A/N Okay, I have written this chapter over and over again in my mind, so I hope you like it. And BTW, this one, too, is longer than any previous chapter. Oh, and there will still be a chapter 10.
To: morrisi@nyu.magazinedesign.net
From: farrisa@nyu.film.net
Date: 3-27-16 9:25 p.m.
Subj: Irony.
Isabelle,
I spent all day debating what our choices were and how I wanted to follow through with our information. But every time I would decide on a course of action, my mind would automatically gather together EVERY single problem with that decision and I would change my answer. Funny how responsibility weighs on your mind. And it was also funny how I felt that it was my obligation to ensure this couple's happiness. As if the Lord Himself had shoved them into my path saying, "Here. I've got world hunger that I have to deal with. Could you take care of these two, please?"
Which is exactly what I was thinking when I realized that I had left my coat at Mr. Gordon's house. (Okay, so it was YOUR coat. Do you want to focus on the minor details, or hear what happened???) With a sigh of self-irritation, I drove to his apartment after school.
"Come in," he called, and I stepped inside, appreciating the smell of cooking onions and peppers. I didn't know what he was making, but man it smelled good.
He blinked when he saw me. "Oh. Hi, Arwen."
"Hey, Mr. Gordon. I think I left my coat here."
He motioned to his hands that were caked with onion juice and seasoning. "Uh, I kind of shouldn't touch anything," he said, grinning. "Do you remember where you left it?" When I nodded, he added, "Then do you mind getting it? I wouldn't want to ruin YOUR coat." As he said this, his eyes twinkled, and I knew he was aware of who actually owned the thing.
Smiling, I left the room and went into his office and grabbed the coat.
Returning to the kitchen, and approaching the door to take my leave, I took another whiff of the food. "Thanks."
He nodded. "No problem," he replied.
I swallowed back the urge to ask if I could have a taste of whatever it was he was cooking.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he continued, stirring something in a pot.
I bid him goodbye and then reached for the handle. That's when it happened.
The doorbell rang.
I cocked an eyebrow at my teacher. "Expecting a hot date?"
"Hardly." He turned his attention to the door. "Come in!"
I took a step back to allow the person entry.
And almost gasped in surprise when I saw who was standing there in front of me.
In the kitchen, there was the sound of shattering glass and in spite of the situation unfolding before my eyes, I found myself thinking, 'Heh. I'm sure he can replace that.'
She seemed to be hovering in the hallway, uncertain of what to do.
Lizzie McGuire.
"Hi…" she said, shifting her eyes from Mr. Gordon to me. I chanced a look back at him.
If one hadn't heard the sound of breaking china just a moment ago, they would have no idea how shocked he was to see the woman standing there. His eyes were dark with anger his jaw clenched with resentment.
He didn't bend over to pick up whatever it was he had broken. "Lizzie."
I recognized that tone, and felt sorry for the girl. That was his, "I've caught you cheating and boy are you in trouble" voice.
"Gordo." She wrung her hands nervously, and glanced at me.
"I think I'll be going…" I said, my voice trailing away.
"No," Mr. Gordon, interrupted, wiping off his hands (thank goodness!) with a dishrag and approaching us. Or, rather, her. "Whatever it is Lizzie wants to say, it certainly is not private. Plus, it's not exactly appropriate for me to be alone with a married woman."
I winced, and moved back so that they were staring each other in the eye.
"He's right," she admitted after a minute, smiling at me sympathetically. She must have had some idea of what was going through my mind at that moment. Something that felt suspiciously like fear.
I was fearful for them.
"What I have to say… I don't just want to tell him." Her lips quivered. "I want to tell the whole world."
And it wasn't until this very moment that I realized the decision had been made for me.
We weren't going to have to do a thing.
He waited.
Here it came. The moment of truth. She took in a deep breath, and I held mine. "Gordo… When we started dating, I was so unbelievably happy. You know, you made me happier than I'd have guessed was possible. It was great. To be in love with someone that loved me back, I mean. But it was almost immediate that these doubts started plaguing my mind. You were so smart. And I was… not. I got good enough grades and all, but there could no comparison. You left me, intelligence-wise, in the dust. But even then, it was okay. Because when we were together I didn't FEEL stupid. You wouldn't let me. It was one of those connection things. Despite my doubts, I knew my in heart that we were supposed to be together. And then it happened. You got accepted into that school. The one in Seattle. On a full scholarship. So far away. Don't get me wrong-I was proud of you. Incredibly proud. But then all those fears I'd been suppressing were suddenly very close to the surface. And I never said a word because I knew it would put a damper on your excitement, and above all else I wanted you, my Gordo, to be happy. So you left. And despite the fact that I'd promised to call I just couldn't. I pictured all the girls there, tons, as smart as you and prettier than me. So I resolved to let you go. You should know, Gordo, that a thousand times I reached for the phone, a thousand times I dialed your number and a thousand times I hung up before it rang. I was so afraid of hearing those heart-wrenching words: 'Sorry, Lizzie, but I've found someone else.' I figured it was better not knowing. That way I could imagine that you were out there, somewhere, aching for me the was I was aching for you. I heard about your movie, and you seemed content. Occasionally, I'd think about trying to get in touch with you, but I couldn't bring myself to disrupt your life."
As she paused to take a breath, I looked over at my teacher. His eyes had softened and there was something in them that made me feel so sorry for him. Something that looked like regret.
"Lizzie, I really appreciate you coming out here just to tell me all that," he said, "but I don't really see what good it does. You're still married."
She bit her lower lip, and I was very aware of what was coming. Inwardly, I cheered her on.
"Just listen. Anyway, so I started dating Ethan, someone I knew I was smarter than. And besides, he was very sweet and seemed to care about me a lot. It didn't really matter to me WHO I was with, since I couldn't be with you. When he asked me to marry him, I said sure, knowing that you were beyond my reach. But there was this part of me, Gordo, that held on. That couldn't truly let go of us. So I wrote that letter to you, inwardly begging for you to fly out there and tell me that you needed me. And I got your letter, and it was exactly what I wanted. But I still couldn't quite convince myself to go after you. I guess I wanted you to rescue me. Finally the big day came, and there I was in my wedding dress. I'd told my mom to watch for you, and when she said you weren't out there, I panicked. What was I doing? I didn't want to marry Ethan. I couldn't even picture kissing him without wishing it was you. So…" For whatever reason she stole a look at me, and I gave her a smile. She cleared her throat. "So, I got to the alter and turned to Ethan before the Preacher even said a word. 'Are you sure about this,' I asked him softly. I didn't want to hurt him, but how much happier about this could he be? He said no. And so… So we didn't get married. I'm not married, Gordo." She was crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How I could? Did you really think I could marry anyone but you? As if there is anyone in the world that I could love even a percentage of how I love you. And I know that I've probably messed things up, and I know that you probably don't feel the same way about me anymore, but when I discovered that you were living here in New York I figured that it was a sign. That I had to tell you the truth." She hung her head as she added, "I'm so sorry for lying to you."
The ball was now in his court. I swallowed back the words of encouragement rising in my throat. It was up to him.
Slowly, he stepped forward. Reaching out with a trembling hand, he brushed away her tears. "I forgive you," he whispered.
She raised her eyes to meet his. "You do?" she asked, so softly I almost couldn't hear her.
"Yes."
I watched silently, now unable to move even if I'd wanted to.
He took a deep breath. "It's my fault too, you know," he began. "I should have noticed something was up when we were together but I was so glad that you loved me in return that I guess a part of me just didn't want to see any problems. I figured that if I ignored them then they weren't really there. And when I went off to college, I reverted back to how I was in middle school-uncertain of how you felt. You were so nice, I'd tell myself, that maybe you just felt sorry for me. I kept assuring myself that if you did care about me then you would call ME. And then when I heard about Ethan… I read the words. That you didn't love him. That you loved me. And yet I couldn't convince myself to go to the wedding and fight for the woman I love. I'm so sorry."
She smiled through the tears welling up once more in her eyes. "I forgive you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
And then FINALLY it happened. Each brushing their hands against each other's cheeks, they leaned in to each other and kissed. And kissed. And kissed. Moving quietly, I left his apartment, and said a quick prayer of thanks. Go them.
Arwen
To: mcguire@la.net
From: gordond@nyu.filmdepartment.net
Date: 3-27-16 10:25 p.m.
Subj: Finding Lizzie
Well, Matthew, I gotta know. How many hours did you spend debating whether or not to tell me that Lizzie and I were living in the same city? 6? 7? More? Well, it doesn't matter any longer because today we found each other.
It was so odd. A student had come by (you know, the one I asked to house sit for me over the weekend) to pick up her friend's coat that she had left during her stay, when the doorbell rang. Did I expect it to be my soul mate? I think "No" is quite the understatement, but it'll do.
Anyway, Lizzie came in and, to make a long story short, we talked. She told me about the almost-wedding, and we discussed our mutual fears that we'd acquired when we first began our relationship.
And we kissed. At some point, Arwen slipped out, but I don't know when.
And when broke apart, my Lizzie and I, we ate dinner together, for the first time in so many years.
She left about an hour ago.
Tomorrow we're both taking a day off of our prospective jobs to just spend time together. I have a question I need to ask her, but I think I'm pretty confident of what her answer will be. Wish me luck. Although, where Lizzie and I are concerned, I believe that it is clear we do not need it.
After all, someone up there is watching out for us.
Gordo
To: morrisi@nyu.magazinedesign.net
From: farrisa@nyu.film.net
Date: 3-27-16 9:25 p.m.
Subj: Irony.
Isabelle,
I spent all day debating what our choices were and how I wanted to follow through with our information. But every time I would decide on a course of action, my mind would automatically gather together EVERY single problem with that decision and I would change my answer. Funny how responsibility weighs on your mind. And it was also funny how I felt that it was my obligation to ensure this couple's happiness. As if the Lord Himself had shoved them into my path saying, "Here. I've got world hunger that I have to deal with. Could you take care of these two, please?"
Which is exactly what I was thinking when I realized that I had left my coat at Mr. Gordon's house. (Okay, so it was YOUR coat. Do you want to focus on the minor details, or hear what happened???) With a sigh of self-irritation, I drove to his apartment after school.
"Come in," he called, and I stepped inside, appreciating the smell of cooking onions and peppers. I didn't know what he was making, but man it smelled good.
He blinked when he saw me. "Oh. Hi, Arwen."
"Hey, Mr. Gordon. I think I left my coat here."
He motioned to his hands that were caked with onion juice and seasoning. "Uh, I kind of shouldn't touch anything," he said, grinning. "Do you remember where you left it?" When I nodded, he added, "Then do you mind getting it? I wouldn't want to ruin YOUR coat." As he said this, his eyes twinkled, and I knew he was aware of who actually owned the thing.
Smiling, I left the room and went into his office and grabbed the coat.
Returning to the kitchen, and approaching the door to take my leave, I took another whiff of the food. "Thanks."
He nodded. "No problem," he replied.
I swallowed back the urge to ask if I could have a taste of whatever it was he was cooking.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he continued, stirring something in a pot.
I bid him goodbye and then reached for the handle. That's when it happened.
The doorbell rang.
I cocked an eyebrow at my teacher. "Expecting a hot date?"
"Hardly." He turned his attention to the door. "Come in!"
I took a step back to allow the person entry.
And almost gasped in surprise when I saw who was standing there in front of me.
In the kitchen, there was the sound of shattering glass and in spite of the situation unfolding before my eyes, I found myself thinking, 'Heh. I'm sure he can replace that.'
She seemed to be hovering in the hallway, uncertain of what to do.
Lizzie McGuire.
"Hi…" she said, shifting her eyes from Mr. Gordon to me. I chanced a look back at him.
If one hadn't heard the sound of breaking china just a moment ago, they would have no idea how shocked he was to see the woman standing there. His eyes were dark with anger his jaw clenched with resentment.
He didn't bend over to pick up whatever it was he had broken. "Lizzie."
I recognized that tone, and felt sorry for the girl. That was his, "I've caught you cheating and boy are you in trouble" voice.
"Gordo." She wrung her hands nervously, and glanced at me.
"I think I'll be going…" I said, my voice trailing away.
"No," Mr. Gordon, interrupted, wiping off his hands (thank goodness!) with a dishrag and approaching us. Or, rather, her. "Whatever it is Lizzie wants to say, it certainly is not private. Plus, it's not exactly appropriate for me to be alone with a married woman."
I winced, and moved back so that they were staring each other in the eye.
"He's right," she admitted after a minute, smiling at me sympathetically. She must have had some idea of what was going through my mind at that moment. Something that felt suspiciously like fear.
I was fearful for them.
"What I have to say… I don't just want to tell him." Her lips quivered. "I want to tell the whole world."
And it wasn't until this very moment that I realized the decision had been made for me.
We weren't going to have to do a thing.
He waited.
Here it came. The moment of truth. She took in a deep breath, and I held mine. "Gordo… When we started dating, I was so unbelievably happy. You know, you made me happier than I'd have guessed was possible. It was great. To be in love with someone that loved me back, I mean. But it was almost immediate that these doubts started plaguing my mind. You were so smart. And I was… not. I got good enough grades and all, but there could no comparison. You left me, intelligence-wise, in the dust. But even then, it was okay. Because when we were together I didn't FEEL stupid. You wouldn't let me. It was one of those connection things. Despite my doubts, I knew my in heart that we were supposed to be together. And then it happened. You got accepted into that school. The one in Seattle. On a full scholarship. So far away. Don't get me wrong-I was proud of you. Incredibly proud. But then all those fears I'd been suppressing were suddenly very close to the surface. And I never said a word because I knew it would put a damper on your excitement, and above all else I wanted you, my Gordo, to be happy. So you left. And despite the fact that I'd promised to call I just couldn't. I pictured all the girls there, tons, as smart as you and prettier than me. So I resolved to let you go. You should know, Gordo, that a thousand times I reached for the phone, a thousand times I dialed your number and a thousand times I hung up before it rang. I was so afraid of hearing those heart-wrenching words: 'Sorry, Lizzie, but I've found someone else.' I figured it was better not knowing. That way I could imagine that you were out there, somewhere, aching for me the was I was aching for you. I heard about your movie, and you seemed content. Occasionally, I'd think about trying to get in touch with you, but I couldn't bring myself to disrupt your life."
As she paused to take a breath, I looked over at my teacher. His eyes had softened and there was something in them that made me feel so sorry for him. Something that looked like regret.
"Lizzie, I really appreciate you coming out here just to tell me all that," he said, "but I don't really see what good it does. You're still married."
She bit her lower lip, and I was very aware of what was coming. Inwardly, I cheered her on.
"Just listen. Anyway, so I started dating Ethan, someone I knew I was smarter than. And besides, he was very sweet and seemed to care about me a lot. It didn't really matter to me WHO I was with, since I couldn't be with you. When he asked me to marry him, I said sure, knowing that you were beyond my reach. But there was this part of me, Gordo, that held on. That couldn't truly let go of us. So I wrote that letter to you, inwardly begging for you to fly out there and tell me that you needed me. And I got your letter, and it was exactly what I wanted. But I still couldn't quite convince myself to go after you. I guess I wanted you to rescue me. Finally the big day came, and there I was in my wedding dress. I'd told my mom to watch for you, and when she said you weren't out there, I panicked. What was I doing? I didn't want to marry Ethan. I couldn't even picture kissing him without wishing it was you. So…" For whatever reason she stole a look at me, and I gave her a smile. She cleared her throat. "So, I got to the alter and turned to Ethan before the Preacher even said a word. 'Are you sure about this,' I asked him softly. I didn't want to hurt him, but how much happier about this could he be? He said no. And so… So we didn't get married. I'm not married, Gordo." She was crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How I could? Did you really think I could marry anyone but you? As if there is anyone in the world that I could love even a percentage of how I love you. And I know that I've probably messed things up, and I know that you probably don't feel the same way about me anymore, but when I discovered that you were living here in New York I figured that it was a sign. That I had to tell you the truth." She hung her head as she added, "I'm so sorry for lying to you."
The ball was now in his court. I swallowed back the words of encouragement rising in my throat. It was up to him.
Slowly, he stepped forward. Reaching out with a trembling hand, he brushed away her tears. "I forgive you," he whispered.
She raised her eyes to meet his. "You do?" she asked, so softly I almost couldn't hear her.
"Yes."
I watched silently, now unable to move even if I'd wanted to.
He took a deep breath. "It's my fault too, you know," he began. "I should have noticed something was up when we were together but I was so glad that you loved me in return that I guess a part of me just didn't want to see any problems. I figured that if I ignored them then they weren't really there. And when I went off to college, I reverted back to how I was in middle school-uncertain of how you felt. You were so nice, I'd tell myself, that maybe you just felt sorry for me. I kept assuring myself that if you did care about me then you would call ME. And then when I heard about Ethan… I read the words. That you didn't love him. That you loved me. And yet I couldn't convince myself to go to the wedding and fight for the woman I love. I'm so sorry."
She smiled through the tears welling up once more in her eyes. "I forgive you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
And then FINALLY it happened. Each brushing their hands against each other's cheeks, they leaned in to each other and kissed. And kissed. And kissed. Moving quietly, I left his apartment, and said a quick prayer of thanks. Go them.
Arwen
To: mcguire@la.net
From: gordond@nyu.filmdepartment.net
Date: 3-27-16 10:25 p.m.
Subj: Finding Lizzie
Well, Matthew, I gotta know. How many hours did you spend debating whether or not to tell me that Lizzie and I were living in the same city? 6? 7? More? Well, it doesn't matter any longer because today we found each other.
It was so odd. A student had come by (you know, the one I asked to house sit for me over the weekend) to pick up her friend's coat that she had left during her stay, when the doorbell rang. Did I expect it to be my soul mate? I think "No" is quite the understatement, but it'll do.
Anyway, Lizzie came in and, to make a long story short, we talked. She told me about the almost-wedding, and we discussed our mutual fears that we'd acquired when we first began our relationship.
And we kissed. At some point, Arwen slipped out, but I don't know when.
And when broke apart, my Lizzie and I, we ate dinner together, for the first time in so many years.
She left about an hour ago.
Tomorrow we're both taking a day off of our prospective jobs to just spend time together. I have a question I need to ask her, but I think I'm pretty confident of what her answer will be. Wish me luck. Although, where Lizzie and I are concerned, I believe that it is clear we do not need it.
After all, someone up there is watching out for us.
Gordo