Author's Note: Another update fresh off the presses! Think of it as a Christmas gift of sorts. Just as I suspected, my "last chapter" is turning into several chapters. There should be one more chapter after this one, and then we'll be done. It's been quite a journey writing this story, I'm going to be a bit sad in finally letting this story go. On a plus side, finishing this story will mean that I will start tackling my other unfinished stories. Serendipity is next on my list.
Sethducky -- as for your question about how the adultLizzie knows about everything that's happened, that's the paradox of time travel. Even though everything happened "tonight," remember, in reality,it alsotook place twelve years ago in the past. In other words, the events of the night are occurring simultaneously in the past and in the future. If you think really hard about time travel, then you'll see you always end up with certain paradoxes. Which is what makes time travel stories so much fun!
Merry Christmas! HM
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The first few years of their marriage were everything he dreamed about ever since he was a little boy who longedfor the affections of a pretty blonde girl named Lizzie McGuire.
He couldn't get enough of the wonderful fact that Lizzie was now his wife, his partner for life.
His life was as perfect as it could be.
Or, so it seemed . . . .
The slow disintegration of their marriage began as soon as his film career started taking off.
Immediately upon graduating from film school, the film he directed as his final school project won critical acclaim and put him on the map as a new, hot, young director.
There was so much buzz around him that soon afterthe release of the film,a major studio approached him and offered to let him direct one of its mainstream, big budget productions.
He jumped at the opportunity, and he ended directing a film that achieved both critical and commercial success.
In a span of eighteen months, David Gordon had become a household name in Hollywood circles.
With Lizzie by his side supporting him, with his early success emboldening him, his career increasingly became the major focus and preoccupation of his life.
His career was on the super-fast track. He had a gloriously wonderful taste of success, and he wanted more of it, he couldn't get enough of it.
He loved it when fans raved about his movies, when critics wrote and praised his directorial prowess and abilities, when famous actors would call him and tell him that they wanted to work with him, when studios would call him begging him to direct a movie for them.
He was driven to make the best and most popular movies out there. He wanted to work with the best actors, he wanted to work with the best filmmakers, and he wanted to go down in history as one of the greatest directors of all time . . . .
His ambitions, however, were taking on steady toll on his personal life, on his marriage.
Four years into his marriage, he was regularly working one hundred hour weeks and traveling to distant shooting locations for months at a time, apart and away from his wife.
Sometimes, days then weeks would go by without any real contact between the two, except for a hurried exchange of cursory emails or phone messages.
For Gordo, life was constantly on the go, constantly in motion, and he didn't make the time to maintain a real connection with Lizzie.
He was taking Lizzie for granted.
What made things worse was that Lizzie had begun to travel as part of her job as well.
Often, when Gordo was in Los Angeles, Lizzie was somewhere in Eastern Europe, and when Lizzie was in Los Angeles, Gordo was in Africa conducting principle photography on his new one hundred million dollar fantasy film.
So, with each passing day, the distance between the two grew wider and wider.
He hardly noticed it, because the sense of separation was subtle and building up only gradually. Also, given how busy he was, he didn't have the time to breathe nor take a step back to reflect on the state of his marriage.
But, she noticed.
And with every day that the walls between them grew higher and harder, it was as if her heart was being broken, piece by piece, day by day, slowly, and painfully.
She would often lay awake late in the nights, in their bed, staring at the empty space right next to her, wondering how he was, wondering where he was.
She missed him terribly, and it all hurt her deeply.
For Gordo, however, it was a different story. He still loved Lizzie, but she increasingly was becoming a second-thought, a tangent in his life.
Obsessed with his career, his life became about doing whatever it took to go as far as he could in the movie business.
That meant becoming a player in the Hollywood social scene. He knew networking was crucial for his long-term success, and so he dove head first into the Los Angeles celebrity nightlife. He attended every film premier, charity event, and celebrity party that he could fit into his tight schedule.
Sometimes, he and Lizzie would go together, but, more often, he would attend alone and stay up until the early hours of the next morning.
A few years ago, he could hardly have imagined himself as someone who would be into the Hollywood social scene. But, the Hollywood lifestyle was absolutely intoxicating, and the David Gordon he used to be was slowly being replaced by a new David Gordon, a David Gordon completely driven by his thirst for fame and recognition.
His success was not going unnoticed by members of the opposite sex.
At these Hollywood social engagements, he was starting to attract the attention of beautiful actresses enamored by his charisma and by their desires to land a role in his next movie.
Much to his bemused surprise, these glamorous, sensual women were constantly hitting on him.
Each time, he would politely rebuff their advances.
But, with each breathtakingly beautiful woman that flirted with him, it became harder and harder for him to resist, and he was beginning to imagine thoughts and desires that he thought he would only have for Lizzie.
He never acted on his desires, and he knew he never would. But, he felt incredibly guilty anyway – it felt like he was emotionally betraying his wife.
But, of all the beautiful women that surrounded him, the woman he started to develop a real yet unconscious attraction to was an assistant editor named Allison, a stunningly beautiful woman with her own acting and directing aspirations. They worked on several films together, spending hours and hours working together, attending parties and press conferences together.
He loved that he was able to talk film with her in a way that he couldn't do so with Lizzie. He started to look forward to spending time with her, the same way he used to look forward to spending time with Lizzie.
At first, he thought of Allison as simply a great colleague and good friend. But, as their working relationship grew, he started to suspect that she had strong feelings for him.
And even though he didn't want to admit it, he was enjoying the fact that this beautiful woman, who could have any man she wanted, was attracted to him, a short, cerebral, film-geek.
In the fourth year of his marriage, he hardly spent anytime with his wife anymore. And,the few moments that he did spend with her were cordial, polite, and pleasant, but emotionally empty and distant. They hardly spoke with each other in any meaningful way.
Their dinners together, which used to be filled with joyous chatter and laughter, were now littered with awkward silences and perfunctory small talk.
When they did converse, it was usually him doing all the talking, rambling on and on about some aspect of a film he was working on.
He was so self-absorbed in his little world that the little details in their relationship began to slip through the cracks.
He barely noticed when she changed her hairstyle or her style of clothing.
And he didn't remember her telling him one night that she had started to do some writing on the side, and that her real goal was to become a full time novelist.
As their marriage closed in on their fifth anniversary, they now started fighting in a way that they never did before. They would yell at each other about seemingly minor things, like who was supposed to take out the trash, or who was supposed to pay the cell phone bill on time.
Their marriage was slowly falling apart.
As his marriage disintegrated, he started to confide in Allision about his marital troubles.
He found it extremely easy to open up to her. And even though their relationship was still operating at a purely platonic level, he could feel something growing between them. He was afraid to acknowledge it, but it was there.
He knew it.
She knew it.
And at some unconscious level, Lizzie knew it . . . .
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One month before their fifth wedding anniversary, he began to toy with the thought of separating from his wife.
At first, it was just a stray, random thought, a thought that startled and frightened him.
But, eventually, that random thought became a consistent, relentless pattern, as each and every day that thought grew from an idea to a desire and eventually to a reality.
On July 28, 2015, a few days before their wedding anniversary, he finally made up his mind.
He knew what he had to do, he knew what he wanted in his life . . . .
As he drove home that night to tell her his decision, he was in a complete fog and daze.
What in the world am I doing? Why am I doing this? And why am doing this when our wedding anniversary is coming up?
He walked into his house, put his keys down on the side table next to the door, and wandering inside looking for Lizzie.
"Lizzie? Are you here?"
"I'm in the kitchen!"
He unloosened his tie, took a gulp of air, and then walked into the kitchen.
He saw her, standing over the sink, washing some dishes and preparing to make tonight's dinner.
"Hi honey," she said, with a small smile. "How was your day?"
"It was fine," he said absent-mindedly. "Uh, Lizzie, I need to talk to you about something."
"Oh? Did something happen on your latest shoot? Did Jessica Alba hurt herself again doing those action stunts?"
"No, it's not about my film. It's – about us."
The somber tone in his voice stopped Lizzie dead in her tracks.
She slowly turned off the sink faucet, wiped her hands on the dish towel, then cautiously sat down at the kitchen table.
Something's wrong . . . .
He joined her at the table, took hold of her hand, and started to nervously play with her fingers.
"What is it, David?" She asked, with a palpable tremor in her voice.
"I – we –"
"Is everything alright?"
"No, it isn't," He sighed. "Everything is not alright, and I think we both know it."
She glanced into his dark, brooding eyes and nodded. "Y- yes, I think so."
He smiled grimly.
She smiled back, trying desperately to remain positive. "What should we do about it? About us? Do you want to start seeing a couple's therapist?"
He paused. He didn't know how to say it. He didn't know how to do it.
But, it felt like he had no choice. This was what he wanted. This was where his life was taking him.
He took a deep breath before saying those words he knew would break her heart.
"Gordo?" She said, trying to recapture his wandering attention.
He looked towards the floor, and said, "Lizzie – I think we should try a trial separation."
Her face turned ghostly pale.
She pulled her hand away from his hand.
"A separation?" She whispered.
"I love you Lizzie, I always will, but us, we're not doing so well right now."
"Ye – yes, but . . ."
"We've become one of those old, complacent married couples. And I feel so awful, I know I've been neglecting you, and it hurts me so much that I haven't been there for you lately."
"But, David, we're just going through something all married couples go through. We can -- "
He cut off her sentence.
"No, I just can't be there for you now. I mean, this next month I have to finish shooting An Eternal Engagement, and we're running behind on schedule because Jess Alba did hurt herself doing an action sequence. And then when I'm done with that film, I'm going to have go on location in Africa to start shooting Synchronicity. So,right now – I -- I just don't have it to be the husband that you need for me to be. And I need some time and space to think things through, you know? "
As he completed his sentence, he nervously waited for her response like a prisoner awaiting his execution.
He was greeted with stony silence.
Her face was still drained of all color. She was running her right hand through her hair, twirling her hair around her fingers and staring up at the ceiling.
Finally, she responded.
"No, Gordo, I don't know. I love you, and I want it to work for us, I don't want to give up on us."
"But, we're not giving up, it's not like we're getting a divorce," he said.
Yet, he thought silently.
She peered deeply into his eyes, paused, collected her thoughts, then asked, "David, do you still love me?"
He looked at her with great incredulousness.
"Of course I do, Lizzie, what kind of question is that?"
She kept her eyes in his eyes. "Okay."
She paused again, then, very softly, she whispered, "But, are -- are you still in love with me?"
Her question caught him completely off-guard.
"What – what do you mean?"
"I mean, do you still think of me all time, do you miss me when I'm gone, do you still cherish me, do you still dream aboutmaking love to me?" She said.
She took a breath, then asked once more, "Are you still in love with me, David?"
"I – I – that's a ridiculous question. I love you, and that's that. I just need some time to figure things out, that's all?"
She looked at him with eyes of wariness and skepticism. Then, she asked the question she was absolutely terrified of asking. "Is – is there someone else?"
"What?"
"Are you seeing someone else?"
"N – no. Of course not! I would never cheat on you, Lizzie, you know that!" He shouted, visibly angry at such a suggestion.
She let out a noticeable sigh of relief. "I believe you. I'm sorry, Gordo, I know you wouldn't do that, ever. I just had to know for sure. But . . . ."
"But, what?"
"Are you . . . attracted to someone else?"
His heart froze.
She knows.
He rubbed his hands together, acting as if he had been caught red-handed. "Oh my god, Lizzie, you know me so well, you know that?" He laughed nervously.
She didn't respond in kind. She looked at him with a weary sense of defeat and deflation. She softly whispered, "Are you?"
"I – I don't know, maybe."
"Oh," she replied, as she turned away from him to hide the tears forming in her eyes.
"And that's why I think this trial separation is necessary. I need to sort some things out, it's not about you, it's not about someone else, it's about me, trying to figure out what I want , who I am."
"Oh. Okay," she replied in a hollow, empty voice. Her heart was pounding and her mind was racing. She felt light-headed and she wanted to faint. Her whole world was being turned upside down and she wanted desperately to escape from the pain of reality.
He sat there, in silence, watching his wife grieve, and he couldn't do anything except just sit there and look at the emotional damage he was causing.
He kept repeating to himself, why am I doing this? What have we become? Who have I become?
But . . . this is what I want . . . .
isn't it?
After an interminable silence gnawed and chewed at his heart, he finally spoke. "I'll pack my stuff and move out of the house. I don't spend much time here anyway."
"No, David, you stay here, I'll move out," she said in a bone-weary voice. "I'm not sure I can spend my time in our house alone, without you. I'll move into my parents home until I find an apartment to rent."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'll talk to my parents and I'll leave on the first of August," she said, as she got up from the table and ran, crying, into their bedroom.
Gordo rose up from the chair and watched as she exited the kitchen.
I'm sorry . . . .
The Night of July 31st, 2015 – The Present
His memories finally brought him forth to the present moment.
As the pain in his head subsided, he laid in Lizzie's lap as she gently stroked his hair, comforting him as best she could.
She's still here, for me, as always, even though I've broken her heart . . . .
He slowly picked himself up from her lap, shook his head, then turned to face his wife.
He glanced into her worried eyes, and a thousands thoughts ran through his brain as he tried to grasp everything that had happened.
This was an incredibly surreal moment for him.
Because, now, he had three lifetimes of memories packed into his consciousness.
He had memories of a life in which Lizzie died when she was sixteen years old and in which he spent the next twelve years grieving her death.
He had memories of a life in which Lizzie survived her sixteenth year only to be killed tragically by her husband Jimmy when she was twenty-three.
And now, he had memories of a life in which Lizzie survived and he was the one who ended up marrying her.
All three sets of memories co-exist in his mind, side by side with each other, aware of each other, but never crossing paths.
And, as he struggled to make sense of his three lifetimes, he realized that he didn't know who he was anymore.
Was he the David Gordon who lost his best friend to tragic deaths and longed to be with her once again? Or, was he the David Gordon who married his best friend but who now is obsessed with his career and wants to separate from her?
He knew who he was, when he considered each timeline separately.
But, he was not a man composed only of each individual timeline. He was a man composed of all three timelines.
He was a man cursed with knowing how his life could have been.
But, was he cursed, or was he blessed?
This is soincredibly confusing and disorienting . . . .
He didn't know what was real anymore. He didn't know who he was anymore.
Who am I? What do I want?
As he wrestled with his three different pasts, he knew that all three timelines were finally converging, finally about to become one.
The time had come for him to choose one life, one path, one love.
What do I really want in my life?
I want . . . .
Lizzie.
I want to be with my best friend, my wife, the love of my life.
I want Lizzie McGuire Gordon . . . .
TO BE CONTINUED