Disclaimer: Truthfully, I don't own Phil of the Future.
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The F-Word – Chapter Seven – "Truly, Madly, Deeply"
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Author's interjection: Remember, it's all about perspective. Candy manufacturers add a little salt to make the sugar taste sweeter. Chapters 1, 2, 3 and 4 were the sugar, 5 and 6 brought on the salt. Take a bite of chapter seven and see if it doesn't taste sweeter.
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TONIGHT Plus 13 Minutes: "... seven hundred twenty-two Keely Teslow, seven hundred twenty-three Keely Teslow, seven hundred twenty-four Keely Teslow, ..." was whispered in the dark. 'Well, this pretty much sucks pickled eggs,' was thought in the earthy smelling cavity. "... seven hundred twenty-eight Keely Teslow, seven hundred twenty-nine Keely Teslow, ..." the counting continued. I'd give it to a count of 850. No, fifteen minutes was the plan! Okay, they should have rounded up the folks in two, another couple for C-man, tops, count on six more for his sister, thanks Pim, 30 seconds to Wizrd sterilize the home of our ever occupying the house, another twenty seconds to disintegrate Pim's booby traps and start filling in her tunnels. Shrink the time machine, take one last scan and vamoose back to 2121. This should have been over and done with by now. "... seven hundred fifty-five Keely Teslow, seven hundred fifty-six Keely Teslow, seven hundred fifty-seven Keely Teslow, ..."
Five metres below the family's home, sweet home, and slightly to one side, Phil was crouched down in the dark in one of his sister's machinations, but not her tunnel system. He was waiting for time to pass and tell him that the CCC had gone, gone, gone, or for the earth around him to engulf him completely as the CCC wizrded full Pim's tunnels, burying him alive. In here, though, he had a chance of not being discovered. Not a tunnel, Pim had made this chamber under Vice Principal Neil Hackett's house. Phil didn't ask why she made it, or why none of her tunnels connected to it. He had an A- average, after all. Sealed under twenty feet of earth; might as well be a coffin.
"... eight hundred fourteen, Keely Teslow, eight hundred fifteen, Keely Teslow, eight hundred sixteen, Keely Teslow, ..." Okay, surely that's long enough. If they were still here filling in cavities in the ground, I'd be dead, right? "... eight hundred twenty, Keely Teslow, eight hundred twenty-one, Keely Teslow, eight hundred twenty-two, Keely Teslow, ..." I mean, these recovery teams get in and get out fast. Unless, unless Pim had to improvise and decided to unleash her remaining stock of attack squirrels ... rambunctious rodents would slow down even a surgical retrieval. Well Pim, you always wanted to be an only child. Enjoy it, and thanks. Scraps! Lost count. Might as well get started.
Clicking on a flashlight, I take a look around the air pocket I occupy. It's not moist or damp, but it does has a mineral smell to it. Roughly the shape of an egg laying on it's side, the ten foot room has a rounded ceiling and floor. Wizrds are not the most accurate teleporters, so Pim made the cavity with room to spare for a margin of error. Explains why I was zapped nearly in the middle of the chamber and then dropped to the foundation. Where's that toy?
On one side of the cavern is a red toy wagon holding a device remarkably resembling a stripped down Wizrd, along with a couple of miniaturized suitcases.
Phil exerted an exhale, his first noise above a whisper in fifteen minutes, and crouched down next to the front of the Wizrd. "Here goes everything." Next thing he knew, Phil was action figure size. He retrieved a miner's headlamp that was resting on the upright wagon's handle like some head on a pike, turned it on, and started down toward the tunnel. "Ah, chunks! I forgot to move the rock before shrinking!" With the finesse of a first time camper trying to back up a trailer into a campsite, Phil finally had the Wizrd aimed at what could only be described as a humongous boulder relative to his present height. As stone shrank, it revealed a little tunnel for the first time. After he resized the rock, he pulled the wagon right over it with nary a bump and headed down the hole like Alice.
Inside, like the cavity over his shoulder, it was dry and had a heavy mineral smell to it, like a granite pit. His headlamp disappeared down the seemingly endless corridor before him. The tunnel had a fairly flat bottom and just enough headroom so he never needed to duck. Something else it had was a tremendous echo, and Phil figured that it would soon be getting on his already frayed nerves.
"Hello! ... Hello! ... Hello ... hello ..."
Yes, a good echo. Might as well make use of it. Reciting? Twenty questions? Singing? Sure! But what? "London Bridges?" No, let's not think about the roof falling down, either. "John Henry?" Sure, the tunneling man!
"When John Henry was a little baby," Phil screeched. All of a sudden, he flashed on how the song ended and decided that it was too depressing as well. Finally, he settled on a never ending solo of the Flintstones theme song, smiling thinking that Keely would have approved and would have been great fun to sing with. He was enjoying it so much that he started to get lost in his thoughts of Keely. How could anyone ever quantify Keely? Of course, Tia had:
"That's Keely. I've known her since the first grade. Yeah, She probably thinks that she's doing the right thing." "See, Phil, there are two types of people in this world. People like Keely, who always think about other people, and people like us, who I call 'Happy People.'"
"Oh, Tia!" Phil shook his head, and for some reason started singing "Billy Boy." By the time he reached the math portion of the verses, he was oblivious to the echoing. "How old is she Billy Boy, Billy Boy? How old is she, charming Billy?" "Three times six and four times seven, twenty-eight and eleven. She's a young thing and cannot leave her mother." Keely would have been a good deal older than that if he waited for her in 2121. Yes, the monotony of the unending tunnelway had been tamed by his father's good old American folk music, with a little assistance by Bill Hanna and Joseph Barbara. Indeed, Phil hadn't even noticed the light not going down the tunnel as far as it did earlier, nor the pair of eyes reflecting back at him.
It was almost five big feet in front of him before he heard it and looked up recognizing it for what it was, one of Pim's attack squirrels! At four big feet, he deduced that Pim had used the remainder of her stock to dig this tunnel – a use for them that wouldn't get her shut down this time by the Pickford local branch of the SPCS. (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty toward Squirrels) At three feet, he decided that that wasn't so important as not being attacked, or worse, eaten. At two feet, he was climbing over the top of the Wizrd in the wagon and trying to remember which button would be where on a standardized Wizrd. One foot. One chance. The tinny sound of the toy axle being reversed as the rodent's head hit the upright handle of the wagon threw Phil off balance. Phil knew that the simple handle wouldn't stop the subsoil attacker, so he dove into the only cover available, the underside of the wagon. It worked for a bit. It would have worked against a stampeding herd, but not against a digger. The squirrel quickly dug into the roof of the passageway and then along it's side. The first filled Phil's world with dust and dirt, and the second gave the creature enough room to tip the wagon over. Phil rolled and scooted back under it, pinning himself in the effort.
"I'm not going out after all this as a squirrel's sandwich," Phil announced, then caught sight of more furry stomachs coming down the pathway. "Not an appetizer, either." The hungry rodents had other ideas. His left arm pinned by the overturned wagon and it's ever increasing weight, Phil cried out from the pain and found his lungs choked with dust.
"kee--"
-- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- --- - -- - -- - -- -
Tears.
Her ducts long since emptied.
Sobs.
Not over, not under control, just reigned in enough not to disturb her mother inside.
Muscles.
Responsive, just incredibly slow. Standing back up is itself a herculean effort and there is still a flight of stairs before she can let go again in her room.
The doorknob turns with it's signature dull thud and then click, releasing the latch from the door frame's strike plate. She's home, and yet there's no memory of a time that was less comforting. Mandy doesn't notice her daughter's coming home, not the creaky steps, or Keely's bedroom door sliding shut. Without turning on the radio, there's no further notice of her arrival.
Desperately needing to be comforted, Keely has no one to turn to. How could she explain? Who'd even believe her, besides Neil Hackett? Keely lets loose her sobs into the face of her pillow; the pillow muffling all, but the pain. It wasn't suppose to happen this way. Everything was perfect. Why?
It was a good forty minutes before Keely's ears registered the world around her once more. First she thought it was radio static, then her mother vacuuming. Finally opening her eyes and looking up, she realized that water was running in her bathroom. Let it run. Who cares about water? It's just water.
She let her mind drift back into the pit that tonight had created for her. A void. If she couldn't escape the pain, then she'd be one with it. It was all that she had left of her Phil, so she couldn't give it up.
Water. Why was water running? An earthquake jiggled the tap? A broken water pipe? Now that could be disastrous for her mother. Still moving in slow motion, she entered her bathroom and found the sink running full blast.
"Well, at least it's not a busted pi--"
In the corner of her eye, she noticed the bathroom door slide closed. Ghosts? Not after tonight. They're back! The 21st Century powder room is a cornucopia when it comes to potential weapons: combs with sharply pointed handles, flammable sprays, electrical cords, perfume, ... Keely chose the cavewoman approach and selected a heavy glass bottle of mouthwash, wrapping her fingers near the neck of the bottle she swung around and – nothing. There was nobody in the room with her.
"Nice swing, slugger," came a high-pitched voice at her feet. She knew that voice.
"PHIL!"
"Hi Honey, I'm home," Phil smiled.
"PHIL!"
"Yup, it's me," still smiling.
"PHIL!"
"Keels, keep it down, willya? You're going to bust my widdle eardrums, not to mention wake the neighborhood." Grinning at first, Phil also gave Keely a look to know that he meant it. She was loud.
In her loudest whisper, "Phil! How did you get in my bathroom? Who were those men at your house? Why are you three inches tall? Is that dirt or a really bad case of dandruff? Where are your parents and Pim and Curtis? How did ...?" Well, Keely went on and on with questions, never giving her little guy a chance to interject a single answer, so he just kept on grinning and waiting for her to run out of steam, or breath.
"How did I get here? Underground, up through your house's foundation, then between the wall studs to finally come out from under the sink's cabinet."
Of course, he didn't want to put Keely through any more worry and stress tonight, so he didn't tell her what happened in the tunnel. But the smells coming off his dirty and sweaty body brought the memory of his brush with death back to him. True, his left arm was pinned under the wagon, but his right was still free at the elbow. On a regulation Wizrd, he couldn't have reached all the buttons necessary, but on this cobbled together version ... "Ladybugs," Phil thought before pressing the activation button.
A Wizrd's energy beams never seemed so beautiful as they were shimmering in the confined space. The digging stopped, and without squirrel-zilla on the other side of the wagon, Phil managed to right it once more. Half the size of his shoe, the former-attack-squirrels-turned-ladybugs hadn't changed their behavior; they were still intent on his unhappiness. Fortunately, Pim hadn't trained flying squirrels, so these little six-legged hubcaps stayed on the floor. Ever played with ladybugs on the sidewalk? Turn them over and they turn into no-necked turtles on their backs. Phil flipped them over and went back to retrieve his little red wagon and it's cargo. The squirrel had done quite a bit of damage to the tunnel, but the wagon seemed fine, except for the bent handle. Phil, however, was caked with dirt and dust that adhered to his clothes and sweaty skin and hair. Now vacant, the light from his helmet once again disappeared down the empty tunnelway.
"And miles to go before I sleep ..."
Keely was staring at him. Was he talking out loud? Phil shook off his reminesing and thought of another one of Keely's questions to address.
"Keely, how about you shut off the tap before I go on?"
As Keely moved to turn of the tap, Phil pounded out on the Wizrd's buttons and reset his height, watching Keely's gaze come up from the floor. He was still smiling when she planted herself upon his lips, lips gritty with sand. "Anyway I can get them," thought Keely, but all that she vocalized was an immense hum of satisfaction. Mercifully, she stopped long enough to let Phil catch his breath.
"I got here because this is where I have to be."
More oxygen deprivation.
"M-mm-mm. Nice. Okay, uh, what did you ask, please?" Phil wasn't kidding; he really had gotten lost in the kissing.
"Your family?"
"Safe in 2121. In a few weeks, Pim will clue them in on everything that's happened tonight. They'll be relieved, upset, melancholy, upset again at Pim, then she'll pull out our present to them, and they'll finally be full of acceptance and happiness for us."
"Present? What did we buy them? Lobster?"
"Even loftier. History. Our history. Pim's going to pull out pictures and recordings of our lives. In their bathroom in the future, they'll hear us talk to them, read our letters, watch home movies of us. Touch our lives whenever they choose. It won't be like we're gone; more like we're living out of town. Pretty good present, huh?"
"In a bathroom?"
"Safest place. See, Wizrds record what happens around them and Giggles are even worse. Fortunately there are privacy safeguards. The devices don't keep records of private emails, phone calls, or bathroom activity. Even nudists get shy over what can happen in a bathroom. Basically, the more personal the experience, the more likely the technology is restricted from keeping a record of the event."
"So, I could, say, call you up on your cell phone right now?"
"Long distance. It's in 2121. But if you bought a second cell phone, then I could talk to you anytime. You could text message me, as well."
"What about my diary?"
"Keely, Honey, the World Council only has one token male member. Making diaries off limits was one of the first things they restricted such technology from. Journal; journal to your heart's content."
"Now you tell me!" Phil's good arm got a solid sock.
Keely eyed the little wagon on the floor. "What's in the suitcases? I thought that you could replicate most anything with the Wizrd?"
Phil enlarged the suitcases. "That's pretty much true. Limitations based on patent licensing, world security, and, of course, mass. Of course, the Wizrd doesn't have the storage capacity of, say, a Giggle, so the preset generations are more --"
"Glick, glack, gluck. Phil, what 22nd Century tech couldn't you live without? A skyak? No, that could be spotted. A Giggle? Invisispray so we could go for walks? I know, the DNA resequencer-thingy so you --"
"Keely, Keely, Keels, when they took everyone back, they packed up all that we had. It'll be inventoried and another team will be sent to retrieve any missing items. I couldn't keep any future technology."
"So, what's in the --"
Anticipating her continued request, Phil had opened the cases. One was half filled with Diffy Diamonds, as Keely called them; the last of the exhaust residue. Paying for a degree in journalism just got a whole lot easier. The second case was filled with things even more precious: Keely's homemade tree ornament, his Dad's twangy mouthharp, a bottle of his mother's favorite perfume, the stuffed green frog that Pim slept with, and a self-portrait of Curtis done with fingerpaints on a flat rock. There was one more thing. A bit of cloth. Keely picked it up. Heavy. The pattern on the cloth looked like something from a nursery. There was Phil smiling again when she looked at him, except he was blushing a bit. Wrapped oh-so carefully in the swath of Phil's old baby blanket was the pepper shaker. "Because we'll know we're suppose to be together."
Keely squeezed the blanket and shaker, staring at them like they were making this moment real on their own. "Phil, what really happened tonight?"
"We kissed and you proposed, or did you propose first? Oh, and I accepted! You do remember that, don't you?"
Keely pretended to bop the lovable chucklehead with his own shaker. "C'mon Phil."
"We were collected," shrugged Phil.
"Collected? Wait. Those lapel pins. CCC? Convoluted Civilians Collections? California Conservation Corps? Calm, Cool And Collected? Coco-Cola Corporation? A little help here?"
"CCC: Chronological Custodial Corporation. They promote themselves as Time Soldiers, the protectors of tomorrow's civilization, but everyone calls them TTT, Trashy Temporal Twitts, janitors of yesterday's faux pas."
"So, they're time police?"
"More like chronological rent-a-cops or time janitors with badges."
"But who was that, I suppose it was a replicant, that went with – when they find out it's just a replicant, won't they come back for you?"
"Not this Phil Diffy. A few days into the future, Pim's going to set him up for quick demise. I don't know how she's going to enjoy doing it – sticking 'me' under a rocket's exhaust, squishing me between two racing comets, whatever! I don't want to know. All I know is that there will be little or no trace of me, and Pim will have gained the equivalent benefits of several years of psycho-therapy. We used both of our Insta-morphs to create a super-replicant, complete with internal organs, and to top it off, Pim spliced some of my DNA to some worms so it could get past blood screenings and DNA scans. When my pendant warned me that a time machine was approaching, Pim teleported me to a cavern she fashioned under Vice-Principal Hackett's house, activated the phony Phil, happily made him eat worms, and then teleported him to where I was. After that, I waited until they were gone, shrank myself down, and then hauled this stuff through a tunnel that Pim arranged between the cave and your house. Using the Wizrd to work my way up through your house to the bathroom was all it took after that. Easy."
"Wow, Phil! When did, I mean how did you ever come up with this?
"Remember that old 1930's detective movie we watched last year, the one where they ran out of suspects and you ate most of the popcorn? There was a line that stuck with me, "Who looks for a dead man?" Leaving you behind in the 21st Century almost killed me once, so I started preparing a back-up plan in case it could happen again. My duplicate would have an "accident" in a few days in 2121, so "Phil Diffy" will end in 2121, so no one in the future will be looking for him in the 21st Century. Who says television rots your brain?"
Keely didn't say anything.
"Say something, Keels."
"I'm just thinking. If they took back all your future stuff ..."
"Yeah?"
"... then where did you get this Wizrd here?"
"Always the investigative reporter!"
"You should have seen me a little while ago with the TTT, CCC, whoever. Never mind that now, how come you've got a Wizrd?"
"Smug," Keely thought as she watched his face. He thinks he has all the answers.
"Good thing Pim left, another couple of years and she probably would have taken over. (sigh) Didn't anyone ever wonder how I pulled a two-and-a-half foot long snack bar out of a twelve-inch deep locker set against a wall, a wall with a classroom on the other side? I installed an extra Wizrd. I had to build it component by component to get around the replication restrictions. It may not be pretty, but it gets the job done. It has most of the major functions, except the ability to record what it senses, and since it runs on a Proton Battery™, it will recharge itself when not in use. As long as it's not abused, Miss Teslow, it's a tool we can use."
Keely looks relieved and excited and then it's gone. "Phil, people are going to notice that you're not in school tomorrow. Is the CCC going to come back and set up a story? Can we --?"
"Will you relax, Keels?. They're not coming back, ever. They won't need to set up an excuse for our being gone. They'll just let the current course of events and the infrastructure clean up for them. We so often announced that we were moving the next day that even you were blasé about it. No one will think twice about our just picking up and moving. As for our owning the house, well, Dad never did get around to recording the sale at the county office. Eventually, the government will claim it for overdue property taxes and it'll be case closed on the Diffys, except for you and me. We're still going to have all our future and all our F-words.
She looked at Phil and then looked up at the ceiling, blushing.
"You know, when you said ALL the F-words, I was thinking about, you know. You know?"
"My, Keels, I don't think that's us – I mean, sure, we'll be doing, y'know, y'know – in a crazed mongooses in springtime kind of way, but it won't ever be the end all to itself. It'll be just another way that we express our love." Without moving, he softens his tone and pulls her closer with only his words. "You and I, we've always been about intimacy. Intimacy doesn't even have an 'F,' but for us it means fulfillment, satisfaction, and contentment, as in having each other in our thoughts, our hearts, our dreams. It's feeling our hearts trying to beat together, your catching me gazing at you when I thought that you wouldn't be looking, cuddling on a couch on movie night, and the heel of your palm giving me a back rub when we're stuck in a long line. I love long, long lines."
"Phil, think about it. You'll get cabin fever staying in my bathroom forever. This'll never work with you hiding from the world."
"I've been hiding from the world for two years. Good practice, I'd say, for spending the next few years in one of your dresser drawers."
"Huh?"
"Flashback to the Star of the Future Competition. I'll just shrinky-dink myself down to sock size and wizrd the drawer into my bedroom in your bedroom."
"Phil, you can't be serious."
"Beats living in the garage. Trust me on that one. No, I can make it livable, and it will give me time for quieter hobbies."
Evidently, I reflect, he's thought this through, including the pitch to convince me that it's no big deal to him, being stranded, shrunk, and hiding in the 21st Century. I'm having trouble buying that he's not crushed. Think of all the things Phil enjoys that he'll miss making him smile. I start creating a list to tell him and then it hits me. His smile! I'm in every one of his reasons for smiling. Me. I'm his world.
"Aren't you going to feel left out, with me being the center of your world?"
"But Keels, you're not the center of my world."
Crushed. My heart stops again tonight. It can't take any more and I can't ask it to. No, it can't be my Phil saying this.
"We are. All I do for you, I do for us." Phil takes my hand and starts examining it. "Didn't you ever consider that I benefit from every one of your happy smiles, and feel sorrow every time your smiles are forced?"
It's gone unspoken of, but I've noticed your awkward little smile when I bubble over at your rescuing me yet again, finding pleasure in my relief. Never complaining about how long we spend at the mall, only when I make you try things on, and even then you do it. Asking me what's wrong when I'm not myself, and not letting me get away with a forced smile and "Nothing." Being there for me – for us. Philip Diffy, if there is a bigger word for what lies beyond love, it's "us." You love me so unconditionally, so unselfishly, so totally that there is an Us. 1 + 1 equals 3; our lives blending together into one. I thought that you stayed to be with me, maybe even for you, but it was so much more than that. You stayed for us, for our happiness.
"I'm greedy, Keels."
What! "Don't you dare say that! You're the most generous, wonderfu -- "
"No, Keely, I'm not. At least I wasn't. What I learned of giving of myself, I learned from watching Keely Teslow caring about more than just herself. You're amazing, Keely; you just don't realize how incredible you are. Believe me, if I was gone, there would be 10,000 guys competing to be the one to be there for you." Gulp, there will be. Everyone will think that I'm gone! "I want to be in each of your days and I need you in mine. Without that, I really can't exist in any century."
My vision is getting blurry – tears will do that. It would take 10,000 guys to approach one Phil Diffy. "That's why, the three little words?" I ask, knowing the answer.
"Uh-huh," is all he gives me back. He knows that I know that he knows that I know the reason behind his answer. Most people live by three little words, whatever they may be: "Do onto others," "Never give up," "Look before leaping," "Look both ways," "Count your blessings," "A penny saved," "Carpe diem," "Full speed ahead," "That's just life," "Live with it," ...
Phil's three little words are a challenge to himself, instead of an order, instruction, or declaration: "And then what?" He's told me that he pretty much lived day to day, like most people in the 22nd Century, one that sounds like a time populated by billions of party goers, the kind that never bother considering the consequences that will come with the morning after. Then he met me.
I think that it's part of the perfectionist side of him, maybe not going for perfection, but he's always thinking, now realizing that there is a tomorrow and planning for it. For us. He sure did.
I hear Phil sigh. He's been talking while I've been thinking and I've missed it. He takes a breath and declares, "So, that family is going back to the future, where it belongs, and THIS FAMILY, is never being separated. I love you."
Now, my heart is going so fast that it'll never slow down, let alone stop. Where did he come from? What did we do to deserve our finding each other? Neither of us has saved lives, built monuments or anything like that. We're just us. Life isn't suppose to be this perfect. Pain. I realize that we're both gripping one another's hands so strongly that our fingers hurt. Still, we don't care. We're here now.
Phil start wiping my tears away and turns them into mudflows. He's still grimed over in soil. "Guess I better finish cleaning up," he says, sounding happy and regretful at the same time.
Phil goes into the shower to climb out of his dirt clodded garments and shower, and so I can exit the bathroom without his being detected. I almost ask for his clothes when I realize that the only thing I can take of his out of this room is his -- our love. I put his sneakers back down on the tile and slide the pocket door close. The bottom drawer of the dresser it is, then. Most of the drawer is just socks, scarfs and mittens; I empty it on the bed, then toss a few old items back in – the Wizrd has to have something to work on to reorganize matter.
Mom's quiet downstairs, probably enjoying a cup of tea in her bedroom along with a phone chat with Mrs. Hawkins down the street. Out the window I can see the lights on at the Hawkins' place. Everything looks peaceful there. Peaceful everywhere. What a night!
I flop down on my bed, instantly launching socks around the room. I thought I lost Phil tonight. My best friend. Tossing a remaining pair of socks at the ceiling with a giggle, I smile thinking that we've won. We've beaten them, the heart breakers of the 22nd Century. Did they even care who they were stealing from me? Whatever the nastiest punishment in the future is, they would have deserved it. Phil's more than just another guy. He's loving, sure, but he's comfortably romantic. That's romantic without dominating or being pushy. He doesn't drag me around and I'm not an accessory in his life to be shown off. He sees me, caring more about my feelings than his own desires:
"Unless -- Do, uh, do you wanna be a couple?"
"No."
"No!"
Do you?"
"No."
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"I do."
"Me, too!"
"Yea! We're a couple!"
♥♥
"Date?"
"Thank you"
♥
"That's me, friend-boy."
♥
"The cake has a smiley face on it because you make me smile."
"Phil, this is the sweetest, (sighs) most wonderful, incredibly beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me."
♥
"Something else that I learned from time travel.
Sometimes you got to create your own timing."
♥
(Never taking his eyes off of only me. Sorry Via.) Yeah, they look great.
♥
"So, you did all this for me?"
♥
"I don't want to be your girlfriend. I want to be your boyfriend. I-I mean, your friend, that's a boy, a guy. You know, a guy friend."
♥
"Come on."
"No! I'm all gross."
"And me?"
"Okay."
♥
"I've seen you all grown up. Trust me, he'll ask you out again."
♥
"... a wise old man gave me some good advice." "Just taking it nice and easy."
"Hmm, good idea."
Best friends have each other's backs, but who's better at that than me and Phil? We play off of each other to spin teachers off his trail or convince Mom that she didn't see what she thought she did. Who's better than at that than we are? Maybe Phil. If I was in the circus, he'd be a safety net. If I was a statue, he'd be the rock-solid pillar raising me high and keeping me above harm. If I fall, he's there as my first-aid kit. In the dictionary, his picture is the definition for "supportive."
"I'll give you a dollar to watch."
•°
"You mean Vice-Principal Hackett approved our request. What changed his mind?"
"I think it was the tears -- I felt bad for you."
°•
"Did you stage this whole thing just to show me that real journalism is in my blood?"
•°
"That was you?"
"That's the first time we met."
"Phil Diffy, you are the most wonderful boy I've ever known."
°•
"Met her? You followed her around like a pathetic puppy." "We have to help the pretty crying girl."
•°
"Look, Keely, it made me tell lies. You have to believe that I would never say any of those things if I weren't ..."
"I believe you ..."
°•
"We could babysit together."
"Really? That'd be so cool. Ooh, it would kinda be like we were parents and both stayed home to take care of our kid.
•°
"Oh, Phil. It's all happening so fast. (snicker) What a team."
°•
"Oh, you mean the off limits kind. Phil Diffy, you're a genius."
•°
"Phil, that's amazing! I'm sorry I didn't have more faith in you. I should've known you wouldn't have flaked out on me unless it was super important."
"Forget it, Partner."
°•°•
"Keely, look, nobody actually does extra-curricular activities this early. The Sunrise Club doesn't even meet for another hour."
•°
Don't worry. We're going to find him."
°•
"Phil, you give me another option right now!"
"You and I work together to get over your stage fright."
•°
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Club Diffy is pleased to present the pride of Pickford, Miss Keely Teslow!"
°•
"Get over here, Partner. You saved the field trip."
•°
"Oh my gosh. That felt awesome and I owe it all to you, Phil."
Mr. Ginsberg says that it doesn't matter if you're acting the part of a hero or a villain, a walk-on role or the star lead, because everyone thinks the play is about them and how special and important they are. If all the world is a stage, then, sure enough, that's how everyone is picturing themselves throughout life, just listening for their audience to notice them, stand up and applaud them for being themselves.
Via's right. I'm not looking to impress others any longer. I've found my guy. I'm happy and content with my appreciative audience of one.
"Hey, Keely is more than just a pretty face."
-◊-
"Yeah? Well, I don't see you asking Keely out, and you're always talkin' about how great she is."
"I am? I mean, 'She is.' Yes, I am. Um-hmm."
:◊:
"It wasn't just you. I-I kept messing up my line. Then I couldn't remember where ..."
"No, no, you were right."
-◊-
"... I'd give a hundred years of memories just to remember the most important, special, wonderful person I've ever met: Keely Teslow."
:◊:
"I can't believe you broke up with her by poem."
"You told me to be cute, funny and sensitive."
"Phil, Phil, you have so much more to learn."
-◊-
"No, one person is enough."
When I was six, we had Timothy, a orange, cream-colored tabby. I loved Timothy. He'd lie around the house on any sunny window ledge all afternoon long. But if I called him, he'd give me his full attention. Whether it was stroking his tummy while reading my book, or dressing him up like a baby and strollering him up and down the sidewalk, Timothy never sped off, never said "No." He indulged my most every every whim.
"Stuff that your other friends might even find embarrassing."
"I know. Lucky I have you."
"Lucky me."
»«
"Is it cool having a friend from the future, or what?"
«◊»
"... and I'm stuck with Fuzzy Bear?"
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing."
»«
"I'm not sure that's a good idea. Okay, fine, but just this once."
«◊»
"Please?"
"Well, forbidden romance does call for forbidden hedge trimming."
♥♥
"Phil, I'm not going without you."
"Oh no, Keely. You go funk that party, all-all right? We'll--we'll be right in. I've got a plan."
»«
"After a while there, it was like we were married."
"Was it fun?"
"Yeah, it was fun."
"Cool, well, I better get to class. See you at lunch, Sweetie-Pie. Uh, I-I mean 'Phil.'"
♥
"Let's go to Italy for dessert. I want'ta get a cannoli."
»«
"But I want to dance."
"Okay. Fine. Real quick."
What's poking me? How did that get in my pocket? Not glowing anymore. It's done its job for tonight. Phil must have tucked it in there when everything started going crazy. Wonder if it'll still work, protecting us. Well, warning us, anyway. This warned us of tonight's danger, but Phil protected. Phil's good at protecting.
"Here. Rehydrate."
-
"... I used it in the boys' bathroom to remove a girl's phone number off the wall."
-
"No, nuh-uh, you've done enough. I'm going to take the heat for this one."
"Really? You'd do that for me?"
"What are best friends for?"
"This."
♥
"It's a blitz-quiz. Save yourself!"
-
"Keely, be careful of Pim!
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"Why are you even doing all this? I mean, I'm the one whose life is ruined."
"I got you into this mess. I'm going to get you out."
-
"Back off, Fleshboy."
"What concerns my friend concerns me, Chiphead."
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"Wow Phil, I love it. She's going to love it."
-
"I should have listened to you."
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"Keely, don't worry about it. I have a plan."
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"You, you're always there for me
When I need you most
Day and night you're by my side
Protecting me"
-
"Every since you and I broke up, Phil's been trying to get payback."
-
"Keely, listen to me. Tanner's not a good guy."
"You're an immature jerk, you can't handle it. Grow up!"
-
"Always. I like that."
"That's how I'm planning my future."
All this time I thought Phil was slow in the relationship department, but all along he's been doing things to make me happy, never demanding anything in return – two years with no conditions, no moves, no ultimatums, just taking pleasure in my being happy, in our happiness.
I'M THE SLOW ONE!
----------------------
I'm all gross and sweaty after that epiphany, on top of everything else that's happened to me tonight. I really need a bath. I'm about to make it into my bathroom when I hear the water already running. Poor Phil. He's really be through the wringer tonight. His family, his home, a normal life, and all for me, I mean, us. (Sigh) I guess I could use Mom's bathroom, even if it's just a shower, instead of a shower-bath.
I slip out of my shoes and half-socks, pull the wet tee from the back over my head. Shouldn't. I'll stretch it. Reach back and unhook one-two-three-four hooks and let the bra drop to floor atop the shirt. Jeans, the same. Everything just falls on the floor and lies there. I'm just too emotionally drained not to be a slob. Mercifully, the door glides open without a squeaky roller. Over the running shower, Phil never hears a thing. Flowered panties on the towel bar along with jewelry quietly laid on a hand towel; my best effort.
I can just make out Phil through the translucent sunshine-yellow shower curtain; he's grasping the shower head's pipe to support himself while the hot water blasts into his once curly hair. Poor baby. If I hold the far ring of the curtain in place to keep it quiet, it'll also cut down the rush of cool air entering the shower while I invade his private sanctuary.
He looks so totally vulnerable, so spent, so ... he groans ... so in need. Inhaling herbal shampoo, I make a memory to record and relive this moment. Who needs a Wizrd? Crouching, my hands warm in the hot water trickling off his body, then I stand and start massaging the nape of his neck. Another groan, this time it comes out reporting relief.
"Wonderf – huh?? Kee --!?" He tries spinning around and his feet miss the edge of the bathmat. I catch him in my arms and steady him like -- he's clutching at me, squeezing the water from between us -- we're touching -- everywhere; it feels so right. We're right.
"Easy Diffy, don't bre --"
"Keely, what, who, Keels?"
"No big, Sweetheart. But you're going to have to bathe with a buddy from now on, or Mom is going to wonder why the shower is running by itself." He can't come up with an escape from my logic. Guess he hadn't thought of everything after all. "You look like you need some swimming lessons, anyway, my love." He's puzzled. Good. This is fun. He's giving me that smile of his anyway, the one that says that he hasn't a clue, but trusts me to continue. His fingertips, ooh, wet palms, a hug, no – SquEEze! Oh please, let the hot water last! Tomorrow, I'm digging into my college fund and having one of those continuous hot water heaters installed, but tonight's shower's going to have to end sometime. A lot of showers are going to end in the coming years, with both of us having to sleep so close, but always alone until enough time passes for us to reintroduce a full-sized Phil into the public or anywhere a Giggle or cameras can record him. Maybe Phil's right and nobody will be looking for him, but we'll always be on our guard, or someone will come back in time and undo us.
He'll need another last name ... I'll never be a Diffy ... I'll never be a Diffy. Okay, Keely Teslow it is, then. I'll stay Keely Teslow, except I'll be wearing that wedding ring, my wedding ring. Oh-hh-oh, Mm-m-m! Phil's fingers in the hollow of my back! He's doing that thing of his with his thumbs. He sort of curls the edge of his thumbs into my skin, never going the other way and digging in. It's more like being stroked deeply over and over again. His hands, they're pulling me under the hot spray; my hair loses it's body and we both must look just like a couple of cats left out in the rain. Can't tell. My eyes are closed because 'wet kisses' just got redefined. Make that 'deep, deep, tongues-doin'-the-tango wet kisses. Mom, if you think that I spend too much time in the bathroom now, just wait!
Phil gasps, "Swimming lessons, huh?"
He's both surprised and disappointed when I pull his hands away and step back, not too surprised, mind you, to take a gander. Blushing reflex – I turn away, then I glance down out of shyness. Whoa, Teslow! You should've glanced down more often! 'Live from my bath, this is Keely Teslow with a special report. I can absolutely confirm rumors that' – focus! He's not a microphone. Okay, okay. Look up. I mean it, eyeballs! Not happening, so with my hands on my hips I straighten up and try to sound all swim coach-like and eyeball him with my eyes shut, "That's correct. Swimming lessons. Listen up. First, remember never to shower without a buddy. Safety first."
"Baths, too, right?"
"Oh God, YES!" Absolutely Yes! My imagination hadn't journeyed that far ahead yet; now I'm never getting to sleep tonight. Could we sleep in the tub? How long would the water stay warm? Would we even care? "I-I mean, 'Yes,' right, uh-huh." I'm babbling and he's smiling, enjoying my being all flustered; his hands running from across my shoulders to the bottom of my scalp, his left thumb tickles the base of my ear ...
"And second?"
"S-s-second?" Oh, yeah. Trying to recompose myself, I attempt to step forward confidently, "Second, Fiancé of mine, ..." and spin around, pressing my back against him, "... I think it's time ..." my fingers ask for his, he responds and I guide his hands over me, "... you graduated from just doing the backstroke." He'll never see it, but it's my turn to smirk now. Golly! I felt his smirk. Don't know how, but that was definitely Phil smirking! Oh Phil, we're going to make some great discoveries in this little room, the best room in the house, in the whole world. The future that we've chosen may make us have to wait years and years for a lot of things, but not everything, not tonight ...
"Uh, Keely, maybe we're moving too fast. I don't want you to feel --"
"Phil."
"Yes, Keels."
"You're going to live in my bureau, right? That makes me your landlady, doesn't it?"
"Well, technically – yes."
"Got any cash on you?"
"Now?!!"
I give him my "duh!" face.
He gives me his "I'm lost" look.
"I'm sorry," I turn off the water – cold, "but it's policy to require two months rent payment in advance," I grin trying to keep a straight face and fail miserably, so I move in for the kill. "Rent's due. Maybe we could work out an arrangement, Tenant." My hands go only where both of us have imagined. He grins back, hard, then turns the water back on. Oh, yes, our life's going to be just fine. No need to worry about our future ... did I mention to him about the cleaning deposit?
We kiss. For months now it seems like we can't go ten seconds without kissing; it's as necessary as breathing. Precious, desired, self-denied, and sweet, every kiss shares that message. There's a new taste to it tonight – maybe there all along. Promise. Each kiss is a now a vow, promising me to you and you to me. I'm yours, I'm yours. You're not alone! I'll never leave you. We'll always be together. Promise. Much more than than our naked entwining, it's this that supercharges our every kiss.
I need to pull away from his mouth, not for air; I need to add a new ingredient. Our eyes open slowly and then embrace. "Welcome home," I say to him, and this is now included in each kiss. Phil's finally home. We're home -- Forever.
∞♥
The F-Word
I really, really hope that you enjoyed reading this; it's the hardest -- not to mention the longest – piece that I've written bar none! If you liked it, send a thank you to the people who posted reviews – it would never have grown into the story it is without them, each of them is a personal Pim to my singing recitaled Debbie Berwick. They challenge me. They took my story to whole new heights – aw, nuts!
I was pushed!
Caught piece of Jane and the Dragon, a CGI cartoon series. Would look so much sweeter as Phil of the Future's season 3, complete with Keely being stranded in the future and let loose on its malls. Okay, enough rambling. Please share your thoughts.