A Second Chance – Chapter 29
He crumpled to the floor, clutching the picture to his chest, burning hot tears of unbridled joy streaming down his face.
"Oh my god," he cried, "Lizzie, she's alive! Thank God, she's alive!!!"
He stayed on his knees, staring at the picture and hoping and praying to God that this was all real, that this was all true, and that this wasn't just a wishful dream.
Not only was Lizzie alive, but he was married to her . . . .
"It – it can't be true . . . . This . . . this is unbelievable . . . ."
He slowly got up from the floor, wiped the tears away from his face and stumbled onto the sofa.
He put the picture down and began massaging his temples, trying to loosen up his mind and free his memories.
I just wish I could remember everything, I wish I could remember getting married to her, I wish I could remember being with her, as my wife . . . .
He scanned his living room again, taking in, with awe, the miraculous transformation that it had just undergone.
He breathed in the room's new décor and atmosphere. The colored candles and flowers imbued the room with a soft, romantic, cozy feeling.
It's so beautiful . . . and this room, this house, it now feels like . . . home.
Lizzie must have done all of this, he thought, gazing up at the ceiling.
I can feel her presence everywhere . . . .
He picked up the wedding picture and examined it again.
As he did, a thought struck him like a bolt of lightning.
Wait . . . if Lizzie and I are married, and she designed our living room, then that must mean we're . . .
. . . living together.
"Of course! That's what married couples do, David Gordon, they marry each other and live together," hemuttered to himself,slapping himself on the forehead.
And, that means . . . that must mean . . . . that she . . . . Lizzie must be . . . .
He jumped up and hovered excitedly over the coffee table, as tried to absorb the wonderful, amazing reality of the situation.
Lizzie! Oh my god, she's here! She has to be here!
"Lizzie!" He shouted. "Lizzie!"
Only a secretive silence greeted his calls.
"Lizzie! Answer me, please!"
He frantically ran around the living room, searching for any signs of one Lizzie McGuire.
No one was there.
Where could she be?
He looked back at the clock, saw the time, and instantly realized where she must be.
Of course, you idiot, it's still ridiculously early in the morning, she's must still be asleep.
And if she's sleeping . . . .
The bedroom!
His heart racing, he sprinted towards the hallway leading up to the bedroom.
When he reached the room, he saw that the door was slightly ajar, with a soft, quiet darkness emanating from the inside.
Slowly and quietly, he gently pushed opened the door and carefully wandered inside.
Once entering the room, he was greeted with the aromatic scent of flowers intermingled with the sensual flavors of a woman's perfumes.
Lizzie . . . .
As he breathed in the wonderful scents, his hands started to tremble and his heart started to beat and pound like a heavy drum.
The room was pitched in darkness, but he didn't want to turn on the light and startle her, if she, in fact, was sleeping in the room.
So, he stood there, letting his eyes gradually adjust to the darkness, pausing, trying to get a handle on the magnitude of this incredible moment.
His heart skipped a noticeable beat as he noticed a figure sleeping underneath the sheets. He could see the sheets rhythmically move up and down with each breath.
He gulped, tingling nervousness coursing up and down his body.
He felt disembodied, as if he was floating above the room, watching himself standing there, frozen with sheer anticipation.
I . . . I can't move . . .
Although his mind was ordering his body to stay firmly in place, his body seemed to have a mind and desire of its own, and despite his fierce internal resistance, he took slow, deliberate, steps, walked over to the left side of the king sized bed, and sat down on the empty spot next to the person soundly asleep.
As he sat down, he noticed packed suitcases sitting right outside of the closet.
For a slight moment, he wondered what the suitcases were for, but that question quickly darted out of his consciousness as he turned to the person lying on the bed.
She was sleeping on her side, with her back to him.
He couldn't see her face, but he could tell it was a woman, a woman who appeared to have shoulder length blonde hair.
He hated having to wake her up, but he had to, he had to find out the truth . . . .
He scooted himself closer to the woman, and he gently shook her back. He whispered, "Lizzie? Is it you?"
"Hmmmm?" She murmured, as she shifted her legs with his touch.
Her voice . . . that voice . . . .
With his heart in his throat, he shook her and whispered again, "Lizzie, wake up . . . it's me, Gordo!"
Please, wake up, for me . . . .
"Wh—what is it, Gordo?" She replied drowsily. She let out a soft yawn, rubbed her eyes, then she turned over to face him, to see why she had been abruptly awaken fromher tranquil slumber.
Immobile, he watched as the woman's body twisted and shifted to face him. It all was happening in a split second, but for David, it felt like he was waiting for eternity to arrive.
In the darkness, their eyes finally met.
His wide-open eyes locked fiercely onto her sleepy eyes, as he if was staring into the very depths of her soul, as if he was a man arriving at an oasis after weeks, months, and years of wandering lost in the desert.
He found himself staring into the hypnotic hazel eyes of Lizzie McGuire.
"Oh my god, it is you . . . Lizzie, it's you," he gasped.
"Of course it's me," she softly replied.
Tears streamed down his face as he tried to fully grasp and comprehend the situation. He couldn't believe his eyes; he couldn't believe his mind; he couldn't believe who he was talking with, in his house, in his bed.
He couldn't speak, all he could do was intently examine her eyes, her face, her soft, beautiful skin, her flowing blonde hair, her arms, her legs.
His mind, body, and soul were blown away by her achingly beautiful face. Her face still had the youthful, precocious appearance of her teenage years, but now it was enhanced with an adult sophistication and grace.
She noticed the stunned, pale look etched on his face, and the tears streaming down from hiseyes. "Gordo, are you okay?"
She picked herself up so that she was now sitting up on the bed and squarely facing him. She pulled back her tangled hair and hastily tied it up in a bun.
She blinked several times to chase away the remnants of her sleepiness, then she gazed tenderly into his shell-shocked eyes, patiently waiting for his response.
Afraid to move, afraid to break the spell of the moment and have everything revert back to his past reality, he mustered up the courage, gave into his intense longing, and reached out with his hands and traced the features and contours of her face with his fingers.
Her skin was silky smooth and radiated soothing warmth, and he shuddered from the intimate touch.
"My god, Lizzie, you . . . you're so beautiful," he whispered.
And you're real, you're not just a dream . . . .
She blushed and averted her eyes. It felt wonderful as his hand and fingers lovingly explored her face. His fingers ran through her hair, stroked her ears, brushed her cheeks. She barely could resist kissing his fingers as they slowly, rhythmically circled her lips.
She looked into his eyes again and then kissed him softly on his cheek. "Are you alright, Gordo? You're acting like it's been years since you last saw me."
She giggled softly. "Not that I'm complaining."
He nodded, as the sound of her voice brought more tears to his eyes.
He couldn't hold himself back any longer and he wrapped his arms around her and held on to her with all of his heart, afraid that if he let go he would lose her forever to the black hole of time.
"I – I've missed you so much, Lizzie!"
He sobbed uncontrollably as he hugged her tightly, never wanting to let her go, never wanting this moment to end, wanting to be lost forever in her tender embrace.
She gently rocked his body, whispered soothing, comforting words in his ears, stroking his hair, holding and caressing his aching heart and body. She was deeply moved by the moment, and tears flowed from her eyes as she absorbed his pent up grieving and longing.
Oh, Gordo . . .
As she held onto him, she slowly began to understand what was going on.
Her thoughts drifted to twelve years ago, on the night of July 31st, when she had the most unusual experience of talking with a future version of her best friend, andwhen her best friend declared his love for her, and when she declared her love for him.
That night, her life changed forever, and the events of that memorable evening had all led up to this night, when past, present, and future collided, and would finally unveil to them the full significance of the entirety of their strange, unusual, and magical past.
Maybe, there's a still a chance for us, she silently hoped.
When his sobbing subsided and they finally broke their embrace, he shifted his body right next to her, so that they were sitting side by side, his hips and legs touching hers, his left arm wrapped around her shoulder and her head resting comfortably on his chest.
"Gordo," she whispered, "It happened, tonight. Didn't it?"
He nodded in affirmance.
"Yes, it all happened tonight. I was talking with Gordo, and you, over the ham radio."
"You mean?"
"Yes, the sixteen year old you, the night when we had that awful fight in the rain, the night when I first told you that I loved you."
"Oh," she responded, as her thoughts were transported back twelve years ago. She smiled as she remembered Gordo's passionate expression of his love for her.
"I remember that night so vividly, as if it just happened yesterday. It was such a beautiful night," she replied, with a tinge of melancholic nostalgia in her voice.
He grimaced. "But, I can't remember what happened that night, Lizzie. I slipped and hit my head on the floor a few hours ago, and now I can't see any new memories. After I lost contact with you and Gordo, I have no idea what happened after that."
"Do you have amnesia?" She asked, puzzled, deeply concerned.
"No, the memories are all there, but they just seem to be stuck in my head. So, the past twelve years in this lifetime are a complete blank."
Her body and heart froze. "You – don't remember anything about us?"
"No, nothing," he replied. "The only reason I knew you were here is because justa few minutes ago, my old living room was covered with light and just like that, it changed into what it is now, into the way you've decorated it. And then I found this wedding ring on my finger, and a picture of me and you, and then I figured it out . . . we're married!"
"Y- yes, that's right, we're married," she replied, softly, without any emotions.
"Do you know how happy this makes me, Lizzie? Oh my god, it's like all my dreams have come true!" He said, smiling broadly.
Her smile disappeared. She pulled away from him, bent over to the night drawer and turned on the lamp.
A soft, yellow glow instantly flooded the room.
He shielded his eyes from the glare, then as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, he looked upon Lizzie, and gasped when he saw her beautiful, luminous face in the light.
He was about to reach over to touch her face, but he stopped himself when he saw that there was a sad, distraught look in her eyes.
"What's the matter? Is there something wrong?"
"You – you don't know, do you?"
"Know what?" He asked. He was starting to worry now.
"About us. About our marriage."
"No, I don't anything, except that we're married, and we're here, together, in our bed, in our house."
She didn't respond.
Puzzled, he then noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He looked at her ring finger.
The finger was bare.
"Lizzie, where's your wedding ring?"
She turned her head away from him. "It's -- it's on the night drawer."
He was awash in confusion.
Why -- why isn't she wearing her wedding ring?
"What's going on, Lizzie?" His heart raced, waiting with dreaded anticipation. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.
She shifted her body so that there now was some distance between them. She took a deep breathe and then told him the truth.
"Gordo, I haven't worn it since we decided to separate."
The answer was like a dagger to his heart.
Oh, no . . . it can't be . . . .
"Separate? When—when did we decide this?"
"Just a few days ago. I – I'm moving out tomorrow. To my parents' house, for awhile, until I figure things out."
His mind was swirling, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
For so long, he always believed that if he and Lizzie had gotten together, they would have remained together for the rest of their lives.
He never could have imagined marrying Lizzie and then separating, and then getting a divorce.
That thought had been un-imaginable.
Until now.
"Lizzie, what happened between us? I -- I can't believe it, I don't want to believe it. We can work it out, can't we?"
She looked at him with eyes of deep sadness and regret. She whispered, "Oh my god, Gordo, you really don't know remember anything, do you?"
"No, I don't. And I don't get it. Did -- did I do something wrong? Please, tell me, Lizzie, and I promise, whatever it is, I'll fix it, I'll make it up to you," he pleaded, desperation soaking his every word.
"Oh, no, you haven't done anything wrong," she replied.
She took his hand and firmly held on to it.
"You don't remember, but this is your idea, Gordo. You came home the other day and told me you wanted to separate from me," she said, her voice quivering, trying desperately to fight back her emotions.
His jaw dropped to the floor.
It -- it was my idea?
Oh my god, no, that can't be true . . . .
As he struggled to grasp what Lizzie had just told him, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of his skull and then he was blinded by a bolt of intensely bright white light.
He grabbed his head and keeled over into Lizzie's lap.
"Gordo!" Exclaimed Lizzie. "Ohmigosh, are you alright?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't answer.
Hewas being bombarded with millions and millions of new memories.
He was finally starting to remember everything . . . .
TO BE CONTINUED
Author's Note: I had to throw one last twist in there! The next chapter should be the grand conclusion (unless the chapter gets too long then I'll break it up into two). Please read and review. HM