people, but she certainly hadn’t held tightly to any of her relationships. Yet in a few short months, God had brought some incredible people into her life. She wanted to hold on to their friendships and nurture them.

She had her first opportunity to make good on that decision at dawn. Once the complicated Italian film was over, Alissa was ready to get some sleep. “Good night, you guys. Or I guess I should say, good morning. Thanks for a very, very fun night. I’m sorry Lauren didn’t make it. Maybe another time. She’s always welcome to stay with me.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her what a great time she missed,” Brad said. He walked Alissa to her front door. A family of birds was awake and chirping brightly in the tree overhead. The early morning light made everything—the grass, the narrow walkway, the lace curtains on Alissa’s window, and the place by the door handle where the paint was beginning to chip—appear dreamy, soft and hazy, too sweet and rich to be real. She felt content.

“I want you to know,” Brad said, standing close to Alissa as she put her key in the lock, “I think you’re something.”

Alissa tried to chase the blush away from her cheeks by softly laughing at his comment. “Something?” she repeated. “Well, I must say, Mr. Phillips, you certainly have a way with words.”

For the first time she thought Brad looked a pinch shy. He glanced past her, his summer green eyes looking bloodshot and hazy, just like the rest of the morning around them.

“I appreciate your telling me about Shawna and everything. I think you’ve come a long way.”

Alissa’s protective instinct told her to thank him for his compliment and move on. Instead, she said, “I know. God’s doing something in my life. It’s cool, huh?”

Brad nodded and smiled.

Everything within Alissa told her to lean forward and tilt her chin toward his strong face. She wanted to invite him to kiss her. How long had it been since she had felt that way? Never had her motive seemed so pure and sincere. It was as if she felt full of life and wanted to give a bit—a kiss—of that rich life to Brad. Always in the past, her soul had felt parched, not full. She had turned to men with the hope that they might touch their lips to hers, and in the mingling, she might snatch a bit of life from them to fill the longings inside herself.

Without a word, Alissa turned her mouth away from his. She looked down, her lips pursed together. Pushing open the front door, she said, “I’ll see you later, Brad.”

“Take care,” he said and turned to go.

Alissa closed the front door and leaned her back against it. “What was that?” she whispered to God. “Am I supposed to be feeling these things? It’s so different. What’s going on?” Her heart thumped softly. She drew in a deep breath. Then the prayer that had been on her lips daily for the past week came back to her. “Father, I surrender all this to you. Have your way.”

The words to one of her treasured hymns came to her, and as she slipped off her sandals and sauntered to the bedroom, Alissa prayed aloud, “Destroy in me the lust of sin, from all impureness make me clean. Oh, grant me power and strength, my God, to strive against my flesh and blood.”

Dropping into bed without even changing her clothes or brushing her teeth, Alissa repeated the next verse in a final petition. “Create in me a new heart, Lord, that gladly I obey Thy Word, and naught but what Thou wilt, desire; with such new life my soul inspire.”

Eyes closed, heart at rest, lips curled in a smile, Alissa whispered, “Amen,” and fell into a deep, cradled sleep. The sleep of innocence.

D
efinite had taken place in Alissa’s life. She couldn’t accurately describe them in her journal or to herself when she tried to explain why she felt different. Certainly her soul-searching day at Newport had made a difference. But so also had the daily newness of communicating with the Lord. She went to him with everything, not just when she was stuck or depressed.