The poem is courtesy of The Notebook. Now on with the story….

She wakes up and finds herself feeling thoroughly refreshed. Her head hurts slightly, she thinks that shouting at Derek has something to do with it. But she doesn't ponder long about it, what's the use? She rolls, literally, out of bed, making sure not to disturb him, the less confrontation the better. She finds her way to the kitchen, asks the maid generously for a cup of strong coffee and gets one. She finds her way to the dinner table and places herself in front of a copy of the New York Times.

"Miss, the mail is here."

"Thank you very much Sylvia."

Sylvia looks at her suspiciously, obviously not used to being called by her true name. And scurries away after setting the envelopes down in front of Mrs. Humphrey.

She sits staring at the newspaper. She's bored already and it's only 7 o'clock in the morning. Who knew the sky was even bright this early in the morning? Her eyes wander towards the pile of envelopes. Normally she would have jumped at the mail, but she's learned not to expect anything good out of it. However, her boredom and curiosity get the better of her. She finds the first, a letter to her from the DAR group, inviting her for a formal luncheon. Her eyes scan it looking for the details, and then she throws it off to the side, thoroughly bored at it. The second one addressed to her is a receipt from a book shop, the sum totals $178. Something she would have once scoffed at, now seems reasonable. The last letter addressed to her has no return address and at once she becomes suspicious but all together more intrigued by it. She opens it carefully and pulls out the letter. She smiles at the first line and then continues on

I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who's ever lived: I've loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough. But I've learned that to indeed, truly live I must do what's right. I'm letting this go, because that's what's right.

She remembers these lines. She remembers sitting in his apartment watching those sappy "chick flicks" that she had always rolled her eyes at. But for once she had decided to endure one. She remembers watching the man look into the woman's eyes and say those things. Things most guys don't have enough guts or even heart to say. She's never been a hopeless romantic or anything of that sort, but she doesn't know any woman that wouldn't love a man to say those things to them. He had, rolled his eyes. Bad boys don't cry during romance movies. But she thought she had seen a glimmer in his eyes, not crying of course, just something serene and beautiful. He would never admit it; he'd rather die than admit he'd actually liked the movie. They got Thai instead of Chinese that night because she had supposedly owed him for "making" him sit through that "shit" but she knew better. Somehow she always knew better.

x.x.x

He likes to look out the windows because somehow it always makes him feel better. The bus is slow, and sometimes unfortunately his patience wears thin. The woman behind him, he learns, is running away from her ex-husband, the abuser, to be with a man at least 10 years younger than her. The man sitting next to him has a nasty habit of falling asleep right on Jess' shoulders. Normally this would bother him so much he would flick, poke and even stab the man until he learned that his shoulder was a much more comfortable place than Jess'. But somehow he had changed. Jess didn't know where or when or even why he changed. But somehow he knew deep down he was a different person. He knew, among other things, that it was also because of her. He also knew that as soon as the bus stopped he would head straight down to the boardwalk and greet Jimmy. He would proceed to tell him everything, every last detail. Because he was family and family is always there for you, even when you least expect it.

He enjoys Sasha's stories and Jimmy's banter. He enjoys it so much sometimes he'll just lay back and watch them. They fight, more often that he'd like, but he realizes this is normal. It's a part of love, a deeper more passionate side that some people mistake for true loathing. He calls her, because now he only thinks of her sometimes. They talk for a while and mostly she sounds genuinely happy to see him. They don't reminisce or wonder about each other, at least not over the phone. And when he hangs up for the first time in his life, he feels like he finally did something right.

The End

Author Note: I'm soooo very very sorry to leave you like this. But if I put them together it would be very out of proportion and do you really think in real life it would have worked out? I think not. So therefore I'm leaving it this way. This is my first fan fiction. So thank you to everyone who reviewed and everyone who enjoyed it. I've learned my lesson though, serious lits are depressing! Thank you everyone and please review!