A Second Chance – Chapter 19
DAVID'S POV -- In this chapter, I'm switching to adult David's POV, to see what he's been doing while Gordo and Lizzie have been talking on the couch. This Chapter begins when David last spoke with Gordo on the ham radio. It was right after David woke up from being unconscious on the floor, around 10:15 p.m.
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As soon as the younger Gordo signed off, David got up from his chair and headed slowly to the bathroom. He was still feeling woozy and lightheaded from falling on the hard tile floor, trying in a futile attempt to avoid the wayward bat that had flown into his house.
I hope I don't have a concussion, he muttered. He slowly made it to the bathroom, flicked on the light switch, and hastily grabbed a bottle of aspirin from the medicine cabinet. He popped a handful of aspirin tablets and flung them into his mouth, swallowing them without the aid of any water. Ever since he was a child, he had the unusual habit of swallowing pills dry, a habit that drove his parents crazy, who always worried that he would choke on an errant pill.
Owww, hope the aspirins start kicking in soon, my head is seriously killing me . . .
He left the bathroom as groggily as he had entered it, and he gingerly made his way to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of sparkling mineral water, then plopped onto to the couch. He laid down, put his feet up on the armrest, took a swig of his water, then stared up at the ceiling, alone with just his thoughts and the beating sound of the rain outside. He wanted to do nothing except to lie down and wait for new memories to pop into his head as his younger-self attempted to change history, to save Lizzie McGuire's life for a second time.
So, he closed his eyes, and waited.
After a few moments had passed, he was still waiting. No new memories were flashing into his head. His mind remained a foggy, ignorant grey.
"Damn it! I can't see what's going on!"
The blow to his head from the floor had left him with a concussion that was preventing him from seeing any new memories. Occasionally some bits and pieces of new memories would flicker in his mind, but the images were all jumbled, blurry, dark, and distorted. Nor could he even hold onto the confusing images or make sense of them. He didn't have a clue what was happening with Gordo and Lizzie, the only thing he knew for certain was that Gordo was back inside the McGuire's house.
He checked his wristwatch; it read 10:30 p.m. Wonder what's happening with them?
He didn't know quite what to do with himself now. He felt completely helpless, as the fate of his best friend was being decided simultaneously in the present and the past.
He buried his face in his hands, the turbulent emotions of the past two days overwhelming his senses. He was so tired, yet he couldn't sleep, not now, not yet.
He was so full of hope earlier this evening, but now, feelings of hopelessness was raining down on him just as hard as the torrential rain outside was pelting and punishing the pavement. At this moment, he felt like the loneliest man in the world, a man caught between two different places, two different worlds. Right now, he felt cursed, as he now had memories about Lizzie dying twice, memorie about having to griever her death twice.
This is absolute torture . . . .
As he lifted his face out his hands, something on the far edge of the coffee table caught his eye. It was a silver double picture frame, and it was holding two 3 by 5 pictures.
Hmmm. . . I don't remember having a picture frame on the table before. He leaned over to the left and grabbed the frame. He then leaned over to his right and turned on the lamp on the side table so that he could have enough light to get a good look at the pictures.
As soon as he saw the two pictures, he let out a silent gasp. Oh my god . . . .
Those pictures . . . it . . . it can't be . . .
But, it was. The pictures were pictures of Lizzie McGuire taken after the night of the fateful crash.
The first picture was a group prom picture. Miranda and her date were in the picture. He was also in the picture, alone, without a date. And standing right next to him was a 17 year old Lizzie McGuire, who had her left arm around his shoulders, and her right arm wrapped around the shoulders of her date, Jimmy.
He let out a little laugh as he began to reminisce about his high school senior prom experience. He remembered that in his original lifetime, before the younger Gordo had changed history, Lizzie had died before she could attend her senior prom, and he ended up not going at all.
In the new lifetime, Lizzie didn't die on that fateful night twelve years ago, and she and Jimmy kept dating and entered into a serious relationship. They planned on going to the senior prom together, and they convinced Gordo that he should also come, even though he didn't have a date. He reluctantly agreed, and now, he was looking at a memento from that night.
He stared at the picture intently, as if he were trying to memorize every single detail in the picture. His "new" memories of going to the senior prom with Lizzie and Jimmy began to flash in his mind. Yet, even though he remembered having the picture taken, it was as if he were laying eyes on the picture for the very first time, laying eyes on a 17 year old Lizzie McGuire for the very first time.
God, she's so beautiful!
He then slowly turned his gaze at the second picture in the frame. He gasped again. It was a picture of his graduation from U.C. Berkeley. He was in graduation regalia, and a 22 year old Lizzie was standing right beside him, with her arms wrapped around him, giving him a kiss on his cheeks.
Tears started to stream down his cheeks as he kept muttering to himself, "oh my god she's so beautiful . . . "It was as if he was getting his first real glimpse of an adult Lizzie, and he was blown away by what he was seeing. She looked the same as he remembered her as a sixteen year old, except her hair was styled differently, making her less girlish and more sophisticated. She looked like a beautiful young woman.
That's just one year before she died, he thought wistfully.
A smile came over his face as he realized what was happening. He realized that he and Gordo had indeed altered the fabric of time and history itself, and that with his new memories, things around his house have changed to reflect the new history being created.
If I have these two pictures of Lizzie past the age of sixteen, then that means that . . . . I must have others!
With that sudden realization, he leaped up out of the couch and raced to the bookshelf next to the entertainment center. He grabbed all his photo albums and started to thumb through them. And quickly he had found them . . . his pictures of Lizzie after that fateful July 31st date.
He stumbled back to the couch, placed the photo album on the coffee table, and began to flip through it with enormous anticipation. It was as if he was about to get a glimpse of pure Heaven.
He saw more pictures of Lizzie at their senior prom, pictures of Lizzie when she visited him at Berkeley, and pictures of Lizzie and Jimmy at their wedding. He gasped when he gazed upon a picture of Lizzie decked out in her flowing white wedding gown. She's absolutely gorgeous . . . . and I should've been the one standing with her in that picture, not Jimmy . . . .
The last picture in the photo album was one with him and Lizzie, taken only two weeks before Jimmy killed her at the age of twenty-three. She was visiting her family in L.A., and as she always did when she was in L.A., she would visit Gordo. The picture was of the pair sitting at a café together.
David examined the picture intently, noticing a deep sadness in her eyes that her smile failed to cover up.
Why didn't I notice how sad she was on that day, he wondered? If I did, maybe I could've stopped Jimmy from killing her . . . .
With that thought, he glanced at his watch. It was 11:30 p.m. He had been immersed in his "new" pictures for the last hour, lost in newfound nostalgia and sentimentality.
He closed the album, and got up to go to the kitchen. He now realized just how hungry he was feeling, and felt like snacking on some dry cereal.
As he gingerly walked over to the kitchen, he smacked his head lightly, hoping to shake some of the cobwebs out of his head. He still couldn't see what was going on with Lizzie and Gordo, his headache and slight concussion still working feverishly to prevent new memories from getting on through to his consciousness.
Nope, still can't see. Damn, I hate being blind like this, not knowing what's happening. I hope to god everything's working out . . . .
He opened the cabinet door and grabbed a box of cereal. As he was closing the door, he suddenly was hit with a wave of nausea and dizziness. Oh crap . . . . He felt as if he was about to fall back into unconsciousness and fall onto the floor. No, can't fall again, musn't fall . . .
With all of his will, he managed to get himself to the kitchen table and sat down on one of the chairs. With his elbows propped up on the table, he held his head firmly to make sure it wasn't going to explode. His temples were throbbing relentlessly.
I just need a minute, and I'll be alright, come on, this'll pass . . . .
At that moment, David could hear noises coming from the other room. It was the ham radio. He could hear Gordo's voice ringing throughout the house.
"David! Are you there? It's me, Gordo! "
Wait on a minute, Gordo, I'll be right there, just hold on, he thought, as he kept holding on to himself, waiting for the dizzy spell to subside enough so that he could walk on over to the radio.
A few moments passed. Then, he heard Gordo's voice again calling out for him. "David! It's Gordo, tell me that you're there!"
Okay, come on, you need to talk to him, get up and get over there! He slowly, gingerly picked himself up, and trudged out of the kitchen and to the radio. Although it seemed like an eternity, he eventually made it to his destination, and he quickly grabbed the microphone and began to speak.
"Gordo? Is that you? Yeah, it's me, David!"
"Yes, it's me! Man, it feels like it's been forever since I last talked to you! How are you?"
"Well my head is still killing me from my fall on the floor, but that's not important right now. I want to know how things are going with you and Lizzie. How is she?"
"Well, why don't you ask her yourself, David. Lizzie's right here with me."
"Wha --?" Said David. "No, this isn't good, she shouldn't know what's going to happen . . . ."
"David, it's too late, I've already told her everything. I know you told me not to, but I thought I had to tell her, to make her understand."
"Oh, my god, no . . . ." replied David, completely distraught. He shouldn't have told her, that wasn't the plan . . . .
"Listen, everything's going to be alright. Here, I'm handing the microphone to her. Hold on a sec. . ."
David took an enormously deep breath as he waited for Lizzie to talk into the microphone. This is too strange, too surreal, this can't be happening, no I can't talk to her, not right now, not when everything's not set right yet, not now, please, I can't do this . . . .
Then, he heard her voice.
"Umm . . . hi, David. It's me, Lizzie, Lizzie McGuire. We talked for a little bit yesterday. Do you, uh, remember me?"
He couldn't respond, as a wave of intense and ragged emotions jolted his psyche, and he could feel his body going completely numb with shock. It was like hearing the voice of a beautiful ghost, and suddenly, he felt himself being transported back into time, back to time when Lizzie was still alive, back to a time when all was still right and beautiful with the world.
"Uh, David, hi, it's me, Lizzie, are you still there?"
Although he felt totally immobilized, he finally mustered up the courage to give a response. "Ye- yes, I'm still here. Uh – hi, Lizzie. How – how are you?"
"Well, to be honest, I'm not sure, it's been a very rough night for me. How – how about you? How are you doing tonight?" Lizzie asked, in a tentative, unsure voice.
He gathered his composure, and replied, "I've had a really rough night, too. But, it's been an amazing night, an absolutely miraculous night."
"Really? Miraculous? How so?"
"Because it's an absolute miracle right now that I'm talking with you, Lizzie," he said instantly, with a feeling of sheer wonder and awe in his voice.
"You mean, because, you, you know . . . you're David, I mean, I know that's your name, but I mean, you're my David, I mean, you know, uh, oh, ohmigosh, I don't know what I'm saying, I'm feeling soooo confused right now, Gordo," she said.
As soon as she called David "Gordo," she knew that she was, against her will, beginning to slowly believe in everything that Gordo had told her this night.
For David, it was as if he was hearing the most beautiful, wonderful sound in the entire universe – his best friend, the girl he loved, the girl who had died, twice in his lifetime, was once again talking to him and calling him by his endearing nickname.
"Yes, Lizzie, it is - me, it's me, Gordo," David replied, his voice steeped in strong emotions. "Do – do you believe me, do you understand what's been going on tonight?"
"H-honestly, David, I'm not sure, I'm so confused, and I tired and sleepy and sick and I just want to go to bed, but . . . but . . ."
"But you want to get to the truth."
With a deep sense of urgency and frantic-ness, Lizzie replied in her mile-a-minute voice. "Yes. You know, Gordo, I mean the Gordo who's with me now, he's been telling me all these crazy stories about how I was supposed to die tonight, and how I'm going to die in a few years when my boyfriend kills me, and it's really frightening me, and it just sounds so unreal, and even though it was so sweet of him to tell me tonight that he's in love with me, I still hate him for saying those awful, scary things to me, and now I'm talking to you, and I don't know who you really are, I don't know why I keep getting you confused with Gordo, because you can't be Gordo, you can't, you're David, Gordo's friend, and there's no way you can be Gordo all grown up, because that's science fiction stuff, it's not real, and ohhhh . . . I just wish this was all a bad dream and I'll wake up from it really soon!"
While she spoke, David could only think about the one thing she had said . . . that Gordo had told her that he was in love with her! Oh my god, he did it! He told her the truth! I told her the truth! After all these years, she knows, she finally knows how I feel about her!
As that realization sunk in, he could feel an enormous weight falling off of his shoulders, as if he had finally given release to a secret longing that had always wanted to be set free.
And now, he desperately wanted to know how she felt about all of this, how she felt about the fact that her best friend had been in love with her for as long as they had known each other. . . . he desperately wanted to know how she felt about him . . . .
He grabbed on tightly to the microphone, and he said, in a slow, measured voice, "Gordo, he told you, you know, he finally told you that he loved you?"
"Y-yes, yes he did," she replied, a little confused by the strange, curious tone in David's voice.
"Lizzie, what – what do you think about that?"
"Um, I'm not sure what you're asking. Think about what?"
"Gordo loves you. Do – do you love him? Do you – do you love me?" He finally asked it, the question he had been wanting to ask Lizzie for almost his entire life, but never had the courage to ask, and then, when Lizzie died, never had the opportunity to ask. He was overcome with sheer terror at the thought he might hear the wrong answer, that he might hear the answer that would absolutely break his heart and tear down his entire world.
Silently, calmly, he waited for Lizzie's answer.