DAVID'S POV - The Year 2015
9:40 p.m.
As he stood there on his back porch, remembering what happened that morning twelve years ago, David opened his eyes, stared up into the oncoming rain, and screamed into the stormy night, "Oh my god, what in the world were you thinking, man? You practically threw her into Jimmy' arms! It's your fault she dies for the second time!"
But, it's not too late, remember? You still have a second chance! With that thought, David ran back into his house and sprinted into the bathroom for a quick shower.
After he put himself into some dry clothes, he began to pace around the living in deep thought about how he could save Lizzie's life once again.
I'm going to do it, somehow, I'm going to do it. It's not her destiny to die, I know it, I'm going to save her again, I have to save her, for her, and for me . . . .
Come on think, man, there's got to be a way, there's got to be a way.
David paced around his living room, wracking his brain for solutions. I need to talk to Gordo again, I need to tell him what happens to Lizzie.
But, why, why didn't he contact me again?
He closed his eyes, trying to remember the details of what happened that night twelve years ago. Let's see, he, me, Gordo, left Lizzie's house and then came home for a change of clothes. I tried to contact me, David, on the ham radio. But, when I tried to reach him, there was no answer, no answer at all.
Why? I'm right here, there should've been no way that I would have missed Gordo if he tried to reach me again. Why didn't I answer? David wondered. Or, more accurately, when he tries to contact me in a little bit, why don't I answer him? What happens?
This doesn't make any sense. Unless, unless, there's something wrong with the ham radio!
David walked over to living room alcove, where the ham radio sat on a mahogany desk. He carefully gave the radio an intensive check-up. Whew, no problem, no problem, it's still working perfectly, there's no problem with it all.
He plopped himself onto his the desk chair, sighed, and thought, okay, if I remember my new memories well, I left Lizzie's house sometime after 10:00 p.m. He looked at his wristwatch. It read 9:48 p.m. He should be radioing me at any time now. Alright, I'll just sit here and wait for him to radio me, there's no way I'm going to miss Gordo's call, there's no way . . . .
***************************************************************
GORDO'S POV--TWELVE YEARS EARLIER
9:30 p.m.
Gordo closed the door behind him and walked into the living room. He looked at Lizzie, who was standing just a few feet away from him.
She was soaking wet, with beads of water dripping down her hair and face. She returned Gordo's glance and said, "Hang on, I'm going to get us some towels, okay?"
She spoke with very little emotion on her voice.
"Okay, I'll be right here," he replied.
He watched Lizzie disappear around the corner and then sighed a breath of relief. Even though he didn't realize it, he had been holding his breath. He was feeling awkward and self-conscious, unsure of what to say to her, unsure of how to be around her. What he wanted more than anything else was a clear sign from her that everything between them was okay, that they were still best friends, that what had just transpired would soon be forgotten.
Lizzie reappeared with two large towels in her hands. Without making eye contact, she said, "here you go," handed Gordo the red towel, took a few steps back, then started drying herself off.
"Thanks, Lizzie, uh, you know how I hate being all wet!" He laughed and wiped the rain off his face. C'mon Lizzie, I'm making a bad joke here, say something, anything . . . .
She looked up at him, gave him a blank expression, then said, "Yeah, that's great," in a mindless, hollow voice, acting as if he had just rudely interrupted her. "Are you done with the towel?"
"Uh, yeah, here you go."
"Thanks." She took the towel, stroked it several times, then said in a quiet voice, "Listen, Gordo, I-I think I just need to be alone right now, and you should probably be getting home, too."
He winced, feeling intensely rejected by her words. "Li-Lizzie, I-I . . ."
"Don't say anything, please. We can talk about, uh, what happened, or not, tomorrow, or, or some other time, you know?" She nervously pulled on her wet hair, still refusing to make eye contact with Gordo.
He took a few steps closer to her. "Lizzie, I'm not sure you should be by yourself tonight."
She saw him move towards him and instinctively took several steps back. "Gordo, please, just leave me alone, okay?"
He was stunned by the tone in her voice. It sounded like, it sounded like . . . she's *afraid* of me . . . my best friend is scared of me. He felt both his throat and stomach tighten up and he was having a hard time breathing. Oh my god, what have I done?
"Lizzie, I just feel awful about . . ."
"No, Gordo, no!" She said icily. I don't want to talk about it, okay? Really, you should be getting home, and anyway, I don't know why you want to be with mesince I'm apparently too dumb to be your friend. Okay? So just go home, please, just -"
She couldn't finish her sentence. She became lightheaded and dizzy and felt as if all the life in her was draining out of her body. "Ohhhh . . ." The room started to spin. "Oh my . . . ." she said as she began to collapse to the floor.
"Lizzie!"
He rushed over to her and just barely caught her slumping body. "Come on, Lizzie, let's get you over to the couch." He picked her up, took her by the shoulders and led her to the couch.
"I-I'm fine, Gordo, I'm fine, I just need to sit down, that's all," she muttered.
He laid her down, sat next to her and felt her forehead. Her skin was burning hot. "Lizzie, you're burning up, you've got a fever. We need to get you out of these wet clothes," he said, extremely concerned for the well being of his friend.
"Oh, Gordo," she whispered, "you know what?"
"What, Lizzie? What?"
"I feel like crap!" She laughed softly, then started coughing and shivering. "I-it's so cold in here, I feel so co-cold." Her teeth chattered as she spoke.
"Okay, you are really sick, Lizzie. As much as you may hate the sight of me right now, there's no way you should be alone right now. Okay? Let me take care of you."
She nodded her head. "Okay, okay. But, but, I still hate you Gordo," she said in a delirious, drunken voice.
Yeah, I know. And I'm so sorry, he muttered to himself. "Alright, first thing is you need to get out of those clothes and into a hot bath. Come on Lizzie, let me help you get upstairs to the bathroom." He gently pulled her up, grabbed a hold of her shoulders, and began to lead her up the stairs.
When they reached the bathroom, he turned on the lights and sat her down on the edge of the bathtub. He reached over and turned on the faucet. The room was filled with the soft roar of the water pouring into the bathtub.
He turned to Lizzie, who was looking at him impatiently. "Uh, is there something the matter, Lizzie? Do you need something?"
"Gordo! What, are you going to stay in here and watch me undress?" She said incredulously, almost letting out a half-smile.
"Oh! Oh yeah. My bad, Lizzie, I was just thinking about you, I didn't want to leave you alone. You're okay, though right? I mean, to be by yourself?"
"Yes, I'm fine. But, what about you? You're still in you're soaking wet clothes," she said as she swam her fingers in the warm bathwater. "Mmmmm . . . the water feels wonderful."
"Well, I was thinking that while you take your bath, I could run home, change, and also bring back some prescription flu medicine my parents got for me last year. That is, as long as you'll be okay, I mean, I don't want you falling asleep in the bathtub or something . . ."
"I'm fine, Gordo, really I am."
"Okay, then. I'll just ran home quickly and be back in no time. And, uh, hey, do you mind if I borrow your car? It's still raining out and . . . ."
"Yes, of course. The keys are somewhere downstairs, I'm sure you'll find them."
"Great. Okay, I'll let you alone, and I'll be right back. Need anything before I go?"
"Yeah, could you bring some candle jars from my bedroom? I like taking a bath to candlelight," she said sheepishly, as if she were revealing a deep dark secret to Gordo.
"Uh, sure, no problem." He smiled and quickly shuffled out the bathroom door. He entered her room and found candles littering her entire room. Lizzie and her candles, mused Gordo. He grabbed several off of her desk and marched back to the bathroom. The door was slight ajar, and he could hear Lizzie changing inside. He knocked and said, "Is it okay for me to come in?"
"Hold on for a sec . . . . Okay, come on in," beckoned Lizzie.
Gordo pushed open the door and walked in to see Lizzie sitting on the edge of the bathtub, still waiting for it to fill. Her wet clothes were on the floor and she was wrapped in a large bath towel. His eyes dropped at the sight. He looked at her crossed legs, her bare shoulders, her cropped up hair, and then he peered at her hazel eyes. She's so absolutely beautiful, he gasped, my god Lizzie, you take my breath away . . . .
"You okay, Gordo? You look like a deer caught in headlights," she giggled.
"Er-ah, um, yeah, I- I'm fine, I'm totally fine. Uh, here are your candles, yeah, that's it," he said, shaking his head.
"Thanks, Gordo." She stood up, picked up a lighter, and lit the candles. Gordo just stood there, in the doorway, utterly bewitched by the sight of his friend.
As she lit the last candle, she let out a cough, shuddered, turned to Gordo and said, "Thanks, Gordo, but, uh, shouldn't you be going now? I could really use some of that medicine you mentioned."
"Oh yeah! Of course!" He snapped out of his hypnotic state. "Right, right, I'll be going now, right now. I'll, uh, see you in a bit, okay. Yeah." He closed the door behind him and marched downstairs, his mind filled with visions of Lizzie McGuire. She's so beautiful, she's so beautiful, he kept repeating to himself.
He picked up Lizzie's car keys off the living room table, walked over to the television, turned it off, opened the front door and walked outside.
He was met with a steady downpour of rain. When is this rain ever going to stop?
He gulped a breath of air and sprinted to Lizzie's car. He quickly got in, switched on the ignition, and starting driving the short journey to his home. As he reached the stop sign, he glanced at the car clock, which informed him that it was several minutes past 10:00 p.m.
Within a few minutes, he was home. Once inside, he headed straight towards the bathroom, shed his clothes, and jumped in tub for a quick shower. Oh man, this is going to feel good, he thought.
After his brief but very pleasant shower, he dressed quickly, found the prescription medicine, then headed to his desk. Before he headed back, he wanted to check in with David on the ham radio, to tell him that Lizzie was alive.
He plopped himself on his desk chair and attempted to contact David. Wow, it feels so good to be dry, he thought as he played with the signal on the radio. "David, are you there? It's me, Gordo. Let me know if you're hearing me."
Silence.
Hmm, that's odd, he thought. David said he would be at the radio all day and night. Wonder what's up? I hope we haven't lost the connection . . . .
"David, are you there? It's me, it's me Gordo!" He looked at his watch. 10:15 p.m. I should be getting back to Lizzie soon, he mused, but I really want to talk to David before I go.
Where is he?
********************************************************************
DAVID'S POV - Year 2015
10:05 p.m.
He couldn't help it, but as he waited for Gordo to contact him, he felt the burning desire to pace around, to move around, to not stand still.
Come on, come on, contact me, contact me . . . .
He looked at his watch, again, for about the hundredth time in the past half-hour. 10:06 p.m.
He was starting to feel claustrophobic again, he was starting to feel an uneasy sense of doom. He could sense something was up, he could sense that something was in the air. . . .
THUD!
"Wha--?" He heard a loud noise at the back of the house.
THUD! Another loud noise came from the backdoor. What the hell is that, he wondered. Is somebody there?
He walked to the backdoor and flung it wide open and peered outside the door. Only the sound and sight of the rain greeted him.
As he was about to close the door, he heard a loud screech and he saw something, a creature flying towards him. Oh crap . . . .
He could see something that looked like a large dark bird heading towards his head. He knew he wouldn't be able to close the door in time, and he braced himself for the head - on collision.
The nocturnal creature flew straight at David, grazing the top of his head. It screeched and fluttered about his house.
Trying to avoid the creature, he slipped and hit his head on the hard tiled floor. A wave of pain flooded his consciousness, and everything started to turn dark and black. Just as he was about to slip into unconsciousness, he saw the winged creature fly over his body, out the door and back into the darkness of the wet night.
Oh, it was a bat . . .. . oh man, I'm going to pass out . . . .but, Gordo, damn, I need to be there for Gordo, I need to be awake, I can't go unconscious. . . .
With that last thought, at 10:10 p.m., his mind succumbed to the overwhelming will of a beckoning, alluring, sensual nothingness.
9:40 p.m.
As he stood there on his back porch, remembering what happened that morning twelve years ago, David opened his eyes, stared up into the oncoming rain, and screamed into the stormy night, "Oh my god, what in the world were you thinking, man? You practically threw her into Jimmy' arms! It's your fault she dies for the second time!"
But, it's not too late, remember? You still have a second chance! With that thought, David ran back into his house and sprinted into the bathroom for a quick shower.
After he put himself into some dry clothes, he began to pace around the living in deep thought about how he could save Lizzie's life once again.
I'm going to do it, somehow, I'm going to do it. It's not her destiny to die, I know it, I'm going to save her again, I have to save her, for her, and for me . . . .
Come on think, man, there's got to be a way, there's got to be a way.
David paced around his living room, wracking his brain for solutions. I need to talk to Gordo again, I need to tell him what happens to Lizzie.
But, why, why didn't he contact me again?
He closed his eyes, trying to remember the details of what happened that night twelve years ago. Let's see, he, me, Gordo, left Lizzie's house and then came home for a change of clothes. I tried to contact me, David, on the ham radio. But, when I tried to reach him, there was no answer, no answer at all.
Why? I'm right here, there should've been no way that I would have missed Gordo if he tried to reach me again. Why didn't I answer? David wondered. Or, more accurately, when he tries to contact me in a little bit, why don't I answer him? What happens?
This doesn't make any sense. Unless, unless, there's something wrong with the ham radio!
David walked over to living room alcove, where the ham radio sat on a mahogany desk. He carefully gave the radio an intensive check-up. Whew, no problem, no problem, it's still working perfectly, there's no problem with it all.
He plopped himself onto his the desk chair, sighed, and thought, okay, if I remember my new memories well, I left Lizzie's house sometime after 10:00 p.m. He looked at his wristwatch. It read 9:48 p.m. He should be radioing me at any time now. Alright, I'll just sit here and wait for him to radio me, there's no way I'm going to miss Gordo's call, there's no way . . . .
***************************************************************
GORDO'S POV--TWELVE YEARS EARLIER
9:30 p.m.
Gordo closed the door behind him and walked into the living room. He looked at Lizzie, who was standing just a few feet away from him.
She was soaking wet, with beads of water dripping down her hair and face. She returned Gordo's glance and said, "Hang on, I'm going to get us some towels, okay?"
She spoke with very little emotion on her voice.
"Okay, I'll be right here," he replied.
He watched Lizzie disappear around the corner and then sighed a breath of relief. Even though he didn't realize it, he had been holding his breath. He was feeling awkward and self-conscious, unsure of what to say to her, unsure of how to be around her. What he wanted more than anything else was a clear sign from her that everything between them was okay, that they were still best friends, that what had just transpired would soon be forgotten.
Lizzie reappeared with two large towels in her hands. Without making eye contact, she said, "here you go," handed Gordo the red towel, took a few steps back, then started drying herself off.
"Thanks, Lizzie, uh, you know how I hate being all wet!" He laughed and wiped the rain off his face. C'mon Lizzie, I'm making a bad joke here, say something, anything . . . .
She looked up at him, gave him a blank expression, then said, "Yeah, that's great," in a mindless, hollow voice, acting as if he had just rudely interrupted her. "Are you done with the towel?"
"Uh, yeah, here you go."
"Thanks." She took the towel, stroked it several times, then said in a quiet voice, "Listen, Gordo, I-I think I just need to be alone right now, and you should probably be getting home, too."
He winced, feeling intensely rejected by her words. "Li-Lizzie, I-I . . ."
"Don't say anything, please. We can talk about, uh, what happened, or not, tomorrow, or, or some other time, you know?" She nervously pulled on her wet hair, still refusing to make eye contact with Gordo.
He took a few steps closer to her. "Lizzie, I'm not sure you should be by yourself tonight."
She saw him move towards him and instinctively took several steps back. "Gordo, please, just leave me alone, okay?"
He was stunned by the tone in her voice. It sounded like, it sounded like . . . she's *afraid* of me . . . my best friend is scared of me. He felt both his throat and stomach tighten up and he was having a hard time breathing. Oh my god, what have I done?
"Lizzie, I just feel awful about . . ."
"No, Gordo, no!" She said icily. I don't want to talk about it, okay? Really, you should be getting home, and anyway, I don't know why you want to be with mesince I'm apparently too dumb to be your friend. Okay? So just go home, please, just -"
She couldn't finish her sentence. She became lightheaded and dizzy and felt as if all the life in her was draining out of her body. "Ohhhh . . ." The room started to spin. "Oh my . . . ." she said as she began to collapse to the floor.
"Lizzie!"
He rushed over to her and just barely caught her slumping body. "Come on, Lizzie, let's get you over to the couch." He picked her up, took her by the shoulders and led her to the couch.
"I-I'm fine, Gordo, I'm fine, I just need to sit down, that's all," she muttered.
He laid her down, sat next to her and felt her forehead. Her skin was burning hot. "Lizzie, you're burning up, you've got a fever. We need to get you out of these wet clothes," he said, extremely concerned for the well being of his friend.
"Oh, Gordo," she whispered, "you know what?"
"What, Lizzie? What?"
"I feel like crap!" She laughed softly, then started coughing and shivering. "I-it's so cold in here, I feel so co-cold." Her teeth chattered as she spoke.
"Okay, you are really sick, Lizzie. As much as you may hate the sight of me right now, there's no way you should be alone right now. Okay? Let me take care of you."
She nodded her head. "Okay, okay. But, but, I still hate you Gordo," she said in a delirious, drunken voice.
Yeah, I know. And I'm so sorry, he muttered to himself. "Alright, first thing is you need to get out of those clothes and into a hot bath. Come on Lizzie, let me help you get upstairs to the bathroom." He gently pulled her up, grabbed a hold of her shoulders, and began to lead her up the stairs.
When they reached the bathroom, he turned on the lights and sat her down on the edge of the bathtub. He reached over and turned on the faucet. The room was filled with the soft roar of the water pouring into the bathtub.
He turned to Lizzie, who was looking at him impatiently. "Uh, is there something the matter, Lizzie? Do you need something?"
"Gordo! What, are you going to stay in here and watch me undress?" She said incredulously, almost letting out a half-smile.
"Oh! Oh yeah. My bad, Lizzie, I was just thinking about you, I didn't want to leave you alone. You're okay, though right? I mean, to be by yourself?"
"Yes, I'm fine. But, what about you? You're still in you're soaking wet clothes," she said as she swam her fingers in the warm bathwater. "Mmmmm . . . the water feels wonderful."
"Well, I was thinking that while you take your bath, I could run home, change, and also bring back some prescription flu medicine my parents got for me last year. That is, as long as you'll be okay, I mean, I don't want you falling asleep in the bathtub or something . . ."
"I'm fine, Gordo, really I am."
"Okay, then. I'll just ran home quickly and be back in no time. And, uh, hey, do you mind if I borrow your car? It's still raining out and . . . ."
"Yes, of course. The keys are somewhere downstairs, I'm sure you'll find them."
"Great. Okay, I'll let you alone, and I'll be right back. Need anything before I go?"
"Yeah, could you bring some candle jars from my bedroom? I like taking a bath to candlelight," she said sheepishly, as if she were revealing a deep dark secret to Gordo.
"Uh, sure, no problem." He smiled and quickly shuffled out the bathroom door. He entered her room and found candles littering her entire room. Lizzie and her candles, mused Gordo. He grabbed several off of her desk and marched back to the bathroom. The door was slight ajar, and he could hear Lizzie changing inside. He knocked and said, "Is it okay for me to come in?"
"Hold on for a sec . . . . Okay, come on in," beckoned Lizzie.
Gordo pushed open the door and walked in to see Lizzie sitting on the edge of the bathtub, still waiting for it to fill. Her wet clothes were on the floor and she was wrapped in a large bath towel. His eyes dropped at the sight. He looked at her crossed legs, her bare shoulders, her cropped up hair, and then he peered at her hazel eyes. She's so absolutely beautiful, he gasped, my god Lizzie, you take my breath away . . . .
"You okay, Gordo? You look like a deer caught in headlights," she giggled.
"Er-ah, um, yeah, I- I'm fine, I'm totally fine. Uh, here are your candles, yeah, that's it," he said, shaking his head.
"Thanks, Gordo." She stood up, picked up a lighter, and lit the candles. Gordo just stood there, in the doorway, utterly bewitched by the sight of his friend.
As she lit the last candle, she let out a cough, shuddered, turned to Gordo and said, "Thanks, Gordo, but, uh, shouldn't you be going now? I could really use some of that medicine you mentioned."
"Oh yeah! Of course!" He snapped out of his hypnotic state. "Right, right, I'll be going now, right now. I'll, uh, see you in a bit, okay. Yeah." He closed the door behind him and marched downstairs, his mind filled with visions of Lizzie McGuire. She's so beautiful, she's so beautiful, he kept repeating to himself.
He picked up Lizzie's car keys off the living room table, walked over to the television, turned it off, opened the front door and walked outside.
He was met with a steady downpour of rain. When is this rain ever going to stop?
He gulped a breath of air and sprinted to Lizzie's car. He quickly got in, switched on the ignition, and starting driving the short journey to his home. As he reached the stop sign, he glanced at the car clock, which informed him that it was several minutes past 10:00 p.m.
Within a few minutes, he was home. Once inside, he headed straight towards the bathroom, shed his clothes, and jumped in tub for a quick shower. Oh man, this is going to feel good, he thought.
After his brief but very pleasant shower, he dressed quickly, found the prescription medicine, then headed to his desk. Before he headed back, he wanted to check in with David on the ham radio, to tell him that Lizzie was alive.
He plopped himself on his desk chair and attempted to contact David. Wow, it feels so good to be dry, he thought as he played with the signal on the radio. "David, are you there? It's me, Gordo. Let me know if you're hearing me."
Silence.
Hmm, that's odd, he thought. David said he would be at the radio all day and night. Wonder what's up? I hope we haven't lost the connection . . . .
"David, are you there? It's me, it's me Gordo!" He looked at his watch. 10:15 p.m. I should be getting back to Lizzie soon, he mused, but I really want to talk to David before I go.
Where is he?
********************************************************************
DAVID'S POV - Year 2015
10:05 p.m.
He couldn't help it, but as he waited for Gordo to contact him, he felt the burning desire to pace around, to move around, to not stand still.
Come on, come on, contact me, contact me . . . .
He looked at his watch, again, for about the hundredth time in the past half-hour. 10:06 p.m.
He was starting to feel claustrophobic again, he was starting to feel an uneasy sense of doom. He could sense something was up, he could sense that something was in the air. . . .
THUD!
"Wha--?" He heard a loud noise at the back of the house.
THUD! Another loud noise came from the backdoor. What the hell is that, he wondered. Is somebody there?
He walked to the backdoor and flung it wide open and peered outside the door. Only the sound and sight of the rain greeted him.
As he was about to close the door, he heard a loud screech and he saw something, a creature flying towards him. Oh crap . . . .
He could see something that looked like a large dark bird heading towards his head. He knew he wouldn't be able to close the door in time, and he braced himself for the head - on collision.
The nocturnal creature flew straight at David, grazing the top of his head. It screeched and fluttered about his house.
Trying to avoid the creature, he slipped and hit his head on the hard tiled floor. A wave of pain flooded his consciousness, and everything started to turn dark and black. Just as he was about to slip into unconsciousness, he saw the winged creature fly over his body, out the door and back into the darkness of the wet night.
Oh, it was a bat . . .. . oh man, I'm going to pass out . . . .but, Gordo, damn, I need to be there for Gordo, I need to be awake, I can't go unconscious. . . .
With that last thought, at 10:10 p.m., his mind succumbed to the overwhelming will of a beckoning, alluring, sensual nothingness.