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The two of us sat there, on the rocks, looking over the blue water. We were sitting on the edge, and the rocks ended in a steep decline. It was summertime, and one of the few fogless days the island ever saw.
It all stands out in my memory. The striking contrast of the rocks against the grass, and the brown and white dots that were seagulls on the sparkling water.
The solemn, lonesome beauty was lost on my best friend Lisa, sitting beside me. She looked angrier than I had ever seen her. Usually, she was so calm. Everything she did, she thought out first, and the world never saw an emotion she did not want it to see.
Her handsome, dark face was flushed, and her green eyes stood out from it in their fire. Lisa was unconscious of the wind rifling through her hair. I noticed and wondered if she knew how unusually pretty she looked here, like that.
We were waiting for Harry. Harry was the only person that I know of, besides me, who ever broke through Lisa's armor. I had liked Harry, and I never guessed that he would break my best friend's heart. He did, though, and that is why we were waiting there that beautiful and fateful morning.
The silence and peacefulness was broken by the sound of footsteps--Harry's footsteps. Every morning, he walked from his house almost to Green Head.
I felt Lisa stiffen by my side and squeezed her hand. She had swallowed her pride, because her normal bravado had failed, and asked me to come here with her. As she stood up to face Harry, so did I. We walked towards him.
"Lisa." He sounded surprised.
"Hi, Harry," she answered coldly.
Even though she had put on the mask she usually wore and put the familiar veil of ice over her eyes, I was not fooled. Lisa was hurt and angry. So much emotion flooded to me through our bond of friendship that I wondered when she would pull the gun. It was just an old revolver her father had kept in the house for protection, and we didn't even know if it was loaded. She needed the revenge of scaring Harry as much as she herself had been hurt.
To be blind to our looks, Harry pushed past both of us and stood looking over the water. I saw a flicker of anger go over Lisa's face and I realized she wanted to push Harry. Before that moment, I never understood the extent to which Harry had injured and humiliated her.
"Harry," no emotion was in her voice, but her hands were shaking, "I need to talk to you."
He turned around. "About what?"
"How about you and that English tart Brittany, for starters?"
"I have apologized many times for that."
"Not enough," I muttered.
They both looked at me. I could see Harry hated me for being there and Lisa wanted me there, but as a silent partner. Resignedly, I sat down and watched the dispute unfold in front of my eyes -- and so near the treacherous edge.
"She didn't mean anything to me. You're the one I love."
Lisa scowled. "Then how come you were there, with her, that afternoon?"
"It was her fault, Lisa. I never meant...She was so..."
"Easy? The girl is a promiscuous trollop."
"Brittany's beautiful...and she's such a tease."
The fire flashed in Lisa's eyes. She could not hide it any longer. The anger again flushed her face and her body and voice shook with it. I actually think, by the look on his face, Harry thought Lisa was close to tears. I guess he did not know her as well as I thought. He probably had the same chauvanistic attitude all men have. They think women cry for no reason at all.
"You were with me that morning. I don't understand. You told me that you loved me, that you wanted to marry me, and that you would spent the rest of your life with me. I should have known better than to trust any man. They are all the same. You are all like my father."
"I am sorry. I do love you. Brittany does not matter. Please, please, forgive me."
Lisa never could stay mad at Harry long. He looked so sad and repentive that she melted and smiled at him.
Harry put his arm around Lisa. I was seething inside. How could she take him back after he had hurt her so much? That was not like Lisa. She was the kind of person who was, or at least seemed, unforgiving. I watched Lisa give him a squeeze back and knew I was forgotten.
"Are you really sorry, Harry?" Lisa asked, looking up at him adoringly. It made me ill.
I think I would have said something if Harry hadn't himself. He really put his foot in it. He could have remained with Lisa, forever, in romantic bliss. (No one but me knows of Lisa's deep buried romantic soul.) If Harry would have just kept his mouth shut, things would have happened differently. Maybe Lisa could have forgiven being betrayed again. That was not Harry, though.
"I am not the only one at fault here, you know. If you would have been more of what I needed, I would not have gone out with Joelle or slept with Brittany. You have to admit that if you had been at home, instead of working all the time, and paid a little more attention to me, then I would not have had to go outside of the relationship."
Lisa unwrapped her arm from Harry's waist and pulled away from him. "I beg your pardon?"
The anger that had died in her clear green eyes was re-ignited, but--at first--only as a spark.
"Come on, Lisa," Harry wheedled, "You know it's true. You never got close to me or tried to be a *real* woman. You blame your coldness on your father, but I don't think you even wanted to get close to me."
At the mention of Lisa's father, the spark became an inferno. I have never seen so much anger in one person before, but still she held it in and never blew. Lisa just stood there with her arms crossed and one dark eyebrow raised.
Harry didn't know when to stop. He did not notice the cold fury in Lisa's eyes. I don't think he knew that Lisa had a temper, at least, not like I did. He was comparing her to other girls he had known, and didn't stop to think that Lisa was different. Everything she had in life, she had had to fight for because of her abusive father. She had hated men until she met Harry.
I had, once, when we were children, seen Lisa beat a girl until she was unconscious, just because the child had happened to ask the the name of Lisa's father. That was before Lisa had learned to hide and control her emotions. Now, her voice was calm as she spoke.
"So, you think I am paranoid because my father beat me around? I killed him, you know." She had told me many times that he had died because she wished him dead.
Harry laughed. "Your father died in a car accident."
"Don't laugh at me."
"From what I've seen, you are just like him." Harry looked disgusted at the way my friend was acting.
Then she blew. I wanted to jump up and get her out of there, but I was mesmerized. She screamed incoherently for a few minutes, with Harry looking at her in shock. Lisa was only human, after all, and the anger had to come out sometime.
"I hate you! You are no better than him. You deserve the same fate!" I heard her say in high, wild tones.
Before I could stop her, she had pulled out the gun. As she pulled the trigger, I prayed that it was not loaded.
It was.
Harry's face flooded with astonishment as the bullet ripped through his chest. They were so close to the edge that the force of the shot knocked him over. That didn't matter much, he was probably dead before he hit the rocks.
"I saw Father," Lisa whispered before full realization hit her.
Terror inched over every corner of her face. She threw the gun down on the rocks below as if it were a snake. I heard it break into millions of tiny little pieces. My mind was reeling over what had happened, and I could not react. As Lisa turned from the edge, she looked at me. I saw her tortured face for a moment before it crumpled into tears. Surprise hit me slightly. I had never seen her cry before.
Lisa's sobs were not the regular crying you would expect from a girl. They were terrible, choking sobs that ripped through her body and seemed almost to strangle her. It was as if every tear she had ever wanted to shed in her life were coming out now.
Finally, I could not stand it any longer. I sprang up from where I had been sitting and went to Lisa. She seemed so frail as I put my arms around her. Her body kept shaking with the sobs that threatened to consume her, and I no longer felt sorry for Harry.
"Shh," I soothed, "It's all right. Let's go home."