Chapter Twenty: You Said You'd Come Back
A/N: 4 more, just four more chapters until the best story I've ever written is finished. Wah! =(
Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me... actually my birthday isn't until Thursday, but its okay.. I'll be 12 soon! That is a huge deal for me, since I feel like I've been eleven forever.
There weren't very many reviews for the last chapter. *sniffles* I really wanted people to read that chapter. But that's what happens. People start to lose interest in a story after it's been going on for a long time...
Okay, I have a new story idea. I'm not sure if it's good or not, but that's why you're here! It's going to be called The Love Riot. It's actually based on one of my guy friends' love life, so you could call it true.
It's about when Gordo breaks up with Lizzie, then realizes it's a huge mistake. But he doesn't want her back... well, he kind of does. It's complicated. And then Lizzie starts to go out with Ryan, the guy Miranda used to have a crush on, and Gordo's not happy. So to get back at her, he dates Miranda, who likes him. Miranda gets the wrong impression and thinks he likes her, when he really doesn't. Will he ever get Lizzie back without breaking Miranda's heart?
***
Lizzie's POV
"I don't want to go." He whispered as he clutched my hands tightly.
"Yes, you do." I said, tears streaming down my face.
He shook his head, his curls bouncing back and forth. "I can't possibly leave you in this predicament."
"There's no predicament to leave me in." I sighed, wiping my tears away. "I'm a big girl, Gordo, I can take care of myself. I don't need you to survive."
"Maybe not, but I need *you*." He said, shaking.
I smiled through my tears. "You're the older one. Shouldn't you know by now that you don't need me to live?"
He pulled my close into a hug and we said nothing for about five minutes.
It was August, dreaded August, the month neither of us wanted to come. But here it was, the day Gordo left me, and left for Harvard, or as Matt would say, 'the real world'. All on his own. Everyone was there, on his driveway, almost in a line, waiting to say goodbye. Miranda, Matt, Melina, my parents, Miranda's parents, Gordo's parents... they were all thee, chatting away, waiting for us to hurry up. But I couldn't stop talking to him. I couldn't let go.
And, as regular August weather was, it was cloudy, raining a bit, which seemed to drench the mood to an even lower level then before. Rain symbolized sadness, and sadness was what we were indeed experiencing now.
"Promise me." I said, whispering in his ear, tears soaking his shirt. "Promise me that we'll keep in touch."
"I promise." He stopped hugging me and pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I promise I'll email you twice a week, call every other night, send you a letter once ever two weeks, and I'll be on IM a lot. I promise." He took my hand in his.
"Will you come back?" II asked, shivering, although it was not the slightest bit cold. He grinned. "That's such a stupid question, Lizzie. Of course I will. I'll come back on Thanksgiving, Christmas, Summer Vacation, Spring Break... all the time. I'll even come one three day weekends. I promise."
"And what if you don't?" I frowned.
"Trust me, Lizzie, I will." He said as we shared our last kiss for the next three years.
***
I was 21.
I hadn't seen Gordo in almost three years. 35 months. 152 weeks. 1,068 days. I would calculate how many hours, but then people would think I was crazy. But then again, I think I was.
He had broken every single promise.
He said, no, he *promised*, he'd call. Every other day. The only time he had called was his first day there, in Harvard. He called to tell me how great it was, not to tell me how much he missed me. Then after that, there was no call. Endless days I waited by the phone, waiting, waiting, for it to ring.
He promised he'd email. Twice a week. He emailed me, what, for about two weeks? Then the emails started coming less and les... until they didn't come at all. Well, maybe once on my birthday, but that consisted of three words "Happy Birthday Lizzie!', followed by, "Sorry I forgot, but how old are you now?" He had forgotten that we were the same age, that he was only a week older than me? I never replied to those emails.
He promised he'd write. Once a month. Well, the worst part is, he never did. Never did I get a hand-written letter from Gordo. I gave up for that after three months or so. I knew it wasn't coming.
And, last but not least, he said he would visit. Anytime, even on three-day weekends. Did he come? What do you think? No way. Not even once. And I got so mad that I didn't even bother to ask him why.
Had he found someone else, another girlfriend, a smarter one?
Had he liked Harvard so much that he forgot about us in Hillridge?
What was going on?
And the worst part was, I was an adult. I couldn't show my anger.
I lived in my own little apartment, which I kept reasonably clean, all alone. My parents offered to let me stay there, but I refused. They had a new baby when I was 17 (whom I helped out with a lot)... they needed that extra room to raise her.
I was pretty content with my life. I had a part-time job helping out a teacher at Hillridge Elementary, in my little sister's kindergarten class. I still attended classes at HU, and occasionally wrote articles for the local newspaper. I was majoring in journalism. I also had a part-time job down at the mall. I had no money problems. I had car insurance, my rent paid on time, and enough money for food and college and everything. I had a little puppy, whom I named Gordie after you-know-who, but I was thinking of changing the name.
I hung out my friends often. Miranda attended HU, too, and she came over sometimes, and we watched a movie with a few of my new friends. It wasn't the same anymore, but it was okay. Sometimes we would go skiing, or shopping, or something... it was cool.
My life seemed pretty good.
And yet I was so depressed.
I knew it was Gordo's fault, but I didn't want to blame it on him. If I did, then that would've been like admitting my depression. But no, I kept it all bottled up inside of me, and let out steam at the apartment.
On days off, usually Sundays or so, I would flop down on my bed with Gordie and just cry... and think. I would think about Gordo, and how he could be making movies by now, how he could be dating anyone else. And I would think about me. If I should really care about Gordo this much, if I should just forget him and get another boyfriend. I mean, we never officially broke up, but it seemed as if that was what he was trying to imply with the no communication thing.
Occasionally, I would sit by the computer, waiting for him to get on IM, or sit by the phone and wait for his call, or sit in front of the TV, hoping one of his movies (if he made any) would come on. I knew there was going to be nothing. Nothing was going to happen. He would not call me, he would not fax me, he would not page me, he would not email me... the list went on and on.
But he didn't come back.
He didn't intend to.
Until one day...
***
I was sitting in front of my TV, bored to tears. There was nothing to do. Miranda was out to the movies with her latest boyfriend, Rick. And the rest of my friends were busy, too. I had helped the janitor after my hours in school, but eventually I ran out of things to clean. Then I had gone back to the apartment and organized, organized every single thing in my presence. After a few hours, even my underwear was color-coordinated and the spices in the kitchen were arranged according to spiciness. I had even dusted the medicine cabinet.
So that left me with... what? Homework and television. I willingly chose television because I had no idea of what to write for my assignment in class. TV could be inspiring sometimes.
This was not one of those times.
There was absolutely nothing on, which was kind of freaky for a Friday night, but everything interesting was reruns. So I ended up watching the TV Guide Channel, which was not very interesting. Some new movie, so new star... I began to make myself an extravagant salad. It was like what Gordo always said, "If you're bored, you can always eat."
I smacked my forehead. Why did I keep thinking about Gordo?
I added some olives, some mushrooms, and some parmesan cheese while the guy on TV was blabbering on about this movie Stone Heart. Stone Heart. Ha. It sounded like some Native American name. Maybe that's what the movie was about. I don't know. I wasn't paying much attention.
"...And that's all for Stone Heart. But don't worry; we'll be right back after a short break..."
I rolled my eyes. Like we were going to 'worry' that the show wouldn't come back.
I continued to pile up on my salad as they quickly ran through the commercials; a car commercial... some new kind of Toyota, I think, a commercial for another movie, a Glad ware commercial, some new toilet bowl cleaner, and a cingular wireless commercial. The usual.
I was chopping up tomatoes when the show returned. They started talking about another new TV movie, One True Love. My ears perked up a bit, since I had wanted to see this movie for a few weeks, but my eyes were committed to slicing those tomatoes. They were interviewing the director, whatever his name was.
"You are one of the youngest successful directors of our time, isn't that right? Only 21?" A female reporter asked.
"Yeah, but I don't think age really matters. It's the ability to direct, the passion for it that counts." The director replied.
"So what does the name 'One True Love' mean to you?"
"I believe love, or at least, true love, comes only once in a lifetime. And it stays eternal. You can't stop nor arrange true love. It just happens." The director said, and I knitted my eyebrows together as I stopped the tomatoes and switched to cucumbers, still not looking up. That voice sounded a bit familiar... maybe I had met him in LA sometime... I tried to recall where I'd heard the voice before, but nothing came to me.
"Do you have found your one true love yet?" The reporter asked, raising an .
I smiled to myself. This woman was nosy. Sniffing around in a director's love life... I could see why she worked for the media.
"Yes, I think I have."
"May I be so impolite as to ask of this lucky woman's name?" The lady said.
"Lizzie." He said. "Lizzie McGuire."
I dropped the knife onto the floor, nearly cutting my foot.
Had he said McGuire? Lizzie McGuire? Lizzie, me, McGuire? Me? There must be another Lizzie McGuire... who... what... Who was this guy, and why did he say I was his true love?
I ran to the couch and sat down, willing to hear more.
"Well, Mr. Gordon, I bet this Lizzie McGuire feels very fortunate today. She must be a wonderful woman, especially to be your true love." The lady grinned, showing off her toothpaste-commercial teeth.
My eyes bulged.
She had said Mr. Gordon.
Like, Gordon.
As in David Gordon.
Gordo.
Gordo was on TV.
Being interviewed.
And he said I was his one true love.
After all these years, Gordo still loved me.
The pieces started to come together as one, and the information started to soak in. He was famous now. He had achieved his dream. Yet he was still going to college at Harvard. He hadn't given that up yet.
He still loved me.
"So I hear the producer of this film is..." The lady started babbling on and on about stupid things, and I wasn't listening. I just couldn't take my eyes off of Gordo.
He looked the same. The hair, the smile, the eyes... expect for he had been camera-ized. The makeup, the powder, the hair curler... it had made no difference. Gordo looked the same. But *he*, he himself, his personality... that wasn't the same.
And neither was I.
That promise-breaker still loved me.
But now, I wasn't sure if I loved him back.
A/N: 4 more, just four more chapters until the best story I've ever written is finished. Wah! =(
Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me... actually my birthday isn't until Thursday, but its okay.. I'll be 12 soon! That is a huge deal for me, since I feel like I've been eleven forever.
There weren't very many reviews for the last chapter. *sniffles* I really wanted people to read that chapter. But that's what happens. People start to lose interest in a story after it's been going on for a long time...
Okay, I have a new story idea. I'm not sure if it's good or not, but that's why you're here! It's going to be called The Love Riot. It's actually based on one of my guy friends' love life, so you could call it true.
It's about when Gordo breaks up with Lizzie, then realizes it's a huge mistake. But he doesn't want her back... well, he kind of does. It's complicated. And then Lizzie starts to go out with Ryan, the guy Miranda used to have a crush on, and Gordo's not happy. So to get back at her, he dates Miranda, who likes him. Miranda gets the wrong impression and thinks he likes her, when he really doesn't. Will he ever get Lizzie back without breaking Miranda's heart?
***
Lizzie's POV
"I don't want to go." He whispered as he clutched my hands tightly.
"Yes, you do." I said, tears streaming down my face.
He shook his head, his curls bouncing back and forth. "I can't possibly leave you in this predicament."
"There's no predicament to leave me in." I sighed, wiping my tears away. "I'm a big girl, Gordo, I can take care of myself. I don't need you to survive."
"Maybe not, but I need *you*." He said, shaking.
I smiled through my tears. "You're the older one. Shouldn't you know by now that you don't need me to live?"
He pulled my close into a hug and we said nothing for about five minutes.
It was August, dreaded August, the month neither of us wanted to come. But here it was, the day Gordo left me, and left for Harvard, or as Matt would say, 'the real world'. All on his own. Everyone was there, on his driveway, almost in a line, waiting to say goodbye. Miranda, Matt, Melina, my parents, Miranda's parents, Gordo's parents... they were all thee, chatting away, waiting for us to hurry up. But I couldn't stop talking to him. I couldn't let go.
And, as regular August weather was, it was cloudy, raining a bit, which seemed to drench the mood to an even lower level then before. Rain symbolized sadness, and sadness was what we were indeed experiencing now.
"Promise me." I said, whispering in his ear, tears soaking his shirt. "Promise me that we'll keep in touch."
"I promise." He stopped hugging me and pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I promise I'll email you twice a week, call every other night, send you a letter once ever two weeks, and I'll be on IM a lot. I promise." He took my hand in his.
"Will you come back?" II asked, shivering, although it was not the slightest bit cold. He grinned. "That's such a stupid question, Lizzie. Of course I will. I'll come back on Thanksgiving, Christmas, Summer Vacation, Spring Break... all the time. I'll even come one three day weekends. I promise."
"And what if you don't?" I frowned.
"Trust me, Lizzie, I will." He said as we shared our last kiss for the next three years.
***
I was 21.
I hadn't seen Gordo in almost three years. 35 months. 152 weeks. 1,068 days. I would calculate how many hours, but then people would think I was crazy. But then again, I think I was.
He had broken every single promise.
He said, no, he *promised*, he'd call. Every other day. The only time he had called was his first day there, in Harvard. He called to tell me how great it was, not to tell me how much he missed me. Then after that, there was no call. Endless days I waited by the phone, waiting, waiting, for it to ring.
He promised he'd email. Twice a week. He emailed me, what, for about two weeks? Then the emails started coming less and les... until they didn't come at all. Well, maybe once on my birthday, but that consisted of three words "Happy Birthday Lizzie!', followed by, "Sorry I forgot, but how old are you now?" He had forgotten that we were the same age, that he was only a week older than me? I never replied to those emails.
He promised he'd write. Once a month. Well, the worst part is, he never did. Never did I get a hand-written letter from Gordo. I gave up for that after three months or so. I knew it wasn't coming.
And, last but not least, he said he would visit. Anytime, even on three-day weekends. Did he come? What do you think? No way. Not even once. And I got so mad that I didn't even bother to ask him why.
Had he found someone else, another girlfriend, a smarter one?
Had he liked Harvard so much that he forgot about us in Hillridge?
What was going on?
And the worst part was, I was an adult. I couldn't show my anger.
I lived in my own little apartment, which I kept reasonably clean, all alone. My parents offered to let me stay there, but I refused. They had a new baby when I was 17 (whom I helped out with a lot)... they needed that extra room to raise her.
I was pretty content with my life. I had a part-time job helping out a teacher at Hillridge Elementary, in my little sister's kindergarten class. I still attended classes at HU, and occasionally wrote articles for the local newspaper. I was majoring in journalism. I also had a part-time job down at the mall. I had no money problems. I had car insurance, my rent paid on time, and enough money for food and college and everything. I had a little puppy, whom I named Gordie after you-know-who, but I was thinking of changing the name.
I hung out my friends often. Miranda attended HU, too, and she came over sometimes, and we watched a movie with a few of my new friends. It wasn't the same anymore, but it was okay. Sometimes we would go skiing, or shopping, or something... it was cool.
My life seemed pretty good.
And yet I was so depressed.
I knew it was Gordo's fault, but I didn't want to blame it on him. If I did, then that would've been like admitting my depression. But no, I kept it all bottled up inside of me, and let out steam at the apartment.
On days off, usually Sundays or so, I would flop down on my bed with Gordie and just cry... and think. I would think about Gordo, and how he could be making movies by now, how he could be dating anyone else. And I would think about me. If I should really care about Gordo this much, if I should just forget him and get another boyfriend. I mean, we never officially broke up, but it seemed as if that was what he was trying to imply with the no communication thing.
Occasionally, I would sit by the computer, waiting for him to get on IM, or sit by the phone and wait for his call, or sit in front of the TV, hoping one of his movies (if he made any) would come on. I knew there was going to be nothing. Nothing was going to happen. He would not call me, he would not fax me, he would not page me, he would not email me... the list went on and on.
But he didn't come back.
He didn't intend to.
Until one day...
***
I was sitting in front of my TV, bored to tears. There was nothing to do. Miranda was out to the movies with her latest boyfriend, Rick. And the rest of my friends were busy, too. I had helped the janitor after my hours in school, but eventually I ran out of things to clean. Then I had gone back to the apartment and organized, organized every single thing in my presence. After a few hours, even my underwear was color-coordinated and the spices in the kitchen were arranged according to spiciness. I had even dusted the medicine cabinet.
So that left me with... what? Homework and television. I willingly chose television because I had no idea of what to write for my assignment in class. TV could be inspiring sometimes.
This was not one of those times.
There was absolutely nothing on, which was kind of freaky for a Friday night, but everything interesting was reruns. So I ended up watching the TV Guide Channel, which was not very interesting. Some new movie, so new star... I began to make myself an extravagant salad. It was like what Gordo always said, "If you're bored, you can always eat."
I smacked my forehead. Why did I keep thinking about Gordo?
I added some olives, some mushrooms, and some parmesan cheese while the guy on TV was blabbering on about this movie Stone Heart. Stone Heart. Ha. It sounded like some Native American name. Maybe that's what the movie was about. I don't know. I wasn't paying much attention.
"...And that's all for Stone Heart. But don't worry; we'll be right back after a short break..."
I rolled my eyes. Like we were going to 'worry' that the show wouldn't come back.
I continued to pile up on my salad as they quickly ran through the commercials; a car commercial... some new kind of Toyota, I think, a commercial for another movie, a Glad ware commercial, some new toilet bowl cleaner, and a cingular wireless commercial. The usual.
I was chopping up tomatoes when the show returned. They started talking about another new TV movie, One True Love. My ears perked up a bit, since I had wanted to see this movie for a few weeks, but my eyes were committed to slicing those tomatoes. They were interviewing the director, whatever his name was.
"You are one of the youngest successful directors of our time, isn't that right? Only 21?" A female reporter asked.
"Yeah, but I don't think age really matters. It's the ability to direct, the passion for it that counts." The director replied.
"So what does the name 'One True Love' mean to you?"
"I believe love, or at least, true love, comes only once in a lifetime. And it stays eternal. You can't stop nor arrange true love. It just happens." The director said, and I knitted my eyebrows together as I stopped the tomatoes and switched to cucumbers, still not looking up. That voice sounded a bit familiar... maybe I had met him in LA sometime... I tried to recall where I'd heard the voice before, but nothing came to me.
"Do you have found your one true love yet?" The reporter asked, raising an .
I smiled to myself. This woman was nosy. Sniffing around in a director's love life... I could see why she worked for the media.
"Yes, I think I have."
"May I be so impolite as to ask of this lucky woman's name?" The lady said.
"Lizzie." He said. "Lizzie McGuire."
I dropped the knife onto the floor, nearly cutting my foot.
Had he said McGuire? Lizzie McGuire? Lizzie, me, McGuire? Me? There must be another Lizzie McGuire... who... what... Who was this guy, and why did he say I was his true love?
I ran to the couch and sat down, willing to hear more.
"Well, Mr. Gordon, I bet this Lizzie McGuire feels very fortunate today. She must be a wonderful woman, especially to be your true love." The lady grinned, showing off her toothpaste-commercial teeth.
My eyes bulged.
She had said Mr. Gordon.
Like, Gordon.
As in David Gordon.
Gordo.
Gordo was on TV.
Being interviewed.
And he said I was his one true love.
After all these years, Gordo still loved me.
The pieces started to come together as one, and the information started to soak in. He was famous now. He had achieved his dream. Yet he was still going to college at Harvard. He hadn't given that up yet.
He still loved me.
"So I hear the producer of this film is..." The lady started babbling on and on about stupid things, and I wasn't listening. I just couldn't take my eyes off of Gordo.
He looked the same. The hair, the smile, the eyes... expect for he had been camera-ized. The makeup, the powder, the hair curler... it had made no difference. Gordo looked the same. But *he*, he himself, his personality... that wasn't the same.
And neither was I.
That promise-breaker still loved me.
But now, I wasn't sure if I loved him back.