PART ONE:
There are times in which I feel I'm getting old, like really old. I remember back when I was just a ten year old trying to seize every day, especially the 104 of summer vacation.
I often try to grasp where the time went. One moment, I was making a roller-coaster in the backyard, the next, I was at the optometrist because I was starting to need glasses, the next, I was at my Junior High graduation (Ferb was Valedictorian), the next, I was entering High School, and now, here I am.
Today is the first day of the rest of my life, or at least that's what Ferb's told me to get me up this morning. Back when I was younger, I used to get up with the sun, and now it's more like I'm the sun's slacking assistant who's always a few hours late.
"Come on Phineas, today is a very important day," my brother chides, and I just throw my blankets over my face and turn to the side.
"That's what you say every day," I tell him, but my voice is muffled by the blankets, and the effect is lost somewhat.
I can't see him, but I can tell my green-haired brother is smirking. I sigh, throw off my blankets, grab my glasses, and look at the alarm clock in between me and my brother's beds.
"6 in the morning?! Really?!" I attempted to yell, but my voice came out like a more of a scratchy hiss because I was still very tired.
Ferb just rolled his eyes at me as he looked in the mirror and put his one gold earring into his left ear. "The left ear is the one straight men wear it on, the right ear earring is the gay one," he emphasized to me. Really, guys wearing earrings in general seemed kind of flamboyant to me, but the chicks apparently love it.
This brings me to the real point that I was awake at this ungodly hour of the morning. It's not because my brother wanted to seize the day, and it's definitely not because I wanted to be up at that hour. No, the reason in which I was awake, and brushing my teeth with my red Spiderman toothbrush and putting my contacts in before 7 o' clock, was because my two-month older brother, Ferb, wanted to look his best for the last day of school and needed a second opinion.
"What do you think Phin: purple and white or white and purple?" He asked, looking through his side of the closet and tossing clothes in the air.
There's a difference? I thought to myself, but aloud I said, "Trust me, you'll look great in either one," and it's true – Ferb would probably even look good in a cow uniform…with utters…and a bell…that rings.
Ferb just shrugged his shoulders, deciding to go with the white and purple outfit, or was it the purple and white one? Anyway, he was finished picking out clothes, which meant I could go back to sleep-
"Not so fast Little Brother," Ferb said, tugging at the collar of my shirt as I squirmed – hey, I was desperate – to get back to my comfortable bed.
"Ferrrb, lemme go" I whined. Unfortunately, Ferb has always been a bit taller and stronger than me, so getting away wasn't much of an option. Though I might have been able to take him on in a fight. That is, if, you know, he let me down and stuff.
"Phineas," he said sternly.
"Ferb," I said, mimicking his British accent, but looking a lot less stern, probably due to the fact that I was dangling in the air.
"Phineas today is the last day of our High School careers. Please don't tell me that you're going to attempt to sleep past the first three periods of school again on the last day of school".
I didn't answer. I don't like lying to my brother, and it was true; I had a terrible attendance record, probably the worst in Tri-State Area history.
My parents always wonder where they went wrong with me. After all, Candace went to college and became the CEO for Ducky Momo Incorporated, married her high school sweetheart, Jeremy, and lives in a suburban community, behind a white picket fence, with her two angelic children – Amanda and Xavier. And, of course, there's Ferb, sexy Mr. THS (Tri-State-Area High School), Captain of the Football Team, the Mathletes (the first person in school history who didn't commit social suicide by doing so), the Chess Club, and dozens of other activities. And, on top of all of that, he also outranked Baljeet, and is Valedictorian of our graduating class.
I could write an entire paragraph, scratch that, an entire page on my brother and his many accomplishments, but I'm not going to. And if you're sitting there thinking about how jealous I must be, well I am some. I'm only human, after all. But what separates me from those crazy, psycho maniacs who let their jealousy ruin relationships, is that I truly love my older brother because he is not only a good person, but he looks out for me and always has my back, which, trust me, I need a lot.
I am what some might call, a trouble-maker, a slacker, a druggie, a failure, and I know that this sounds crazy to all of you hearing this from that alternate dimension that runs the documentary of my childhood for entertainment as crazy, but I'm just repeating to you what people say about me, and those are the nice things. So, when my brother asked if I was planning on skipping school to sleep, I didn't answer, because that's what I had already been planning to do.
"Look Phineas," Ferb said, raking a hand through his bright green hair, "it would mean a lot to me if you came to school on time, just for today, and then you'll never have to do it again" because you won't be going to college, because you didn't make it into college. He didn't say it, but I heard it nonetheless.
"Fine," I said.
"…and I know you really don't like to – wait, did you just say yes?" Ferb asked incredulously.
"Yeah," I told him, sighing, "this is where this chapter of our lives ends, isn't it? Might as well end it how we started".
"Together," Ferb and I said in unison, grinning.
1st Period
I tried my best, I really did. For some reason though, every time I try to do the right thing, I end up fucking it all up. It's a talent really, but that's beside the point. It started out simple enough though.
Ferb and I split ways as per usual when we got out of the red, 1973 Stingray Corvette Ferb fixed up over the summer. He went towards the more popular crowd who spent most of their time by the fountain (Ferb donated it his sophomore year when he patented the first cheap and efficient air-powered car) and I made my way inside the front entrance of the high school.
Once inside, I looked around one, two, three times to see if there was anyone there before I headed up the emergency stairs towards the roof. No one ever came up to the roof, it was closed off years ago when a student showed up high to school and tried jumping off the roof. It was just me, my own Fortress of Solitude.
My hands twitched slightly and I went over to the edge of the roof, pulled out a cigarette, light it, and leaned over the rail. Something I've noticed over the years is that people tend to never look up. Maybe it's the fact that people can only really see what's in front of them, I don't know. Either way, I'd never seen anyone glance up in my general direction in all four years of high school. And I would have known if someone would have because they would have turned me into the principal before I could say a word to defend myself. Let's just say that I was not the most well-liked person at my school, and the principal hated my guts (I think he may have actually offered a reward for whoever could get me into trouble), but I never really cared.
Before I knew it, I started seeing people flowing into the front doors of the school, and I knew that that was my cue to finish my cig. Once I did that, I started, slowly (very slowly) but surely, making my way down the stairs when I started to hear the Vice Principal coming up. A word about my dear Vice Principal, I think she was the only person in high school besides Ferb who might have genuinely liked me as a person.
"Phineas is that you coming down the stairs from a restricted area smelling like a restricted drug?" she asked as she approached me. I said "might like me", didn't I?
"Ms. Doofenshmurtz," I said, clearing my throat, trying to look innocent, "fancy seeing you here".
Vanessa Ann Doofenshmurtz, my Vice Principal, with her dark brown locks, chocolate eyes, and slim figure, it's really no wonder why my brother, Ferb, had a crush on her when he was younger, and why boys still have crushes on her today. But don't let her looks and youth fool you. She's a feisty one, that Doofenshmurtz. Sometimes, she can be so ruthless; you would think she was raised by an evil scientist.
"Fancy seeing you here as well Phineas," I started to smile. "Especially since the bells for first period rang, oh, I don't know, maybe five minutes ago," cue disappearance of hope.
"But…"oh, maybe things were starting to look up, "It IS your last day of high school, so I guess I could let you off the hook, just this once," I told you she liked me.
"Thank you, Ms. D," I shouted as I walked backwards down the hallway towards my first period class.
"Yeah, yeah," she said, waving her hand in the air as she walked away in the other direction. I just grinned and started walking forward.
Not paying much attention to where I was going, I opened the door to what I thought was my Credit Restoration class. I was wrong.
"And that is why Shakespearian Literature is still studied in schools today," a preppy-looking, black-haired, blue-eyed girl said as she stood confidently in front of the classroom of seven or so students, acting as if this was the most important speech of her life. The class seemed to think so too because they all stood up and started clapping. It was at this moment in which I walked in.
"-Sorry I'm late, Mrs. Bennet. You wouldn't believe the line they have for using the restrooms here at this school, and for-"I looked up. "Oh hello there, Mrs. Kingsley. Fancy seeing you here".
"Fancy indeed, Mr. Flynn," Mrs. Kingsley, the English teacher, said coolly. "Perhaps Miss Garcia-Shapiro could show you the way to your homeroom as she is the only student in here done with her presentation," Mrs. Kingsley suggested (but not really suggested, it was more like an order).
From behind Mrs. Kingsley, I could see my brother giving me a look that said, "You better tell me what happened later or else". Shit, I thought to myself, I forgot that Ferb was in AP English. Then I saw the preppy black-haired girl herself, Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, walking angrily towards me. Oh shit, I thought, why her of all people – she hates my guts.
"Phineas," she spit out, as if my name was synonymous with the devil. Hell, for all I know, it probably was for her.
"Isabella," I said genially, trying not to cause any more trouble on my last day of school, and together, we exited the classroom.
So far so good, I thought to myself. But when the door shut, and the people who could be seen as witnesses were out of sight, all hell broke loose.
"What the hell are you trying to pull Flynn?" she whisper-yelled at me.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked incredulously. Seriously, I understood that she didn't really want to walk me to class, but it's not like I did anything to tick her off. Well, not on that day at least. Not yet.
"You just embarrassed your brother in front of the entire AP class," she screeched. Seriously, she screeched, like a witch, or a cat. I don't really like witches, but cats are cute, especially when you rub their-
"Are you even listening to me?" No, not really.
"Your brother-"Ugh, that's it, this has to stop, I thought to myself.
"One, My brother can take care of himself, thank you very much. He doesn't need you babying him. Two, your AP class has what, 5 people in it? Get over yourself," okay, so maybe that was a little too much because that's when Isabella's face started turning really red.
I feel like now is the time I should say that I never meant to tick Isabella off. Honestly, I didn't, which is why I then said:
"Look, Isabella, how about we just part here, okay? I don't want to spend any more time with you than you want to spend with me. You can just go back to class and tell the teacher you walked me the whole way. Deal?" I held out my hand…
…which she then slapped down. "Look Phineas Flynn, I don't know what kind of idiot you think I am, but I'm not leaving you alone just so that you can go and ditch school".
"Fine," I told her, lifting up my hands in mock-defeat, walking backwards and turning to look her in the eyes "You caught me. I went into your classroom just to irk you and one of the only people in this school who I give a shit about because I was totally planning on ditching my first period class".
At this present time, we had reached my first period class.
"I'd really love to stay and chat," I said sarcastically, "but I really must go".
"You're an asshole, Flynn," she spat with pure hatred.
"Acquitted," I replied with a tight smile, slamming the door in her face.
My Credit Restoration class all turned, startled, to look at me, and I gave my questioning teacher a smile, "Sorry I'm late. I took a wrong turn…"
2nd Period
Only two weeks until my eighteenth birthday, I thought ruthfully to myself as I stared blankly at the chalkboard at the front of the room. I had Credit Restoration for the first two periods of school, and I had already finished my work for the school year, so there was really nothing I could do.
Two weeks, and then I'd be a grown adult. Most people would be jumping for joy, maybe thinking: Hurray, now I finally afford a lottery tick, or now I can buy that Gyro-cup I saw on that infomercial the other day. For me though, in two weeks, I'd be on my own. It happened like this:
I was once again sitting in the Principal's Office for "undermining the teacher's authority" because the asshole said I couldn't use the bathroom because it would disrupt the class's "learning environment". Usually this would maybe be somewhat understandable, but this particular day was a Friday, which was a free-day in that class, which meant that Mr. Ass-cock was only holding me in class because he knew I really had to use the bathroom, and wanted to see if he could get me to squirm.
Not a chance, asshole, I had thought, promptly getting up from my seat, and heading towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Ass-cock demanded.
"To take a shit, dumbass," I answered, smiling and waving my hand mock-cutely, giving him the finger, and slamming the door.
By the time I zipped up my pants, the principal had already given me a two-week suspension and called my parents.
By the time I got into the office, my parents were already there. My mother was crying and making a scene, and my father was comforting her and looking at me accusingly.
By the time I got into my family's red minivan, my father had already decided what to do with me. I just didn't know it yet.
"Why do you do this to us?" he asked, exasperated. "Do you know how this makes us look to the neighbors? Do you know how this makes your poor father; mother, brother, and sister look to the community?"
I looked at him blankly, knowing full-well that nothing I could say or do would change his already-formed opinion of the situation, and more importantly, me.
"You have been nothing but trouble for a long time, Phineas".
I just stared. To him, I would always be the bad guy, and he would always be the good guy.
"I am sick and tired of this attitude of yours, and am not willing to put up with it in my house anymore".
"What do you mean?" I asked him quietly, finally answering back, hoping he wasn't saying what it sounded like he was saying.
"We're kicking you out the moment our legal obligation is fulfilled," he said, his eyes cold and hard, something I'd never seen directed at me from my father before.
"You can't do that. I'm only-"I started.
"Your mother and I have discussed it already. We'll let you stay under our roof until you turn eighteen. That's it. Then, get the hell out our lives".
After that, my parents started counting down the days until I turned eighteen, or maybe they had been doing that for a while, and I had just been too ignorant and naïve to notice it. I wasn't even sure if I would be invited to my brother's graduation party. Then again, two weeks from graduation, he wouldn't even be my legal brother anymore. I was being disowned and taken out from my parents' will. As of June 23rd, Lawrence and Linda Flynn-Fletcher would only have two children, one boy and one girl – the perfect amount for a middle-class family in a suburban community.
So I sat there in credit restoration, thinking about how all of this would come into play when the intercom came on and interrupted my thoughts.
"Could Phineas Flynn please report to the Vice Principal's Office?" the static female voice on the intercom asked.
"Of course," Mrs. Bennet replied, nodding to me. "Phineas, go ahead and grab your things, the bell is about to ring".
3rd Period
I went to the front office desk, peering over the counter at one of the office secretaries
"Is Ms. Doofenshmurtz here?" I mouthed to the secretary, who looked to be in the middle of scheduling a hair appointment over the phone. She nodded and gestured towards the door down the hall and to the right.
"Thank you," I mouthed and she nodded, going back to her phone call.
I walked down the short hall towards Ms. Doofenshmurtz's Office. It was a large, rich-brown, mahogany door with a simple plate above it. Holding my breath, I knocked.
"Enter," a female voice said.
"You wanted to see me," I said, going over in my mind all of the reasons I might be in trouble.
"Mr. Flynn, tomorrow is Graduation Day, correct?" she said, not making eye contact, instead keeping her eyes focused on her computer screen as she typed on her keyboard.
"Yes ma'am," I said, attempting to hide my fear. Oh shit, I thought, I'm not graduating, am I?
"And just what are you planning on doing after you graduate, Phineas?" she demanded, now making complete eye contact with me. You know the kind that sends shivers down those hard-core intercity school kids.
Oh, this is what she wanted to talk about. I breathed a sigh of relief before answering, "I'm not really sure, actually. I never actually thought I'd make it this far".
"Oh please," Ms. Doofenshmurtz said nonchalantly, "You're one of the brightest students I've ever met".
I sighed, knowing full-well where this conversation was going.
"Now tell me really," Ms. Doofenshmurtz said, "What's the real reason you're not going to college".
Sighing again, I tiredly said, "It's a long story".
"I've got time," she said determinedly, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk for me to sit in.
"Okay, but remember, I warned you," I said, leaning back similarly to the way I use to do in Doctor Hodgkin's office.
It was January 3rd. I remember this because the temperature was at an all-time low and our electricity at home was out. You couldn't do anything, it was so cold. So, you can imagine my mother's disbelief when the doorbell rang in the middle of the afternoon. Two men in black sunglasses and suits showed were at our doorstep, a jet-black limo parked outside where mere moments ago, there had been feet upon feet of snow. It was like something out of a movie.
"We're here for Phineas Flynn and Ferb Fletcher," the man on the right said in a low, monotone, voice.
"Why, what do you want with my children?" Mom answered protectively, slightly closing the door.
"We are here to test your children's IQs for the National Government. It is a great honor for them to be chosen," the man on the left said.
"But why? They're just kids," Mom asked, bewildered.
"Because if they're the geniuses our sources tell us they are, then your two boys could change the future of the world for the better," the man on the right told her.
"But…but…" Mom stuttered.
"Trust us ma'am. If your boys are what we think they are. Then we can offer them a top education at some of the world's greatest institutions. Don't you want the best for your children?" the man on the right continued.
"Yes, but…" she said.
"Then, it's settled," the man on the left said. Pulling a walky-talky out from his back pocket, the man said, "Johnson, you have permission to take the boys".
From there, it seemed even more like a movie. Men in black suits came swarming in and took me and Ferb into the black limo. They took us to some official government looking building and brought us inside to an empty room in the back.
I remember the test they gave us like it was yesterday. I was an hour long test, consisting of 200 different types of questions. Ferb finished it in five minutes. I never completed the test. The time ran out before I got to the last question.
From there, things were relatively normal for about a week. I almost forgot that we had gone and taken that IQ test in the first place. But it had, and Ferb and I were taken back the following Monday after the test.
I didn't know something was up until Ferb and I were put into two separate rooms on opposite ends of the hallway. I still remember the look he gave me before his head disappeared behind the door-frame – an encouraging, hopeful, smile.
When I walked into my room, the first thing I noticed was that the only person who had walked in with me was the man who had stood on the right when these people had first come to our house. Looking back, all the other men must have gone off with Ferb.
"Do you know why you're here and not with your brother?" the man asked.
"No, why?" I asked, confused.
"Because, your brother is a genius, a true Einstein. Hell, he's probably smarter than Einstein," the man said, pride exuding his entire figure before going out like a candle being blown out.
"Which means…?" I said, still not understanding.
"God, you really are the stupid one, aren't you? Your brother is a genius, and you, you're just a boring, normal kid—a leech, a moocher of your brother's intelligence," he said disgustedly, as if I was the worst kind of scum.
"What?" I asked, bewildered, still trying to process what I'd just been told, but the man in black was already walking towards the door. I was dumb? It couldn't be true. Hadn't I…but Ferb had been there. But then, there was that one time I…no Ferb had been there then too.
"Oh wait," the man said, turning slightly so that I could just make out his stone-cold profile, "I forgot, you can't even succeed at being normal. We monitored you during your test, and you passed one thing as positive, so congratulations. On top of barely being of normal intelligence, you're also a spaz with ADHD".
Then he shut the door, leaving me with only my thoughts as company.
Ms. Doofenshmurtz was quiet for a moment, before saying, "Wait, that doesn't make any sense. Didn't BOTH you and your brother build crazy stuff during the summer when you were younger".
"See, that's what most people originally assumed as well, and in some ways it's true. I did think of a lot of the ideas, but I never actually made or built anything. That was all Ferb. All I really did was bounce around with my ADHD and all," I explained.
"So you never actually took part in the making things process?" Ms. Doofenshmurtz asked, bewildered.
"Nope," I replied, "that was my brother – always a man of action".
"But that doesn't explain your sudden change of character, and why everyone seems to hate your guts. I don't know because I was at college" Ms. Doofenshmurtz said.
"Let's just say that I was in a dark place for a while and leave it at that," I told her cryptically.
"Fine," she said grudgingly, "but that doesn't explain why you're not going to college".
"But it does, Ms. Doofenshmurtz. It really does," I said bitterly.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I'm not going to college because I didn't get accepted into any colleges," I told her, and at that precise moment, I think the gods finally took a little pity on me because at that moment, the bell rang.
"Well, that's my cue," I said, scrambling to get out of my seat.
"Wait, but I'm not-" I shut the door and ran towards fourth period as if my life depended on it.
Fourth Period
I knew that Ms. Doofenshmurtz would be more than willing to call me out of Math Models to continue our 'talk', but I wasn't mentally, or physically, prepared to do that just that. So, I did the manly thing to do, I hid out in the Music Hall.
Okay, so maybe it wasn't the Music Hall, it was more like the abandoned Music Storage room, but I loved it twice as much as the real Music Hall. It was covered in cobwebs and probably wouldn't pass an inspection if push came to shove, but it had a homey feel, and more importantly, it had no teachers, which was good, because the Music teacher, Mr. Pipes, also did not like me. I think it's because I was probably one of the only people in school who even knew that the Music Storage room even existed.
My fingers started twitching again as I started to sit down in front of the grand piano. I've always had a thing for grand pianos; they've always calmed me in ways drugs never have been able to. Sometimes, when I'm drunk or high or crossfaded and feeling philosophical, I think that it's because they remind me of the days when my life was better.
I first started learning how to play the piano when I was two years old. It was the one thing that I shared with my father, my real father, before he died. We would sit on the piano and play Heart and Souls together all day long, each taking turns on the different parts, having mini concerts for my sister and mother, pretending we were some great musicians playing for a large audience in some fancy theater. It was a very warm and loving environment. That is, until my father died.
There are train tracks that run parallel with the town I lived in when I was young, and on the left side of it, beside the blinking light, is a faded-looking wooden cross. That's where my father was killed. A slight fluctuation in the blinking lights when a house down the street short-circuited the power because they were doing too many things at one time and the loud engine of my father's beloved 1963 Thunderbird caused him to not notice the train coming towards him at 70 miles an hour. He never stood a chance.
For a long time, I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to play the piano again. But then, something happened, someone happened, and I'm so glad that they did, because there were times in my life where playing the piano was literally my only joy.
I was about four minutes of my own version of the song, Dearly Beloved, when someone walked in. I was so immersed in my playing, though, that I never even heard them come in. It wasn't until I heard clapping that I even realized that someone had been watching me.
"Bravo, Flynn," I froze and turned slowly, hoping that it wasn't who I thought it was. It was.
"Isabella," I said through my clenched teeth, "What are you doing here?"
"I could really ask you the same thing, but I didn't know you still played the piano," she said, changing topics, and slyly walking around the piano towards me, her fingers lightly tracing the wood, shaking slightly. She was up to something, that was for sure, or else she wouldn't be toying with me.
I looked up from her fingers and cleared my throat. "I do," I said, though my voice was a bit squeakier than I would have liked.
She came closer to me, and her mood suddenly changed. "I remember when I first found out you played the piano," she said softly.
"I do too," I said, with the first sign of sincerity I had showed Isabella Garcia-Shapiro in a long time.
It was right after Isabella's Dad left her and her mom. She came over, and no matter what crazy thing Ferb invented, she wouldn't stop crying. I don't know how I knew, but when I went to the piano and started playing for her, it lulled her to sleep, and she finally stopped crying. It had been the first time I'd played in five years.
"Honestly, I didn't realize that you still played," Isabella said breaking me out of my thoughts.
"You know Isabella, just because we're not friends anymore, that does not mean that I'm no longer Phineas Flynn," I said slowly, turning towards her and making eye contact.
Isabella snapped out of the moment and looked at me cold and hard, reminding me that in many ways, I had destroyed the innocent little girl she used to be, and said in a monotonous voice, "As Hall Monitor, it's my job to make sure that students are where they're supposed to be. You better get to class now before I send you to the Principal's Office".
Oh yeah, I forgot that Isabella was Hall Monitor fourth period, I thought to myself as I looked at the bright orange and yellow uniform she was sporting. Unflattering though it was, the uniform did give off a sense of authority and importance. Aside from Isabella, there were several other people who exchanged the position throughout the day: Ferb (obviously), Baljeet (nerd), Buford (wasn't very responsible, but acted as a good deterrent to keep kids out of the hallways), and Gretchen (Preppy Bitch #2). It was a privilege given to the most "responsible" and "outstanding" students. Apparently, I didn't fit any of the requirements. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I was Hall Monitor Enemy #1, not even Django surpassed me, and he popped Mollies in public places to "build his chakra" or whatever artsy-fartsy people did in their free time.
She didn't send me directly to the Principal's Office. Usually, this would be extremely out of character, as Isabella Garcia-Shapiro is the star player of the "We Hate Phineas Team", but I saw that look in her eyes before they went cold and hard. She was conflicted. About what though, I didn't know.
Fifth Period
Fifth period was my real free-period. As in, it was the period in which I would not get in trouble for just walking around school campus, and I often took great joy in that freedom ( as well as a sadistic pleasure in the fact that I couldn't get written up for roaming the hallways by the Principal's Office). Anyway, I was on my way under the bleachers in the gym for a smoke when, through the little peaks of light from underneath the bleachers, I saw the cheerleaders walk by.
I smirked, even after all of these years, the Fireside Girls still all stayed together. Many would call this dedication to each other a wonderful thing that isn't found much in today's society. Cynics like me would call it a cult.
"Do you smell smoke," the Head-Cheerleader, who stood in the middle of the cult, asked aloud, sniffing the air for emphasis, and the cult nodded.
"Shit," I whispered to myself, trying to remain as incognito as possible.
"You guys go ahead, I'll stay back and investigate," the Head-Cult leader, I mean Cheerleader, said.
"Shit, I am so screwed, so screwed," I whispered. She knew I was here.
Once the cult had left, the Head-Cheerleader said aloud, "I know you're here, if you show yourself immediately, I won't turn you in".
Coming sneakily up from behind her, cigarette in my mouth, I whispered, "Promise?"
She jumped as if someone had just shocked her. "Phineas Flynn," she yelped startled.
"Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, we really do have to quit meeting like this," I grinned, my cigarette still burning, trying to put my best foot forward.
Recovering from her shock, Isabella's look turned into anger.
"Phineas Flynn, what are you doing here with that?" she demanded disgustedly.
"What? Oh are you talking about my cigarette?" I asked confused.
"Yes, so get that nasty people-killing thing out of my face," she said stepping back, trying to move the smoke away from her with her hands.
"Ewe, ewe, ewe," she said, looking like the biggest prissy I'd ever seen.
"Fine," I said dramatically, and rolling my eyes as I put out my cig. "Are you happy now?" I asked sarcastically.
"You're insufferable," Isabella said.
"And you sound like a cheesy romance novel," I fired back, chuckling at the way her usually pale face turned a bright red color.
"Let's just get out of here," she said, walking towards the gym doors, and for the first time today, I realized something. This would probably be the last time I would ever see Isabella Garcia-Shapiro.
"Isabella wait," I said, trying to grab for her hand, but I was too late. She was already grabbing for the door, and I was too late.
"It's stuck," she whispered in disbelief.
"What?" I said, frozen in my place.
"The door is stuck, and…oh shit," she muttered.
"Did you just say shit?" I asked.
"Yes shit. And I'll say it again: shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…" she said.
"Isabella," I asked cautiously, "what's going on".
"Everyone's already gone to-", I interrupted her.
"-To get ready for the Graduation Ceremony tonight, which means were stuck here for-" she interrupted me.
"-for the next six hours," she finished.
"At least you're stuck with me, right?" I asked and she groaned. It was going to be a long afternoon.
PART TWO:
We had been sprawled out across the bleachers for about two minutes before I had my first brilliant idea.
"I've got it, why don't we just call someone to get us out of here?" I said, wondering why I hadn't been thinking about this earlier.
"I can't, my phone died second period. What about you?" Isabella said, looking up from the book she was reading on her side of the bleachers (as she had split them up: she got left side and I got right).
"I can't," I told her shaking my head, "I don't even have a phone".
"What?! You don't have a phone?!" she nearly screamed.
"I know, someone like you couldn't possibly understand what it's like, being as you're Mrs. New York, Head- Cheerleader, and all," I told her sarcastically.
"Is that really what people think of me?" she asked. I nodded. "Well, that's not what I meant when I asked if you had a phone or not".
"Then what did you mean," I asked, laying down on my side of the bleachers and looking up at the ceiling.
"I meant that you just used to be so hyped up on technology as a kid. I just thought-"I stopped her.
"It's a common misconception. Plus, my parents would take away my phone the moment I got one. And on top of that, it's not like there are a surplus of people out there dying to talk to me," I told her honestly.
"Really? I just thought-" I cut her off again, sitting up this time to look her in the eye. She was looking up at me from her side, where she had been sprawled over the bleachers reading her book.
"You thought wrong," I told her coldly, once again lying back down.
She fell quiet again, and I felt like an ass. After all, hadn't only moments ago I'd been thinking about apologizing to her. I sighed.
"Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you, okay?" I said gruffly. "You just sort of struck a nerve".
I was still looking up at the ceiling, but even still, I could feel her questioning blue eyes on me.
"Phineas, can I ask you a question?" she asked so quietly that I almost didn't hear her, especially since she was all the way across the room, completely out of my reach like she had always been.
"What?" I said, my eyes still fixed on the ceiling, so as not to look at her.
"Why do you hate me?"
"I don't hate you," I said, sighing. "I just…" thought that you hated me.
"Do you hate me?" I asked suddenly.
"What?" she asked, completely thrown off.
"I said: do you hate me?"
"That's…that's…"
"That's what?"
"I just…I don't"
"You don't what?"
"I just…it's just that"
"For God's sake Isabella, just spit it out already!" I yelled, agitated.
"I don't know," she cried frustrated.
"What?" I asked, incredulous that she wasn't sure about hating me. I had thought she hated me with every fiber in her being.
"I don't know, okay?" she said. "Before, I knew. I knew without a shadow of a doubt. But oh no, you just had to…to go out and do that, and now I just don't know", Isabella finished miserably.
"What is that exactly Isabella?" I asked, getting closer and closer to her, making my way across the bleachers, across the dumb barrier we had created, because she just looked so…so lost and miserable.
"You played the piano," she cried, putting her head in her hands as if she didn't know what to make of this sudden development.
"Yes," I said, urging her to continue, not understanding how playing the piano could make her doubt her feelings about me so much.
"And you're not supposed to play the piano".
"Because what?" I asked.
"Because it makes it hard for me to hate you if all you do is remind me of why I loved-" she froze, cupping her hand over her mouth.
"What do you mean, Isabella?" I asked, getting close to her and grabbing her shoulders. Did she mean what I thought she meant?
"Please don't touch me," she whispered weakly.
"WHY NOT? For God's sake Isabella, we're graduating in a few hours and then you'll never have to see me again, so just tell me, dammit!" I told her, getting louder and louder as I went along, frustration building inside me.
"I was in love with you…" she whispered quietly, picking her legs up and hugging her knees.
"Shit," I said, letting go of her shoulders and turning to sit side by side with her, bending over to rub my temples.
It had been a week since Ferb and I had been called back for our results. Ferb was off at some camp for the gifted and talented and I was at home in our room. I had been really, really angry at that moment. I vaguely remember reading the back of some of the ADHD medicine my parents had put me on saying that occasional emotional instability was a side-effect, and at that moment I felt it in full along with my depression with feeling rejected.
So there I was trashing my brother's side of the room for all that it was worth, crying, and thinking to myself: stupid, useless, that's all I am. It was right in that high, that frenzy in my anger, and throwing things around the room when Isabella came in.
"Phineas what are you doing?!" she had said, trying to grab my arms and hold me back from causing any more damage.
"No, leave me alone!" I had screamed, trying desperately to break free from her grasp.
"Phineas, this isn't you. Stop it!" she had yelled, struggling to hold on.
"LET ME GO! LET ME GO," I had screamed repeatedly.
"Phineas!"
"I SAID LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE YOU CRAZY BITCH! I HATE YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME, I HATE YOU!" I yelled, breaking free and accidentally – because no matter what anyone: the court, the prosecuting attorney, the judge, my parents, my family, and maybe even Isabella herself ever said, I would never intentionally physically hurt anyone, especially her – hit her.
The slap I hit her with echoed across the halls, and the scene didn't look too good for me when my parents came up. By that time, the bruise on Isabella's eye where I had hit her was starting to show and my entire bedroom was trashed.
"Phineas, what have you done?" my father and mother asked, looking at me as if they didn't know who I was anymore. And in some ways that was true. I didn't even know who I was anymore.
Two weeks later, I was sent to court for the first time in my life. I was charged with assault and sent on and off to a Juvenile Detention Center until I turned fourteen. The only person who ever went to talk to me was Ferb.
"Candace is really busy in college," he would say, or," the antique shop is really hitting it off, and Mom and Dad don't have enough spare time". He always had an excuse to spare my feelings, or at least what was left of my feelings: Juvie is a really good way to numb you to the world.
I still remember that first day of freshman year, when someone other than Ferb approached me during lunch. It was Isabella. Looking back, I realize how shy and nervous she must have been to approach me, but back then, you have to remember – I was an ADHD kid, who had just gotten out of Juvie, who was full of anger and guilt towards the person approaching me. So, I did what I had been trained to do, what everyone already expected of me.
"He…hey Phineas," she had said nervously, knitting her fingers together in a way that I had long-ago figured out meant that she was nervous.
"Hey," I said rudely glaring up at her, while I sat and drank my milk.
"I was just…" she cleared her throat, "…I was just wondering if I could…ah…sit here, with you".
"You want to sit here with me?" I laughed incredulously while she stood there lamely in front of me, the attention of the cafeteria slowly turning towards us.
"Look honey," I said, standing up from my seat and pouring my milk onto Isabella's head, "I don't do the whole sitting at lunch and discussing my feelings thing. It's just not my thing, sooo sorry 'bout that. I hope we can still be friends".
The whole cafeteria went into an uproar of laughter, but I still heard what Isabella had to say next, because she made sure to look me right in the eye so that I would understand, even as her eyes were starting to tear up.
"I hate you, Phineas Flynn. Go to hell," she said. Sure, her words may have been mild compared to what I'd heard in Juvie, but her eyes. It was the first time I'd ever seen anyone look at me with so much loathing before, but it wasn't the last.
"Isabella," I said, dragging myself out of my thoughts. "I…"
But all I saw when I turned to look at her this time was that nervous freshman girl in her pink bow and outfit and such shiny hair that she must have had to have spent hours working on it. All I saw was that small girl who tried so hard to save the tiny bit of sanity left in her best friend, only to get hurt. All I saw was what I had ruined. I had taken a perfectly good person, better than perfectly good if I wanted to be honest with myself, and I had ruined her. What could fix that?
"I sorry," I whispered, unsure if she heard me or not in her ball-like position. It was just that ever since that event freshman year, Isabella had always seemed so strong, so much like nothing really affected her. I had thought I was the emotionally unstable one.
I tried to remember what I had done before to cheer up Isabella. I could have played the piano, except there wasn't really a surplus of pianos in the gym unfortunately, but I needed to do something. I could not, would not, be responsible for breaking this girl. So, I did the second best thing a non-genius like me could think of. I sang.
"We're Fireside Girls, one and all, and together we belong!
We wear our patches upon our sashes and stand cute, small and strong!
This is the Fireside Girl Song, and it's not too terribly long".
Unfortunately, my poor deep voice and hand gestures didn't do the Fireside Girls song justice – it even cracked a little at the end – but I'm guessing it sounded pretty funny because when I turned to the side, Isabella was laughing at me. Hard. As in, she was clutching her stomach with her head thrown back, and she was snorting.
"I can't *huff* *huff* believe *huff* that you *huff* did that," she gasped, and I grinned.
"Hey, it was the first song I could think of that you would know," I said, pressing my hand to my chest in mock indignation.
"Now, I really wish that I had my phone on me. No one will ever believe that THE Phineas Flynn sang the Fireside Girls song to cheer ME up," she said, finally starting to calm down, with only a few hiccups here and there.
"Nawh, I used to sing all the time. Though I used to be a lot better, didn't I?" I said, waving my hand in a "pssh whatever" motion.
"Yeah, you did," Isabella replied laughing. "But that was a long time ago," she said, her face sobering up as if she had just realized who she was with.
"I'm not that bad," I told her jokingly, trying desperately not to break the bubble we had just been in – where she had, even if just for a moment, forgotten who I was.
"Phineas Flynn," Isabella said, saying my name aloud as if it were a foreign object.
"Isabella Garcia-Shapiro," I said back in the same tone.
"It's just Shapiro now," she said, gazing off, not really looking at anything in particular.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize…"I stuttered.
"It's okay. Really, it is," she said, holding up her hand to stop me from going on. "You're really acting different today, Phineas," she said looking at me with a funny look on her face.
"Why do you say that?" I asked, though I knew the answer.
"It's just that you…" she turned to look me in the eye, "You haven't really talked to me in the past four years, well aside from the occasional angry retort, and all the sudden you're all I see and think-"her cheeks tinted pink, "-you know what I mean," she finished lamely.
"Yeah, I do have a bit of a chip on my shoulder, don't I?" I said, awkwardly laughing and turning to stare outward, mainly just to avert Isabella's gaze. My hands were twitching at this point, and it became very difficult for me to not reach into my back pocket and pull out the pack of cigs I had.
"Why is that?" she asked.
I thought about this for a bit. Why was I always so mean to her? Because, she makes you remember. "Anger, guilt…" I answered honestly. So much of it that I'm scared that it will one day consume me…
"So…" Isabella said, brushing her hair behind her ear, "you told me what others thought of me, but you never told me what you thought about me".
"Look Isabella, I don't think that this is a very good idea," I told her, scooting away from her, as I was just now starting to realize how close our proximities had been.
"Why not?" she asked, scooting towards me, an innocent curiosity on her face. That innocence would be my undoing.
"Because," I said frustrated, waving my arms in the air for emphasis, "Ferb".
"Ferb?" she questioned confused.
"Yes, Ferb," I said, nodding my head. "You know: green hair, purpley clothing. It's hard to miss him".
"Yes, I know who Ferb is," she snapped, "but what does he have to do with this?"
"Everything".
"I'm not sure I follow," she said confused, her forehead scrunching cutely. I sighed sadly.
"You and Ferb…"
She waved her hand for me to continue.
"…have enough sexual tension to blow up the entire school".
"Me and Ferb?" she squeaked, her face red like a tomato.
"Yes, you and Ferb. Don't tell me you don't see it. You two have chemistry, don't deny it".
"No we don't," she protested.
"Oh please, let's look at the list of cliché reasons why you and Ferb are in love with each other, shall we?"
"Fine," she crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow.
"Let's see, you're childhood friends".
"So are me and Baljeet, but people don't say that we have chemistry".
"True, but you and Ferb are also Mr. and Mrs. THS".
"But that's not our fault".
"Yes, but you two also sang a duet".
"So do lots of people," she huffed.
"In the Valentine's Choir Concert?"
She huffed again.
"That's a well-known love song?"
"So what?"
"And let's not forget how you both just happen to be each other's dates to all of the dances, including Prom".
"We're just friends, Phineas".
"So you say," I said cryptically.
"Why does it even matter to you anyway?" she asked exasperated.
"Because Ferb is my brother," I ground out. And he's in love with you.
"All I asked you was what you thought about me. How is that so difficult to answer?"
"Because, it just is," I said, crossing my arms and huffing.
"Come on Phineas, just tell me," she asked pleadingly.
"You really want to know what I think of you." I asked suspiciously.
She nodded.
You're the only reason I've ever really been jealous of my brother.
"I think you're very pretty," I said carefully, deciding to be complementary but still detached. After all, everyone who could see would be able to tell Isabella was attractive. She had jet-black hair, light blue eyes, a pale complexion, and a nice body developed from a mixture of genetics and working out. She had a pretty face too, with a cute button nose, full lips that were a nice natural shade of pink, long black eyelashes, perfectly arched eyebrows, and cute tiny ears that always had the pearl studs Ferb gave her for Christmas one year (another reason why everyone believes that she's in love with him).
"You think I'm pretty?" she asked cautiously, darting her eyes away from my face, so that I couldn't see it.
"I also think you're very intelligent and talented," I continued. This too was well-known. Isabella was a prodigy in all school writing events. She'd gone to New York because her paper on "The Platypus: It Does Do Much" made into a National Geographic magazine, not to mention how academically gifted she was. This was all great, but to me, all this did was continue to add up all of the things her and Ferb had in common.
"So, let me get this straight. You think that I'm pretty and smart – two very normal adjectives – and didn't want to tell me because you think me and your brother have some not-so-secret romance going on?"
"Yes, that's correct," I said evenly.
"I don't understand you, Flynn," she said frustrated. "I mean, one moment it's seems like we're really going to start talking and the next, you close yourself off. In case you haven't noticed, we're graduating in a few hours, so if there's anything you want to tell me, this is the time to do it".
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.
"And if you – wait, what did you just say?"
"I said I'm sorry, for everything really, I said it earlier, but I wasn't sure if you'd heard me. I know it doesn't seem like much, considering all of what I've done to you, and I can never expect you to forgive me, but I just…" My voice cracked as I focused on a loose basketball on the floor in front of me because I still didn't have the courage to look her in the eyes.
"You idiot," she mumbled, and I turned, surprised to see that there were tears welling up in her eyes.
"Oh shit, don't cry…please don't cry," I muttered, reaching out my hand to her face and feeling it stiffen when I touched it.
"Hey, it's okay. Really, it is…" I told her in a gentle voice I never thought I possessed, feeling her relax as I took my thumb and wiped the tears out of her eyes.
"See look," I smiled goofily at her, her face still cupped in my hands, and when she smiled back, I felt like a million bucks.
That is, until I realized that I shouldn't be doing what I was doing, couldn't be doing what I was doing. Holding the love of my brother's life in an intimate position, I couldn't do it. Ferb loved Isabella, and I couldn't ruin things for the one person who was always there for me. Plus, it's not like she'd ever choose me anyway.
So, I dropped my hands from her face, even though I really didn't want to because, for once, I was going to do the right thing and try not take advantage of the situation.
After a few minutes of awkward tension, Isabella sucked in a breath and said, "Phineas, I –" but I never got to hear the rest of that sentence because right at that moment, someone came to the gym doors.
"Wait," I whispered, put a finger over her lips and turning in the direction of the door.
"Did you hear something?" the distinct snooty voice of the Principal said, stifled by the large gym doors.
"I don't know who would be here at this hour," Vice Principal, Ms. Doofenshmurtz replied. "Do you want to check?"
From there, the jangling of keys could be heard as they jostled around: ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling, and then there was a resounding click.
Without much time to react, I hid the only way I could – on the floor of the row of bleachers Isabella and I were sitting in. I was so nervous that all I could hear was a clunk, clunk, and clunk sound, though I'm not sure if that was footsteps or my heart, or Isabella's heart for that matter.
"Phineas, what are you—"I cut her off in the quickest way I could think of at the time, by kissing her.
Once the door closed again and the footsteps faded, I stopped and looked up from where Isabella and I were and saw no one.
"Why did you just do that?" Isabella asked confused, eyes hazy. "Aren't we trying to get out?"
"Yes," I replied. "However, the Principal hates my guts and would probably try to twist this situation into another ploy to ruin my life in some way".
"The principal likes me," she huffed.
"Yes, well, you don't count. He'd be an idiot not to like you," I said, not really paying attention to what I was letting slip out or the slightly dazed look on Isabella's face. "Besides, I think he hates me more than he loves himself, and he's the dictionary definition of a narcissist".
She giggled at this, which would, under different circumstances, make me smile, but at this particular moment, it just made my cheeks turn red. The reason, I could literally feel her laughing because we were sprawled out in a tightly confined space on the floor which meant that I was on top of her.
"Um, I don't think this is a good position for…for us to…to be in," I stuttered, realizing the inappropriateness of the situation, and the fact that I had just kissed her. Maybe she hadn't noticed the second part.
"Well, I mean, I don't know about that. You did just kiss me," so maybe she had noticed the second part, her forwardness a little bit surprising and way out of character.
"Look, Isabella," I started.
"Oh no, don't you 'look Isabella' me, Phineas Flynn," she said, suddenly agitated for reasons I didn't know. "Just don't".
"Isabella…"
"Just, just tell me one thing," she asked shakily, and I nodded slowly.
I wasn't sure why she was acting so bipolar; one moment she was happy, the next, she looked about to cry. It was slightly disconcerting and it made me wonder why she was acting like this. I'd never seen her act like this before.
"Why did you kiss me?" So there was the question.
"Because the Principal came…"
"I'm not stupid, Phineas. I know the Principal came in," she said frustrated. Trying to calm herself she continued, "But, why did you kiss me? Out of everything you could have done, why did you do that?"
"I kissed you because…" I rubbed my neck. Should I tell her the truth? I thought to myself. But, what about Ferb? I sighed; I needed to do the right thing.
"Isabella," I said slowly. "There's something you should know before I answer your question".
She looked at, arms crossed; the look in her eyes unreadable.
"My brother, your best friend, is very much in love with you."
"Wait, what?" she asked, shocked. Clearly, this had not been what she was expecting.
"Ferb, he's in love with you. I just thought you should know…"
"He loves me?" she asked herself softly, lightly playing with her hair, and I knew that I had never stood a chance. The two of them were meant to be together; peas and carrots, as Forrest Gump would say.
"Yeah, well…" I started to stand up to head back over to my side of the bleachers.
"Phineas wait!" she yelped, grabbing desperately at my arm.
"Yes?" I asked, trying not to look disappointed as I turned to look at her. Why should I be disappointed, I thought to myself. I already knew what was going to happen, and I did, but that didn't seem to make it suck any less.
Still holding my arm, she said, "You never answered my question. Why did you kiss me?"
"Isabella, you already have Ferb. What do you want from me?" I asked, not fully successful in keeping the anguish out of my voice.
"I want an answer, Phineas. I want to know why –"
"You want to know why I kissed you. Why does it even matter to you why I kissed you? I'm a pathetic, stupid, druggie who can barely even pass High School. I'm never going to get into college. I'm not like you, or Ferb, or Baljeet, or even Buford. I don't have a future. So why do you even care?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she said, her eyes becoming teary, a bittersweet smile on her face as she looked up at me, and I looked at her, really looked at her, and realized the truth.
"You…what?" I asked incredulously, my eyes wide. This is too good to be true, way too good to be true the voice in my head stated. "But…when?"
"Always, I just needed a little reminding, that's all," she said, gently taking my hand.
"Reminding for what?" I asked, still in shock.
"Reminding for why I fell in love with you in the first place," she told me.
"But that's masochistic. I'm really a fucked up asshole, and I've done horrible things to you. You hate me, remember?" I asked, wondering in my mind why I was trying to mess up a good thing.
"I don't hate you. I only hated you because you were an asshole. There are tons of assholes out there who I didn't hate, but you…it seemed like no matter what you did, I was still head-over-heels in love with you, and it made me sick and ashamed of myself".
"So, what exactly changed?" I asked.
"I realized something," she said.
"What?"
"You're not an asshole, or all of those terrible things people say you are".
I snorted, and she gently tilted my face so that I was looking her in the eyes. She was standing now, and I was sitting.
"Phineas, listen to me. You are not the bad guy", and she seemed so convinced that I almost believed her.
"And when did you figure that out?" I asked.
"When you apologized; Phineas, I've seen assholes, true dicks, and you are not one of them," she said simply.
"Isabella, you don't understand. I'm not a good guy. Ferb is".
"For God's sake, Phineas, I don't, nor have I ever, loved Ferb as anything more than a brother, and he knows that. He'll bounce back".
"But, you don't understand –" it was becoming so hard to hold my resolve.
"No, you don't understand," she snapped before her voice took on a more pleading tone, "I just poured out my heart to you, so please…please Phineas – why did you kiss me?"
She just looked so tired and longing, and my resolve was wearing away. After all, I just wanted her to be happy, and if a good-for-nothing, ADHD, breaks-everything-he-touches, hot-tempered musician like me was what truly made her happy, then who was I to deny her? I had already tried to warn her.
"Isabella, if I tell you why, you do realize that I'll never want to let you go. This is your last chance to walk away," I told her, needing desperately to make sure that this was what she wanted.
"Just tell me," she said, climbing up onto my lap and being way more forward than the innocent girl I knew. Then again, she wasn't a little girl anymore.
"I kissed you because I love you and wanted to see what it would be like to kiss you at least once. See, I told you I was selfish, didn't I?" I told her honestly.
She just laughed, leaned in, and kissed me.
EPILOUGUE
During the graduation ceremony, you would have never thought that anything had changed between Isabella and me. I myself almost psyched myself into thinking it was a dream I. It wasn't until afterwards, when she grabbed my hand through the crowd of people, led me behind the football bleachers, jumped into my arms, and kissed me again that I realized that what had happened in the gymnasium had, in fact, really happened.
Two weeks later, I really did move away from home for good. Sometimes, Ferb sends me postcards. He married Ms. Doofenshmurtz, if you'd believe that, and they now have two kids. I haven't really seen or heard from the rest of my family, and it doesn't bother me like it used to. Ever since the conception of my firstborn child, I realized something. No matter what, a real family, a true family, will always love you. I could never see myself ever loving my child any less, no matter how much they might screw up or how many problems they might have. A real family doesn't give up on you, Isabella taught me that. I realized that even though Linda Fletcher had given birth to me, even though Lawrence Fletcher had taken part in raising me, even though Candace was my biological sister – none of them were my family. They never were.
I never did end up going to college, but I did form a band, experienced success, and even went on tour while Isabella was in Medical School. When she got out though, we decided that we should probably settle down somewhere we could call home. So, we packed up from LA, where we were living at the time and moved to a small, resort town by the water (because Isabella loved the water and I've never been one to deny her) where she opened up her own practice and I became the music teacher at the local High School, as I had already made plenty of money from my Rock Band days.
The wedding ceremony was big, as Isabella was from a big family and didn't have the heart to exclude anyone from the list. Ferb and my band-mates were the only ones showing up for me on my side, but I didn't really care because I was marrying the love of my life. She had, through much patience and love, showed me that I wasn't a lost cause and that I could do good and be good if I just let myself be.
And now, as the nurse is telling me that it's okay if I let go of my exhausted wife's hands, give her a peck on the cheek, murmur a "you did good" to her instead of the usual vice-versa, and hold the little bundle in blue blankets that had made my wife so exhausted, all I can think is how good my life is, and how beautiful my wife is even after hours upon hours of labor, and how our son has her hair and my eyes, and how glad I am that I didn't give up on doing more with my life all of those years ago, and how happy I am. Yes, here are times in which I feel like I'm getting old, but there are also times when I feel so young and alive and so captured in a moment that I just want to stay in it forever. This is one of those moments. This is one of those times. And I feel infinite.