A/N: Guess what everybody! I have no idea what Miranda's mom is named, so I named her myself! It's very creative, I know. *cough cough* Yeah, creative.
*stares at review page* Wow. I didn't think it was possible to get 43 reviews for one chapter, but… well, it just goes to show you. I'm very grateful. All of them were very uplifting, and it really inspired me to continue (well, I was going to anyway, but still. ^_^). I know it took me about 10 light-years to update, but as I keep saying to my email friends and you guys (who are also my friends too, but in a different way *grins*), I am immensely busy with schoolwork and tests and stuff… and of course, I need to keep my grade up. *winks*
btw, to anyone who cares, I have a 4.0 GPA! Yay!
Thanks again: for sticking with me 'till the end. Sadly enough, this IS the last chapter, no epilogue, no nothing. Enjoy and review!
~Tic-Tac
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Children behave
That's what they say when we're together
And watch how you play
They don't understand and so we're -
- Running just as fast as we can
Holding onto one another's hand
Tryin' to get away into the night
And then you put your arms around me
And we tumble to the ground
And then you say –
- I think we're alone now
There doesn't seem to be anyone around
I think we're alone now
The beating of our hearts
Is the only sound- Tommy James and the Shondells
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Matt McGuire closed the door of his sister's bedroom, and, as if in a daze, began to walk downstairs to his awaiting parents. His hands shaking, his brow sweating, he felt as if he had sent his sister into an unimaginable realm of misery. Reasoning reminded him that he had done nothing wrong, and he was actually helping her, but guilt seeped into his thoughts, choking him. An iron hand clenched ruthlessly around his heart.
Yes, he trusted Gordo. He would trust him with his life. But, this was his sister's life, and now, he wasn't so sure.
Matt craned his head around to look at the door. He said he wouldn't bother her; he said he wouldn't come back. But still, an overwhelming desire to protect her swept over his senses, temporarily blinding his rationale. He bit down, and a tiny trickle of blood ran down his bottom lip. His hand was immediately pressed to the cut, and he cracked his knuckles, contemplating whether or not heroicness was best for the situation he was in.
Was he the hero, anyway? What is a hero?
Does a hero really need courage, or just adrenaline, pumped through their veins at a spur of the moment decision?
He spun around quickly and flung open the door.
He ransacked, with frightful eyes, the nearly spotless room. But it was hopeless. Her bedspread was rumpled and tumbled about, obviously slept in, but she wasn't there. Matt wasn't too surprised; she had practically announced her departure to him.
"Don't tell Mom and Dad," she had said firmly.
But she was gone now, swept through the window and into whoever knows where.
The chilly air engulfed Matt, and he sat down heavily on her bed, peering into the cloudy night sky.
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Gordo and Lizzie sat silently in the front of Gordo's old Toyota truck, not willing to move nor speak. They were both drained - emotionally and physically – and discussing their plight wasn't worth the effort. It was pointless it seemed, to try to either be pessimistic or optimistic. It was easier to lay back and be neutral; not caring; away from the problems that life had to offer.
Lizzie shifted, not uncomfortably, in her seat. "Gordo," she asked in a barely audible whisper, "what are we going to do? What are we going to say?"
He looked straight ahead - through the window-shield and into the hostile ambiance beyond. "We'll figure it out in time."
His words scared her. They were dry and meaningless, strung together like a last-minute Christmas ornament.
But Lizzie, anxious for herself and Gordo, didn't reply. Instead, she just laid her hand over his.
They lapsed into silence again.
"Are you scared, Gordo?" she finally asked.
"No."
"Mad?"
"No."
"Worried?"
"No." He sighed deeply. "Lizzie, I'm not sure what I'm feeling." He looked dotingly into her subterranean hazel eyes. "I'm sorry."
Their loving gazes met in an inaudible agreement. He looked down at the floor of the truck.
"Let's start back," Lizzie suggested plaintively. Nodding, Gordo slid the key into the ignition, shifted into gear, and pressed his foot gingerly to the pedal. The truck lurched forward and groaned, as if it had been sitting uselessly in the same position for a decade.
Gordo, though driving, entered into his own world of thoughts. He was lying when he told Lizzie that he didn't know how he felt. That was a downright fib. Of course he knew how he felt. He was lost, teetering precariously between two unreachable realities. He loved Lizzie with all his heart, and knew that she loved him too. And that's what hurt so badly. More than anything, he wanted to scoop her up in his arms, press kisses to her body, and express his undying, passionate love to her. He wanted to feel at home with her, wake up with her; he didn't want anything to come between them, rip her away from him; send him into years of hell all over again.
But the love he held in the corner of his heart still pulsed for his family. His mother and father, though monotone and stereotypical, were still his parents. And as unfair as they were, they still expected him to find a nice Jewish girl, fall in love with her, and bind her to him with the ancient Ketubah document. Howard and Roberta had stuck firmly to their beliefs, and when, one day, Gordo had yelled that Lizzie McGuire was his bashert, his perfect match, they went ballistic, not willing to believe that their genius son could be so simpleminded and naïve.
Gordo had held his ground, never agreeing with Howard and Roberta, never wavering. Soon, his parents had forgotten about his whole outburst, and were readying themselves for the day when he would meet a girl who shared their religious beliefs. But Gordo didn't want a rabbi to pronounce him the husband of just anybody.
Eyes lit with a newfound courage, Gordo, with his hand on the wheel, pulled over to the side of the road.
Lizzie watched him with a bemused expression. "Gordo? What are you doing?"
He didn't say a word. Instead, he unbuckled their seatbelts, and pulled Lizzie close to him, pressing his cheek to her strawberry-scented hair.
"I love you," he told her. She smiled against his shoulder.
"Ditto," she joked. His face bright with adoring admiration, he kissed her forehead, her brow, and then her sweet, upturned mouth. Lizzie dissolved again, swept into a flurry of love and passion.
"I want to always be here for you, Lizzie," he started solemnly, "I always want to love and protect you."
"I know." Her fingers found his, and they intertwined. Gordo's azure eyes found hers, and steadily, slowly, he spoke.
"Till death do us part," he whispered.
Five words. Five words that seal a romantic bond between two people, stating that they are willing to share a lifestyle, a home, a family. To share their love, and be loved in return. As the meaning of those five words sunk in, Lizzie's eyes widened in confusion and dismay.
"Gordo…" she started.
He brought his lips to hers in a tender kiss. "I love you Lizzie. I always have, and I always will." Her eyes welled with tears. "If I could foretell the future, I would have never left your side. I would have never let that bastard touch you again." He smiled sadly, as though he regretted this thought very much. "I'm sorry for everything that happened, Lizzie. Everything was disoriented. I was confused and foolish to run." He held himself tall and proud. "But I'm not confused any longer." He smiled, and took one of her hands in his own. "Elizabeth McGuire, what I'm trying to say is… will you marry me?"
The spoken sound of those words sent Lizzie into disbelieving shock, and she just sat in the passenger's seat of the battled old Toyota, mulling over what he had just asked her. Her throat went dry, and she stared at Gordo fixedly, as if trying to read his mind.
If two years earlier, Lizzie had received indication of what was happening, she wouldn't have believed it. If two years earlier, she knew that Gordo was proposing to her, and that she had gotten raped by her former boyfriend, she would have laughed out loud, and taken it as one huge scam.
But now, Lizzie realized, she was different. And looking into Gordo's mellow, heartfelt eyes, she was uplifted in gratitude and love, and the prospect of marriage wasn't so scary anymore.
Hadn't her mother said that friendship upholds the finest relationships?
Gordo watched Lizzie patiently, unsure of what to make of her expression. When she turned to him, her face was smiling, and her eyes were sparkling. "Yes." Grateful tears cascaded down her face. "David Gordon, I will marry you."
An expression of utmost joy swept to his face, and he smiled widely, pulling her into a loving embrace. Lizzie nuzzled into his neck comfortably, and closed her eyes, thinking about what she had just said. It hadn't felt like a commitment at all. It just felt like an enforcement, backing up their loving relationship.
When they pulled away, Gordo kissed her chastely, and said, "I know I don't have a ring, but I give you my word. I'll buy you one as soon as possible. I promise."
But that wasn't Lizzie's concern at all. "Oh Gordo," she said in dismay, "your parents… my parents…"
"I'll talk to them, Lizzie, don't worry."
Lizzie seemed reassured slightly, but a slightly panicky expression passed over her features.
"You don't think we're rushing this? It's barely been an hour since our first kiss."
Gordo had to smile. "Lizzie, how long have we been friends?"
Lizzie stared back at him, baffled. "Seventeen years. Gordo, you know that."
Gordo kissed her forehead soothingly. "That's how long I've loved you."
The trueness of the statement surged through Lizzie's body, and the satisfying realization made her heart flutter in happiness. Gordo smiled, and said, "You see, Liz, we're always loved each other, even if it was just when we were three years old. It just takes time to appreciate and welcome the feeling." Lizzie smiled softly back at him; his smile was contagious.
For a precious moment, not a word was spoken. And in that time, millions of people around the world kissed their spouse, blinded with fixated infatuation.
"I love you so much, Gordo…" Lizzie told him, struggling not to cry, "You've always been so kind to me; so compassionate. I know that I was so thick sometimes, and I'm extremely sorry. I took you for granted, Gordo, and I resent every minute I ever thought down of you." She kissed him fervently, but the fear of losing him was back. "Our parents…"
He squeezed her hand gently, and traced his finger along her cheekbone. "Yasher koach, Liz. Have strength."
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Miranda Sanchez, with difficulty, spread the cheese and egg mixture onto the thin, fragile fillo dough. Her washed hands worked frantically, folding the papery dough from one corner to another, creating a small triangle. As soon as she was done, she picked up a wooden brush, and swabbed the melted butter onto each flat side. She then wiped her greasy fingers on the blue and red flowery apron; tied carelessly around her slender waist.
"Perfection," she proudly announced.
Her mother came down the stairs; slippers dragging, eyes puffy. Her head turned towards Miranda, and she sighed heavily, stifling a yawn.
"Miranda… why are you up?" She didn't look angry, just tired.
Miranda gestured toward her finished work with pride. "I was making some cheese boereg, Mama."
She smiled. "Must you make Greek food, darling? Why not burritos or enchiladas?"
Miranda shrugged. "I was sick of those." She picked up the cookie sheet, and carried it to the oven. She slid it in carefully, and shut the door. "There we go. They'll be done in about fifteen minutes."
Miranda's mother shook her head in exasperation, but smiled all the same.
Suddenly, the phone rang shrilly, and they both jumped in surprise. Her mother swore in Spanish.
"Who would be calling at this time?" she asked, picking up the phone almost angrily, and saying, "¿Hola?"
As she listened, her facial features softened, then her eyes widened. After about a minute, she gasped and clutched at her heart. "Si… si… we will be over soon…" she managed to expel. Her eyes were no longer angry and tired-looking. They were filled with a pity Miranda had never seen before.
"Mama?" Miranda asked carefully, "What is it, Mama?"
Her mother peered at her through her tears. "Lizzie, darling. Lizzie has been raped."
Miranda just stared ahead, not willing to believe something so ferocious and inhuman had happened to her best friend. Tears began to well up in her eyes, and soon, she was sobbing, huddled against her mother's breast for support. Her mother rocked her back and forth, kissing the top of her head soothingly.
"Come come, Miranda. We will drive to the McGuire's house now."
She sat silently in the back of her parent's minivan, staring fixedly at a wrinkle in her mother's nightgown. Miranda and her mother had not bothered to change into proper clothes. It didn't seem to matter. It was such a trivial decision, and Miranda wanted to get to the McGuire's as soon as she possibly could. She had to be there for Lizzie.
"Poor dear," Miranda's mother muttered, eyes focused on the dark road ahead, "… Must be heartbroken."
Miranda's head was lowered to the palm of her head. "I would just die if I was in her place."
"All of us would think that now, wouldn't we?"
Clearly it was rhetorical, or Miranda didn't bother to respond.
Soon, they pulled into the driveway, and Miranda immediately jumped out, not even waiting for the car to pull to a stop. Mr. and Mrs. McGuire were standing in the doorstep. Sam was ashen faced, and Jo was wringing her hands relentlessly. Her eyes were red as if she had just been crying.
When Miranda reached them, she was pulled into a hug, and Jo sobbed onto her shoulder. Tears leaked from Miranda's eyes.
"L-Lizzie's up in her room, sweetheart," Jo told her, wiping her face with a used handkerchief. Sam couldn't seem to summon words. He just stared at Miranda and her mother as if they weren't there. As if they were invisible, undistinguishable. His hands, usually holding all kinds of kits and supplies for various projects, were shaking and pastel white, almost transparent.
Miranda turned on her heel, walked into the barren house, and proceeded to walk up the stairs. Her footsteps seemed to echo extraordinarily loud in the dimly lit corridor.
Somehow nervous and anxious, Miranda began to dread seeing her best friend in so much pain. And when she reached the door, she almost turned her head.
But she opened it, and instead of all the bloody and gruesome imaginings she had thought up, all she saw was Matt. In confusion, she strode quickly toward the 15-year-old. He sensed her presence, and turned his head sorrowfully.
"Where is she?" Miranda asked, suppressing the panic-stricken meltdown boiling inside her throat. He sighed deeply, seemingly in no hurry.
"I don't know."
Miranda hissed, "What do you mean you don't know!?"
He gestured towards the window. "The world's a large place, Miranda."
"Are you telling me that Lizzie RAN AWAY!?" She was in hysteria. Bloodshot eyes shot around the tidy room.
Matt said calmly, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."
"Why would she do a God-damned thing like that?" Miranda gritted her teeth. "Matt McGuire, you aren't making a bit of sense!"
He walked over to the door and closed it. "Do you even know what happened? Or were my parents too ashamed to tell you?"
Miranda stopped short, and looked directly into Matt's pale blue eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Lizzie left, Miranda, because she's in love."
Miranda's face twisted into confusion, but before she could question him, Matt reached into his back pocket and handed her a crumpled slip of paper. "This was part of Lizzie's eighteenth birthday."
"Where -?"
"Just read."
Lizzie –Happy birthday! Can you believe that you're eighteen? We're actually adults! I can still see us covered in mud, laughing our heads off, trying to throw worms at each other. Okay, so that's not the best way to introduce a birthday card, but oh well. You know what I mean.
It seems hard to comprehend that in less than a year, we'll go off to our separate colleges, get an education… Everything seems so distant, untouchable. Nothing seems reasonable. Just think! In less than four years, you could be married! I'd say that's a big step, wouldn't you?
Well, to be truthful, I almost didn't want to write this card. Have you ever had the feeling that you're plunging headfirst into an infinitely large vat of icy darkness? Well, that's how I feel now, as I'm writing. You don't even know how hard this is for me. Let's just say this: Elizabeth McGuire, I have a secret. And if you understand, then I could be the happiest man alive, or if you think I'm crazy… well, I'm not sure what I'll do. Because, you see, I was lying when I said I wasn't interested in dating anyone. I am.
Liz, I'm head over heels in love with you.
Before you scrunch your face up in disgust, rip this paper to shreds, and chuck its remains in the dumpster, please consider this. Please.
Will you go out with me?
Love, your best friend,
-Gordo
Miranda reread the card again, and turned to stare open-mouthed at Matt. "T-this is Gordo's handwriting."
He smiled sadly, reaching a pale finger behind his head and scratching his scalp. "Too true."
"You just… nicked this?" Miranda breathed, disbelieving. "Matt, that's horrible!"
"I didn't steal it. Gordo gave it to me to give to Lizzie. Poor guy. He was really nervous."
She traced her finger over Gordo's tidy scrawl. "Yeah… Did Liz ever read this?"
"No," Matt answered instantaneously. Miranda's face didn't change expression.
"I can't believe it. Who would've thought?" she whispered, staring at the card as if expecting the words to rearrange themselves into a more comprehendible position. Soon, she couldn't help herself, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Gordo and Lizzie." She said the names aloud.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Suddenly, her eyes traveled to the window, then to the letter. "Matt!" she exclaimed sharply, as if she was just struck by lightning. "Why isn't Gordo here?"
He bit his lower lip. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that."
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Rosa Sanchez smoothed her nightgown compulsively, watching Jo and Sam in unease. Not a word had been spoken between them since Miranda had rushed up the stairs to Lizzie, and the uncertain silence threatened to drive Rosa insane with worry.
She tugged at her shawl, afraid to comfort the two devastated parents, lest her efforts open a fresh wound full of pain. She rubbed her forefinger against her thumb apprehensively.
Jo ran a hand through her graying hair. "Rosa… thanks for coming. You're a saint."
"It was the least I could do. And Miranda wouldn't have let me not come."
Jo's smile was faint, tinged with hurt and betrayal. "Yes… yes…"
They sat in silence once again. Rosa gripped her hand tightly around the coffee mug and raised it to her lips. The hot, dark liquid splashed down her parched throat. She was thankful for the interruption, and drank again, savoring the moment. Sam and Jo were watching her intently.
Rosa ran her tongue along her top gums in earnest. "How is Lizzie coping?"
Sam looked at the stairs, and glanced back at her. "Good, I think. W-we…" He gulped and squeezed Jo's clammy hand. "We believe that we have identified the rapist." His voice shook, and his stony face stared right through her, as if she were transparent. A chill went down her spine.
"W-who is it Sam?"
He smiled grimly and clearly announced, "Her best friend."
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"Gordo!" she cried, and slapped his arm playfully. "Stop making blonde jokes! It's immature!"
He laughed, and ran his hands up her shoulders. "Too immature for my future wife?" He brought his lips to hers and enclosed around them passionately. She chuckled through the kiss.
"Especially for your future wife." His hands were at her collarbone, massaging her sore shoulder muscles. She was still laughing softly, pressing up against him in earnest. He shifted his body so that he was positioned on top of her, and planted kisses from her mouth to her neck. She squirmed underneath him, accepting his closeness with another deep kiss.
"How about my best friend?" he moaned, kissing her smooth neck again. "Is it too immature for my best friend?"
She chuckled and touched his luscious lips with her forefinger. "Your best friend acknowledges your immature behavior, and believes you were born with it." Her hands slid underneath his shirt, and were pressed against his chest lovingly. He stared into her infatuated eyes and laughed softly, kissing her sweet lips.
"I love you," he told her huskily, touching her forehead with his own. Her hands caressed his bare chest.
"I know," was all she said, and kissed him overpoweringly. " By the way, Gordo… should I call you David now? Now that we're getting married?" Her voice was hoarse, brimming with lust and desire.
He couldn't think. He couldn't feel. And before he could stop himself, his hands were groping at her bra-strap, desperate to unclasp it. Every second he didn't feel her body underneath him was slowly killing him; crushing him. His common sense had been stored away in the far corner of his brain, and now, plugged with animal instincts and longing, he began to pull her shirt off over her head.
Lips found lips, and breathing became labored and difficult. Hearts were pounding in excited chests.
All of a sudden, her shirt halfway off, she said with much difficulty, "Gordo… please stop…"
It was difficult, but her pleading voice broke through his semiconscious mind, and he pulled away awkwardly. "Lizzie…" he whispered desperately, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry… Oh God… I didn't mean -,"
She was shaking, the fear of sexual activity replaying over in her mind. "Gordo…" She began to weep. "I want to Gordo, I want to…" He lifted himself off of her and sat a distance away. "But I can't…" Her eyes filled with tears. "I love you, David Gordon, but I can't."
He watched her internal struggle, and suddenly felt like a traitor. "I-I can't believe I did that, Liz… I'm so sorry…"
She touched his arm, her eyes watery. "I egged you on. I shouldn't have. It's not your fault."
He managed a small smile. "You mean it wasn't entirely my fault." She rubbed her neck, and allowed a watery smile to leak through her tears.
"Yeah."
"Well, that settles it." His bright attitude calmed her, and she began to relax. She reached behind her back and clasped her bra-strap once again. Then, she pulled down her shirt.
Gordo turned his head in respect while Lizzie did this, and when he looked back at her, she was still pale, but her eyes were smiling, expressing emotion that her mouth could not.
"Let's go," she said carefully. They swapped seats, and Gordo grabbed the wheel one hand, and Lizzie's clammy hand in another. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.
"I love you, Lizzie." He smiled softly, and turned to the road. The car started up (with Gordo's consistent pleading), and it began to lumber down the road slowly, creaking and groaning with the effort. As expected, the young couple was silent.
Gordo was mentally torturing himself; insulting his self-indulgence, cursing his dignity. He could scarcely believe that he had let his feelings brainwash his rationale. It was extraordinary. Nothing – or no one, for that matter – had made him that… vulnerable before. Gordo liked to think that he had that situation all under control, but, he reasoned, if Lizzie hadn't stopped him…
Gordo cursed inwardly. He was as bad as Bryan. He really couldn't be trusted with Sam McGuire's only daughter…
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Miranda's face turned pale, and her dark lashes stood out terrifically against her white skin. "No… G-Gordo wouldn't… Mr. McGuire wouldn't…"
Matt shifted himself on the bed, and felt tears at the corner of his eyes. But, he did not cry. Crying would admit that this nightmare was indeed happening within his own sanctuary, his home. Crying would enunciate his fears. Instead, he put his small arm around Miranda's shaking shoulders, and whispered, "I'm sorry you had to hear it from me."
She wept onto his shoulder, and Matt was shocked beyond belief. Miranda didn't cry. She was the strong one; the hardcore, take-no-prisoners best friend of Lizzie's. But here she was: tears spilling out of her eyes, body shaking in grief. Matt was frozen, and he patted her shoulder awkwardly.
Suddenly, it was over. Miranda's black-haired head was raised off of Matt's shoulder, and Matt watched her in fascination as she wiped the tears away from her dark, endless orbs.
She pursed her lips. "This is shit."
Without another word, she stormed over to Lizzie's bedroom door, flung it open, and proceeded to walk - almost calmly - downstairs. Matt was speechless.
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Rosa clutched at her heart. "No…"
Sam was white-faced with anger and regret. "I'm afraid to say it, but…"
Rosa stared at him, shaking her head in disbelief. "Sam, be reasonable… David?" She shook her head again. "David, of all people." She rubbed the side of her olive-skinned face with a shaking hand. "No."
"Rosa, I'm telling you, I saw -,"
"Mr. McGuire!" Miranda ran down the stairs, black hair flying out of its messy bun. "Mr. McGuire, I can't believe you did that!" Her eyes were flashing angrily, reflecting all of the rage she was feeling.
Rosa started to stand up. "Miranda… darling…"
"Mama, please." Miranda turned away from her mother to glare at her best friend's father. "Mr. McGuire, I can't stand this anymore. Gordo didn't do anything wrong!"
Sam's eye twitched. "David raped my daughter."
Her fists clenched and settled next to her hips. Slowly, after a moment of silence, her expression softened. "Why are you doing this to yourself, Mr. McGuire? You know as well as I that Gordo would never lay so much as a hand on Lizzie without her permission."
Sam seemed to be having trouble breathing. "I saw him with her! I saw him with her in his arms! What else could I do?!" he erupted, throwing up his hands in dismay. Miranda bit her lip.
"Is that enough to accuse him of rape?" she asked carefully, sheltering her anger.
Sam had had enough. "I'm worried about my baby! Is that enough for you, Miranda? I needed -,"
"-A scapegoat?" Miranda provided. Sam's flaming eyes flickered and died.
"If… you… want… to… talk… to Lizzie… about it, then do so." His expression was dead and tired, and his breath was drawn slowly, as if it were his last. "Go on. I won't stop you."
But Miranda just stood in the middle of the room, unmoving.
"Mr. McGuire, she's gone."
To Miranda's utter surprise, he just closed his eyes.
"Goddamn him."
Unexpectedly, Rosa, Jo, and Miranda all jumped as a loud knock echoed throughout the living room. Miranda ran to the door, hopeful of who was behind it. She was shaking in anticipation and worry, and flung open the door, saying desperately, "Gordo… Lizzie… we were so worr -,"
"Hello Miranda." Howard and Roberta Gordon stood in doorway, calm and collected as ever. Miranda stumbled over her words.
"H-hello." She couldn't gather words together. "C-come in."
They walked into the living room. Roberta's lips were pressed together tightly, and Howard was glancing angrily around the room, as if he were looking for someone to punish.
Sam's eyes strayed to Mr. Gordon. "Howard," he acknowledged. His fake chipper smile was as cold as iron.
Roberta sat on one end of the couch, but Howard stood, still gazing intently at Sam. "Hello Sam."
Jo felt a tremor of dread run through her body.
"I called the police," Howard Gordon announced grimly. Miranda gasped on impulse.
"Mr. Gordon, what -," she started, but her mother stopped her. Fortunately, Jo expressed the same amazement and outrage.
"You called the police on your own son?" she started, talking for the first time the night. "What the hell were you thinking?!"
Roberta's tight lips grew – if possible – tighter. "It's best for your daughter, Jo."
They stared at each other. Best friends since high school, they always got along. They never fought. When Jo's children were born, Roberta was always across the street to lend a helping hand. When Roberta first had a miscarriage, Jo was there to weep with her. They were best friends. The absolute best kind of friends.
"But what about your son?" Jo questioned carefully, minutes later. "He – we – we're not even sure he did anything wrong…"
Howard jumped in. "He was bound to explode, Jo. He was best friends with girls all his life. He had no experience being a man." Roberta glanced at her husband, but did not say a word. She was torn.
"So you're saying that David had to 'experience being a man' by raping his best friend?" Jo asked grimly, "If that's true, then I'm not sure I trust men anymore." She shook her head. "Howard, this isn't making sense at all. I know David. He wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone."
At this point, Rosa steered Miranda out of the room, and herded her up the stairs in earnest. "Let's go…" she had said. Miranda, instead of arguing, just nodded mutely, and followed her mother up the winding staircase.
Sam watched the pair, then looked at his wife. His eyes closed for a second, then they fluttered open. "I agree." Jo gave him a watery smile, and Roberta seemed to breath a sigh of utmost relief. But Howard looked surprised and almost angry.
Howard started, "Sam -,"
Everybody stopped talking.
There was a tentative knock at the door.
Jo stood up first. Carefully, she walked to the door and opened it, stepping out into the cold night.
Her face broke into an immensely thankful smile, topped off with a little sob. "Lizzie."
She was engulfed into her mother's arms without question or hesitation, and she was glad. The homely patchouli-scented perfume smelled wonderful to her, and her mother's soft embrace was enough to make her cry out in joy and relief. Lizzie buried her head onto her mother's shoulder and sobbed like a little girl just awoken from a nightmare, and brought to the kitchen for a mug of hot cocoa and biscuits. Her mother held her close, pressing her warm cheek into the slightly sweating hair of her child.
"Mommy…" Lizzie cried into the soft shoulder.
Gordo stood a way's back, watching the reunion between his best friend and fiancé and her mother… his impending mother-in-law. He felt nervousness, yes, but also fear - cloudy, unreadable fear. His palms were perspiring profusely.
Jo suddenly turned her head to Gordo, her arms still wrapped around her eldest child. "Gordo," she acknowledged.
His mouth went dry; the words died on the tip of his tongue. "How are you, Mrs. McGuire?" was all he could manage.
A trace of a smile. "We should be asking how you are, Gordo." She strode over to him, and to his surprise, embraced his shaking body. "We are so sorry we ever doubted you." She released him and kissed him on the cheek. Lizzie managed a dilute smile to direct towards him.
"Let's go inside." Jo led them inside, and they were immediately greeted with an assortment of welcomes. Sam instantaneously rushed to his daughter and held her against him, crying, kissing her head, and rocking her back and forth. Roberta and Howard stared openmouthed at the Lizzie and Gordo, for they had never been informed of Lizzie's runaway, and the sight of her walking through the front door with their son surprised them greatly. A loud shriek and a pounding of footsteps introduced Miranda, running, full speed, into Gordo. Rosa came after her, smiling brightly, but also worriedly. Matt appeared at the top of the stairs and rushed down to his sister, embracing her in a monstrous hug, and almost laughing in relief.
After being mobbed by her friends and family, Lizzie returned to Gordo and buried herself against him. His strong, compact arms held her close. Everybody watched this action in amazement except for Matt and Miranda, who just exchanged a knowing smile.
Howard addressed his son, still dazed with confusion and shock. "Where the hell have you been?!"
Gordo faced his father carefully, mouth set, eyes flashing. "Establishing this." He cupped Lizzie's chin in the palm of his hand, smiled at her, and kissed her upturned mouth passionately. She closed her eyes; her gut quivering nervously, her heart beating at a machine-gun pace, she kissed him back just as lustfully, and murmured so he could only hear, "I love you." Gordo deepened the kiss in acknowledgement.
When they finally pulled apart, Howard and Sam were openmouthed. Roberta, Jo, Miranda, Matt, and Rosa could barely contain their smiles.
"Lizzie…" Sam asked his daughter, finally blinking, "W-what is this?"
She smiled tentatively. "Love." Her smile wavered, and she glanced at Gordo for support, "We… Mom, Dad… Gordo and I… we're getting married."
Jo blinked. "Wow."
Sam stared at Gordo. "Lizzie… Gordo…" He took a deep breath. "I honestly don't know what to say."
Gordo spoke. "You don't have to say anything, Mr. McGuire. I love her with all my heart, sir, and I can't imagine my life without her. We… we wouldn't get married right away, you see. Maybe in a few years." He squeezed Lizzie's hand. "We need to go to college. But I know that after that, I'm ready for anything. Any kind of commitment."
He continued. "Mr. McGuire, your daughter is my life, I can't live without her. I know this is hard for you… but… I would be very grateful if you gave us your blessing."
Sam smiled slowly. "First of all, Gordo, call me Sam. And second…" He looked torn. "I… give you my blessing."
Roberta caught her son's eye and her eyes crinkled in the corner like they always did when she was pleased. "David, Jo and I have foretold this for years… and now, I give you all of my blessings. My dear son, you are in love, and religious boundaries cannot conflict with that."
Howard sighed deeply. "I… David… You are an adult, and I love you. I trust you make good choices." His face lightened. "Just a minute." He walked into the other room with a lighthearted smile.
Miranda took this interruption to hug her two best friends tightly. "Oh, I love you two!" she cried through a bucketful of tears. "Just promise me one thing. I want to be a bridesmaid."
Lizzie laughed. "You can be a bridesmaid, Miranda. It's the least I can do."
Miranda smiled wetly, and whispered in Gordo's ear, "And let me prepare the baby shower."
He turned the slightest shade of red, and pulled Lizzie back toward him. She beamed at him.
"I love you," she told him.
"I'm sorry for everything."
"It's over, Gordo. Forget the past. Live the future."
"I promise I'll never let anyone harm you again," he told her fervently. She smiled, blinded by infatuation.
"I know."
A/N: Yay! It's over! Did you like it? I did. It was very fun to write.
It took me forever to type though…
Oh well.
Please drop a review! I always appreciate reviews! And, I tweaked the parents a little bit to fit the story. And, to answer everybody's unasked question, Howard went into the other to make a phone call. Remember the police? The police were out looking for Gordo… So, when Howard finally "forgave" his son (for something he didn't do), he told the police that he found the subject of the search, and he was innocent… blah, blah, blah. So basically, he called the police so they wouldn't search anymore for Gordo. Got it? Good!
Please, please, please review! I know I haven't been updating as much, but I swear I've been trying. It's really hard to maintain a good grade AND write stories, you know. … well, at least for me. *shrugs*
Thanks again for supporting this. I love you all!
~Tic-Tac