Turbulent Tunnel

By Jenn Shell

Without any doubt, Lisa Diamond knows that she and her high school sweetheart, Johnny, share a true and eternal love. Life is a paradise filled with love, hope, and the promise of forever in Johnnys arms.

But life has different plans for her heart and her future. Driven apart by circumstances and teenage pride, she marries Michael, the new love of her life at seventeen. Inspired by the hopeful new dreams of a new bride, she looks forward to forever at Michaels side.

How quickly life can change.

Due to a devastating car accident shortly after the wedding, Lisa now lingers in a nonresponsive vegetative state in a hospital bed. No one knows that within her motionless body, her mind still races in fear and pain, in love and longing, and between hope and hopelessness. Five years later, there is little reason for optimism. Lisas devoted husband, faced with his greatest, heartbreaking life challenge, ponders an impossible choice:

Is it time to let her go?

Trapped alone in the darkness, Lisa has only her memories for company. Johnny is never far from her heart, even as her husband is ironically never far from her side. Michael struggles with his own demons, doubts, and needs. His friend Annette refuses to be the reason to end his marriage, despite its current state. Life, as the grieving husband has come to learn, is complicated. Will heartbreak drive him to a decision he will forever regret?

Only time will tell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491758229

Jenn Shell

JENN SHELL is the author of Wet Confetti, Purple Gold, and Destiny’s Gamble and has published in The National Library of Poetry. Her lifelong passion for books and history is the catalyst that embarked her on the journey of writing. Originally from Pennsylvania, an avid golfer, she now calls Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, home.

Book preview

Chapter 1

"Please, somebody, please turn off those bright lights, she begged. My eyes hurt." Her screaming message finally got through to someone, for indeed, the lights suddenly went out just as her mind went blank. She had no way of knowing her command was voiced only in her mind just as she had no clue as to how much the doctors depended on the lights’ intense brightness. How else could they see their way through this delicate operation they were about to perform? No doubt about it. At twenty-years-old, a strange force seemed now to permeate her entire being.

Stretched out on that cold, hard, table facing those unbearable, blinding lights, was not only all the memory but, most assuredly, the last memory that Lisa could claim before she fell into a mystifying suspension of consciousness. She may as well have been dead, for a coma had stolen five years of her life.

Good morning, Mr. Moore. As always, Susan Duffy, the pleasant private duty nurse greeted Michael with her sunny voice and friendly smile. In fact, it was through her dedicated care that Lisa’s room offered a ray of hope. Except for the crucial medical equipment, this patient’s room was rather pleasant. It didn’t happen overnight. No. The transformation from the sterile, whiteness of this hospital room into this room with its pale pink, painted walls took some doing. It was accomplished through the private nurse’s determination. Of course, she went through proper channels. Knowing the length of time involved and the significance of this special case, both the hospital administration and Lisa’s husband gave their approval before Susan worked on the making of the impressive improvements. Stimulating on every level and financed by Michael and Lisa’s family and friends, to say this hospital room was unconventional would be an understatement.

Day in and day out, while devoting her time and energy to this lovely, young, woman, held hostage to these cold machines, Susan had to do something to ease the depression felt just by entering the room. Day in and day out, her mind raced through almost more ideas than it could hold. I understand, she thought, the necessity of the hospital bed with the cold, but essential life-supporting equipment, but that’s it.

With paper and pen in hand, the warm nurse went about converting her interior decorating ideas to life. Yes, life is needed in this room even if it only comes in terms of pretty colors. Even simple changes helped. Just by adding a few shams in a soft pink color, Susan was able to give the bed a custom look. Adding lightweight draperies with a simple floral print replaced the plain, white ones. Her strategy was to give Lisa a room that was also pleasing and encouraging for her visitors, especially for her devoted husband. Michael helped as much as he could. He even suggested the possibility of having Lisa’s small vanity brought to this room. Knowing full well that Lisa might never get to use it didn’t change his mind. Maybe, he thought, just maybe seeing the vanity might stir something positive within his dear Lisa.

Susan jumped at the chance. This small, private, beauty center was just the ticket. Not only did it bring reminders of home but having it painted a deeper shade of pink with floral, porcelain drawer-pulls, added just the touch of color needed to help further cheer the place. Susan made sure that Lisa’s hair brush, container of facial powder and a lipstick were placed in an orderly fashion on the top of the vanity. They added the feminine touch which Susan felt would prove to help Lisa find her way. A lovely vase full of flowers in season always graced the corner of the vanity. Michael provided a few of Lisa’s favorite books and a few other mementos to add a personal touch. No other room in the hospital could claim the uniqueness of this room. Despite the small space allowed, and after all the years of caring, this matronly nurse successfully managed to create a room reflecting Lisa’s personality as she thought it must be; cheerful with a future.

Checking Lisa’s ventilator and IV tubes, the dutiful nurse made sure the intensive monitoring was completed for this round. Picking up Lisa’s hair brush, the nurse who never married; had no children of her own, and who loved this person encased in a cocoon, gently brushed her Lisa’s beautiful, strawberry blonde hair. There now, look how pretty you are. Holding up the mirror despite Lisa’s closed eyes, the nurse assured the young woman of her beauty. Smiling, she spoke softly. Let’s make your hair nice and shiny just the way your husband likes it. Okay? Finished now, her patient’s hair neatly brushed was in readiness for her daily visitor. For the caring nurse knew, without fail, Lisa’s charming husband would arrive, newspaper tucked under his arm at precisely ten o’clock.

How are you today, Mr. Moore?

I’m fine, thanks, Miss Duffy. After all these years, day in and day out, the habit was never broken. He still addressed this wonderful woman dressed in her crisp, starched, white nurse’s uniform by her name as it was presented on her polished name tag. Smiling, he asked, And how is our girl doing today?

She’s coming along, Mr. Moore. What else could the compassionate nurse answer? It was always the same. Never too negative, it always offered just a hint of encouragement. There was no fooling anyone. Both the faithful husband and dedicated nurse were fully aware of the sad set of circumstances that brought them together like this each morning. Both wished that maybe, just maybe, this would be the day when the nurse would be the bearer of better news. But day after day, the routine stayed pretty much the same dismal way. In fact, it was patients like her beautiful, Lisa who, at times, made the tenderhearted nurse question her choice of profession.

Watching Michael gently caressing his wife’s cheek, tugged at Susan’s heart as she headed toward the door with the hope that this day would hold less pain for this devoted husband. Thinking how difficult it must be on him, she always tried to give Michael extra private time before she would have to return for continued monitoring of the equipment. He was always so faithful. She wished she knew their story but, she was not at liberty to ask and with that their relationship had pretty much been kept their secret.

Knowing his visits lasted from about one to two hours, the nurse often wished she had been a fly on the wall just to learn what this man talked about to his non-responsive wife. She thought if anyone happened to come into Lisa’s room while her husband was there, eyebrows would be raised. No doubt about it. They would wonder how and what this tall, dark, good-looking, vibrant young man would be doing in this room with a fragile woman who never moved or even spoke a word. He was, without doubt, physically attractive. His black, curly hair was the center of temptation on more than one occasion to this woman who admired him his strength and courage. Oh, to just run her fingers through it. Of course, she never did. Still that didn’t stop the temptation. Sizing him up, the nurse felt honestly that his face wouldn’t stand out in a crowd but his bright, violet, blue eyes would make a person look twice. And his voice so deep and calming was exactly what any woman would enjoy hearing. Then there was that tiny, colorful, bird tattoo near his right shoulder. She didn’t have a clue as to why it was chosen but it added to his character. I wish, the nurse would tell herself, that I knew him better. Yes, Mr. Moore is a man of mystery in more ways than one. Watching him so full of compassion day after day, I have to admit, fills me with joy and sorrow. I worry about this man, too. For it no longer were just days gone by but now, it had been years. She felt down deep within himself there had to be a raging turmoil. He never spoke about it but, the conflict rapidly approaching to be resolved was no longer a question of if it should be done? No. Now, it was a question as to when it should be done. Surely, his indecision ate at him day and night. She wondered about the injustice of it all. Just why, should anyone be forced to play God? These, then were the sympathetic nurse’s thoughts as she left the room for the man to have his daily, private visit with his sleeping beauty.

Based on the encouraging suggestions of the attending physicians, Michael followed his usual routine of gently touching Lisa’s face and then softly speaking to her. His voice dropping to almost a whisper, he said hello. Lisa, it’s me, Michael. You look pretty today. I like the way Miss Duffy put on your lipstick. It brings out those heart-shaped lips of yours that I so like. Not only that. It makes you look even younger than you are.

His small talk over for now, he sat on the comfortable, leather bedside chair provided by Miss Duffy and began reading the newspaper. It’s that time, Lisa. I’ll read the happenings of the day for you. During the course of his visit, he would read news printed in the Daily Local Newspaper that he felt might be of interest to his young wife. His hope was that maybe some tidbit of news might get through to this woman who didn’t stir and maybe, just maybe, they would get to spend their lives together again or, at least, what was left of it. His devotion was sincere but he could not shake another underlying cause of his determination to get through to Lisa. Plain and simple, he could not deny the gut-wrenching guilt that endlessly ate at him. Wasn’t he, after all, the cause of the accident? It was his fault that his precious Lisa could do nothing. As quickly as that debilitating thought bombarded his mind, he scanned the newspaper headlines for some item of interest. Anything would do just to change the subject. At least it temporarily suppressed the awful truth. Fighting through welled-up tears, he began reading.

Let’s see now. Today is April 15, 1964, and it is mostly cloudy with scattered showers possible, high around 62. Hopeful that identifying the date might be of some help to Lisa, he continued. Then he went on to introduce the Beatles. "Listen to this, Lisa. There is this popular group of singers from England known as the Beatles. They are taking America by storm. Says here they released a song called, I Want to Hold Your Hand and it is selling like hotcakes. Everybody is calling their popularity Beatlemania. According to the news, they are a sensation. You know how the doctor told us that music might be good therapy for you? Well, maybe I can buy one of the Beatle records for you to hear just what all the fuss is about. Would you like that?"

Turning the page, he continued. What else? Oh, yeah, today is tax day. Don’t worry. I finally got ours done and mailed them off in time. I’m pretty sure, if I did everything right, we’ll get a refund this year. It’s going to be close. We’ll see.

Silently turning page after page, he finally stopped when he arrived at the Society Page. Here’s a tidbit of interest for you. You know Elizabeth Taylor, the beautiful movie star? Well she just married another movie star, by the name of Richard Burton. Wonder how long that will last? Movies stars, well they can keep their life-style going from one partner to the next. Looking at Lisa’s face, he sincerely told her his feelings on the matter. You and me, Lisa, we’ll be together forever. Won’t we? His hopeful question was sincere but, unfortunately it also held an underlying pathetic panic.

Back to scanning the paper, this time he found some local news bits which he shared. Oh, remember Jennie Brown? Well, according to the newspaper, she just graduated from college. It seems to be a big fuss since she got married first and didn’t go to college until recently. Guess you have to give her credit. Oh, and you know Rick Simpson? Well, he just got a promotion at the bank. That makes him second vice-president. And, here’s something interesting. The Cables, Doris and Sam, are going on a cruise to celebrate their fifth anniversary. That one hurt. Michael could not help but feel cheated as their fifth wedding anniversary was spent just like today and every other day, with one person filling in the blanks and the other, in a deep, oblivious to the world, kind of sleep. Get a grip, he told himself. Ending the morbid pause, he went on to lighten the mood and went straight to the comic strip section of the newspaper.

I wish you could see Blondie today. Geez, all Dagwood does is think of his stomach. It’s a wonder he can wrap his mouth around the gigantic sandwiches he builds. I wouldn’t want his food bill. That’s for sure. Blondie has got to be a saint. She never complains. You know what I wonder, Lisa? Giggling, he lowered his voice and asked, After all these years, and two kids later, how does Blondie manage to keep her terrific shape? Comic strip or not, you got to give it to her. Scanning the paper further, he figured there were no more good comics. I’m afraid the rest of the comics aren’t worth reading today. Tossing the paper onto the vanity, he just sat quietly staring into the face of the woman he promised to love in sickness and in health until death do us part. With lingering thoughts of confusion, he decided it was time to leave.

Well, Lisa, I guess I better head out. It’s a good thing I was able to get the second shift. That gives me time to visit you and still get things done around the house. In fact, before I go to work today, I’m hoping the showers hold off long enough for me to put down mulch in your flower bed. I’m keeping it nice for you, Lisa. Today’s sun keeps playing hide and seek and I’m hoping it will stay warm long enough for me to get the job done. Darn weather. It tends to be fickle. With that thought in mind, Michael leaning over and gently kissing his Lisa on her cheek, got ready to say his goodbyes for today.

Then standing there staring at that beautiful face, without warning, the unsettled rage was back. From time to time, for five years now, he did battle with that violent, inescapable monster. His inability to call the shots; to make the absolute final decision in essence, to play God, plagued him mercilessly. With tears streaming down his cheeks, depression and panic coming in waves, and with words spoken in anguish, he cried, Oh, Lisa, please. I’m begging. Please help me. What do you want me to do? Please. Show me a sign. I can’t do this by myself. I hear what the doctors are saying. I hear your parents and friends, too. And, believe it or not, there are some people who yell at me. Pull the plug, they shout. No, don’t worry. I know they are only trying to help. They are annoyed with me for not making a decision. It’s like we’re in limbo. Lisa, I hear from too many. Still, I don’t hear from you.

Wiping his tear-stained face, didn’t end the tears from flowing. Waiting for a miraculous nod of approval, it never came. I don’t know what I should do. Tenderly stroking her sweet face, he reached out to her. I know, Lisa. In one way I’m living in the shadow of your consciousness and yet, without it, I’m afraid I’ll lose whatever flash of light it holds. What then?

Each time he faced the demon within, he ended his urgent cry for Lisa’s help in the same way. Smiling for her benefit, and touching her face lovingly, he spoke with affection. I’m so sorry, Lisa, but not today. I just can’t make a decision today; maybe tomorrow?

With the strength sapped from his mind, he was tired. Slipping on his jacket to head out, he explained. I’ll be back tomorrow. Now, I’m going to try to beat the rain and get some of the mulching done. You never know with this weather. Bye for now. Love you.

After all the years, it was kind of a blessing that he could fight the demon tooth and nail, then push its horror to the remotest section of his mind and actually face the rest of his world in a relatively reasonable fashion.

Damn, he thought. Here comes the rain. The mulch will have to wait. Driving down the street Michael was disappointed in his miscalculation. He really thought the sun would pop out long enough for him to at least get some lawn work done. But, that didn’t happen. Instead, he went into the kitchen, made himself a sandwich and fixed a boxed lunch for later at work.

Now, he thought, it turns out that I have a few minutes to put my feet up and catch the news on the TV. Oh, the TV. How in the world did I forget to tell Lisa about our new TV set? She’ll be thrilled. If I’m not mistaken, it’s the only 21 color TV on the block. I know she will like the stylish Mahogany Veneer cabinet. I picked it to match the rest of the furniture that we picked out together. Now, the price tag; that she’ll like most of all. She has always been good with money and I really got a good deal. I bargained the salesman down by $200. Wait until she hears that. She’ll be tickled pink. I’ll absolutely tell her first thing at tomorrow’s visit. Turning on the set, he was pleased and amazed with his state-of-the-art purchase. I can’t get over how well-defined the picture is on this big screen. I like it. I know Lisa will, too. With his arms folded across his chest, the mesmerizing effect of the TV screen soon brought an onslaught of images and emotions and his loud words spoken in anguish roared over the TV commentator. Lisa, Lisa, Lisa. Where are you? Oh, I can see you now sitting close to me with your legs stretched out comfortably on the couch. Wrapping my arms around you, together we are enjoying the new TV. Closing his eyes as fresh tears rolled down his face, he cried pathetically. Please God, please. I’m begging. Send Lisa back. I miss her so much. His begging switched. Oh, please Lisa. Come home. Come home." Finally pulling himself together, he went silent. Washing his face, he thought, I have to get to work. About ready to leave, out of the blue another thought popped into his mind. He heard the inner voice silently pleading a strong petition. This time, he wanted a sign. Lisa, please help me to make the decision. If you can’t come home; please just give me some sign. I can’t let you go by myself. This is too hard. Show me what to do. Then, temporarily he left the fear of facing the unknown future, grabbed his lunch box, and went off to work.

Chapter 2

The brain surgery performed to remove fluid and help alleviate the pressure in Lisa’s brain was not as successful as was first hoped. Since then, the neurosurgeons explained their main focus was to maintain blood flow and oxygen to all parts of her brain to help allow the brain to stop swelling. At this point, Lisa was a living prisoner to a coma that continued to hold her captive already well over a five year time span.

Despite medical strides into its mystery, being in a coma is a serious, for the most part, unknown. No doctor or machine is able to get into the patient’s brain and figure out that patient’s thinking, if any. Lisa was no exception. However, for whatever reason, the time spent in her twilight zone presented a totally different and unusual situation. Primarily based on Michael’s parting shot mentioning the weather, amazingly that trigged some segment in Lisa’s brain. Immediately, like a projectile, it shot whatever brain power she had to convert her blank brain screen directly into one of remarkable action transporting her back to a particular time in her life. Only she and her traumatized brain had the opportunity of experiencing this aggressive encounter and all that it meant at the moment. Whatever was the cause, the action took place consistently as a reaction to encompassing the weather. Never moving a muscle, the energy field around her body ascended her into a place of her awareness and intelligence. Traveling through a raging storm, an unstable, violent and unpredictable tunnel, took her back through to a turbulent relationship filled with an abundance of highs and lows.

For deep in that tormented brain, it was winter. Blinding blizzard conditions dictated the action of parents and school aged youngsters alike, as they rushed to the radio and listened to the voice of the radio personnel. Hopeful of a reprieve granting them a snow day off from school, Lisa was not exempt. It was then this setting in Lisa’s mind that took her back to a time when she was still in the tenth grade.

Still in her PJ’s, Lisa listened to the kitchen radio. Morning, Mom. What’s the word? Did the announcer say we have no school yet? I sure hope so. You know that history test I was studying for? Well it is scheduled for this afternoon’s class. Hugging herself and whirling around the room, she happily made her point. If we don’t have school, we don’t have the test and if I have more study time, I know I can ace it.

Good morning to you, too, Lisa. And what makes you think that?

Because, except for the last chapter, I pretty much know all that there is to know on the chapters Mr. White is going to test us on and if I have another day to study, that would clinch it for me. Leaning down closer to the radio, she talked to it. Please, please. Come on. Make the announcement. Come on. Say it. Don’t hold back.

Well, if you are patient, sit quietly and wait until the entire listing of school closings, you would be better off. Here, have some oatmeal while you wait. It’s good and hot and made to the order of this cold day. Look at you shivering. For goodness sake, Lisa, where are your slippers? No wonder you are cold. Here, eat your breakfast. With that, the bowl of steaming hot oatmeal was quickly devoured and with her insides warmed, Lisa felt much better as she anxiously awaited the grand-taking-forever announcement.

May I have a little more oatmeal, please, Mom? I didn’t really taste the last bowl? Suddenly, she yelled. That’s it. The words barely slipped out of her mouth, as she loudly repeated, Yes, yes, yes. Yahoo. There it is. No school for our district. Enjoying her oatmeal at a calmer pace, now it was in need of more milk. Opening the refrigerator, Lisa chuckled. Mom, she declared, do you know I don’t need a calendar to find out what day it is. Your schedule does it for me. It never changes. I know today is Tuesday and I know because I see dad’s white, shirts all dampened and wrapped up tightly sitting on the second shelf. Tell me, Mom. Why do you put his shirts in the refrigerator, anyway?

Because, my dear, a freshly washed shirt that has been dampened and stored in the refrigerator for several hours is so much easier to iron. The wrinkles just disappear. One of these days, you should actually try it. Now what is this calendar talk all about?

Smiling, Lisa explained. I know we all have schedules, Mom, but really. Yours takes the cake. I mean, listen. Pausing just long enough to finish a spoonful of oatmeal, Lisa began. If I see you washing clothes I know it has to be Monday. The next day you iron must be Tuesday. Come Wednesday, with the delicious aroma of baking bread means it is the middle of the week. Then come Thursday, I see you scrubbing the kitchen and bathroom floors. Friday, you bake again. Then, the week-ends, oh my goodness, the week-ends are something else. I don’t know how in blue blazes you do it but you spend all your time cooking special meals for the entire family. In fact, Mom I don’t ever remember your schedule allowing you time to just sit and enjoy a cup of coffee. When I get older, I’m not going to live by a strict schedule like yours. I plan to be disorganized. Who knows? Most likely, I will just buy a calendar, hang it on the kitchen wall and check it each day like normal folks.

What? That got a rise from her mother. Are you saying I am not normal?

No. I am saying your way of doing things in the same order day in and out, just by watching, creates a calendar for others to live by, that’s all, Mom. If it works for you, that’s fine. I still love you.

Laughing, Lisa’s mother jumped in on her golden opportunity. Then you plan to be disorganized? Oh my dear girl, just what makes you think that you need to plan to be disorganized? From the looks of your room and some of your schoolwork, I have to let you in on a secret. You, Lisa dear, don’t need to make plans. You are at the top of the class on disorganization right now. Laughing louder, she added, And I mean that in the truest sense of the word. Disorganized? Indeed.

With that profound discovery, Lisa got up and gave her mother a tight hug. You’re the best, Mom. Now, do you know what I’m going to do with my free day?

Study for your history test?

Well, yes but not right away. Now that I have time, I will help you clean up the kitchen and then I’m going over to Theresa’s so we can go sledding. I bet the police have closed off the Marshall Street hill already. That’s the best place for sledding, you know. Wow, a whole day off. The guy who invented snow days is a genius.

Ahem. Clearing her throat, Lisa’s mother interrupted Lisa’s happy plans. When did I hear you say you are going to study?

Oh that. I will, Mom. I promise. Tell you what. After we finish sledding, I will march right upstairs and study. Okay?

Okay, young lady, and I am holding you to that study plan. Do you hear me?

I do and I will.

The kitchen got Lisa’s version of a clean-up. It was a quick, do as little as possible method. At least the table was clear and the dishes were not only washed, but dried, as well. She figured her mother might like to put them away since she had her favorite spots. At least that’s what she reasoned in her mind as she left the dishes on the draining rack. As to the studying for the postponed history test, well, she thought, it, too, can be postponed. Right now that glistening snow was practically calling her name to join in the fun it was providing. She could hear it, for sure.

In the garage, Lisa pulled down old faithful. The sled was given to her for Christmas about three years ago. Waxing the runners, prepared it for being almost as good as brand new. Now Lisa, bundled up warmly for a planned long day of sledding in the cold, was off to her friend’s house. She knew Theresa would be ready. Theresa Powell was a wonderful friend but, one of these types that always had to be the first to show up at a designated place. Lisa thought about her long-term friend since kindergarten. Theresa was a knock-out from day one and Lisa thought of herself as a plain Jane. How they ever became friends was kind of a mystery considering they were complete opposites. Maybe that’s why it worked. After all, now they were in the tenth grade and still the best of friends.

Let’s go, slow poke, Theresa urged. I think I saw Rick and Tom already at the start of Marshall Street. Tilting her head to one side smiling smugly for Lisa’s sake, she teased, You know who else will be there? Not waiting for an answer, she let the cat out of the bag. Tim. He’ll be there all right, just waiting for you.

Oh stop that. Lisa’s responded; accompanied with blushing red cheeks. There was a time when Lisa did have a crush on Tim but, ever since chemistry was added to her course of study, and with it, her chemistry lab partner Johnny, things had changed. She figured now was as good a time as any to let her friend in on her new, secret crush. Theresa was flabbergasted.

You have got to be kidding. You mean Johnny Dell? Come on now. Really? Now tell me. Is he aware of his new admirer?

Not yet. But he will be as soon as we get to working closely on that major chemistry project assigned.

Theresa asked the next question without a hint of sarcasm. In that case, is it okay with you, um, if I, um?

If you what? For Pete’s sake, Theresa, quit your hemming and hawing. Spit it out.

Okay then. Is it okay if I talk with Tim? There. I said it and I think he is really cool. But when you are around, you are all he sees. I don’t even exist.

Well, if you mean Tim Anderson and you’re serious, I can fix that. The next time I talk with him I’ll put in a good word for you. How is that?

If you think it will work? I say, great. Go for it.

Like I said, Theresa, I still like Tim as a friend so you better be good to him. With a twinkle in her eye, Lisa quickly added, But I like Johnny a lot better; a whole lot better. With that fact out of the bag, she was the one in a hurry and began to run to the top of the hill for some first class, big-time sledding. Yelling, Come on, slow poke. I’ll race you. Come on. What’s taking you so long?

Whoa. Hold up, Lisa. Look there, next to Tom. I think it’s the new guy.

Shielding her eyes against the fast falling snow, Lisa declared, That’s him. That’s Johnny. The excitement in her voice said more than Lisa had intended to share at this point. Theresa wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Fess up, Lisa. What is really going on with you and this Johnny guy in your chemistry class? It sounds like your secret crush is way out of the bag. In fact, I think he is waving to you. See? Why didn’t you tell me about him?

Geez, Theresa. Thanks for making me feel guilty when I didn’t even commit a crime. Now come help me with this rope on my sled, okay? Handing the tangled mess to Theresa, they worked together to clear the rope. It gave Lisa time to figure out exactly how she was going to address Theresa’s concern. Thanks, Theresa. That’s better. Pulling the sled, it was ready for the long awaited trip. Now as to answer your question, there’s really not much to tell.

Try, anyway. I’m listening. Theresa’s anxiousness was front and center.

Right. Well, Johnny Dell is his name. He is new to the area this school year and he is on the varsity football team so that should answer any questions you might have about his build which, I may add, is absolute centerfold material.

Centerfold material? Don’t tell me you still have that copy of that magazine we bought together last spring? I can’t believe your mother hasn’t found it yet. Anyway, centerfold? He must look darn good. I still can’t believe you haven’t told me about him yet.

I have the magazine hidden under my mattress which reminds me I better move it before my mom starts cleaning my room from top to bottom. She tends to do that at least twice a year and I think it’s getting to be near that time. But, anyway, about Johnny, sighing, she closed her eyes and answered dreamily. He takes my breath away. As her description of this handsome chem. - lab partner began, Lisa’s quick pace to the top of the hill slowed down. There was too much to tell in such a short distance. He is a foot taller than I am and he has curly, light brown hair and hazel color eyes with tiny, gold, specks.

If you can see the specks in his eyes, Lisa, I swear you must get mighty close to him.

Nodding to that pleasant fact, not skipping a beat, Lisa revealed more of Johnny’s assets.

Oh, and he has a southern accent. I’m not exactly sure where he’s from yet, but when he talks, his words kind of slowly flow out kind of sugary like. His voice and words sound so cute. Pausing in her description of her favorite male friend, she decided she had said enough. So now you know. Okay?

Well, Theresa suggested, As long as you don’t keep me in the dark that will do for starters. From now on, I want to know whatever happens and that goes for whatever happens in and out of the lab, too. Got me?

Okay. That was all Lisa could get out. The sleds were lined up and ready for take-off. She had just a minute to keep true to her word. She put her promise into practice. Hi Tim. You know Theresa, right?

Nodding, he agreed. "Then would you