Stray Thoughts

Lisa had always avoided being alone with him. Something about him…. And now here she was, the only other person in the room. She refused to look at the bed, at him. His jagged breath shredded the air, her lungs working in sympathy, against her will. 

Her mom took in strays—cats and dogs Lisa and Jimmy loved, men they didn’t. Stu was the last of those. The first who didn’t leave.

He trailed around after mother like the cats and dogs, grateful and jittery. It took a full year for him to stand up straight, that’s how it felt to Lisa. She kept an eye on Jimmy, afraid he’d think that’s what it meant to be a man, to be a man mom could love.

Stu had no time for her and Jimmy. He didn’t see them as competition, like some others had; he didn’t see them as anything, really. He only had eyes for their mom, and accepted her children as satellites, circling a woman who was the natural center of the world. Mom never realized his kindness to Lisa and Jimmy was a tribute to her, not a sign of fatherly inclinations.

When mom wasn’t around, Stu lost his engine. He closed inward, and didn’t seem to like what he found there. That’s what made Lisa uncomfortable. A man shouldn’t use someone else to avoid himself. A woman shouldn’t, either.

Stu was reticent about his past. Or maybe mom knew, and they weren’t saying. He started from scratch when he arrived, and took the job mom found him, and slotted into the house in the space she gave him. After the three-year mark, Lisa waited for a marriage. In spite of minimal experience, mom was the marrying kind, but that was the one hint Stu wouldn’t take. Maybe there was a wife somewhere else.

Lisa’s reverie was broken by silence. The loud breathing had stopped. She looked at Stu, but he was still alive, his eyes seeking hers. She reluctantly leaned forward.

“I stole it.” The words came out one at a time. “Money, for school.” His eyes held hers, said something. Pleading? Aggressive? She turned away.

Stolen? Mom gave her that money. Mom granted her freedom. Mom understood. Mom gave her the money. Not Stu.

Lisa glanced back at the bed. He was still staring at her, and she still didn’t understand.

Did the money come from Stu? Stolen? Did mom know? Not possible. None of it. Mom gave her the money.

She looked at Stu again. Now he was definitely smiling. Or smirking. Lisa’s inner voice said, “Why don’t you just die!” She looked away.

She’d left Jimmy behind to go college. It was the hardest decision she’d ever made, but moving to a dorm at the state school two hours away was salvation. Was Stu her savior? And, wait, if the money was stolen. Could he do that? Why tell? Why tell her? Would she have to leave school?

She leaned in to Stu. “What did you do?” He stared at her, then closed his eyes. A few minutes later, mom and Jimmy returned from lunch. They exchanged a shrug on her part, nods on theirs, and Lisa was free. She wandered into the living room. Nothing between her and her miserable thoughts.

She left the house just as the hospice nurse arrived, and started walking. Nothing registered, her surroundings and her mind a blur. Then the elementary school appeared, with its small playground. She grabbed one of the bars on the merry-go-round and ran in a circle as fast as she could, then jumped on. Spinning felt good, spinning fast. When she got tired of jumping on and off, she sat on the merry-go-round and let it slow to a stop.

Stu was a bookkeeper at a big trucking company. What did they call that? The means. The motive, who knew. Wasn’t there a third m-word? No, “o,” “opportunity. Yes. Lisa tried to think about it, and realized she didn’t care whether Stu was a criminal, or whether he wanted to help her or get her out of the way. She only cared about mom. Did mom know. How could they pay it back? Could Lisa pretend she didn’t know, pretend to herself, not know what mom did or didn’t know?

She jumped off the merry-go-round and walked to the soccer field, where two adult teams were running back and forth. She felt older than anyone on the field.

“Lisa!” She heard her name. It was Mr. Felton, from the trucking company. Oh, God, small towns! Mr. Felton walked over, breathing heavily, hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry about Stu.”

“He’s still alive.”

Mr. Felton dropped his hands. “Oh, well, okay. How is everyone doing?”

Lisa shrugged. Mr. Felton continued, “How’s school? I guess you’re missing classes—”

“The semester’s over. I have a summer job, on campus, but they said I could stay here as long as….”

Mr. Felton jumped in. “Your mother’s a rock. Stu’s lucky to have her. Well, he—”

“Yeah, she is.”

“Some people, they want to drop off food. Would that be good?”

“Yeah, that would, be good. They can just leave it on the side porch. I’ll check.” She lost the thread.

“Okay, good. Tell everyone we’re thinking of you. Praying for you.”

“Thanks, Mr. Felton. Thanks.” They both nodded, and then Lisa asked, “Mr. Felton, was Stu good at his job?” 

“Yes, he was, Lisa. And I’m not just saying that.” Mr. Felton nodded, firm.

“Okay. Thanks.” They nodded again, and Lisa left.

Did Stu steal from Mr. Felton? Did mom know?

Lisa headed for the convenience store, then changed her mind and went home. Jimmy was in the kitchen. They used to tell each other everything. 

“Jimmy.”

He looked at her with that open look that said she was his rock. 

“Do mom and Stu ever talk about my tuition and all?” She opened the fridge, like she was just chatting. Jimmy reached around her and snagged a container, and she wanted to hug him but just grabbed a soda and sat down, focusing on making a peanut butter sandwich.

“They don’t talk about money around me.”

“Oh, okay. But they don’t seem stressed about it? You’re not, like, living on baloney because of me?”

“I think they do okay. They raised my allowance on my birthday, seven more dollars. I’ve been thinking, maybe I shouldn’t take it for the summer, since I’m working?”

“No, I’m sure they want you to have it. Have some fun.”

“Mom doesn’t cry or anything. Is that weird?”

“Give it time. Maybe you can visit me later this summer, stay in my dorm room.”

“I don’t want to leave mom alone.”

“Okay.” Lisa must have looked guilty.

Jimmy spoke quickly. “But you should, you know, you should go back as soon as you can.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Jimmy ate a big spoon of macaroni. “Do you still hate Stu?”

Lisa washed the knife and put it in the drying rack, buying time. “I don’t know.”

Jimmy shook his head.

She decided to try again. “But I think he might have paid my tuition.”

“So you’d like him if he did?”

“Or I might really hate him. If mom—.” Lisa started to cry, and couldn’t stop. She choked on the peanut butter.

Jimmy stopped eating his macaroni and put his arms around her. She held him tight. 

“I don’t know, Jimmy. I don’t know.” She stepped back and grabbed a napkin, wiped her face.

“It’s okay, Lisa, you don’t have to know everything. You’re still in college.” He looked at her. She didn’t laugh. “You can talk to mom, you know.”

“Maybe later. Maybe after….”

“Yeah. No rush.”

Stu died two days later. Ten days after that, Lisa went back to school.