A/N: Poll regarding your leanings concerning 22nd Century gizmos is now on my author's page. Enjoy!
Memories
by CraftyNotepad
A little early, but happy birthday, okaie!
Disclaimer: I don't own Phil of the Future, because if I did, it would at least be on the regular Disney Channel where it belongs.
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She leafs through the carefully prepared and overly bedazzled album. Of course, she knew that one day he'd be leaving. (sigh) How to be heard? There was so much to say and so little time to say it. A speech, a letter, how could either contain everything to be shared in the little time left to reconsider? But pictures tell so much more. Her album says everything that needs be said. In pages holding everything that is important and true are pictures telling the same story about the same couple, the same two hearts. A high school field trip, sweet sixteen party, the picnic at the park, studying at the table in the backyard ... that perfect day at the beach with Via and Owen, the prom, the car wash fund-raiser, another Christmas photo op in front of the Diffys' tree ... the return of the street fair and it's bargains with Phil in tow, only too happy to hold her purse. Has there ever been a couple so meant to be together?
She tries to gasp, but she can't. She tries to keep her tears from falling on to the pages; she can't. She was finding it difficult to breath as he walks into the room. Before he can say anything, she, without looking up, somehow manages to utter, "Phil, you can't leave. I know what you said, but you can't leave. Take this. Look. You'll see I'm right."
Phil did as she told him. He looked through the pictures as she sobbed, now beside him, arms around his neck so tight his windpipe was threatened. Pictures. So many memories that welled up inside him and pulled at his heart strings, flaming with emotions of the displayed moments and a thousand similar ones for every picture before him. He kissed her wet face, hugged her, then kissed her cheek. The album fell to the floor as he rose.
"Just go then ... ," she whispered, then her voice failed her.
He heard her and he did what he was told, retrieving his suitcase and walking out the front door one last time, not looking back, never to return, never to see her again. It hurt too much. If he dared look back, he might not go.
Outside, she heard Lloyd Diffy's insensitive, yet cheerful voice crying out, "All aboard," so, picking up the carefully assembled picture album that Phil had abandoned, she pulled it close to her breast, her heart aching, and she sobbing more than breathing -- she'd wail if she had breath enough.
She headed outside. Acceptance. She had already accepted that Phil had made the right choice, no, the only decision that could be made, and she would eventually stop crying as she went back to the 22nd Century with only her husband and daughter, Pim, and perhaps even dear, smelly Curtis, because Phil was already home.
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P.S. Looks like Ricky's coming back on Rita Rocks in a couple of weeks.