Love or Money: A Personal Narrative

Love or Money: A Personal Narrative

English class assignment

April 1989

18 years old

I used to have a close friend, whom I’ll call Lisa. We had known each other since fourth grade, and until we entered high school, we were practically inseparable. After that, we had different classes and rarely saw or spoke to each other. We did have choir together though, and so we kept in touch in that respect; but we had grown apart, to some extent.

We started hanging around different people. I was active in theatre, Thespians, choir, piano, dance… What one might call wholesome, creative things. Lisa, on the other hand, met people who didn’t participate in school activities. Her friends were mostly five- and six-year-program students, students who attended Davea, the local vocational school, either mornings or afternoons, and large-scale druggies or burn-outs.

I was dating the boys you take home to meet your parents: athletic, good-looking, and intelligent. Lisa dated those your parents would consider good-for-nothing and ask, “Why doesn’t he wear something nice for a change? Why doesn’t he cut his hair, or wash it, for that matter?” Among these emaciated, leather-clad, shaggy-haired, doped-up teenagers were also Older Men. To a fifteen-year-old, 20 can seem pretty sophisticated. That was how old Lisa was when she met Dan.

Lisa met Dan at a “bong party” and they seemed to get along fairly well. They never actually saw each other exclusively, but dated on and off during the next couple of years. Lisa had an uncanny knack for picking up guys who treated her like dirt, and she was always talking about how Dan was so nice to her. Ironically, they had some rather nasty fights. It once got to the point where Lisa’s parents had to put a restraining order on him because he wouldn’t leave her alone. But she always went back to him, always forgave him. “I love Dan,” she claimed, and always with tears in her eyes.

Lisa’s family was well-to-do. Needless to say, her mother and step-father weren’t thrilled about the company she was keeping. They especially disapproved of Dan. Like myself, Lisa’s parents had a bad feeling about Dan, but there was nothing they could do to stop the relationship. They both had faith that Lisa would wake up to the fact that Dan was a Class-A Creep, and hopefully get over him once she started college. What we all know, but were afraid to admit, was that neither would happen. Lisa would never drop Dan, nor would she ever attend college. She wouldn’t even graduate from high school.

One morning, during second-hour choir, Lisa sat down in the chair next to mine and expelled a long, heavy sigh.

“My, such a sigh,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

She turned to me, her eyes wide and scared, her face pale. “I need to talk to you,” she said. “Now.”

“Okay,” I said, and told Mr. Winstern we had a problem and needed to use one of the practice rooms. With a single glance at Lisa, he reluctantly consented and gave me a key.

“C’mon. I got us a practice room. We can talk in there.”

And so we proceeded to one of the dark, small, supposedly sound-proof rooms (which was far from the truth), with an old, beat-up piano badly in need of tuning along one wall. I closed the door behind us and turned to my friend. “So, what’s going on?”

She sighed again. I was beginning to not like the sound of those sighs.

“Cristene,” she began. “I’m, uh… I’m pregnant.”

Somehow, I was not surprised, but as to whose baby she carried, I could only guess. The shadowy, hardened figure before me was but the ghost of a once-happy cherub high on life. This girl had undergone an unpleasant metamorphosis and was not the product of many date rapes, incest by both her natural father (unwillingly) and her brother (willingly), and countless other personal crimes better left unsaid. She was a loose, seemingly amoral social embarrassment, yet loved and cared for by all who knew her. I loved her dearly.

“Whose is it?” I asked.

“Dan’s,” she replied.

“Are you sure? How can you be sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said. “I can feel it.”

“So, what’re you going to do?”

“We’re getting married in December.”

“What about school?” I asked, though I already knew the answer to that one.

“I’ll quit.”

I tried to talk her out of it. I tried to explain the importance of school and that Dan and a baby would ruin her life; that she’d live in poverty even if Dan didn’t lose his job, which he was bound to do (he was a Davea drop-out, but had a fake diploma). But, Lisa, being as stubborn as I, simply shook her head—a little sadly, I might add—and whispered, “I love Dan,” and sighed again.

That was my Senior year. The remainder of the fall semester came to a close. On December 19, 1986, Lisa Parks married Dan Snyder and didn’t return to school for the spring semester.

I graduated in June and Lisa and I finally went our separate ways. We still talk to each other occasionally, just enough to keep up on the latest major issues in our lives. It’s been nearly three years since we’ve seen each other, and although I miss her, I really no desire to see her again. Talking to her depresses me enough without having to see that she’s a tired and miserable as she sounds.

Lisa’s pregnant again with her second child. Dan is on the verge of losing another job, he beats her, and their marriage is on the rocks. She doesn’t speak to her parents anymore and refuses the help they offer. Their help comes attached to an ultimatum: Leave Dan and come home, or forget we exist. She chooses Dan, sadly enough. Why shouldn’t she, I think bitterly. She loves him.

Love or money? 

Christ, what a question.