As I promised, chapter seven is long! Read and review!
Disclaimer: I do not own the song "Will You Remember Me" by Sarah McLachlan.
Chapter Seven: Will You Remember Me?
Mac never breaks his promises. He didn't forget to write to me--we had to email each other because mailing one letter would take too long--and I didn't forget to write back. But I still can't get over the fact that I'll be spending the Thanksgiving holidays alone. Correction, I'll be spending the holidays without Mac. Danny and Lindsay were throwing a little Thanksgiving party with our CSI family. But one person will still be missing from our family.
I decided to come to the party, instead of watching TV all day and then eating Thanksgiving dinner alone. But it didn't matter. I should be used to spending the holidays alone. I usually don't have anyone to spend the holidays with… You'll get your chance, Stella, I reassure myself. You're getting together with Mac during Christmas, remember?
Lindsay and I are talking, and as Danny walks over to us, she asks him, "Did you have fun making that turkey, Messer?"
"I never want to see turkey again," Danny mumbled to himself.
"You got him to make the turkey?" I ask in surprise. "I don't know if I should eat it…"
Lindsay and I laugh while Danny just shakes his head. He then walked away from us, clearly not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation. "I helped him make the turkey," Lindsay says. "So, you shouldn't have to worry. I made sure Danny didn't make any mistakes."
"Maybe if you get him cooking more, you'll turn him into your own personal chef," I say.
Lindsay glanced at Danny, who was now talking with Flack. "I wouldn't pressure him into doing that; I love him for who he is, even if he can't cook perfectly."
I nod. They love each for who they are, does Mac like me for the person that I am, even if he doesn't love me?
Dinner is now ready, and everyone hurries into the kitchen. I, on the other hand, get distracted by the piano by me. I sit down and stare at the keys for a while.
I play a few notes on the piano; it hadn't been a long time since I actually played the piano. It had helped me get my anger out on the nights I had gotten annoyed with Peyton or Mac. Along with the letters, this helped me forget my anger and I usually would feel a little bit better after playing a few notes. I had gotten interested in playing the piano so much during the past few weeks that I would try making up my own song. I hadn't succeeded on that yet, but with all the things happening in my life right now, it probably wouldn't take long to think of something. But what I began to play wasn't something I had made up on my own, it was a song that reminded me of Mac and I. I was surprised that I started to play the song; I was now getting attention from the others. But it flowed so naturally, like I was supposed to play the song, and I felt if I was home, singing to the walls that surrounded me.
I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
I think to myself, I'll always remember you Mac, but will you remember me? And even though we were an ocean apart, I could just hear his voice saying, "I'll remember you Stella, and I will never forget you." I try not to let my life pass me by, but the more and more I hear this song and wish for Mac's love, I see life slowly passing me by. I'm becoming more distant, I'm letting myself look as if I don't exist. And I am weeping for the memories, knowing that all the times I talked with Mac, on the phone, at work, or when we went to lunch that I could have said to him, "I love you."
Remember the good times that we had?
I let them slip away from us when things got bad
How clearly I first saw you smiling in the sun
Wanna feel your warmth upon me, I wanna be the one
In my head, I'm asking Mac, "Remember the good times that we had?" Ever since he had gone to England for the first time to see Peyton, he seemed to have forgotten us, our friendship. Sure, we're friends now and we still enjoy each other's company, but he doesn't seem the same. He's not the person who I see walking along the streets of New York, smiling to me as he sees me coming. He's not the one who hugs me when I'm grieving. Not anymore. He's not the Mac Taylor I used to know.
I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
I'm so tired, but I can't sleep
Standing on the edge of something much too deep
It's funny on we feel so much, but we cannot say a word
We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard
Sleeping has been hard for the past few weeks, but I know someone who's had trouble sleeping for a long time. I wonder…
The song always brought tears to his eyes. They had been driving back to Peyton's home, when he heard it on the radio. It reminded him of Claire, telling her that he would never forget her. And he knew she, too, would never forget him. But the song also reminded him of Stella, who was in New York City right now, an ocean away, a long distance away from his heart. He turned to look at Peyton, who was sound asleep next to him. He loved her, but after reading Stella's letters, after finding out she loved him and wanted to be with him forever, he started to wonder if he had a liking towards Stella, more than just liking her as a friend.
He still found it hard to sleep, even to this day. He was surprised Peyton hadn't ever noticed him, staying up late into the night. She might have noticed it, but she decided not to mention it only because she didn't want to know the reason why he couldn't sleep. Though he didn't know if he would want to tell her, it was personal and he didn't think she would understand. Stella understood, she always understood his problems. He looked up to the ceiling and whispered quietly so Peyton couldn't hear, "I miss you, Stel."
But I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
So afraid to love you, but more afraid to loose
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose
Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light
I haven't considered the thought, am I afraid to love Mac? I don't believe so, but I am afraid to lose him. I almost lost him as my friend once, would loving him be a risky thing to do? Would I lose my friendship with him if we decided to stop dating?
That's the reason, he thought. He recalled the sentence he had wrote in a letter to Stella only a while ago. I love that you're my best friend, but to love you as you love me, I couldn't do. He wondered if she understood what he was trying to say. She understood everything; surely she would have understood what that sentence had meant. He looked out the window—he had left Peyton to sleep peacefully; he couldn't stare at the ceiling any longer—seeing the city of London and the night sky full of many stars. "I'm afraid to love you, Stella," he whispered. "But I'm more afraid to loose you."
This was the darkness; this was the deep and endless night for me. It was the night Mac hated the most. I need him here to see the light in the day. He needed her here to finally fall asleep, to see the sun rise the next morning.
And I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
And I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories…
"Weep not for the memories," I whisper, playing a few last notes before I say, "Happy Thanksgiving, Mac. I love you with all my heart."
Mac turned to look at Peyton. He loved her, but did he love her as much as his best friend? He turned to look at the window again and whispered, "I hope you're enjoying Thanksgiving, Stel. I miss you."
I turn away from the piano, only to see that a crowd had formed behind me. Of course, I knew that would happen, if you heard someone playing the piano right before you were about to eat your Thanksgiving meal, you'd come to watch the performance. Lindsay's the first one to say anything, and she's in awe. "That was amazing, Stella! I never knew you played the piano or sang!"
I quickly smile. Flack's the next one to comment on my performance, and soon, the rest of the CSI team is following suit. I appreciated all the applause and cheers, but I find myself crying, and I hurry outside. I hate to put people in an uncomfortable position, the others are probably wondering if they should go outside and make sure I'm okay or just continue on with Thanksgiving dinner without me. Lindsay faces the others, tells them to start dinner, and hurries outside.
"Stella?"
I look up at her with tear filled eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't want to ruin Thanksgiving with my crying. Escaping the thought of Mac is just impossible."
"Stella," she says again, taking a seat next to me, "you didn't ruin Thanksgiving at all. That song, I've heard it before. Even I cry when I hear it." I look more closely and see that her eyes are also filled with tears. "It's a sad song, and it took a lot of guts to play it. If Mac heard you, he would immediately rush to your side and apologize for everything he's put you through."
"If only," I say. I wipe away a few tears and sigh. "Look at me, I'm a mess. I must be terrible, weak, selfish boss. I should have considered your feelings and never put you through this. I'm sorry, Lindsay, if you want to, you can go inside and start dinner…"
"Stella," she says for the third time. "Do not call yourself those things. You are not terrible or weak or selfish. You don't have to apologize for anything. You helped me through tough times, now I'm going to help you through this one. And Thanksgiving dinner wouldn't be good without you."
I smile. "Thanks for the offer, Lindsay, but I think I'm just going to go home." I stand up from the step, but before I can leave, Lindsay puts her hand on my arm. I turn to look at her.
"You don't really want to eat alone on Thanksgiving, do you?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. "You probably have nothing made anyway. The others would miss you at dinner…"
I roll my eyes. "Fine, I'll stay for dinner. You're right. I don't have anything prepared for a Thanksgiving dinner alone at my house."
So I enjoy a nice Thanksgiving dinner at Lindsay's house, along with the rest of CSI investigators, or as I like to call them, my friends. We're a little cramped in the small kitchen, but we don't admit it. We don't have to. We're all having too much of a great time to think about the small room. Stories of how holiday dinners or parties take the turn for the worst are passed around the table, and we laugh at how Danny burnt cookies Lindsay told him to make for the evening, and Danny even laughs at himself for making a mistake. And in the end, I'm glad that I attended the party, because if I hadn't, I'd be home watching TV, eating a bowl of ice cream and wishing for Mac to be home. And I'm actually enjoying the evening, which kind of surprised me. Mac might not be here—he's probably already sleeping for that matter, England is five hours ahead of us—but knowing that he's having a great time with Peyton during the holidays makes me happy for him. And knowing he's my best friend makes me even more content, even if he doesn't love me as I love him, because in the end, having him as my friend is better than any gift in the world. If we can always be friends, then that's great. If I'm patient, who knows? Maybe he'll begin to love me, too.
As we clear the table—everyone decided to help with washing the dishes and putting everything away—Flack asks me, "Where did you learn to play the piano and sing like that?"
I shrug. "I guess I just loved singing as a little girl, and nothing stopped me from singing even though I couldn't take singing lessons. And the piano, I don't know, I guess when I play it, it just comes naturally. But I'll admit, I probably annoy the neighbors sometimes."
"Well, you did a wonderful job," Hawkes compliments next. "And you don't annoy your neighbors, you make them jealous because they can't play the piano or sing as well as you can."
I can't help myself, I have to smile.
"Well, if you can master singing and playing the piano," Danny says, "I think I can master not burning the cookies next year. And maybe I could learn from the best on how to make a turkey."
Lindsay blushes. "Danny, your cookies were fine. Anyone could have made a mistake like that. And I'm sure there are others out there who could make a better turkey that me…"
"Nah," Danny says with a shake of his head. "You're the best chef I've ever met, Montana."
Lindsay turns an even brighter shade of red.
"Okay, so we see that you love each other," Flack says. "Now do you want to help me with these dishes or not?"
I walk over to him and examine the dishes he has already washed. "You look like you're doing a good job so far. You don't need our help."
"Very funny, Bonasera, now grab a towel and start drying the dishes."
That made me laugh, and to see Flack hand washing dishes was hilarious. The others helped, too, it made the job quicker and soon enough, all the dishes were washed, dried, and put away. We talked a little more after dinner, but soon we were saying our goodbyes, each of us leaving one after the other. It is when I come home when I see the surprise waiting for me. As I check my email, I see that Mac's written another message for me.
Stella, I wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. I hope all is well, and I wish you a good rest of the holiday weekend. I'll see you on Monday.
Mac
I smile. He remembered me on the holidays. I'm quick to reply back, and I wonder why he's still up and not sleeping.
Mac,
Still not asleep yet? Don't be worrying about me, I had a great Thanksgiving dinner at Lindsay's house, she had invited the CSI team over to her house. And surprisingly, she got Danny to help in the making of the turkey. Danny also tried to perfect making cookies and burnt them instead. But forget that, how about you? How was Thanksgiving for you? If you're still not tired, maybe you can reply back soon?
Counting the days until Monday…three days not including today…can't wait to see you then!
Stella
I watch TV as a wait for his reply, knowing Mac he would have stayed up waiting for my reply, as long as Peyton didn't see him on the computer. And it didn't take him long to reply back, he seemed as eager to talk to me again.
Stella,
Peyton and I did enjoy a nice turkey dinner, just like you, but we didn't have burnt cookies on the menu…Otherwise; we didn't do much else today. But we enjoyed the holidays, and that's what matters. I'm glad to hear you had a good time at Lindsay's party and continue to enjoy the weekend. Only four more days until Monday!
Mac
I'm lying on my bed, my laptop right in front of me, thinking, taking into consideration about how Mac seems to be yearning to come home. He emailed me tonight, something I hadn't expected him to do, and he still hasn't gone to sleep. Maybe I'm wishing too hard, but I believe that Mac is starting to reconsider his feelings for me. Maybe…
