I've had an idea for a Gordo-Veruca story on the back burner for quite a while, where it's been cooking, melting, forming and taking shape, until now I have come up with this story, where, in fact, Veruca only comes in at the last chapter. Of course Gordo is almost always the focus of my stories, and so I follow him through a particularly trying time, during which three different women make an impact on his life.

A quick note: this is NOT part of my "Gordo Series," but it is a future chapter in the lives of some of the characters from myTeenager story. That is the Gordo and Veruca you will see here, now all grown up. Though it is in no way mandatory that you read that story to have an understanding of this one, if you like this story, you might want to go back and read (or re-read) Teenager.

If I am so inspired, I may take this story further. For the moment, though, I hope that Healing will stand on its own.

Oh, and btw, the "Jennifer" in this chapter is a shout out to Jen10, in response to her naming a waitress after me in one of her stories. Is it "Mary-Sue-ing" if we put OTHER writers, other than ourselves, into our stories: )

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Chapter I: A Brunette

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"Hey…Blue Eyes…"

Gordo's blue eyes lifted from the pages of his textbook, struggling to refocus. It was a moment before he saw The Starbuck Girl standing at the other end of his table, grinning down at him.

He thought of her as The Starbuck Girl, even though he had been here enough times to know for certain that her name was Jennifer. She was single and significantly shorter than him, a petite brunette, her hair in a wild, shaggy pixie style which he usually did not find attractive, but on her (he marveled) it looked really cute. He also had come to discover, mostly by overhearing her conversations with co-workers, that she was a student at Bunker Hill Community College who liked to watch Lost, as he did, and Nip/Tuck, as he did not. He came into the Longwood Avenue Starbucks every Saturday to study, and she always served him, and flirted with him, just enough to make him feel tingly, but not enough to make him uncomfortable. He thought of her as The Starbuck Girl, and she called him Blue Eyes.

"Hey, Blue Eyes," she said again, still grinning. "Lot of reading today, huh?"

Gordo took a deep breath, pulled out of his book. "Yeah. Big test on Monday."

"Well, you look like you could use another," she observed, indicating his long empty cup.

"Oh, I…well…that would be great, but…" he stuttered, fingering the few bills left in his pocket and thinking about how he had already exceeded his budget for next week. Living in Boston these past months had proved to be a lot more expensive than he had originally imaged. He had sat here for three hours already, and could not afford another expensive coffee concoction. "You know," he said suddenly, closing his textbook, "I guess it is getting late. Maybe I should be—"

But Jennifer kept grinning as Gordo noticed her right hand come from behind her back and bring forth the very thing he most desired at this moment: an Extra Large Caramel Frappuccino. "Your usual?" she questioned, placing it on the table before him. "On the house."

Gordo smiled, now feeling the warm tingle all through his body. "Hey! Thanks," he said. "That's really nice of you."

Jennifer wiped her hands on her green apron and pulled out the chair across from him. "It's not completely without cost," she explained, sitting down. "There is one thing I'll want from you in return."

Now that pleasant tingle heated up to a painful burn. The Starbuck Girl had just passed from light flirting into something that Gordo feared would not be altogether comfortable for him. If she asked him out, he didn't know how he was going to deal with it. He was still hurting too much from the disastrous end of his last relationship, and he had promised himself: no more women until he was completely healed.

Jennifer saw the startled deer-in-the headlights look in his bright blue eyes, guessed his discomfort, and quickly calmed him down with, "Your name. I just want to know your name, Blue Eyes."

Gordo breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh," he said. "It's G— David."

"G—David?" she questioned, a smile curling up the ends of her mouth in that way Gordo had previously found so enchanting.

"No. It's David. Just David."

"Well, David Just David, I'm Jennifer."

"I know," Gordo said, stupidly.

"You do?" she asked, a look of delight in her dark brown eyes.

Before Gordo could respond, a male voice was heard from behind the counter, calling out, "Hey! Jennifer!"

Gordo nodded, and she smiled sheepishly. He obviously didn't need to be a rocket scientist or a lovesick puppy to know her name.

"I'm here!" Jennifer called back

"Have you cleaned the espresso machine today?"

"Yes," she replied. "An hour ago."

"And the coffee pots?"

"Done!"

"Well, has the fridge been stocked with low-fat creamer?"

Jennifer rolled her eyes, then answered, "I'll be right there."

Before she got up, she leaned close to Gordo and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Preston, my Manager. Assistant Manager, really. He's a year younger than me and he's only been here since September, but he thinks because he goes to Harvard Business School, he knows which end is up. I'll be right back," she finished with a wink.

As Jennifer stood up to leave the table, somehow her hand touched Gordo's and gave it a little squeeze. It might have been considered a forward gesture. Well, actually it was a forward gesture, Gordo decided. He just didn't seem to mind. Which was crazy, actually, because not a moment ago he was sent into a semi-panic at the mere thought that she might suggest they go out together. But now he was thinking how very much he liked her, and she apparently seemed to like him too. Maybe he was getting over Lizzie a lot sooner than he hoped would be possible.

Or maybe it was just that he was lonely, terribly lonely, and it had been so long since anyone had touched him, or even talked to him, practically, about anything other than schoolwork, that he was overreacting to even the slightest hint of human interaction. He knew when he made the decision to come out east that it would not be easy. Part of him had welcomed the opportunity to get away from every reminder of Lizzie, but another part dreaded also being suddenly uprooted from everything and everyone else he had ever known.

Before he came east, everyone had told him he would make new friends. But Gordo knew better. Making friends had never been easy for him. And so, he tried to tell himself that for the time being it would be best to put his personal life on hold. He had a plan, a mission, a career objective to fulfill. In the past, having a personal life had only interfered with those objectives. If he could not handle both at the same time, he decided, he would do one first, and then the other.

But now, watching Jennifer behind the counter as she went back and forth with the low-fat creamers, he allowed himself to dream. Obviously, she liked him. So what if they went out on a date together? Would that be so awful? And what if they began to develop a relationship? Well, it could happen. Why not? He found her attractive. He could easily see himself kissing her, having sex with her, living with her. What if, after a while, they decided to get engaged? They would look so good together, wouldn't they? Everybody would say so.

Everybody, that is, except his mother. She would not be happy, of course. No doubt, she would say the same things about Jennifer that she had said about Lizzie. Flighty. Fluffy. No girl was good enough for her only son. Well, maybe if the girl had the word "Doctor" in front of her name, even as she herself did, maybe then Roberta Gordon would approve. She had high hopes for her brilliant boy, high hopes for both his professional and personal life.

Gordo himself, though, wasn't really sure what he hoped for anymore. When he came out here to Boston, it had all seemed so clear, at least at the moment, but now…now…

Now Jennifer was walking back to his table, and as she approached, he could see her so clearly, smiling as she swung herself back into the chair across from him, and his recent thoughts about kissing her and having sex with her pushed to the front of his brain and made him feel so nervous he was practically shaking. Or maybe it was this second Caramel Frappuccino, which he was sucking down like a parched man in a desert, giving him a sudden super jolt of the caffeine jitters. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew if they talked they would date, if they dated they would marry, and if they married his mother would be so disappointed in him for the rest of his life.

"I have to go," he announced suddenly, gathering up his stuff.

But Jennifer reached out and touched his hand again, saying, "But you're not even half done with your drink! Where are you off to in such a hurry, anyway? Got a hot date tonight, Blue Eyes? Uh…I mean, David?"

"No!" Gordo exclaimed, then immediately cursed his honesty. He should have said yes, and put an end to all this before it even started. But then, if he lied, he would never get around to kissing her, and there was some part of him that, despite everything, really hoped he would somehow, someday, get to kiss her.

Gordo's head was spinning. He had stood up, but now he sat down again. He was so confused.

Jennifer was not, though. She turned forward in her seat, reached across the table to touch the large textbook he was pressing against his chest and asked, nonchalantly, "What are you studying, anyway…David?"

Gordo resisted for a moment, then let her pull down the book, so it lay on the table between them. Okay. The gig was up. It was tell-all time.

She looked at the book, then up at him, giving a crooked grin. " 'Abnormal Psychology'?"

"Yeah," he said.

"So you're like…what? A Psych major?"

"Pre-med," Gordo confessed.

"Boston College?"

"No," he said simply.

"Northeastern?"

"No."

"No? Then…then where?" Her eyes got wide. "You don't mean…?"

"Yeah," he said.

She looked mortified. "Oh my God! David! When I made that crack before about Harvard Business School, I didn't mean…"

"It's okay," Gordo said. "I didn't take offense."

"But I was so…so rude!"

"No you weren't."

"I'm not a snob. Well, not a 'reverse snob,' as the case may be. Cos I just go to Bunker Hill Community, you know."

"I know," Gordo said.

"So I didn't mean anything bad. Honest. It's just…well…Preston, you know…"

"It's okay, Jennifer," he assured, liking the way her name felt on his tongue. "It's not a big deal. Don't worry about it."

"Okay, I won't," she agreed easily. "But you've got to tell me where you're from. Because obviously you're not from here. I can hear it in your voice, in your accent."

Gordo laughed a little. "I don't have an accent!"

"Yes, you do!" Jennifer insisted, only the left side of her mouth turned up as she tried to suppress a grin. "It's…well, I'm not really good with accents, but I know you're not from here."

"I'm from California," he confessed.

"California!" she marveled. "How cool is that?"

"Pretty cool, actually," Gordo agreed.

"You like California?"

"Yeah, I do."

"You miss it?"

"Yeah, I do. I miss the warm weather."

"I can imagine!" Jennifer exclaimed. "After the cold snap we've been having since Halloween! And I'm sure you miss your family and friends as well."

Here Gordo only nodded, somewhat sadly.

Jennifer noted his mood and leaned forward, saying quietly, "So tell me how it is that a California boy makes it all the way out here to Boston Mass?"

Gordo sat back. He worked on his frappuccino as he began to frame out his answer. There was so much to tell. He knew he didn't have to tell her everything. Surely, that would come in time. But somehow, with his foot nervously tapping beneath the table, he heard himself saying, "Well, I've always been really smart. God! Now I sound like a snob, don't I? But it's the truth. I got a scholarship right out of high school to go to USC. I was studying film. I saw myself as the next Steven Spielberg."

"Really?" Jennifer smiled.

"Yeah. So what am I doing here, right? Long way from home, long way from my original plan, my original dreams. How did it happen? Lots of reasons, I suppose. Mostly, on account of my dad dying."

Jennifer gasped. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" She sounded truly pained by the news, and her empathy just made Gordo want to share even more.

"Thanks," he said. "It was a heart attack. Two years ago, this coming January. It really made me take a good look at my life, what I was doing, where I was going. And suddenly it all seemed so…so small. And meaningless. I mean…film studies? What for? Art? Entertainment? Who cares? If I'm so damn smart, and have so much potential, why am I messing around with this stuff? I should be doing something real with my life! Something important."

Jennifer nodded. "Something like…becoming a doctor?"

Gordo nodded. She seemed to understand. "But not just a doctor," he clarified. "A psychiatrist. Like my dad. Like my mom. They're both psychiatrists, you know. And my mom, she was so happy when she heard I'd decided to switch to pre-med. And then when I got accepted to Harvard---well, that pleased her to no end. For the first time in months, she seemed at least a little bit happy again. She didn't even mind that I was coming out here, so far away. She just wants to see me make something of myself, you know? I feel bad, leaving her all alone in that big old house, but…but she insisted. She really wants to see me make something of myself."

Jennifer sat quietly, looking at him, nodding a little.

"So," Gordo went on, "it's a good thing to want to please your parents, right? And I know Dad would be happy if he could see me now. He was a Harvard man. Mom too. I mean, she was a Harvard woman, she went to Harvard also. That's where they met. So it's good. It's all good. I'm doing the right thing. Right?"

Jennifer looked at him for a long moment, then she wondered, "Are you askingme?"

"No!" Gordo exclaimed. "I'm not asking. I know it's the right thing. Of course it's the right thing. I should be living up to my potential, not frittering my life away on entertainment. When I get out of here, when I get my degree, I'm going to be able to help a lot of people. It will be rough now, for a while, of course, because it's a lot of studying, it's Harvard, for crying out loud! Nobody ever said it was going to be easy. I never expected it to be easy. I knew what I was in for when I came out here. So I'm not surprised. And I'm not complaining. It's just…it's just sometimes…"

Gordo stopped, unable to go on, not sure what he was saying. One thing he was sure of, his head was spinning. Wildly. And he could feel his heart beating, but not steadily; the beats felt sort of random. He looked down at the table, at his Abnormal Psychology textbook, and tried to focus on the words. It was difficult to focus. In a moment, he felt Jennifer's hand on his. He looked up at her, felt clearer in that moment, and saw her big brown eyes imploring him. "It's just…sometimes…what?" she asked gently.

Gordo shook the cobwebs out of his head. Focus. Focus. He looked down again at the book, and heard himself saying, "Well, this, for instance. This book. This class. Abnormal Psychology. This stuff is messing with my head pretty bad. There are a lot of really…really fucked up people in this world, you know? I'm sorry. I hardly know you. I shouldn't have said that. Not in that way. It's just that—"

"No, it's all right," Jennifer insisted. "I know what you mean. It's true. Sometimes, some people…the world…it can seem pretty fucked up."

Gordo felt better now that she had said it too. He offered her a little smile, then went on, "But the problem is…you see…when you start reading about all this…this messed up stuff, you tend to start looking at your own life, and putting yourself into it, and soon you're asking yourself, 'Well, what about me? Am I really so normal? Do my actions make sense? Why am I here? Why am I doing this?' "

"David…"

"And in my case," he went on, hearing himself speak before he even knew what he was going to say, "I really have to ask myself, 'Why thehell am I doing this?' Is it really because I have this deep-rooted desire to help other people? Is it all about some altruistic need to be an important functioning part of society? Or is it really just about pacifying my conscience?"

"Your conscience?"

"I know what you're thinking. What did he do? Why does he need to pacify his conscience? Why does he feel so guilty? And the answer? I don't know! I don't even know. But for some reason I feel guilty. I feel like I let down my dad. I feel like I'm…like I'm…responsible for his death—"

"Oh, David!"

"And I don't even know why, because I didn't do anything to him. There's no logical reason for me to feel this way. Well, except, you don't want to know where I was and what I was doing when I got the call that he was in the hospital. That's always bothered me, but it's no reason to feel guilty. And yet I do. It's eating me up. So now all I can do is to somehow…somehow atone…for what a lousy son I was, what a lousy kid…But even then, with all I'm doing, all I'm trying to do, somehow I know it's not enough…"

Taking a deep breath, Gordo suddenly looked up and felt himself pulled back into the moment. He was talking to The Starbuck Girl, telling her all his deepest secrets. How had this started? Could this really be happening? And why did he feel this way, so shaky, so panicky, his heart skipping every third or fourth beat?

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I really shouldn't be bothering you with any of this. You must think I'm some kind of…some kind of nut… some screwed up weirdo. And perhaps I am. It's just that I haven't talked about any of this…to anyone…in such a long time, and…and it's really uncomfortable, and it's making me feel kind of…Anyway, now … I think, really, really, I need to be going…"

He stood up. He reached for his coat, fumbled to put it on. His heart was racing. He closed his eyes. He heard the scrape of chair legs on the tile floor, loudly, then felt someone beside him.

"David," he heard. "David, are you okay? Are you…?"

He had one arm in his coat, and with the other arm he reached for his textbook, pulling it close to his chest. He had to get out of here! He took a step, almost tripping over the leg of his chair, but caught himself before he fell.

His heart jumped in his chest. Have to get out of here!

"David," he heard, even as he felt Jennifer's hand on his arm.

"Jennifer!" Preston yelled.

"Not now!" Jennifer insisted, walking with Gordo towards the door, leading him through the short queue of people lined up for caffeine.

"I'm sorry," Gordo repeated at the door, barely able to find his breath. His eyes were open, he knew, yet he could not see anything, and that scared him.

"David, you don't look good," he heard, though the voice seemed far away. "I don't think you should—"

But he did. He mustered up all his strength to push open the door, and was promptly greeted by a cold blast of autumn air. It stunned his lungs, stopped his heart, and in the next moment he collapsed onto the concrete pavement.