Disclaimer: I know in my heart of hearts that I don't own Phil of the Future.
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"Lloyd. Lloyd, wake up."
"Big day tomorrow, Honey. Better get some sleep."
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"Lloyd, I hear a noise at the window. Go see what it is."
"Barb, I was just kidding about burglars and all our stuff being packed away. Unless ... are you pretending to be scared so I can hold you tight protecti --
( {plink} ) what was that?"
"It's coming from outside. Go to the window and check."
"(Groan. Yawn) "It's Phil's friend in the backyard throwin' pebbles at our window."
"What is she doing that for?"
"Because Pim's right and after two years she doesn't know that this isn't Phil's bedroom window?"
"Lloyd, get your robe. We're going down there right now."
"Good idea. We can point out which window she should pelt with pebbles."
"Lloyd."
"What?"
Comfy bathrobes are thrown over full-length p.j.s; fuzzy slippers find themselves occupied once more, and two somewhat sleepy-headed parents make there way downstairs, past a now empty refrigerator, step out their partially moonlit back steps to face a disturbed teenager. Keely's been crying, that much is obvious. She's cold, not dressed for this cold winter night, but not yet shivering -- should have brought a coat. This is the first time they've seen the familiar teen with messy locks, the result of running her hands through her hair all evening, and efforts to pull her hair out.
"Keely?"
She drops the pebbles which scatter in meaningless paths. Barbara Diffy senses what is wrong even as Lloyd is busy pointing out Phil's bedroom window. Phil's mother pulls her surrogate daughter into a deep hug, one different from Keely's mom's only in stature. Keely's telling herself that she won't sob, she won't yell, she won't beg. She doesn't let go while she asks them, "Why?"
"Because his bedroom is over there. At least you hit ours. I don't want to even consider what would have happened if you had stoned his sister's."
"Why do you hate me?"
"Sweetie, we could never hate you. We're just going home where we belong. You knew we've been trying to go home for quite some time."
"But you like it here."
"See? I told you. I was right. Everyone likes it here. This is a great century."
"Lloyd. Please. Keely, this was just part of the vacation we went on. This isn't our home, and it never could be. We've had fun here. Great memories, including you. Keely, it's time for us to go home now. Engine's fixed and it's time to say so long. Do you want to go upstairs to say goodbye to Phil?"
Barbara didn't expect Keely's reaction, her eyes looking away towards the grass, her blonde hair shaking from side to side. This girl, she decided, was very upset.
"I thought you approved of me and Phil?"
"Well, we think you're sweet, both of you. Don't we, Lloyd?"
"Real best friends, cute kids, listen, can we talk about this in the morning?"
"Lloyd."
"Um, uh, oh, (mumble), (sigh)."
"You know Phil and I are a couple now. Is that why you're leaving all of a sudden? Why the time machine "got fixed" this time for real?"
"Is that what you're thinking? No, Hon. It just happened that way, just like our breaking down in Pickford. Just part of life. It all just happened, that's all."
Keely started crying again, "Really? Because Phil and me were really happy. I mean, we were always happy together, but this is the BIG HAPPY. You know?"
Mrs. Diffy wasn't so old; she knew. "I know. It's the feeling you get with your heart swelling to the surface of your chest, lightness in every breath, and life being pure heaven."
"Exactly," Mr. Diffy chimed in. He actually was listening!
"Right," the 21st Century teenager agreed, "you know this, both have it, and if it were gone tomorrow ...?"
All three of them felt "it." You know that involuntary shudder you experience when watching a movie and seeing someone's throat suddenly slashed? Like that. The inverse of the BIG HAPPY: the void in your chest where your heart once beat joyfully, radiantly, the burning in your lungs as breathing is beyond labored -- it's no longer an option, and the opposite of heaven. Without saying "it," Keely had communicated what they were putting her through. This wasn't some summer romance at camp. She and her boyfriend had found BIG HAPPINESS, and, even if someday they decided that they weren't right for one another, it ought to be their decision, not anybody else's. When they leave tomorrow, they'd be making her life hell. Gone forever. No hope. Never to see one another again. Without her heart, she'd die. No chalk outline for the coroner's office to sketch out, not even a mention in the Morning News Report, but the Keely Teslow everyone knew and loved would be gone forever. That girl couldn't go on without her heart. She'd cease to exist.
Eyes met. Hugs. Sorrys. It'll be all-rights. You'll-both-get-over-this. Meaningless. Nobody believed a word. Alone, heartbroken, what was once Keely left out the same squeaky back gate she first passed through to greet her new neighbors so long ago. The elder pair, arms around one another's waists, leaned their heads together for mutual support.
"Big day tomorrow. Back to bed, Honey?"
"Yeah, just want to reset the temporal pump valves after my test drive today. Don't want to pull a 'Phil.'"
"Okay, don't long. I'll be making our bed warm again," she said with a wispy smile. Returning her smile, he promised with a nod. Sighing, Barbara closed the kitchen door behind her, halting to consider if she was doing the right thing. Even if she didn't feel like eyes were watching her, she would have hesitated for a moment before pulling open the kitchen's tool drawer and secreting one of it's occupants into one of her robe's deep pockets for later. Unbeknownst to her, her hubby was doing the same outside in the garage, instead of fiddling with the pump valves, the fibber. Each was clandestinely committing themselves to some loving sabotage later that night. Unbeknownst to both of them, their was a "gopher" in the garden who had overheard everything, and this gopher already had a hammer, one with a glandular condition.
Goodnight
Sweet Dreams
Everything is going to be fine now.