Who Is Lisa?

I've known Lisa for many years now. She and Manon met at a bus stop over five years ago, where they had stood next to one another every night for months as they waited outside in the middle of nowhere. Finally they struck up a conversation, and realized that they'd been dating guys from the same local band. I was in Winnipeg at the time, and Manon would call and mention Lisa's name all over the place. Sudden I realized that, during my absence, this Lisa person had become part of the gang. I asked a few questions but not too many - I knew I was going back to Ottawa, so I thought I'd see for myself.

It took a long time. The first day we met I approached her in a very casual manner. I didn't know who this new person was and, as usual, I wanted to be quiet and observe before forming an opinion. Well, this process ended up lasting years. Only once I seemed to get a glimpse into the world of Lisa. We were all hanging out at Mike and Tom's place, and she turned to me in a strangely abrupt manner and asked me to accompany her on a walk. I remember finding the invitation odd because we had never been alone before. But I went, and she talked for what seemed like hours. We walked in the darkness through the sketchy neighborhood as she told me about her vulnerable fears, her most awkward moments and her heartbreak over Pat, the guy in the band. I listened closely and quietly, interested by her candid revelations. As we walked I silently marveled over the fact that she had decided to talk to me about these things. It didn't make sense but I went along with it anyhow, feeling connected to her through the compassion that grew within me as I listened.

But still, it took a while. We saw each other when the rest of the gang was together, and while I cared about her, I did not feel compelled to build a personal bond. Most of the time it felt like she was simply Manon's friend, and that I'd missed out on something while I was away in Winnipeg. But one day she called for Manon, but I happened to pick up the phone. Somehow, with all the hardships that had accumulated and exploded in my life at the time, I heard myself talking. I told her about things that I had barely acknowledged to myself. I went on in detail about the extreme anguish I was feeling, my voice wavering as hers had many years ago. Lisa, sweet Lisa listened as closely and as quietly as I had, and I could feel her own compassion warm me to my very bones. At that time I had never felt so lonely, but there she was, making me and my issues feel validated. Since then, she took the initiative that I find so hard to take sometimes, and she started calling. We took long walks along the canal and sat on the edge of the rocks, watching the moon on the water. Those were peaceful times, and as we began to speak to each other on a regular basis, we finally connected. We continue to swap the favors - sometimes she picks me up, and sometimes I'm there to take care of her. But now, we mostly just laugh and share light moments.

I still remember her at the Neil Halstead show at the Mercury Lounge, her long brown hair swaying and her funny rocker t-shirt. The whole gang was there again, the music, the cool night... We linked arms as we ran away, letting out happy school-girl squeals for everyone to hear - Neil must've thought we were mad - and giggled as made our way to the pub.

Lisa relocated to Vancouver several years ago. Most days I feel pleased, as this seems like the best place for her right now. She is nearly finished the Masters in Math, and is in a place much more suited to her lifestyle. Still, I admit that from time to time, I seem to hear the echos of laughter and past conversations whenever I walk around the canal, or by the Mercury Lounge, or in Sandy Hill...

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