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Gordo watched as Lizzie drove away. He took a deep breath and slowly made his way into the kitchen where his mother was baking cookies.
"Hey, Mom," he smiled, slowly lowering him aching body into a chair.
"Hi honey," she answered, plunking the last bit of batter onto the cookie sheet. "Want the bowl?"
He didn't really, but smiled and took it anyway. It was something he'd done since he was a kid, and he didn't want to break the tradition now. He grabbed a wooden spoon and raked out some of the batter. "Mom," he began, slowly.
Roberta stopped, laying down her own spoon, and looked carefully at him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. This batter is really good though," he smiled, tasting it.
Roberta smiled and removed a finished pan from the oven.
Laying the spoon back in the bowl, he waited until his mother turned back around to face him. "Do you think the holiday is ruined?"
"Not, not at all, honey, why would you think that?"
"Well, everything."
"David," she said softly, coming over to stand beside her son. "You have been my favorite part of every holiday since the day you were born. And there is nothing you can ever do to change that."
He reached out and hugged her. Trying to choke back tears, he would not cry, he wouldn't. "Mom, I'm so sorry."
"What for?" she asked, holding him close.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice making a weird sound over his tears.
"Your father and I love you no matter what happens. You've always been our baby and you will be no matter what. We're here for you."
He pulled back and sniffed. "I know," he smiled gently, his voice cracking ever so slightly. He took a deep breath. "I'm going to go upstairs and lie down. I'm going to school tomorrow."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "I'm sure." ***
The school hallways were empty. He'd been late, but it'd been on purpose, he didn't want to rush through. It his last day. Though there was one more day left until Christmas break, he knew he wouldn't be back. It was getting harder and harder for him to do the normal things his did. Getting up in the morning hurt, his head constantly pounded, and he felt like he used all his energy simply getting out of bed.
A couple teachers glanced at him as they shut their classroom doors, but they didn't say anything. They knew what was happening to him and didn't question him and for that he was grateful.
His feet carried him to his locker, but his mind was to other times. Meeting the girls there, laughing over the previous class or making plans for the upcoming evening. His throat tightened and once again he found himself in a battle not to cry.
His fingers tightened on the cold steel of the lock and he turned the familiar dial. Into his backpack he pushed the semester's worth of class work, letters for the girls, and other various things. He then slowly turned his attention to the locker door he'd so carefully decorated. The trio's smiling faces, various pictures of each of the girls. He lost the battle with the tears as he slowly pulled down each picture, being careful not to bend it and put it carefully into his backpack.
The locker was now cleared. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it shut, knowing that it was the last time he'd do that.
He started back the way he'd came. It was so hard to explain what was going on in his head, but he knew this was his last time in the hallways, the last time he'd be in Hillridge High.
He took a wheezy breath and pushed open the door. He wasn't quite ready to leave yet. He walked down more corridors until he came to the auditorium. When he walked through the door he laid his backpack on a back seat, then slowly made his way toward the stage.
Larry had fixed the tree and it looked beautiful, each ornament, each strand of garland, each light bulb. The rest of the stage was equally stunning, the blue background looked odd now, but he knew what would happen when the lights were on. Through the hundreds of small holes were white Christmas lights, each one shone beautifully when it was on.
He carefully stepped onto the stage and turned towards the audience of chairs. He tried to picture what it would be like, the lights dimmed, the chorus's energy flowing, the beautiful music taking over.
There was a soft thud backstage that startled him. Looking back, he saw no one, but was pressed to follow the sound.
He was lead to the dressing rooms. He glanced around, it was early, the auditorium was supposed to be empty until later in the day. Curiosity overtook him and he grasped the door handle silently and pushed open the door.
He saw Miranda inside, she was wearing a beautiful white and gold gown, the dress for the show no doubt. He was shocked to see a chair overturned, and several books and papers askew over the room. Her slender shoulders shook as tears, he knew she was crying, he also knew that she didn't know he was there.
Without making a sound, he walked up behind her and gently placed his arms around her from behind. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. He knew he'd startled her, but she instantly recognized the voice and turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his waist.
Several seconds passed while nothing was said, he waited until she was ready. She finally wiped hard at her eyes and pulled away. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice still choked up.
He sighed, he didn't know how to answer that. "Watching you destroy a dressing room." Humor was a safe route.
"Not the dressing room," she smiled weakly. "Just my school work. All I did to the room was knock over a chair."
"Why are you picking on defenseless chairs?"
She shrugged, obviously not going to answer.
"Miranda," he stated softly. When she looked up at him, he took a deep breath. "Do you remember what you promised me?"
Tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded. "I remember."
"You won't forget, right?"
"Gordo," she trailed off softly.
"No, Miranda. I love listening to your voice, and I want you to sing. I want your voice to carry everywhere. And you promised."
"I know," she answered softly. "And I won't forget."
"Thank you," he replied softly, hugging her again.
"So what are you doing here?" she asked again.
"I wanted to see the school," he sighed softly.
"Gordo," she whispered, her eyes landing on the full backpack. "Does that mean you're not coming back?"
He dropped his eyes and nodded. He wasn't going to lie to either of them anymore.
Miranda stood back and adjusted her dress and took a deep breath.
"Skipping class?" he grinned.
"Had to settle my nerves," she replied.
Gordo nodded, there were times he wished nerves were his biggest battle, but he had realized that he couldn't change what was and he was tired of wishing for something that he couldn't change. He had come to terms and knew that what would happen would, and he was finding strength in old forgotten places, like the warm rush he felt when he would look at the nativity scene.
He hugged Miranda forcing a smile to his face, the room seemed to tilt suddenly. Closing his eyes, he sighed. "I've got to go home. Call me okay?"
She nodded, squeezing him tight, then he walked out of the room. He made his way down the hallway, painfully aware that this was the last time he'd see these rooms. The last time he'd walk down these hallways. He started home, hoping he wouldn't have to face anymore last times, but knowing that it wasn't over yet.
Gordo watched as Lizzie drove away. He took a deep breath and slowly made his way into the kitchen where his mother was baking cookies.
"Hey, Mom," he smiled, slowly lowering him aching body into a chair.
"Hi honey," she answered, plunking the last bit of batter onto the cookie sheet. "Want the bowl?"
He didn't really, but smiled and took it anyway. It was something he'd done since he was a kid, and he didn't want to break the tradition now. He grabbed a wooden spoon and raked out some of the batter. "Mom," he began, slowly.
Roberta stopped, laying down her own spoon, and looked carefully at him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. This batter is really good though," he smiled, tasting it.
Roberta smiled and removed a finished pan from the oven.
Laying the spoon back in the bowl, he waited until his mother turned back around to face him. "Do you think the holiday is ruined?"
"Not, not at all, honey, why would you think that?"
"Well, everything."
"David," she said softly, coming over to stand beside her son. "You have been my favorite part of every holiday since the day you were born. And there is nothing you can ever do to change that."
He reached out and hugged her. Trying to choke back tears, he would not cry, he wouldn't. "Mom, I'm so sorry."
"What for?" she asked, holding him close.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice making a weird sound over his tears.
"Your father and I love you no matter what happens. You've always been our baby and you will be no matter what. We're here for you."
He pulled back and sniffed. "I know," he smiled gently, his voice cracking ever so slightly. He took a deep breath. "I'm going to go upstairs and lie down. I'm going to school tomorrow."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "I'm sure." ***
The school hallways were empty. He'd been late, but it'd been on purpose, he didn't want to rush through. It his last day. Though there was one more day left until Christmas break, he knew he wouldn't be back. It was getting harder and harder for him to do the normal things his did. Getting up in the morning hurt, his head constantly pounded, and he felt like he used all his energy simply getting out of bed.
A couple teachers glanced at him as they shut their classroom doors, but they didn't say anything. They knew what was happening to him and didn't question him and for that he was grateful.
His feet carried him to his locker, but his mind was to other times. Meeting the girls there, laughing over the previous class or making plans for the upcoming evening. His throat tightened and once again he found himself in a battle not to cry.
His fingers tightened on the cold steel of the lock and he turned the familiar dial. Into his backpack he pushed the semester's worth of class work, letters for the girls, and other various things. He then slowly turned his attention to the locker door he'd so carefully decorated. The trio's smiling faces, various pictures of each of the girls. He lost the battle with the tears as he slowly pulled down each picture, being careful not to bend it and put it carefully into his backpack.
The locker was now cleared. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it shut, knowing that it was the last time he'd do that.
He started back the way he'd came. It was so hard to explain what was going on in his head, but he knew this was his last time in the hallways, the last time he'd be in Hillridge High.
He took a wheezy breath and pushed open the door. He wasn't quite ready to leave yet. He walked down more corridors until he came to the auditorium. When he walked through the door he laid his backpack on a back seat, then slowly made his way toward the stage.
Larry had fixed the tree and it looked beautiful, each ornament, each strand of garland, each light bulb. The rest of the stage was equally stunning, the blue background looked odd now, but he knew what would happen when the lights were on. Through the hundreds of small holes were white Christmas lights, each one shone beautifully when it was on.
He carefully stepped onto the stage and turned towards the audience of chairs. He tried to picture what it would be like, the lights dimmed, the chorus's energy flowing, the beautiful music taking over.
There was a soft thud backstage that startled him. Looking back, he saw no one, but was pressed to follow the sound.
He was lead to the dressing rooms. He glanced around, it was early, the auditorium was supposed to be empty until later in the day. Curiosity overtook him and he grasped the door handle silently and pushed open the door.
He saw Miranda inside, she was wearing a beautiful white and gold gown, the dress for the show no doubt. He was shocked to see a chair overturned, and several books and papers askew over the room. Her slender shoulders shook as tears, he knew she was crying, he also knew that she didn't know he was there.
Without making a sound, he walked up behind her and gently placed his arms around her from behind. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. He knew he'd startled her, but she instantly recognized the voice and turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his waist.
Several seconds passed while nothing was said, he waited until she was ready. She finally wiped hard at her eyes and pulled away. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice still choked up.
He sighed, he didn't know how to answer that. "Watching you destroy a dressing room." Humor was a safe route.
"Not the dressing room," she smiled weakly. "Just my school work. All I did to the room was knock over a chair."
"Why are you picking on defenseless chairs?"
She shrugged, obviously not going to answer.
"Miranda," he stated softly. When she looked up at him, he took a deep breath. "Do you remember what you promised me?"
Tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded. "I remember."
"You won't forget, right?"
"Gordo," she trailed off softly.
"No, Miranda. I love listening to your voice, and I want you to sing. I want your voice to carry everywhere. And you promised."
"I know," she answered softly. "And I won't forget."
"Thank you," he replied softly, hugging her again.
"So what are you doing here?" she asked again.
"I wanted to see the school," he sighed softly.
"Gordo," she whispered, her eyes landing on the full backpack. "Does that mean you're not coming back?"
He dropped his eyes and nodded. He wasn't going to lie to either of them anymore.
Miranda stood back and adjusted her dress and took a deep breath.
"Skipping class?" he grinned.
"Had to settle my nerves," she replied.
Gordo nodded, there were times he wished nerves were his biggest battle, but he had realized that he couldn't change what was and he was tired of wishing for something that he couldn't change. He had come to terms and knew that what would happen would, and he was finding strength in old forgotten places, like the warm rush he felt when he would look at the nativity scene.
He hugged Miranda forcing a smile to his face, the room seemed to tilt suddenly. Closing his eyes, he sighed. "I've got to go home. Call me okay?"
She nodded, squeezing him tight, then he walked out of the room. He made his way down the hallway, painfully aware that this was the last time he'd see these rooms. The last time he'd walk down these hallways. He started home, hoping he wouldn't have to face anymore last times, but knowing that it wasn't over yet.