Free Bygones by Lavyrle Spencer Page B

“I was pretty fantastic, wasn't I?”
    Lisa had the gift for creating effortless laughter but as Bess released the sound she was wiping a tear from the corner of one eye.
    â€œOh, Mom . . .” Lisa curved an arm around her mother and led her toward the living room. “I'm getting married, not cloistered.”
    â€œI know. I just wasn't prepared for it.”
    â€œDad wasn't either.” They sat on the davenport and Lisa put her feet up. “So how did it go when the two of you left here last night? I figured you went off to talk about everything in private.”
    â€œWe went out and had a cup of coffee and actually managed to be civil to one another for the better part of an hour.”
    â€œSo what did you decide about Mark and me?”
    Bess's expression became wistful. “That you're my only daughter, and you're only getting married once . . . at least I hope it'll only be once.”
    â€œThat's why you really came over, isn't it, to make sure I'm doing the right thing.”
    â€œYour dad and I just wanted you to know that if for any reason you decide marriage to Mark isn't what you want, we'll stand behind you.”
    It was Lisa's turn to display a wistful expression. “Oh, Mom, I love him so much. When I'm with him I'm more than I was. He makes me want to be better than the me I was before, and so I am. It's as if . . .” Sitting cross-legged, Lisa gazed at the ceiling in her intense search for the proper words, then back at her mother, gesturing with both hands as if she were singing a heartfelt ballad. “. . . As if when we're together all the negative stuff disappears. I see people around me in a more charitable light; I don't criticize, I don't complain. And the funny thing is, the same thing happens to Mark.
    â€œWe've talked about it a lot . . . about that night when we met. When he walked into that pool hall and we looked at each other, we suddenly didn't want to be in a pool hall anymore but someplace pure, a woods maybe, or listening to an orchestra someplace. An orchestra! Cripes, Mom!” Lisa threw up her hands. “I like Paula Abdul but there I was, with all my senses open and new avenues looking inviting.
    â€œSomething happened . . . I can't explain it. We just . . .” Silence awhile, then Lisa continued, softly. “We just felt different. There we were, living that crazy bar scene, hanging around in noisy, smoky places and swaggering and showing off and being loud and obnoxious at times, and then our two crowds bumped into one another, and he smiled at me and said, ‘Hi, I'm Mark,' and from that night on we never felt like we had to be phony with each other. We can admit our weaknesses to one another and that seems to make us stronger. Isn't it weird?”
    On her end of the sofa, Bess sat very still, listening to the most stirring description of love she'd ever heard.
    â€œYou know what he said to me one day?” Lisa looked radiant as she continued. “He said, ‘You're better than any creed I ever learned.' He said it was a line from a poem he read once. I thought about it awhile—actually I've thought about it a lot since he said it—and I realize that's what we are to each other. We're each other's creeds, and not to marry someone you feel that way about would be the greatest shame of all.”
    â€œOh, Lisa,” Bess whispered, and moved to take Lisa in her arms, this very young woman who had found a love to believe in the way every woman hopes she will one day. It was at once shattering and gratifying to learn that Lisa had grown up in a short span of time while she, Bess, had not been as attentive as she should have been. How humbling it was to realize that Lisa had learned something at age twenty-one that Bess herself had not at age forty. Lisa and Mark had discovered how to communicate, they had found the proper balance between praising each