How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
--Pink Floyd, Wish You Were Here
xxxxx
Lizzie awoke suddenly to the loud buzzing of her alarm clock. Her hand slammed down on the snooze button as she sat up. She closed her eyes for a moment and put her head in her hands. She had dreamt about him yet again. This time was a painful reenactment of their last moments together. Her eyes were still moist from the tears it had produced. She took a deep, soothing breath and stepped onto the cold wooden floor of her tiny bedroom. She made her way over to the connecting bathroom, tripping over a tennis shoe on the way. Muttering profanities, she hopped into the bathroom on one foot and somehow made her way into the small shower without getting injured.
As she stood in the shower, the hot water beating against her head and back, she stared at a long crack in the cement without actually seeing it.
"What am I doing with my life?" She whispered, breaking out of her trance.
x
Two hours later, Lizzie was rushing into the office building of The Hillridge Herald, gulping down a coffee and pulling her medium length, straight blonde hair up at the same time.
"McGuire!" Her editor called as she clumsily attempted to sneak into her cubicle.
"I'm sorry Mr. Hudson!" She cried helplessly, straightening her navy blue skirt. "My landlord started getting on my back for the rent this morning, and then that heap of a car blew a tire on Main Street, and I..."
"McGuire," he smiled, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Don't worry about it. I just need your article."
"Oh." She replied. "Thanks."
"I need it now." He added, grinning.
"Right!" She said, fumbling through her folder and spilling coffee all over her white blouse in the process. "Ah, crappers!" She cried, dabbing at her chest with a tissue from her pocket. Mr. Hudson raised an eyebrow at her.
"Crappers, eh?" She blushed. "Bring the article to my office when you locate it." He grinned easily, walking past her.
"Hell on toast, McGuire, that Jonathan Hudson is one sexy piece of work." A voice said behind her. Lizzie turned around to see friend and coworker Kate Sanders Tudgeman looking smug as ever in a pale pink suit, her long golden locks twisted into a professional looking bun. "Twenty-eight years old...tall, dark, and handsome...I see a love interest in your future."
"Kate, Kate, Kate. What am I going to do with you?"
"I think the question you should be asking is, what are you going to do with your boss? Mm, mm, I smell chemistry..." she smiled.
"You've been spending too much time with Larry in the lab, then." Lizzie snapped back.
"Elizabeth McGuire, you are 25-years-old and you haven't dated since that curly haired idiot five years ago. Get over it. There are puh-lenty of other fish just swimming around waiting for you. Five years Lizzie! Five years!"
"Six this August." Lizzie corrected with a sigh. "I just...I haven't found anyone that I feel as strongly about..."
"Maybe you never will, hun, but that doesn't mean you can't have any fun...or smile, for heaven sakes." Kate said, rolling her eyes.
"Kate...I—I still miss him." She said, becoming a little teary eyed. All she wanted was for him to be with her right then, to hold her and comfort her the way no one else in the world could. Kate sighed.
"I know, Liz. Ah, I don't know how to help you! I've never seen anyone so hopelessly gaga over someone they haven't seen for six years!"
"Tudgeman! McGuire! I'm not paying you to stand around and chitchat! Lemme see those articles!" Mr. Hudson called from his office.
Upon this reminder, Lizzie rushed to her cubicle to retrieve her latest piece. Forgetting about a large conspicuous coffee stain, she began a long, average day at work.
x
Lizzie kicked off her shoes as she returned home that evening. She opened up her trusty laptop and began typing, when she heard her phone ring.
"Hello?" She answered.
"Hey Liz, it's Cass." A good friend from college greeted on the other line.
"Oh, hey Cassie."
"What are you up to?" She asked casually.
"Just working on my novel." Lizzie answered tiredly.
"Have you decided how it ends yet?" Cassie wondered.
"No. I don't know whether Grace and Luke should be together in the end, or whether it's just too unrealistic." She explained, shuffling through a pile of mail.
"I see. You know, believe it or not, sometimes people really do get a happy ending. James and me, for example." Lizzie could practically hear her smiling on the other end. "But aside from the ending, how's it going?"
Lizzie didn't answer. Suddenly she found herself staring at a letter addressed to her from New York City, New York. The return address included the clear, neatly printed name of Miranda Sanchez—a friend she hadn't spoken with for two years.
"Liz?"
"Oh my God." Lizzie whispered.
"Lizzie? You O.K.?"
Lizzie didn't hear her. She carefully tore open the envelope and stared, wide-eyed, at the wedding invitation from her former best friend. She dropped the phone, ignoring the pleas for attention from her friend.
"Randa's getting married!" She exclaimed, looking happily at a photograph of the gorgeous Hispanic woman and her cute blonde fiancé wrapped up in each other's arms. "And my presence is requested at the wedding ceremony and reception in New York City!" She pulled another piece of paper from the envelope and unfolded it to read a letter written by Miranda herself.
"Lizzie!
What's up, chica? It's been a long time since I talked to you. I called my parents to find out your current whereabouts, and was happy to hear that you're still living in Hillridge. I hope things are going well for you. I was thinking about you the other day, and Liz, I have never had a better friend than you. So I really hope to see you at my wedding. If you can't make it, I totally get it, but I want Eric to meet you almost more than I want him to meet my parents. I hope you can find a way! If not I'll see what Eric can do to help. He's a lawyer (in other words, he has serious dinero). Call me and let me know either way. I'd love to hear from you. I've missed you! I'm sorry we lost touch. Can't wait to talk to you again, girl! We've got lots to catch up on! How's your love life, I wonder? ;)
Best wishes from your friend,
Miranda Sanchez"
Lizzie squealed as she finished the letter and picked up the phone with the intention of dialing the Sanchez's phone number.
"Elizabeth McGuire. What in the world is going on?"
XXXX
Gordo stood in front of her, soaking from head to foot in the rain. She was standing inside her warm house, wearing sweats and a confused expression.
"Gordo, what are you doing here?" She asked.
"Lizzie...I like you. Okay? I was walking. I had to tell you. I like you." He began to turn around, but she grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.
"You mean--?"
"Yeah. That's what I mean." He admitted quietly. He watched as her face lit up with that smile that made him feel lightheaded.
"You are the cutest person in the world." She giggled, before grabbing his wet, curly head and sending him into utter bliss with their first real kiss.
"Thanks." He muttered, responding the same way he had to their first kiss two years prior.
"Any time, Gordon," Lizzie teased biting her lip. "You should come in! It's cold out there!" She said, as if suddenly coming back to her senses. He stood pasted in his spot. "Gordo? David? David!
"David! Get your lazy arse out of bed, mate! We've got an interview for the DVD in ten minutes!"
Gordo tore himself, grudgingly, from his dream and sat up in bed with a loud groan. "Roger...it's early. Too early." He complained, running a hand through his hair.
"Dave, I hate to break it you, but it's eleven o'clock."
"Not a chance." Gordo argued, climbing out of bed and rummaging through his nice London flat for a shirt. When he got a glimpse of the watch sitting on his dresser, he cursed loudly and turned to his roommate. "If it's eleven, that gives me how much time to get ready for this interview?"
"Fifteen minutes?" Roger Goodman answered, pulling on a brown loafer.
"Ah. That isn't too convenient, is it?" Gordo commented.
"Indeed it isn't." Roger agreed with a grin. "Don't forget about our double date tonight...Scottish sisters." Gordo offered a half-hearted grin.
"That should be fun."
"I'm sure it will be. Oh, by the way, you got some mail...a letter from New York, I think? Who do you know from New York?" He wondered.
"Uh, no one comes to mind." Gordo answered, confused. He grabbed at the envelope and tore it open without glancing at the front. "Bloody hell." He whispered.
"You know, Gordon, living in London doesn't make you a Brit or give you the right to use our slang." Roger jokingly chastised.
"This is a wedding invitation from one of my old friends from high school. I haven't seen her since...wow...I haven't seen her since before I left California. We were close."
"The girl?"
"No." He answered immediately. "She was our best friend."
"Our meaning you and..."
"Lizzie."
"Right." Roger said with a smile. "Well you should go. I suspect this lady of yours will be there..." He winked. Gordo turned white.
"You're right. Lizzie will be invited, at least. I don't know if I could see her again."
"Don't go for her, then. This other person was important to you? You need some shots in Manhattan for your latest project anyway, don't you?"
"We're late." Gordo said, quickly changing the subject, unsure of what he thought of seeing his old friends again.
"Righto, mate. Let's be off then." Roger said, falling into the trap.
x
"This film is about her self discovery, more than anything I think, it's about making her own choices. Finding real freedom in herself." Gordo smiled as he watched his leading lady, Charlotte Christensen, finish up her interview. His latest low budget, independent film had won several awards in local to international film festivals, and he was thrilled with the success of it. A man could only take so many failures before he found his big break. This film was it, he knew it. It had its greatest success in Great Britain and other Western European countries, but it was also well known in the US. Finally, he thought maybe he could quit his job as a film studies teacher and direct full time. It was his dream. It was the one thing that would make him almost completely happy. Complete happiness seemed contingent upon one of two things: getting her back, or forgetting about her. And since neither seemed possible any time soon, almost completely happy would have to do.
When Gordo returned to his flat later that afternoon, he stared at the picture of Miranda and her fiancé thoughtfully. Finally, decisively, he picked up the phone and called the airport to book a flight.
He had some filming to do in New York City.
xxxxx
A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I appreciate it! This chapter served two purposes: a look into both their lives six years later, and the invitation. Oh! I also thought it was important to illustrate their lasting feelings. Anyway, I think this chapter might have had too much explaining to have enough description. I don't know...y'all tell me what you think. : ) Review please! I will be forever indebted to you!